DO MORE THAN APOLOGIZE: Native American Leaders Call Again for Action After Boarding Schools Apology

The timing of the APOLOGY did seem strange but it is ELECTION season... Trace

By Marianna McMurdock | October 31, 2024  

  

Native American leaders and survivors of the federal Indian boarding school system are calling on the Biden administration to do more than apologize to facilitate healing for their communities.

Their calls have been mounting for decades, but the remarks marked a milestone: the first time a U.S. President ever acknowledged and apologized for the system where federal agents removed children from their parents, often at gunpoint, sending them to schools thousands of miles from home, stripping families of their language and culture.

 

 

 

 

The exact number of children who were forced into boarding schools in the U.S. for over 150 years is unknown, due to poor record keeping, but nearly 19,000 have been confirmed. Physical, sexual and psychological abuse was rampant at the schools often run by religious institutions. Some children were referred to only as numbers, pre-teen girls were raped and sent home pregnant. Thousands never returned home.

Native American girls from the Omaha tribe at Carlisle School, Pennsylvania. (Getty Images)

Addressing the public on the Gila River Reservation outside of Phoenix, Arizona on October 25, President Joe Biden fulfilled a long-delayed promise to visit Indian country and called the boarding school system a “sin on our soul,” adding there was “no excuse” for how long-overdue the acknowledgement was and that “no apology can or will make up for what was lost during the darkness of the federal boarding school policy. But today, we’re finally moving forward into the light.”

The timing of the visit has also been noted as a tactic in the swing state to woo Native voters to cast votes for Democratic presidential candidate Kamala Harris. But many Native Americans are frustrated by government inaction to adequately protect lands, provide access to quality education and healthcare, and enact an arms embargo against Israel.

TOP PHOTO: A protester holds a sign as US President Joe Biden speaks at the Gila River Crossing School in the Gila River Indian Community, in Laveen Village, near Phoenix, Arizona on October 25, 2024. (Andrew Caballero-Reynolds/Getty Images)

Survivors and descendants both acknowledge how meaningful Biden’s speech was after centuries of fighting for recognition from the federal government, and call on the administration to act swiftly on the apology.

“In his last two weeks in office, we demand that President Biden also pass S.1723/H.R.7227: The Truth and Healing Commission on Indian Boarding School Policies Act,” said the Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition, a nonprofit that has worked with survivors and Tribal leaders for over a decade to educate about the system and facilitate repatriations.

The legislation would provide a path for investing in language and culture revitalization efforts, educating the American public on the system via museums or curricula, and establishing trauma-informed mental health resources.

It would also enable subpoenas to be used to investigate the scale of the system: Catholic entities have been able to hold onto private records for decades, some of which contain the only known photographs or remnants of survivors’ ancestors. Reintroduced in both the Senate and House last year, the bill has yet to reach a vote.

The mental and physical health concerns of survivors and lack of widespread reconciliation reached national spotlight earlier this year when the Interior Department released its final investigative report on the system, which revealed at least 1,000 Indigenous children died or were killed. The schools operated using over $23 billion federal dollars, adjusted for inflation.

Left: Portrait of Justin Shedee (Apache) from 1889 (Cumberland County Historical Society) Right: Letter from Justin Shedee expressing his wish to leave Carlisle (National Archives and Records Administration via Carlisle Indian School Digital Resource Center)

Thousands were subject to child labor to operate facilities and be “outed,” working without wage for white families near the schools.

Angelique Albert, a member of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes and chief executive of the nation’s largest direct scholarship provider for Native students, Native Forward, referred to the boarding schools not as places of education but as places of “extermination.”

Just as slavery was used as the tool to harm Black people across the Americas, “education was the tool to harm us, to assimilate us. That’s the tool where we lost our children,” Albert said, adding that the apology is a testament to the work done by Interior Secretary Deb Haaland, the nation’s first Native American cabinet member and former recipient of their scholarships, to unearth survivor testimony and investigate the system.

“She’s in the very position that implemented the boarding schools. Do you understand? It gives me chills,” Albert said, emphasizing how critical it is for the federal government to maintain close relationships with Tribal nations and put more funding behind college access for Native youth so their voices can be heard in positions they’ve been historically excluded from.

While the apology, however late, is a “critical first step in the truth and reconciliation process for Native and Indigenous communities,” Albert stressed, “Indian boarding school policies are not a horror of the past — these institutions operated through 1969, and many Native people who were subjected to these cruel policies are still living today.”

Shower in the girls dorm on the Blackfoot Reservation, Cutbank Boarding School (Bureau of Indian Affairs, Morrow, May 1951)

The boarding school system, while the focus of President Biden’s remarks, was not the only widespread, forced removal of Native children. Throughout the 60s and 70s, over a third were removed from their families and overwhelmingly placed in non-Indian homes after discriminatory welfare investigations.

In Washington, Native children were placed in foster care and adopted at rates 19 times greater than their peers. The practice was widespread until 1978’s Indian Child Welfare Act was passed by Congress, who stated “wholesale separation of Indian children from their families is perhaps the most tragic and destructive aspect of American Indian life today.”

