In the residential schools children were taken by force from their families & put into the schools to learn a different culture and Christianity. They were not allowed to practice their culture or speak their language. If they did they were hit and abused. Most children that arrived at the schools didn't know how to speak English. But since they weren't allowed to speak their own language this made them kinda screwed.
After the residential school system ended the replacement was the scoop. It was efficient and cheaper. Children were often taken illegally and without reason to be placed in white homes. 70-80% were stolen from their families In many areas the numbers are the same today as the family law act allows that a parent who was part of the system (which is 70-80% of today's Native parents) as a reason to open a file, keep open a file or remove the children (very racist, not even a policy any more, just a racist system and workers). These children lose all of their language and culture. The loss is generational (the next generation never has it because their parents were removed, permanently). It was common to be beaten (and other forms of abuse) by the adoptive and (or) foster families.
The lasting effects on Native people who are survivors of residential school and the scoop is poor education and very traumatized with lasting nightmares. Many are disconnected from their families. This has caused alcohol and drug addiction, abuse and suicides. Many end up in and out of jail & prison, homeless shelters & bad relationships. Many of the Women still are abused, assaulted and murdered or missing. Many don't know their culture, where they are from or who their families are. Many don't even know what Nation they are. This leads to abandonment and identity issues. Identity issues often lead to self fulfillment of negative stereotypes. This year (2015), Justice Sinclair came out with the published TRC (truth and reconciliation commission) on the residential school system. He wisely included the scoop. He toured the country listening to and talking to survivors and explaining the systems to Canadians. He called both systems cultural genocide, which it is under the Geneva Convention, section 2(e). This is the starting of healing for many but ultimately the scoop needs to end and Canada has to admit it has and is continuing genocide.
Sources: real people, TRC, videos from TRC.
Survivors answer my question: "what is one of the biggest impacts for you today as a survivor?"
Replies:
•I'm Don J. George from Kettle & Stony Point First Nation... and I'm a
survivor of the sixties scoop... and I believe all the kids who were
with me... are all dead...
Biggest biggest impact is... I'm a stranger to my own Family... never
had a home-Life... only institutions... by the time I came home, my
Mother was murdered and everyone was suspicious of me cause I was
raised by Shauginaush... now, the rez has made my Family Land/Family
Burial Grounds into a public park... and I've tried to return home to
fight this, but... apparently, my Family dosen't have a place for me
on the rez... not even a rental apartment... I've been in the system
from 1 yr old... to 32 yrs old...
Enough for now, but thats only the tip of the ice berg.
•Natasha Stirrett: (child of scoop survivor) Seeing how it tore up my Mom. Having a whole half of my family and history erased and the disconnect from my home territory.
•C.C. : (scoop survivor, child of scoop survivor (bio mom), grandchild of residential school survivor). Moose -Cree FN). Identity issues and self hatred. I hated being the Indian kid in school. Everyone bullied me, shoved me in lockers till I was big enough to become the bully. I hated that I was the "white" Indian Native kids from the near by rez made fun of so I started drinking to fit in. Since then I've spent my life in and out of jail and the pen. I'm an alcoholic. I drink to forget life and how I feel. I cut when it hurts the most. It makes me hate myself more.
•Beth Newell: I'm a scoop survivor. I'm one of the ones flipped over the boarder (US [Standing Rock, SD] to Canada). I could go on about that impact but for me the biggest impact is abandonment issues. It's a fear that grips me in complete terror at times, unpredictable and unshakable, convinced that my family or friends will suddenly be taken or leave me. Its effected being able to have a job or day to day living. It's self fulfilling in the men I have chosen in my life. It effects how I meet and make friends and ability to maintain friendships. People think I "turned out fine" because I'm not an addict, never been arrested, never self harmed but inside I am a complete mess.
*Note: the cross boarder flip was commonly done to children from large healthy &/or traditional families to prevent them from tracking down the stolen children. It also cuts off status / CDIB.
