I lost my culture.

This is something different than my other stories you probably have seen. This is actually based on real-life stories. Well, more like my life story.

My name is Alexander. I'm an Indigenous man. It started when I first came to Ottawa. I was young but I did not speak any English. No teachers knew about my language. So no one was able to help me. I went to school and I was bullied a lot for a few reasons. One of them was my skin colour. I remember all the names I was called. Poor guy. Poor. Cry, Baby. I was always picked on. The teachers didn't help me at all. The next reason I was made fun of because I spoke funny. Considering that I didn't know English as well as others; I became an easy target for everyone.

The solution that Teachers had for me was to keep me inside during recess and eat alone in the hallway to prevent more bullying. I remember I was inside working on cursive and writing while all the other kids play. I understand that they "tried" to help. But as you know kids need breaks. I didn't get a break. The more I was trying to learn English the more I became frustrated. Later on, as it continued to happen kids started accusing me of stuff I didn't do. For example; The Jelly Bean Story.

When I was inside "learning" another student was inside with me. They kept making fun of me until I started to cry. The teacher sent me outside and went to the principle's office. I was outside in the hall crying. When class started I went to my seat. All of a sudden everyone was saying I stole Jelly Beans and that I stole four of them but I still "stole" them. The teacher was upset with me for "stealing" jelly beans. In reward for those accusing me. They get Jelly Beans. Another fun fact. Whenever I do get Jelly Beans (before the Jelly Bean story) Everyone received 5 while I get 3. It was around that time I hated Jelly Beans.

Not only I was learning English but they expected me to learn French too. While everyone was learning and having fun I was struggling. When my French teacher asked me a question in French I didn't kn0w a single word they were saying. I got in trouble and was sent to the back of the class. I was sent there often. I often cried and the kids laughed.

My mother had enough. I was dealing with bullying from students. I got called crybaby from the Bus-Driver. The teachers or the principle didn't help me at all. The only favourite part of the day is when I got home to see my mom. I hated school. A few days later I was sent to another school. I wasn't made fun of often. I actually met someone who also didn't speak English as well.

I finally got an I.E.P in 4th grade. Even though I was supposed to get it earlier. The more I started speaking English the more I was losing my 1st language. I can't even find it online. My mom knows more about my language then me now.

As I grew up I started to notice more that people started to neglect me or ask me questions about my culture. I didn't know why though. Any time there was a project to do with anything about Indigenous that is when people start to come to me for that. But I didn't know anything and when they realized that they left. Any other History project they leave me without a partner. I was usually left to do the projects by myself or to be forced to work in a group where no one gives me something to. They just say oh ask this person or that person. They don't give me work. From that moment on I swore to work alone no matter how much it'll annoy the teachers. Like why even try when all they do is reject me?

Around 6th grade I was offered to talk to someone who works where First Nations, Cree and other cultures come along (Notice how I don't know all of them and keep listing more? That's how you know I don't know much). It was great to Learn more about my culutre and my ancestors. But it wasn't the same. I still lost my voice (language). I knew nothing but it was still great to learn. I learned how to make my own Jingle Dress for Pow-wows. I tried different foods. I felt like I was home again.

I know you're probably wondering why don't we just go back to where we were from. I'm sure you could've still remember your language! It isn't that easy for us. Living on residentaul land isn't a pleasent experience from what I heard. Honestly I don't want to go through any of those experiences again.

I still get neglected. But nowadays it's more like invisable or judgemental. My friends think I don't have any issues with skin colour or my culture. If only they knew. I tried to explain but they don't get it.

To this day I still don't know much. My English is a lot better but I still don't understand some statement as well as others.

I lost my culture. I lost my voice. I hope to get them back someday. I hope people start to realize that we are human beings. That we deserve to be treated with respect as well.

If you think that we don't struggle; think again.

This is my story about my lost culture. My lost voice.