Posted on Mar 17, 2020
While the world is distracted by Covid 19, I have been mulling over the idea of rebuilding (heads up, this is going to be a long rant!). Not my home—that I am renovating, not rebuilding, thank goodness! Recently, I watched an interview that impelled me to share my thoughts on a controversial topic: Truth & Reconciliation for indigenous Canadians. The interviewee, Tanya Talaga, proposes a more accurate word to reconciliation is rebuilding. I concur. There is nothing to reconcile between two unequal partners. The goal of colonization was obliteration—not collaboration. And it nearly succeeded. However, what remains are empty shells of once proud and soulful members of many nations.
It reminds me of the Holocaust. There are similarities
between how Hitler and John A MacDonald tried to destroy not only a group of
people, but a rich and vibrant culture and its various communities as well. A
difference between the first prime minister of Canada and the leader of the
Third Reich is dramatic impact. MacDonald (and other early politicians) managed
a subtle, invasive, insidious, genocide that masqueraded as colonization for
the good of the people of Canada. But which people? The ones who welcomed or
invaded? The betrayal, deceit, and trickery used by Canadian government officials
and politicians are abhorrent and would never be tolerated today.
In fact, they would be considered war crimes. Yet the general populace is tremendously dismissive of the indigenous situation. I was raised on the same platitudes and blame-the-victim attitude. Hence, countering ignorance is key. We are inundated with books, movies, documentaries about the atrocities of WWII. There is no denying it happened; that it was horrid and wrong on so many levels. The world has, for the most part, taken ownership of WWII and made efforts to prevent a repeat. We can’t imagine how it happened in the first place and are incredulous that there is a viable threat of it happening again.However, history has repeatedly proven that it does repeat itself. We have seen it in countries on all continents at various points in recorded history—dynasties in China; tribal wars in Africa; the British, Russian, and Roman Empires; Spanish conquests. Since the dawn of time, rulers have invaded countries, conquered its inhabitants, decimated cultures (Polynesian Islands, Celts, Aztecs, Mayans, to name a few). Enlightenment appears to have a short shelf life.
Which, in trauma terms, begs the question: how to break the
pattern of abuse? Throwing money at the problem is another version of sweeping
“it” under the rug (aka “hush money”). But that is not in the true spirit of
“reconciliation.” Reconciliation implies restoration—that ship sailed with the
first broken treaty and scurvy-infested Hudson Bay blanket.
In therapeutic aims, to restore a broken relationship
requires all parties taking ownership of what they contributed to the situation
and what they bring to the table moving forward. New terms of the relationship
are negotiated. If all parties do not benefit in mutually satisfying ways, then
someone sacrifices for the sake of the relationship, the relationship shifts
(usually a downgrade) to factor in discrepancies, or it disintegrates.
So far, the Canadian government holds the power and calls
the shots. It is by no means a mutually satisfying relationship, and separation
or disintegration is not an option. Hence Canada’s indigenous peoples are
forced into making the sacrifices and downgrading the relationship. None of us
would have the privilege of living in this amazing country if it wasn’t for the
original inhabitants welcoming the intruders and showing them the ropes of how
to survive and thrive. Those who take the position of the “conquering hero,”
speak from the colonization point of view—not the conquered—as history
generally is written from the conquerors perspective. How arrogant to assume all
is fair in war—or accurate in historic accounts.
When what happened 150-200 years ago occurs today, people
flee, become refugees, seek asylum. Where are indigenous Canadians supposed to
go? It is absurd to think that the country within which modern refugees seek
shelter historically created the very environment that forces others out. More
ludicrous is the fact that Canada doesn’t own its dark secret. The difference
from WWII: Hitler and his henchmen couldn’t hide from recorded reality while Canada
hides its dark secret in obscure archives.
My goals with this rant are two-fold: highlight the
atrocities (ownership) and consider rebuilding from a trauma recovery
perspective. In the spirit of taking ownership, here are a smattering of
inhuman government policies (refer to websites end of page): denied women
status of any kind (Indian or otherwise); forcefully removed children from their families to attend residential
schools with the primary intent “to kill the Indian in the child”; segregated
onto reserves (similar to Jewish ghettos); renamed individuals with European
names (more cultural distancing); restricted from leaving reserve without permission
from Indian Agent (characteristically of ill repute, dictatorial, and
sadist—not unlike plantation “slave supervisors”); forbade speaking their
native language, practicing their traditional religion; declared potlatch and
other cultural ceremonies illegal; denied the right to vote.
