Oh, Canada. How am I supposed to feel about you?

Today is Canada Day and, for the first time in memory, there was no party, no big community gathering. I usually take part in some way but I’m a modest celebrant and just wear something “Canadian,” like a Habs or Jays jersey.

While COVID-19 is responsible for the cancellation of events, the day has been muted, in general. Perhaps this is due to recent events such as the call for an end to systemic racism which, along with unresolved land issues, has many Aboriginals feeling less Canadian and caused some of them to take to the streets today to call attention to it. As an “apple,” I think I have a fairly broad perspective on the issue, which gives me a confused relationship with Canada.

I was not raised in a traditional way. I was not taught the language (except for the swear words and insults!) and most of the traditions. Much of what I do know about my tribal traditions I learned from funerals and working at Aboriginal organizations. This detachment has made me less of a romantic about “our ways,” some of which I find to be muddled and contentious.

The hereditary system, for instance, is essentially the same as the monarchy system, where power, possessions and land/water rights is passed down to family members. But so much is based on memory, oral history, and families don’t always agree. Is great leadership inherent in families? Of course not. In any group, for every strong member, there are at least two schlubs. Every society has flaws in its traditional ways and the world keeps changing so most of those ways are destined to become the “old ways.”

Certainly, the crimes that came from colonization have left wounds and anger that may never heal completely. Still, here we are. We cannot turn back the clock. The manner in which a new society was thrust upon Aboriginal people was horrific and poorly executed, and there is need for reparations and reconciliation. But, change and upheaval was inevitable.

This modern society that we live in has many ills but also many good things that we wouldn’t give up. We live longer and can communicate and travel across great distances in a short time. Food and necessities are in abundance - but not for all, and we really need to address that. We have a democracy that, while flawed, still allows us to choose our leaders.

And Canada tries. It tries to be fair to its Aboriginal people and other minorities, to level the playing field, to be just and compassionate. But the primary purpose of all governments is to get re-elected and that means not rocking the boat too much, so it’s unrealistic to expect significant change at anything but a glacial pace. Unless, of course, we have a violent revolution, and I don’t see that happening. That doesn’t mean, though, that we don’t fight for changes with urgency NOW because, otherwise, it might never get done.

I look around, I watch the news and I know that here, in Canada, we have it better than a large majority of the people on the planet. War, droughts, famine, corrupt governments, and brutal regimes occupy much of the world. And, by most quality of life metrics, Canada is at or near the top of the heap.

Does standing atop that quality of life list make a country the best in the world? Of course not. A country is not just about its land, or its wealth, its systems and services, or its military might. It is also about people and everywhere I go, whether the country is rich or poor, communist, democratic, I find a lot of good people. And I never think, my country is better than yours. That is what nationalists think.

I can live with patriotism, but nationalism is a scourge, no less than racism. It says we are better than others. It is the root of the moral decay of the U.S. and that decay, because of the nation’s immense influence, adversely affects the rest of the world. Every U.S. president I have known, and most U.S. leaders in any area, has called the U.S. “the greatest country in the world” at one point or another and suggested that, because of that, it was its destiny to lead and transform the world.

It is nationalism that caused Colin Kaepernick to lose his job. It puts objects and symbols, like a flag or an anthem, that are said to represent ideals above people and freedom. That is why, during ceremonies, I don’t stare at our flag with blind conviction and I rarely sing the national anthem (although part of that is due to the lyrics, which is a different discussion).

It’s not that I don’t love Canada. I just don’t worship it. It doesn’t belong on a pedestal – no country does. It’s like family members. I love them but I know they are imperfect. They need work. They can be annoying at times and have done shit that wasn’t cool. But I still want to live with them because I know them well and I think that they mean well and, most importantly, can change.

Can people learn and, more importantly, change?

The following is my fifth and final installment in my blog series on racism and Aboriginal people. I thank those of you who have been following it, for your interest and for your supportive words.

This has been a very emotional series of articles for me. Some of the things I have shared, I did for the first time ever or first time since around the time they happened. I have been an “Indian.” I am an “apple.” The Indian has never left. He’s always there and more often feels the most real.

