Some thoughts I have on Canada Day
As a white passing Indigenous person, I struggle with Canada Day. I grew up knowing I was Métis but didn’t know what that meant. As I got older I began to learn where I came from. My father was born in Helsinki, Finland and my mom was born in Vancouver to a Métis mother. My mother was told as a child that she was Canadian, not Métis.
I grew up being a very proud to be a Canadian, and was told we were very lucky to be born in Canada, which I still believe to be true. I look back and realize we were very lucky to be born in Canada, but we were also very privileged. I didn’t understand my white privilege growing up, and only in my 30’s did I really start to understand how much privilege I really had. We didn’t grow up with food insecurity, and I never went without. I grew up with very generous grandparents and extended family and I wanted for nothing, except to know where I came from.
Over the last 15 years, I’ve learned a lot more about where my parents, grandparents, great grandparents and great great grandparents came from. I’ve learned that my Métis family were Gauthier, Harrison and Lagimodiere. Our family were French, Cree and Ojibway.
The more I learned about Louis Riel and the Métis’ struggle with the Dominion of Canada, I have decided I don’t want to celebrate Canada Day.
Canada has not held up their agreements with any of the Indigenous peoples of Canada. Riel was executed for trying to help his people keep their land. Our family was given script from the Dominion of Canada in 1875, but none of them received the 160 acres they were promised. Neither Thomas Harrison my 4th Great Grand Parent, or his wife Josèphete Courchêne, or their son Damase Harrison received what the Dominion of Canada had agreed to give them as they were being push out of their homes and off their land.
This is why I don’t celebrate Canada Day.
Getting these words out onto the page has helped me to make peace with my decision and be okay with being me, the strong Métis women that I am.
Maarsii for reading