Stolen generations. Canada: Indian residential schools.

Personal Bill of Rights

I have the right to freedom of speech

I have the right to be heard

I have the right to be respected

I have the right to accept and own my own power

I have the right to not disclose unless I am comfortable

I have the right to feel my emotions

I have the right to say no

I have the right to challenge the status quo

I have the right to ask questions

I have the right to be me

I have the right to own my own ideas

I have the right to my values and beliefs

I have the right to laugh

Dr. Alicia A. Dunlop, Toronto

reclaiming history

Broadcast Date: Oct. 30, 1990
Native leader charges church with abuse

Stories of abuse in residential schools have been shared among native Canadians for years, but nobody has confronted the churches about it — until now. Phil Fontaine, leader of the Association of Manitoba Chiefs, is meeting with representatives of the Catholic Church. Fontaine, who attended a residential school in Fort Alexander, Man., wants the church to acknowledge the physical and sexual abuse of students at the schools.
In this CBC Television report, the church agrees an inquiry is warranted.

Native leader charges church with abuse. Phil Fontaine was born at the Fort Alexander reserve in Manitoba, and was chief of his community before becoming head of the Association of Manitoba Chiefs. In 1997 he was elected Grand Chief of the Assembly of First Nations, a political organization representing Canada's aboriginal people.

Remembering the children. Honour Poem (This poem was written by Michelle Nieviadomy and presented at the Canadian Native Friendship Centre, Edmonton, Alta. on Jan. 22, 2009.)

To my ancestors who have gone before me, oh what you have endured
A loss so profound, I believe your stories must be heard
Silence no more, speak the wrong that’s been done
I hope this is the season where true healing has begun
It is more than just the stories you have walked thru
Stolen was the childhood, the one you never quite knew
Taken from your own home with no understanding
Lost in a moment, your sense of belonging
Your braids were cut off, your clothes were taken
Everything you believed in was now completely shaken
From the language you spoke to the food you ate
Your very culture was stripped, just to assimilate
Forget the lullabies, the childish dream, the birthday wishes
Now began your nightmares, instead of butterfly kisses
In the darkest of dark, your long nights full of fears
Not having your mother to wipe away your young tears
For at the hands of another, broken bones and crushed spirits
The kind of names you were called, no child should ever have to hear it
I dare to imagine the life you didn’t choose
The things that had happened when you walked in your little shoes
But I want you know, I’ve listened with all my heart
I will remember the children the years their lives fell apart
To the men who have wept for the first time in years
To the women who are starting to look at their fears
To the ones whose stories have yet to be shared
To the lives lost for their burden was too hard to bare
I honor your journey, though long and hard
I acknowledge the memories that have left your soul scarred
Now I hope and I pray I will live to see
This hurting generation finally free
Free from the shame, the guilt and the sorrow
Out of the ashes can rise a better tomorrow

Canada: Indian residential schools Truth and Reconciliation Comission 2008