I am very fortunate to be where I am today. Part of it may have been resilience but good people, their influence, played a big part. My mother was a rock, who sheltered me from violence as best she could and sneaked me food when I was hiding from my dad’s rage. Ironically, it was my dad who was responsible for me going to college and whose surprising open-ended apology, whispered in my ear on one of his last Christmases, gave me some measure of release.

And there were white people, lots of them who treated me as an equal and who told me I was better than I thought, who pushed me to succeed and never seemed uneasy around my family or any other Aboriginal people. There aren’t many urban places that would have happened in, besides Prince Rupert.

Rupert has one of the largest ratios of Aboriginal to white people of any city in Canada and, I would guess, anywhere in the world. Being exposed to Aboriginal people all the time meant that white people, more often than not, didn’t have to go to where they live because they were already there. They worked with us, they played with us.

The play part was huge for me. I love sports and what better way to break down barriers than by joining a team and becoming part of a common goal where you all need to support each other to succeed. I played lots of floor-hockey, ball-hockey, flag football and softball and, in all of them, there was a mix of ethnicities. I know that perceptions and attitudes were changed in some white players. I not only heard it in their words and saw it in their demeanor, but I felt it. I made life-long friends through sports and over half of them were white.

School, on the other hand, was a mixed bag. There was considerable racism there, from students and staff. But it has changed over the years. Many districts are adopting curriculums that include significant components on Aboriginal history, customs and language.

Education will be the most important tool in putting a dent in racism. The long hidden truth of the cruelty and efforts to crush a people and their culture, the stories of the reserve system and residential schools and their devastating and long-lasting effects that, in turn, created the perception of the inferior, “dirty Indian,” are being taught in our schools. Kids and their parents will understand why most Aboriginals live in poverty which, in turn, spawns crime.

Understanding how Aboriginals got to where they are will also help white kids realize how they got to where they are, and that they had an edge. They’ll find out that, while in theory, we all run the same 100-metre track, many people begin at the 20-metre or 50-metre point and few of them are Aboriginal.

It’s going to be hard to bring real change, real equality. If I were a betting man, I wouldn’t put money on it happening in my lifetime because, unfortunately, it will probably take a literal revolution to make the changes in the institutions and traditions, particularly the political and financial ones, that are necessary for it. Privilege is usually something that has to be torn away. I hope I am wrong about that.

For those of you still struggling with the concept of white privilege, it doesn’t mean that you are not poor, are not struggling, and do not get pulled over or brutalized by police. It just means that those situations don’t occur because of the color of your skin. And, since you personally didn’t create this privilege, you don’t have to apologize for it. Just acknowledge it. And talk to others who share that privilege about how unfair it is to so many of those who don’t.

Peace and love, my friends.

Police need to show up where it matters most

The following is the fourth installment in a series of posts on Racism and Aboriginal People. I will be wrapping it up with some final thoughts on the weekend.

It’s pretty hard for a nation built on the overthrow and oppression of a people to not have racism ingrained in its institutions. And, besides government, what institution would have racism more deeply embedded than the police, whose job was to ensure the conquered understood their place and stayed there?

Obviously, the current role of the RCMP has changed but Aboriginal people, with all of our problems, make for an easy target, much easier than the rich and influential, the guys they golf with and whose homes their kids sleep over at. I imagine Aboriginal people are somewhat of a nuisance to police, who too often have to break up their parties and pick them up off the streets.

I know the RCMP pretty well. I had several run-ins with them in my youth. I also worked with them a lot over the last 20 years, first as a program director at the Friendship House and, then, as a recreation director in the village of Lax Kw’alaams. As you might guess, my relationship with them was much different and mostly unpleasant in my early years. I got into my share of trouble as a kid. I shoplifted, I was a vandal, I was mouthy. I got myself into situations that invited police intervention.

I think when we discuss police using excessive force, it’s important to start there, with the assumption that there was a good reason for the police to be engaging with or arresting someone. By starting with “the guy was no angel” reason, it dispenses with the apologist’s lines, like “the dude was shoplifting” or “he called the cop a pig and flipped him the bird” or, in the case of George Floyd, “he was using counterfeit money” and “he was high.” All of those are bad behavior or crimes but very thin reasoning for excessive force.

