Kevin [Content Note: Today’s post talks about Orange Shirt Day, which came about after decades of federally-sanctioned violence, forced assimilation, and racism against First Nations/Indigenous children. If this is something you’re not in the headspace to hear about, I encourage you to give this post a miss, and go check out some of my other stuff instead. We’ll kick it together again some other time. Deal? If you decide to move forward w/ this post, and it brings up some difficult feelings for you, I encourage you to reach out to the peeps at the Crisis Text Line. If this is something that hits close to home for you, the Indian Residential School Survivors Society has culturally specific resources that can help. Survivor, I see you, and I care.]
Today is Orange Shirt Day 2024, its’ 11th year mark. I’ve decided to make this a special report instead of the public service announcement I had originally considered, since this is a heavy, distressing, and upsetting topic to write about. Orange Shirt Day came about in 2013, when survivor Phyllis Webstad (Stswecem’c Xget’tem, and a pronunciation of it can be found here) shared her story of spending the 1973-1974 school year at the Mission, as part of Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission during their stop in her town. At the time, she was 6 years old, which would be 1st grade. She was living w/ her grandma on the Dog Creek Reserve, who took her shopping before school started. She picked out a pretty orange shirt, so bright and colorful. She was looking forward to starting school, and the opportunity to make new friends and play with other kids her age.
However, what happened was far from what she was expecting. When she arrived at the Mission, staff members took her new orange shirt away from her, and refused to give it back to her.
This was just one of many ways staff at the Mission dehumanized Phyllis, took her away from her culture, mistreated her, and took her identity away from her, and countless other kids like her. Staff at the Mission made it clear they didn’t care about her or any of the other kids there. Even though it’s heartbreaking to think about, her story isn’t an anomaly. Thousands of kids over generations had (and have) similar stories about their experiences in these so-called “schools.”
[Note: this link will contain mention of the T’kemlups, also known as Kamloops gravesites and the confirmation of human remains found on the site.] The last of these so-called “schools” closed in 1997, and it was located in Rankin Inlet. According to this same post, earlier accounts list the year the last remaining institution closed as being in 1996, but the Rankin Inlet location became IRSSA (Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement) recognized after a court ruling in 2019.
These so-called “schools” closed in our lifetimes.
Phyllis came home to her grandma after that school year ended, and went on to attend a school in her neighborhood. This video is a read-along of the kids’ book Phyllis wrote about her experience at the Mission. 300 sleeps, nearly a year of her life spent in this cold, cruel, uncaring, abusive environment. She talks about a redheaded teacher she had at a school the Mission bussed her and other kids out to, who treated her w/ love and compassion.
Even though it was great, it just wasn’t the same as her grandma’s love, or the memories of picking berries and catching salmon w/ her grandma.
Nothing could’ve been the same as that, and rightfully so. Phyllis and all the other kids deserved so much better than what they got.
The Orange Shirt Society was set up in 2015 as a way to raise awareness of the residential schools’ existence, the intergenerational trauma they created, and to drive home the fact that every child matters. Every child should have always mattered. Every child will always matter. September was the month kids would be taken away from their families and their communities, and subjected to these so-called “schools’ as part of forced assimilation.
I live in the States, but I’ll be wearing orange today in solidarity to support survivors, and to honor those kids who never returned home from these horrible institutions. Over to you, readers. How will you be celebrating Orange Shirt Day 2024? I’d love to hear your thoughts and takeaways, so let’s talk. And remember, in case nobody’s told you before, or told you lately, you matter. Your stories matter.