“I have reason to
believe that the agents as a whole … are doing all they can, by refusing food
until the Indians are on the verge of starvation, to reduce the expense,” Macdonald
told the House of Commons in 1882
“The great aim of our legislation has been to do
away with the tribal system and assimilate the Indian people in all respects
with the other inhabitants of the Dominion as speedily as they are fit to
change.” – John
A Macdonald, 1887
Impact of said policies—generations of indigenous Canadians “lost in the system.” We learn how to raise children living in families. If you remove children from their families, how are they to learn how to raise the next generation? Their models are punitive, dismissive, and distant institutions. Many of us spend years in therapy for being raised in punitive, dismissive, and/or distant families. Imagine whole communities and cultures!
So if the government is serious about rebuilding its
indigenous roots (doubtful given political patterns), step one would be to own
the damage it has done to the fabric of families—damage in terms of parenting
and attachment issues which lead to unhealthy coping strategies (in any
cultural background) such as violence and addictions—which Canada as a whole
denies it helped to create and perpetuate.
The second step is developing a strategy—not a vague plan—a
strategy with measurable goals and objectives. Clean drinking water for EVERY
Canadian would be a great start! Access to equal education and health care.
Trauma recovery programs led by local community members. Proper homes,
facilities, and infrastructures. All of this cannot be a “top down” approach.
Collaboration is key—all parties having a voice at the discussion table—starting
from the “ground up.”
Another framework for understanding our predicament from the trauma recovery perspective is to think of what’s involved leaving an abusive relationship. “Canada” (as we know it) abused its original occupants —and continues to abuse with unfair policies and treatment. Not because it doesn’t know better, but willfully and initially maliciously. However, as the victimized partner in this abusive relationship, our indigenous peoples have nowhere to go, no one to turn to. As in domestic violence, there are bystanders—those who see the abuse but turn away or blame the victim. As apathetic bystanders, we join the ranks of those who witnessed the systematic destruction of Jews by the Nazi regime. We are in collusion with the abuser when we don’t speak up due to apathy or passivity. That, too, is hard to own.
Imagine you are the abused partner and believe (re-enforced
through experience) you have no one to turn to—what would happen? Most likely,
you turn on yourself. The violence turns inwards. Depression and futility set
in. You lose your sense of self, your autonomy, your volition, your will to
live. Your spirit dies a little more each day. To cope with the negative
onslaught, you must shut down. Your entered this relationship in good faith.
Now faith is gone. Can you imagine being beaten down every day? How do you
press on? Move forward? Rebuild when each attempt is thwarted?
Providing we aren’t forced to leave under drastic measures,
rebuilding a sense of self germinates while still in the abusive relationship.
We begin to see “this” isn’t working and eventually realize our own spirit or
essence will die if we stay or continue “as is.” We timidly begin reaching out
to others, determining who can be trusted, seeking confirmation of our unfathomable
experience. With their help—and ONLY with the help of trusted others—plans
formulate to make change: either to begin a new life of recovery or to begin
rebuilding the foundation for a healthier relationship that fosters mutual
respect.
If Canada embarks on this recovery mission, it needs to collaborate with the First Nations to incorporate from within—not impose upon from the abusive party. Can you imagine being offered supposed help from the same system that terrorized, denigrated, suppressed, and trampled you? There is NO easy fix to this situation. But until we take ownership of how we all play a part (either passively or aggressively) in this toxic relationship, it will never have a hope to heal. At the very least, we must stop negative speech towards once mighty nations, communities and cultures, individuals, and a situation we know nothing about. Until we are brave enough to engage with the real people involved and learn of their lived experience, adding our voice to the multitude of naysayers is not helpful, but harmful.
Before becoming a trauma therapist, I was one of those turn-a-blind-eye/blame-the-victim Canadians. I can’t anymore. How about you?
- https://www.ictinc.ca/blog/21-things-you-may-not-have-known-about-the-indian-act-
- https://thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/indian-act-plain-language-summary
- https://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/the_indian_act/
- https://www.nwac.ca/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/The-Indian-Act-Said-WHAT-pdf-1.pdf
- https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/here-is-what-sir-john-a-macdonald-did-to-indigenous-people
- https://www.ictinc.ca/indian-residential-schools
- https://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/the_residential_school_system/
Read More
Posted on Jan 22, 2017
“Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation. You cannot control what happens to you in life, but you can always control what you will feel and do about what happens to you.”