Yes, someone suspected of a crime needs to be questioned and, when applicable, brought in. That’s it. If a suspect asks questions, they have every right to. Whatever the charge they are facing, it must be explained. That’s not “mouthing off.” Every public service job, at all levels, understands and is trained for belligerent people and has standard tactics for dealing with them.

Even when a person physically resists or throws a punch, there are stop points. You have them subdued and under control? Ask them if they’re in distress, don’t inflict further pain. And just because someone throws a punch doesn’t mean it is now a fight, officially called, like in the schoolyard, and you’re allowed to get some shots in and ad some flourish while he’s down.

I always felt Aboriginal people were given special attention by the RCMP. Cops often pulled over to ask me and my Aboriginal friends what we were doing when we were just walking down the street. We knew the answer they were looking for, so we always said we were on our way home.

When I was in my teens, there was one constable in town who was well known for his feelings towards Aboriginal people. He wasn’t alone but he was the most brazen about it. One night, I got caught drinking in the bushes by the Savoy Hotel. I was with a couple of buddies and this particular constable singled me out because I was challenging their physical handling of us. They weren’t striking us, but they were grabbing us and shaking us, and I made the mistake of saying they couldn’t do that. The notorious constable tossed me into the back seat of his vehicle.

I thought I was being brought to the police station, that maybe he was going to throw me into a cell to scare me. But instead of taking me to the station, he took me down a secluded road to a small clearing, with no residences nearby, and told me to get out. When I stepped out, he pushed me away from the car, glared at me and said that “I could beat the shit out of you right here and now, and no one would care.” I was scared. He was a cop and a big man. I thought I could actually be killed because all it takes is a good crack from one of those big flashlights or a good boot to the head. I didn’t talk back and, thankfully, scare me was all he wanted to do that night. I knew of others who had not been so lucky.

Another time, I was at a party that had gotten out of hand and the police came to break it up. Again, the question is not if they had legitimate cause; it’s how they went about it. They stormed the house, at which I was a guest and invited to spend the night. I was sitting on the couch, posing no threat, when they hauled me up and cuffed me. They kept yelling at me to quit resisting, even though I wasn’t. How could I in that position? My hands were behind my back and I was being dragged by my elbows.

They kept pulling my elbows up so hard as they dragged me that I thought my shoulders were going to pop out. When we got to the police suburban, they stopped to deliberately ram my face into the bumper for chuckles before tossing me into the vehicle. I now have a bridge where my original two front teeth used to be.

For those of you who were anticipating some kind of amazing, revelatory solution to the police problem, I’m afraid I will disappoint you. I don’t think you can virtually eliminate the police, as some people have suggested. Rather than de-fund, I’d prefer to see us de-emphasize certain things and re-direct some money and resources.

We could involve more social workers, to react to issues that cops are not adequately trained for and may actually escalate simply by their presence. There are many calls police get that don’t require guns or a presence that is aggressive, whether real or perceived.

Training is crucial. Take advantage of those constables that “get it,” that have made in-roads, and have them teach others, using their experiences. I have had the pleasure of working with several RCMP members who became part of the Aboriginal community and were always warmly greeted. They made an effort, not just when in uniform but also on their off days, to show true interest about who we are.

Prince Rupert once had a pair of constables who patrolled on bicycles, who were very connected to our Aboriginal youth. They regularly dropped into the youth centre and I often saw them chatting with youth on the street. The kids ran to them when they saw them. Like too many success stories, the program was de-funded and dropped for no apparent reason.

It bears repeating: knowing people is half the battle. How many times have you had your impression of someone changed merely by having a lengthy conversation with him/her? It’s the same with a group of people. Watching how they do things, why they do things, what is important to them, builds empathy and that erodes bigotry.

So, while shifting some response duties over to social workers could be a part of the solution, let’s try better education and understanding with the RCMP – and not the pamphlet and weekend course variety but in person, over a long period of time, where they can not only learn but participate.

And put them back on bikes, back on the street again, visiting Aboriginal people wherever they are so that, one day, our meetings with them will be more about “hey, what’s up?” instead of shit, what did I do?