•Christina Kennedy (scoop survivor, child of residential school survivors, Red Lake): I was a foster kid. I have such mixed feelings about this. My exprience as a foster child was horrific. So that is why I have mixed feelings. I know other foster parents who are great people. They have been devastated living in their fish bowl and having their little ones taken and placed in other homes, some successful, and some not. I wish my social worker had of come and seen what was happening in my foster home. Unbelievably, I couldn't wait to leave for school. I was three at the time and heard other kids talking about going away to school. I was relieved that I would be soon going away to school; even though I was worried about my brother and sister who were smaller then me. The abuse I was suffering is too horrific to ever be put in words here. I just didn't want to take it any more. I can remember once, "running away". I stood on the other side of a huge plank board fence thinking yes I got away...but I left my little brother and sister behind. Suddenly I was so scared, and there was no way to climb back over the fence. I had to walk the length of it, at the age of three, it seemed to go on for miles. I barely remember how I got back to the yard. It felt like I was in a grey fog, but I got back. (This happened to me a lot back then, psychiatrists today would call it disassociating; my only defence mechanism at the time.) My disgusting foster bitch hadn't noticed I was gone. She slept a lot. I was always glad when she slept. Anyway, a few weeks later some people showed up to the house. I remember coming down the stairs and seeing the lady for the first time. She looked like an angel sent from the heavens. I didn't know a good deal about god at this time, but I knew enough to believe that angels must exist. And this is what she looked like to me. I ran down the stairs and straight into her lap. She was wearing a white hat which I took off to see the most beautiful auburn red hair ever. She just smiled at me with these beautiful eyes. I asked her if she was my new mother. My ears were met with the most joyful sound that I had ever heard which was her laugh. And she said nothing that I remember because I kept staring into her eyes and felt her smile go right through me. I distinctly remember someone in the background saying, "who told her about adoption??" The people went away, but I knew in my heart that they would be back. And they must have been, because they told me they made a few visits, which I don't remember. But I do remember being taken to another foster home, which felt like just a few houses down. This home was warm and kind and makes me think of my Aunt Pat with her kind face and delicious lemon meringue pie. I guess it was a transition home. They were 'taming' me to be adopted. That is how I see it now. The adoption was successful, these angels took myself, and my little brother and sister. Which at the time was never heard of. They had been looking for a baby and shown a picture of my beautiful baby sister. They said they were interested in adopting her. (the wait time for adopting white children was years long at the time, probably not so these days....just saying.) The social worker had off handedly said yeah she has older siblings but don't worry, she's a baby and won't remember them. The angels wouldn't hear of separating a family and took all three of us!! Once I was adopted I was still eager about school, but only because I wanted to learn everything I could. At the time, I had no idea the school my fellow foster companions talked about was residential school.
*note: Christina has clear memories of her bio dad, who was a good parent.
•Mance Granberg: (residential school survivor). St. Patrick's in quebec. Taught me resilience. Taught me that no matter how they try to erase you, they cant erase your spirit. Albiet it was rife with abuse they didn't realize that they actually strengthen me and if I survived the school I swore that I woukd continue to practice my culture to preserve my culture and to teach my culture. To me residential school failed in taking away anything from me. And i am doing just that.
S.K. : I am only using initials because this is for my (adopted) sister. She is a victim of the scoop. She was Ojibway. Our mom had a traumatic c-section when I was born. After which she wasn't able to have children again. When I was 7 my parents adopted my 1year old sister. She was a happy child and I adored her. When she was 11 she started asking questions about her culture. I suggested we bring her to a conference at my university. She met all Kinds of amazing First Nation's people. So our family did this regularly. To my sister First Nations people were strong, confident educated people. The other stereotypes didn't seem to touch her. She went onto University and became a Children's Occupational Therapist. She never drank, never did drugs, was a model person. Then she became pregnant. She was ecstatic. She told me being a Mom was her greatest dream, to give her child all that was stolen from her. I never even realized she felt that way, but when she said it, I understood. She bought books on pregnancy and parenting. She took parenting classes and 2 (yes, two) prenatal classes. This was her dream come true. She out did herself creating a nursery. It was filled with First Nations art and children's books. She took Ojibway classes to teach herself and her child. No one was going to be a better Mom. Then she gave birth, the joy in her face as she held and nursed and sang to her baby made her look like a goddess. The day she was to be released to bring her baby home she glowed. And then CAS showed up. They said because she had been adopted she didn't have the parenting skills to be a parent and being "Indian" was a greater risk factor. My sister was the model of what society calls "good people", she was a children's occupational therapist! But she was a single First Nations adopted Woman. She was crushed. She seemed to pull herself together. I should have known she hadn't. Her boyfriend should have been the clue. She became pregnant, quickly married. Her dream would come true. She was excited but scared . she told me " other then my skin, I'm a good white woman now". And still they stole her baby. She insisted on having her tubes tied. She thought it would stop her from reliving the pain. Instead she lived the daily reality that she would never be a mom because she was Native. My sister committed suicide over this 7 years ago. I will never forgive this country for what they did to her.
