My people are speaking out louder than ever

Indigenous people are reconnecting and speaking up, Cody Purcell writes.

More two months ago now, I was one of the 4,000 people peacefully marching to Parliament Hill on July 1 to successfully “cancel” Canada Day as news continued to arrive about buried Indigenous children at former residential schools across Canada. We are now up to more than 5,296 bodies found. Yet that march, on that day, left me feeling hopeful for change.

Right after, I went home and packed my bags, then headed north to my home community of Matachewan First Nation to meet with my family. My community had been torn apart and many of my family members were forced as children to attend the Spanish Residential Schools in Spanish, Ont.

My dad, my brothers and I spent a long July weekend with our family, and to me it was a testament to the fact that neither the government of Canada nor the church has succeeded in keeping us apart. I reflected on how precious this visit was, especially when I spent time with my cousins — who are some of our elders — and sang them a few songs. I remember one telling me how his sister had been taken away to residential school but he wasn't because he was told to hide in the bush. This story made everything all the more real.

After that weekend, my dad and I headed to North Bay, where we met up with two of his sisters — the first time we were all able to be together. My dad is a survivor of the Sixties Scoop: He was forcibly taken from our family at an early age and put into the Canadian child-welfare system. He is 61, I'm 29, and it has taken us this long to reconnect with his sisters.

During the visit, we looked through old pictures, an emotional experience especially because we looked at pictures of my grandmother. I felt grateful to learn more about her and to finally be with my aunties, but I can only imagine how this must have felt for my dad. We also visited my grandmother's grave together; seeing him in tears next to it, while holding hands with his sisters, hit me hard. We never had the chance to meet her.

After our visit, my dad and I supported each other through more difficult emotions as we went to the grounds of the St. Joseph's School for Girls. This was the school my grandmother was taken to, and neighbouring it was the St. Peter Claver's School for Boys, the school my greatuncle attended. We circled each a number of times and my dad later shared that he specifically did so hoping that he walked in their footsteps.

I managed to find the courage to go inside the girls' school for the second time in my life. I had my drum with me. I sang as loud as I could to honour my family members, all of those taken to the Spanish residential schools, and the Indigenous children who didn't make it home. I did this knowing there are a number of undocumented graves there as well; I have been told stories of it by friends whose families also attended.

On the grounds of the St. Peter Claver's School for

Boys there were children's toys, shoes and an orange shirt that read “Run to Spanish, run for strength, every child matters” — words that echoed in my head. I reflected on how many folks showed up to Parliament Hill on July 1 to be a part of the action, people who cared for us.

The Canadian government destroyed 15 tonnes of paper documents related to the residential school system between 1936 and 1944, including 200,000 files from the Department of Indian Affairs. For reasons like this, it is crucial that all other residential school sites be surveyed. The government also needs to implement the 94 calls to action from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and it must release the names of all the priests, nuns and government officials who operated these institutions.

And the government needs to call forcefully on the Vatican for a public apology.

These were acts of genocide towards Indigenous people that tried to remove us entirely, but we are reconnecting, we are speaking up and we are revitalizing who we are. My family members have at last met each other. We are still here and we are always going to be here.