~ Harold S. Kushner, from the Foreword to “Man’s Search for Meaning” (2006), by Viktor E. Frankl (survivor of 4 concentration camps including Auschwitz)
In my December blog, I came across many rabbit trails to pursue in the future, one being forgiveness (or letting go). I anticipated having time to research this concept even further than I have, thus far, in my work as a psychotherapist. However, that is not the case. I have been mulling over what I have learned up to this point. This will be my attempt to synthesize those ponderings into a cohesive entry.
I will start with the conundrum that got me thinking about forgiveness. When I processed my sexual assault of 25 or so years ago back in November, I was able to let go of the grime, if you will, of that experience. I released the guilt and shame (yet again), the hurt and pain, the hold that it had on me. I closed the chapter. It is no longer a defining moment in my life. I am free to pursue who I am truly meant to be. However, I was not prepared to release the perpetrator from being the one responsible. I had finally placed the responsibility onto the perpetrator (no longer taking the blame myself); and I am not about to ‘set him free’ from that. He remains the responsible one. So does that mean I haven’t forgiven him?
Much of the material on forgiveness/letting go is focused on the person doing the forgiveness. It is the very thing I did—released myself from the grime or residual effects of the abuse. But one thing I don’t want to do is the let the perpetrator “off the hook.” I don’t want to absolve him of responsibility. Synonyms for absolve include: pardon, forgive, clear, release, free. Which brings me to my quandary: I do not want to forgive my abuser in the sense of forgiving a debt. Nothing owing. Free and clear. No longer held accountable or responsible for what is owed.
Yet contrary to that sentiment, I am not holding a grudge or expect any retribution. I don’t feel I am owed anything—not even an apology (I want no contact with him, so no sense trying to apologize). There is nothing he can do to restore my sense of self or repair the damage done. So making amends is also out of the question. Which makes me think of something I recently learned in reading a novel by Jodi Picoult (The Storyteller) about the Jewish concept of forgiveness.
In Judaism, there are two wrongs that are unforgivable: murder and a ruined reputation. In the case of murder, it is impossible to go to the wronged party to plead one’s case; and a dead person cannot grant forgiveness. No one else can substitute their forgiveness (as in the case of genocide or bereaved family members). As for a good reputation, that cannot be reclaimed. It can’t be undone, so-to-speak. Reparation is not viable—in either case of murder (death) or reputation.
So where does this leave me? Common considerations in the process of forgiveness are letting go of the victim role and reclaiming personal power, as well as reconciliation. In regards to my sexual assault, there is no need, nor opportunity, for reconciliation. When it comes to ongoing relationships with abusers, which I do have in the case of family, reconciliation for me looks more like coming to terms with reality. True reconciliation, when the abuser takes ownership of their actions and makes restitution, is not always possible. Not everyone is open to seeing the error or impact of their ways. In such situations, it is a matter of adjusting expectations and setting boundaries. But that is another story for another day.
At this point, I am mentally holding in tension the conflicting ideas of wiping the slate clean and holding someone accountable. I am no longer held prisoner by the impact of another person’s actions. In that sense, I hold nothing against them; and I expect nothing from them. To some people, this is forgiveness. I have successfully let go. I chafe at using the word forgiveness, though, because I will not wipe the slate clean in that I will not release them from being the responsible party. It was not my fault. I am not to blame. The damage was done—but not by me. And that opens yet another can of worms in that his actions were part of a system. The beliefs I grew up with contributed to the abuse dynamic. So I also hold those people and institutions responsible for what happened to me. But now I am staring at the slippery slope of what if’s.
So once again I ask myself, where does all this rambling rumination leave me? I may not be comfortable using the word forgiveness in the classic sense of granting a pardon—as I am not prepared to no longer hold my abuser(s) accountable/responsible—however, I have let go of the pain and shame and expect nothing from my abuser(s). So if you are comfortable calling that forgiveness, be my guest. For now, I will keep holding those concepts in tension: letting go of my own “stuff” while laying the blame and responsibility where it belongs. Nothing more to be said or done. That chapter is closed. I have the freedom to move on.
Read More
Posted on Dec 14, 2016
“As the legend goes, when the Phoenix resurrects from the flames, she is even more beautiful than before.”
~ Danielle Laporte
I am going to go in a totally different direction with this blog than the usual holiday cheer. This is pretty heavy stuff; but I think I’m finally ready to ‘go there.’ November was a pivotal month for me. I encountered parts of my story that I had long buried, but evidently had not laid to rest. So here goes…
I was the victim of sexual assault. Of course, back then, it wasn’t known as such. “Date rape” was not part of our cultural vocabulary—nor was the concept of two consenting adults—neither was the idea that sexual assault and/or molestation is not limited to forced vaginal penetration. There was a strange connotation (at least to my limited understanding at the time) that sexual assault was attempted rape and sexual molestation was rape. Now we understand sexual assault in much broader terms. It was also an understanding at the time that what happened in a relationship did not constitute assault or molestation.