•C.C. : (scoop survivor, child of scoop survivor (bio mom), grandchild of residential school survivor). Moose -Cree FN). Identity issues and self hatred. I hated being the Indian kid in school. Everyone bullied me, shoved me in lockers till I was big enough to become the bully. I hated that I was the "white" Indian Native kids from the near by rez made fun of so I started drinking to fit in. Since then I've spent my life in and out of jail and the pen. I'm an alcoholic. I drink to forget life and how I feel. I cut when it hurts the most. It makes me hate myself more.
•Beth Newell: I'm a scoop survivor. I'm one of the ones flipped over the boarder (US [Standing Rock, SD] to Canada). I could go on about that impact but for me the biggest impact is abandonment issues. It's a fear that grips me in complete terror at times, unpredictable and unshakable, convinced that my family or friends will suddenly be taken or leave me. Its effected being able to have a job or day to day living. It's self fulfilling in the men I have chosen in my life. It effects how I meet and make friends and ability to maintain friendships. People think I "turned out fine" because I'm not an addict, never been arrested, never self harmed but inside I am a complete mess.
*Note: the cross boarder flip was commonly done to children from large healthy &/or traditional families to prevent them from tracking down the stolen children. It also cuts off status / CDIB.
•Christina Kennedy (scoop survivor, child of residential school survivors, Red Lake): I was a foster kid. I have such mixed feelings about this. My exprience as a foster child was horrific. So that is why I have mixed feelings. I know other foster parents who are great people. They have been devastated living in their fish bowl and having their little ones taken and placed in other homes, some successful, and some not. I wish my social worker had of come and seen what was happening in my foster home. Unbelievably, I couldn't wait to leave for school. I was three at the time and heard other kids talking about going away to school. I was relieved that I would be soon going away to school; even though I was worried about my brother and sister who were smaller then me. The abuse I was suffering is too horrific to ever be put in words here. I just didn't want to take it any more. I can remember once, "running away". I stood on the other side of a huge plank board fence thinking yes I got away...but I left my little brother and sister behind. Suddenly I was so scared, and there was no way to climb back over the fence. I had to walk the length of it, at the age of three, it seemed to go on for miles. I barely remember how I got back to the yard. It felt like I was in a grey fog, but I got back. (This happened to me a lot back then, psychiatrists today would call it disassociating; my only defence mechanism at the time.) My disgusting foster bitch hadn't noticed I was gone. She slept a lot. I was always glad when she slept. Anyway, a few weeks later some people showed up to the house. I remember coming down the stairs and seeing the lady for the first time. She looked like an angel sent from the heavens. I didn't know a good deal about god at this time, but I knew enough to believe that angels must exist. And this is what she looked like to me. I ran down the stairs and straight into her lap. She was wearing a white hat which I took off to see the most beautiful auburn red hair ever. She just smiled at me with these beautiful eyes. I asked her if she was my new mother. My ears were met with the most joyful sound that I had ever heard which was her laugh. And she said nothing that I remember because I kept staring into her eyes and felt her smile go right through me. I distinctly remember someone in the background saying, "who told her about adoption??" The people went away, but I knew in my heart that they would be back. And they must have been, because they told me they made a few visits, which I don't remember. But I do remember being taken to another foster home, which felt like just a few houses down. This home was warm and kind and makes me think of my Aunt Pat with her kind face and delicious lemon meringue pie. I guess it was a transition home. They were 'taming' me to be adopted. That is how I see it now. The adoption was successful, these angels took myself, and my little brother and sister. Which at the time was never heard of. They had been looking for a baby and shown a picture of my beautiful baby sister. They said they were interested in adopting her. (the wait time for adopting white children was years long at the time, probably not so these days....just saying.) The social worker had off handedly said yeah she has older siblings but don't worry, she's a baby and won't remember them. The angels wouldn't hear of separating a family and took all three of us!! Once I was adopted I was still eager about school, but only because I wanted to learn everything I could. At the time, I had no idea the school my fellow foster companions talked about was residential school.