Native populations now face disproportionately poor health outcomes, including the highest rates of substance abuse, suicidal ideation and chronic illnesses, which researchers have linked to centuries of genocide, disinvestment and generational trauma.

Following Biden’s address, an Indigenous collective gathered to pray, mourn, sing and push for more action in South Dakota, on the lands of what will soon be the Oceti Sakowin Community Academy, a “culture-based school” for Lakota, Dakota and Nakota children.

“Tonight, we took to the land and reminded the world that we are the children of survivors … We will honor our ancestors by holding this country accountable for what it has done to our people,” NDN Collective president Nick Tilsen said in a release. “The U.S. government tried to exterminate and erase us. We will continue to remind them they have failed at doing so, and the warrior spirit of our ancestors lives in all of us.”

SOURCE: https://www.yahoo.com/news/native-american-leaders-call-again-163000761.html

One word not found in President Biden’s apology is "domination" 

But instead of acknowledging the U.S. government’s ongoing claim of a right of domination over Native nations, Biden’s remarks made it seem as if all of that ended a long time ago. It’s called “A Lie of Omission” by leaving it unmentioned and out of focus. (How funny that the word “mission” is embedded in the word “omission”).

OP-ED: https://stevennewcomb.substack.com/p/on-bidens-recent-apology-for-the

‘I didn’t forget her’: Missing San Carlos Apache teen identified after 41 years

by Chelsea Curtis, AZ Luminaria
October 31, 2024

Lori Long Chase disappeared in 1983, and so did much of her life story. 

Her body had been unknowingly found almost a month after she was last seen by family. But she remained nameless for decades and her homicide went unsolved. 

Now after 41 years, Lori is able to reclaim her name, as the details of her life and death begin to unfold. 

Lori was adopted out of the San Carlos Apache Reservation in about 1965 when she was only days old, her little sister, Memory Long Chase, says.  Memory was also adopted 13 years later as a baby out of the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation in South Dakota.  She’s now one of the last surviving people ever to know Lori.

This reporting was supported by the International Women’s Media Foundation’s Fund for Indigenous Journalists: Reporting on Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, Two Spirit and Transgender People (MMIWG2T).

“I want to think that she knows I didn’t forget her,” says Memory, who was only 5 years old when Lori went missing.  Most of what she knows is based on her childhood memory and bits of information she’s heard from their family over the years.

Lori Long Chase (Phoenix Police Department)

“Maybe I’ve invented some in my mind as I’m kind of piecing things together but I want to think that they’re real,” she says of her memories of her big sister Lori. 

Lori was a distance swimmer, and a really good one, Memory says. She swam the 1500-meter butterfly and might’ve held a state record at one point. Memory remembers a detective with the Phoenix Police Department sharing a yearbook photo they found of Lori “in that Michael Phelps pose.”

One memory that stands out in Memory’s mind is the time Lori used the money she made from her first job to buy her a book about Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. “It was a really big book … it had all these artist drawings and storyboards. It was the coolest thing ever,” she says before becoming silent for a moment. 

“It’s so unfair that those are the only memories I have of her,” Memory says, her voice quavering. “But they were pretty great, the ones I do have.” 

Missing since 1983

On the first Saturday in October, about a dozen people attended a memorial service honoring Lori, even though most had never met her.

They gathered under a ramada outside the St. John the Baptist Parish on the Gila River Indian Community where a rosary and mass had just ended. Nearly everyone who showed up for Memory and Lori wore red — a color that’s come to symbolize the Missing and Murdered Indigenous People’s movement.

“I think one of the hardest parts about this was knowing that there’s so few alive that remember who she was and so I wanted to keep (Lori’s memory) alive because it mattered to me that she lived,” Memory says as everyone sat around a few folding tables to listen to her talk. “I’m sorry that her life was brief and I’m sorry it was difficult.”

Lori was just a few months shy of her 18th birthday when she went missing in Phoenix on about July 21, 1983. It was the same day she started a new job at a pizza restaurant, Memory and a spokesperson for the Phoenix Police Department told Arizona Luminaria. When her mom went to pick up Lori at the end of her shift, she was told her daughter had been fired because her boyfriend kept showing up and being disruptive.

That was the last time anyone in their family saw or heard from Lori, Memory says. At the memorial people around her quietly nibbled on slices of pizza, which Memory picked to signify the day Lori went missing. 

Candles bearing the words "We love you" and "Gone too soon" at Lori Long Chase's memorial service at the St. John the Baptist Parish on the Gila River Indian Community on Oct. 5, 2024.

Until recently, most of what was known publicly about Lori was written across a missing person flyer from the Phoenix Police Department. At its center is a cropped photo of Lori that Memory says was taken outside her family’s new home on the Gila River Indian Community weeks, maybe even days, before her disappearance. 

The uncropped version of the photo shows Lori sitting against the hood of a Triumph Spitfire and staring directly at the camera. Her brown hair is fluffed and feathered, like many teens her age styled it in the 1980s. 

