The Prison of Culture

In my Canada, schools, a place meant for peace and learning, were used as weapons against culture and prisons for dreams.

The prisons that trapped youthful hopes, only to release a hollow body.

The teachers of these schools took on the secondary job of guards.

They used fear and violence as the methods for keeping control and order.

The monsters that hid under beds, had not a tail or horns but the appearance of man.

Those who wished not to put their children into the hands of monsters hid their culture from the world. Over time, culture seeped away like a river into the sand.

My grandfather would tell my mom “Don’t tell, don’t tell anyone or else they will take you.” As a result the stories of our people were not told for an entire generation.

This cultural genocide was horrific for those in the schools, but was a silent destruction for those outside.

That is the painful history of our people. An attempt to destroy our culture half succeeded.

Those who say the past does not affect us have not seen the scars that run cracks down to the soul, the scars that hurt more than any broken bone.

This is Canada’s scar; one of hate, the hate towards a whole people caused by the idea of self-righteousness.

Now after over a century of residential schools we are getting an apology. The start of the reformation of a culture.