A time for reflection

I have been quiet in my listening for the last week, hearing the family stories of close colleagues: one colleague whose grandfather ran away from Marieval Residential School on the Cowessess First Nation and made his way home only to be returned to confinement; another whose grandmother died of a broken heart at 28, when her third child was taken from her at the age of 5.

Like many of you, I’ve reached out privately to members of our college, and seen our students’ responses on social media with gratitude for their commitment to reconciliation. I find humility in the face of their courage.

As we continue to sit in reflection and among the truths about our Indigenous residential schools, I am reminded of words of great truth from author Rachel Remen: "Some pain is so great that all we can do is bear witness to it, and hold the survivors in a place of respect." This is reflected in a post from our Cumberland House alum John Desjarlais, now General Manager of Great Plains Contracting and President-Elect of APEGS, "The rest of the world are only finding out what our families always felt and known.”

The commitment to sharing stories and to healing in and with our communities speaks to the wisdom of our elders and of our Indigenous leaders and colleagues. We must all face our shared truth as treaty people, and the truths of our own families.

My mother collected money for the missionary society in Sunday school, believing that this was for the greater good. My father was taught that only Anglicans go to heaven – even the Catholics were considered heathens. My family members, stretching across three generations, have worked with Indigenous communities in education – sometimes in a good way – and sometimes in a system that abducted children from their families without consent, believing that the white government and church knew best. I was raised with an understanding that this was and is a deeply wrong way of relations, and yet I see paternalistic attitudes and one-way-of-truth-seeing repeated on a regular basis in my working life. We can do better.

Our country is in mourning for the broken hearts in most of our Indigenous families, for so many small children who suffered deeply and died far away from their families, and for the cultural and spiritual genocide that was intentionally carried out by church and state. This Canada Day long weekend will be quiet for many of us. Rather than a raucous birthday celebration, we need to allow time for reflection and healing.

We can and should be proud of our nation and all that we have become, and the shelter we have provided for so many who have fled persecution and starvation. With our own histories of famines and land clearances and world wars, perhaps we can understand and join with Indigenous communities in grieving the cruelty that happens when people are driven by fear, power and greed, and the inevitable impact this has on our children and our families.

This Canada Day, please share in a time for quiet reflection, as our communities find each other again after a year of isolation. Please continue to listen and learn with respect.

We cannot be fearful or hateful when we are being curious and loving. If we can lean into understanding, we can find a shared path forward.

My deep gratitude to all of you for who you are, for being your best selves, and for your commitment to a caring and respectful campus community.