A Letter to the Indigenous Children

In honour of the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation

By Samantha EdenPublished 3 years ago • 3 min read

A letter to the Indigenous children, forcibly taken from their homes and left in unmarked graves:

My family are settlers, settled here in search of a better home and a new life.

I used to be a teacher. I used to work in a similar environment to one in which you lost your lives. I used to be an authority figure that is entrusted with the education of children and their well-being. For many reasons, I chose to leave that profession behind. Though I still value education and the public systems that allow it, I am beginning to understand the systematic racism and prejudice and raw genocide that took place—and continue to take place—within these institutions in which I still play a part.

Now, my dog and I walk your lands with acknowledgment. If I had been born in an earlier time, with less understanding, I might have worked as a teacher in a residential school. And that makes me uncomfortable. Though I will never know all of your names, I acknowledge you. What happened was an injustice and force of evil that makes me sick to have been complicit in, by association. By not challenging the systems that killed you, I am complicit in the silence that led to your deaths.

I love the land that we call Canada, for it has been good to my family. I acknowledge that these lands upon which we live are haunted by your spirits, by those who mourn you and the loss of generations. I see the land with new eyes, with a new perspective, and I will do differently from now on. I will take more care while settled on this land. I understand what it means for territory to be unceded. I am learning how my identity has shifted with the unveiling of the truth.

And for my friends who find this a difficult topic—of course it is. Children were abused and died. Generations were affected by the trauma. Culture was lost. This is meant to be difficult. A single day of truth and reconciliation to wear an orange shirt is the barest of minimums, but it is a start—a public acknowledgement of the wrongs that were done here, where we live. A day to recognize the truth, unburied, out in the open. It will take some time to process, to grieve, and work towards healing. It will take time and a conscious effort.

The definition of reconciliation is “the restoration of friendly relations,” “the action of making one view or belief compatible with another,” or “harmonization.” These definitions are trite in the face of the gravity of the crimes that need to be reconciled. I sit with the knowledge and the responsibility that there is work to be done, that I am a part of a society that needs healing, and that I live on this land. It is my home, shared with countless others, and I will take care of it. I don’t know where or how to start, but here I am, starting.

To the Indigenous children and to those who mourn them:

I see you. I acknowledge you. I stand and mourn with you.

Every Child Matters. It should be a given.

I currently reside in the city of Vancouver, which is unceded territory, meaning that the First Nations people did not sign away the land to the government of Canada. The three traditional territories of the Local First Nations are the Musqueam, the Squamish, and the Tsleil-Waututh.