A man was yelling " Get off the street you black bitch!" he was visabily upset and I turned around to see who he was yelling at. No one, not one person was on the street except for me. I almost started to laugh. He couldn't be meaning to yell at me? Then, he made eye contact and I knew for sure that he was indeed, yelling at me.
Fear gripped me so hard that I began to shake and almost broke out into a run. Get me off this street, out of this man's way please!
I had come up against racism many times in my life but this was the first time someone had spoken to me with so much hatred.
I am not black, I am Metis. Metis means literally, mixed blood. I am Cree Indian and French on my father's side and Norweigian on my mother's side. Many people often say I look Egyptian, so maybe this is why the man was degrading me based on the color of my skin, which is brown. Either way, I was 40 something and like a strike from lightening, the meaning of racism bolted like electricity throughout my system.
All of a sudden many years of haterd, harsh words and actions that were directed towards me became crystal clear in their meaning. In some ways I was relieved because I had thought that I was bad, and this was why people said cruel things to me. Never for one moment did I think I was the target for someone else's hatred against their fellow human being.
As a child I experienced moments of racism, but because I was so young I really didn't have any understanding or comprehension of what kids and even some teachers said to me. I remember when I was in grade 5 some girls were calling me squaw. " I am not a squaw!" I cried out " I am French Canadian"" but this did not appease the girls and they continued until I started crying. I ran to a teacher and said to her " The girls are teasing me and are calling me squaw. Please make them stop" The teacher looked at me and said " Well, you are a squaw. Why should I tell them to stop when it is the truth?" She said this in front of the same girls who had caused me to cry, and the looks on their faces spoke a victory. The year was 1968.
After school that day I was telling my mother what had happened to me and she told me to not pay any attention to them because I am French Canadian and that is all there is too it. My mom told my dad and he lost it, railing against the students and teacher that had offended me. He too, told me to pay no attention to it because I am white NOT Indian.
I was always asked if I am Native and I would relpy no because of what my mom and dad told me. The first time I was asked if I am Metis I was 11 yrs old. I had to ask what Metis is. I of course responded, no.
Believe it or not, I was in my 40's before I realized that I was being tormented because of how I look. I was brought up in a very abusive home and both my parents drank alcoholically. I thought that the nasty things people said to me had to do with my upbringing more that the color of my eyes, hair and skin.
All that would change for me when I got my first computer. I sat at my computer wanting to do something, but what? I typed in my 5x's great grandmother's name, Marie Ann Lagimodiere the first white woman in the west. There are books written about her but at the time I was doing this I had very limited knowledge of our family history. The day I began my search, the greatest learning adventure began.
For four years I researched my family geneology and I discovered the truth and why secrets abounded within my family. I found Metis history and where Native blood had entered.
I found out that my father went to Residential School. I did not know this and my father always said that he had very limited education because he had to quit school when he was very young to help out on the farm.
My papa ( my dad's dad) tried to teach me Cree when I was 13 yrs old , when I told my father this he told my that my papa was a crazy old man and didn't know Cree at all. I never brought up the subject again until I had done the geneology of my family. Then dad said " Well of course he did. My grandfather ( my papa's dad) spoke fluent Cree" I was very confused by his response.
I was never allowed to talk about the fact that there was Native blood in our family because my father would darn near lose his mind over it. My dad''s mom, my nanny, called Native people dirty savages and we were to never have anything to do with Native people or else she would go into a rage over it.
I was so confused as a child, were we or weren't we Metis? Is there Native blood flowing through our veins or not? If we aren't Metis than why does everyone ask me if I am? Why do I look Native if there isn't any Native in the family? Why, am being prejudiced against ?
Denial is a very strong thing and when one is taught one way all their life it is natural for a certain belief to become an integral part of that person's core . I thought I was white because I was told I am white, so I lived in denial until I was in my 40's.
When I called my father to tell him what I had discovered about the family geneology he told me in no uncertain terms that he wanted nothing to do with it. " Being Indian ruined my life!" and he wouldn't even talk about it. It was a defining moment for me in regards to having understanding for my dad. And for the very first time I saw how racism wounded my father. I saw how racism affected a whole family and quite literally, generations were affected.
From Marie Ann Lagimodiere there would down the line be born a man named Louis Riel, my 4x's removed cousin. Louis Riel is know as the grandfather of the Metis Rebellion in Manitoba in 1886-7. Louis Riel was hung for treason against the Canadian goverment. I am so very proud to be a part of this incredible family rich in history. I also understand now why the secrets were bourne, the family was afraid to voice who they were for fear they too would have something terrible happen to them. These fears were very valid because my ancestors had their land taken away from them. The Canadian goverment at the time was led by a man called Sir John A. Macdonald, the first Canadian Prime Minister and Mr. Macdonald had ordered the land stripped away and my ancestors were told they could take one wagon load of belongings with them. They had less than 24 hours to accomplish what had taken many, a lifetime to build up. And it has taken until now, for the voice of the silenced to be heard again.
A whole family was silenced, even to the point of changing the spelling of our last name. We were to never say there was Native blood. My ancestors out of fear, had to make a new family story in order to have a life free from condemnation.
I believe the day I began my search for the truth was in fact the day that our voices were beginning to be heard again and it was also a day when healing could begin to happen. For me personally, I have found myself and am so very, very proud that I have Cree blood flowing through me. I am so proud I am a Metis woman and am still learning so much more about my heritage and culture. I will be taking a class where I will be learning to speak Metis. If you have ever seen Metis beadwork you will know it is some of the most beautiful work of art to behold.
In finding the truth I am able to begin to put the words of racism to rest for ever. I cannot give enough words to describe what racsim does to the human soul and mind. I thought I was white all of my life , even though I totally look Native and because I was in denial I think it protected me to a certain degree, I didn't take the hurtful words to heart because THEY were wrong, not me. That is, until I knew the truth. When I knew for certain that I am Metis, words, actions,and the past woundings came back to me with new meaning. And new hurt.
I cannot for the life of me understand how one race can think they are better than any other race. I cannot accept the tormenting words of another anymore, to do so is in fact a silent death of soul. Why is the color of our skin and eyes and even hair so important?
In the bible it says we are created in His image. Has anyone ever really stopped to consider what that image is? I do not think it is the image of body, eyes, hair and skin. I believe we are created in His image to mean, Soul or Spirit. If this is so then there is absolutely no room for racism because Soul or Spirit in our fellow man/woman would be exactly the same color.
To judge another based on their race, culture or belief system is the cruelest act of all. People who are the focus of another's racism suffer silently, often doubting whether they truly belong in life. Shame is a horrible feeling and one that can cause many to become depressed and to hide within their own homes. Those who have been shamed for who they are cannot hold their heads up high and walk along our streets in safety because they are always fearing where the next attack is coming from.
We are all human beings here on our precious Mother Earth and we all deserve the same life. We all deserve employment, schooling and to strive for excellence regardless of where we come from. It is the right of every man, woman and child to feel safe in a world that is for all, not just some.
You don't see the tears we shed in the safety of our own homes. You don't see the last letter ever written to a family before the writer takes their own life because they cannot bear the torment of racsim for one more day. You can't see dreams that are dying. You cannot hear the child who is of a different color cry because the other kids won't play with them or because their parents won't allow a different race or culture in their homes.
You don't hear it because there is too much fear to show how we really feel about what racism has done to our souls.