One of the fallouts (which can be seen as either good or bad) of the American election is the exposure of assault in our Western culture in its many forms (physical, sexual, racial, economical, etc.). Other high profile sexual abuse cases in Canada and the States have also brought this issue to the forefront. But I must stay on task and side step the rabbit trail of social commentary.
My “oh wow” moment last month was realizing that I was sexually assaulted by my first serious boyfriend. Let me clarify. He did not sexually “molest” me (aka rape). There was no vaginal penetration. But he did push me to be sexually expressive in ways I was not comfortable. My “no” was not respected. My discussions with him on the topic were ignored. I felt powerless, helpless, and ashamed.
There are many contributing factors to the sexual assault chapter of my story. The two key ones are combined: being raised in a patriarchal society (Mennonite background for those familiar with religious sects) and an abusive home. It was ingrained in my brain long before I ‘came of age’ that my “no” had no power and my body had no boundaries. It was eye opening to me to learn years later that skin is a boundary. As is common with abuse survivors, touch is confusing to me—having grown up with very mixed messages coupled with the basic core needs for attention and affection.
I also learned from an early age that men were superior and women inferior. Women were put on this earth to serve men. If women were good wives, they would be taken care of by their men—given the religious standards or “blessings for obedience.” If I was “good,” God would take care of me. Well, God has taken care of me and been with me to hell and back a few times. However, it had nothing to do with being good or perfect or holy. It had everything to do with whom I now understand God to be: Unconditional Love. Not something easily grasped by a victim of abuse. It’s been a long healing journey for God and me to get on good terms with each other. Feeling safe and secure—and loved. Powerful stuff. I sure didn’t learn those things from my parents, other family members, friends, church, or social connections.
As a result, when someone became “amorous” with me, I was very uncomfortable due to my upbringing as well as my comfort zone. I hoped he would understand where I was coming from and back off. Not what happened. I felt guilt and shame—for breaking the taboos I had been taught, for not being able to keep the men in my life happy, for not knowing what was wrong with me. Why wasn’t life working out the way it was “supposed” to? Where was I failing? Why could no one help me navigate this unknown relationship terrain?
I have worked through the guilt and shame over the years. Finally comprehending that the guilt and shame are not mine. Placing responsibility back on the abuser. Setting myself free from that abuse dynamic and the victim mentality. Hence, I hadn’t thought about it in quite some time. So imagine my surprise when I had the realization, just weeks ago, that I was ‘by definition’ sexually assaulted. The label fit. What I had subconsciously suspected was confirmed after all this time (over 25 years ago). And it was oddly liberating. I think there is also a sense of belonging—to a specific group of trauma survivors. It now makes sense why I can relate to many women in the counselling room even if the details of our stories differ.
In a nutshell, my first sexual experiences were not between two consenting adults (we were barely adults by the Canadian legal designation), and I remember specifically saying “no” and having those discussions of what I felt was inappropriate behaviour towards me. Sex is about more than intercourse. We learn many messages as we develop into adults about what it means to be a sexual being—a side trail that may be explored in a future blog.
As I write this in preparation for December’s blog, I am reflecting upon recent events of the past couple days. I had a ‘letting go ceremony,’ attended by my sister, of burning the photographs of my abuser. Someone once unwisely told me not to destroy photos of past boyfriends for they are part of our story and shape who we become. Conversely, those photos were not of a boyfriend but of an abuser. It is absurd to keep photos of an abuser! Especially one who is not connected to me in any other way.
I was surprised by the depth of emotion elicited by the action of burning those photos (and there weren’t many as this happened pre-digital age). It was closing a chapter for me. He has been written out of the story. All that was left were the ashes of pain at the bottom of the metal receptacle. Ashes that were dispersed the next day in a carefully chosen spot, also witnessed by my sister. I released my pain with those ashes which unexpectedly opened another avenue of contemplation: forgiveness. That is a trail to travel down in a separate blog entry—maybe the start of the New Year. I have much more contemplation to do on the subject!
Reflecting on the release of pain, I struggle to find a way to end this blog. It is tempting to return to social commentary. However, that is not the purpose of this confession. The purpose is to step from the shadows—knowing that my story continues as does my healing journey. Chapters close. Characters come and go. The plot constantly changes. I am no longer a victim. I am the protagonist of my story.
Read More