*note: Christina has clear memories of her bio dad, who was a good parent.
•Mance Granberg: (residential school survivor). St. Patrick's in quebec. Taught me resilience. Taught me that no matter how they try to erase you, they cant erase your spirit. Albiet it was rife with abuse they didn't realize that they actually strengthen me and if I survived the school I swore that I woukd continue to practice my culture to preserve my culture and to teach my culture. To me residential school failed in taking away anything from me. And i am doing just that.
S.K. : I am only using initials because this is for my (adopted) sister. She is a victim of the scoop. She was Ojibway. Our mom had a traumatic c-section when I was born. After which she wasn't able to have children again. When I was 7 my parents adopted my 1year old sister. She was a happy child and I adored her. When she was 11 she started asking questions about her culture. I suggested we bring her to a conference at my university. She met all Kinds of amazing First Nation's people. So our family did this regularly. To my sister First Nations people were strong, confident educated people. The other stereotypes didn't seem to touch her. She went onto University and became a Children's Occupational Therapist. She never drank, never did drugs, was a model person. Then she became pregnant. She was ecstatic. She told me being a Mom was her greatest dream, to give her child all that was stolen from her. I never even realized she felt that way, but when she said it, I understood. She bought books on pregnancy and parenting. She took parenting classes and 2 (yes, two) prenatal classes. This was her dream come true. She out did herself creating a nursery. It was filled with First Nations art and children's books. She took Ojibway classes to teach herself and her child. No one was going to be a better Mom. Then she gave birth, the joy in her face as she held and nursed and sang to her baby made her look like a goddess. The day she was to be released to bring her baby home she glowed. And then CAS showed up. They said because she had been adopted she didn't have the parenting skills to be a parent and being "Indian" was a greater risk factor. My sister was the model of what society calls "good people", she was a children's occupational therapist! But she was a single First Nations adopted Woman. She was crushed. She seemed to pull herself together. I should have known she hadn't. Her boyfriend should have been the clue. She became pregnant, quickly married. Her dream would come true. She was excited but scared . she told me " other then my skin, I'm a good white woman now". And still they stole her baby. She insisted on having her tubes tied. She thought it would stop her from reliving the pain. Instead she lived the daily reality that she would never be a mom because she was Native. My sister committed suicide over this 7 years ago. I will never forgive this country for what they did to her.
•James (Northern Cree). I am a survivor of the residential school. The greatest lasting impact is that I am institutionalized. I know how to live in only 3 places. Residential school, jail (which is similar but better) and treatment centres. In the outside world I drink and I huff. Then I go back to jail then I go back to a treatment centre. I do well in those settings, its all I know. I wish I could live forever in a treatment center. I thrive there, I could drink there or do pills but I don't. I tried having a Woman on the outside, tell me what to do like on the inside but its not the same, too much freedom. I lost her cuz I drank and I beat her and I went back to jail, back to treatment but it doesn't change me deep down because I am still institutionalized.•Natasha Harris: I am a 4th generation residential school survivor. My great grandmother went to one of the first schools in the NWT. I went to one of the last to close. I think the biggest impact on me today is teaching my children to love....and breaking the cycle (generations). Looking back at my family that are broken and do not know how to be parents.
Beth/Koko. There have been no posts since these in early November. I'm afraid that credits will be in jeopardy if more work is not submitted before the end of the semester.
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