And while her smile illuminates through the old photo’s fading color, it’d likely been a tough time for Lori. Several months earlier she lost her baby boy shortly after he was born.

Reclaiming her name

Lori’s disappearance would go unsolved for the next four decades, though she wasn’t officially reported missing to the Phoenix Police Department until 2021. Memory says she doesn’t know if their mom, who died in 2016, ever tried to report Lori missing before then. 

“My mom wouldn’t want to talk about it,” Memory says. 

Four years ago, Memory contacted detectives because she believed an unidentified girl listed on the police department’s website could be Lori. The girl — known at the time only as Ahwatukee Jane Doe — was believed to be affiliated with the San Carlos Apache Tribe and had been found dead nearly a month after Lori disappeared. 

“The first composite drawing has really tightly curly hair. I didn’t remember Lori having curly hair. But, page 2, that composite drawing is almost identical to that last picture that we have of her,” Memory says. 

“I saw that and my stomach fell out of my butt."

Lori unidentified compositesDownload

Because Memory wasn’t biologically related to Lori she couldn’t undergo DNA tests to help confirm the girl’s identity. Ahwatukee Jane Doe remained unnamed. Lori remained missing.

In May 2022, the department released a video with photos of Lori and a plea on National Missing and Murdered Indigenous People’s Awareness Day. They described a young woman found on the banks of a canal in Ahwatukee and asked for information to help locate potential biological relatives of Lori for DNA testing. 

"Last year, a family came forward saying this might be their adopted sister, Lori Megan Long Chase, who went missing around the same time period in the early 80s," said Ryan Cody, a spokesman for the Phoenix Police Department. "N​ow, almost 40 years later, we are asking the public for their help again to identify this Jane Doe."

No one has yet come forward. 

The department decided to find the burial place for Lori’s infant son, Bronson Hawk Long Chase.  With help from the Maricopa County Office of the Medical Examiner, Lori’s baby and her only known blood relative was exhumed for DNA testing.

More than a year passed as Memory waited. And on Sept. 5 her phone rang. The DNA testing had confirmed Ahwatukee Jane Doe was indeed Lori, closing the chapter on her missing person case but opening another into her death. 

“This leg of the journey is over, but Part 2 begins,” Memory says. “It’s so surreal because her being missing has been a fact in my existence for most of my existence so now it’s like I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

“It took 41 years for science to give Lori her name back and so I think we have every reason to hope that science will give her justice,” she later added. 

Finding resolution, if not justice

In October, Lori’s name was removed from the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System, commonly known as NamUs.  The information clearinghouse is administered by the National Institute of Justice.  It’s the only database of its kind that’s available to the public, according to Chuck Heurich, a senior physical scientist at the institute and program manager for NamUs.  

Heurich, who helped launch the program in the early 2000s, described NamUs as “a one-stop-shop tool” that helps law enforcement, medical examiners, coroners, and the general public track missing, unidentified and unclaimed persons cases. The program can also help resolve cases by offering resources such as investigative support, training and outreach and forensic sciences similar to what investigators used to identify Lori.

Heurich has worked on hundreds of cases over the past two decades. Finding resolution in missing and unidentified person cases, he said, can bring about feelings of immense gratitude for the family and investigators involved. 

Even in instances when a missing person is later discovered to have been a victim of a violent crime, he said, families may be comforted in the fact that they’re closer to justice and can lay their loved one to rest. 

“It's undescribable when you have a family member come up and hug you … and they cry on your shoulder,” Heurich said. “I've cried with a lot of family members whose cases have been solved and whose cases have been unsolved and it's probably one of the most impactful experiences I have had through my career.”

NamUs is a voluntary program, meaning there is no federal law requiring agencies to enter cases into the database, he said. Sixteen states including Arizona have legislation mandating the use of NamUs for either missing and/or unidentified person cases, according to the program’s website. However, none of those state statutes include an enforcement component making it difficult to ensure agencies are complying with the law, Heurich said. 

In Arizona, law enforcement agencies are required to submit information about a missing, kidnapped or runaway child to NamUs, among others, within two hours of receiving a report.  No other Arizona laws specifically mention NamUs and it is not clear if any Tribal Nations in Arizona have laws related to NamUs.

“The numbers of cases in NamUs are vastly different from the numbers of cases we’re hearing out in the United States,” Heurich said, adding that the missing people in its system only represent cases reported to the program. 

In order for a case to be published in the database, there has to be an active missing person report created by a law enforcement agency, he said. As part of the services the program provides, NamUS staff can work with law enforcement to create a report for a missing person at the request of families.

“We do understand there is a very large issue out there not just in the tribal communities but in the law enforcement community, in general, with actually taking missing persons reports, especially with people over the age of 18 who are considered adults,” he said. 

“For lack of a better word, there’s a stigma out there that people who are over 18 are allowed to go missing for whatever reason they want to,” Heurich continued. “Sometimes those cases are taken less seriously until there is actual proof that that person is probably and most likely endangered.”

A T-shirt bearing the words "You are not forgotten" and "MMIW" at Lori Long Chase's memorial service at the St. John the Baptist Parish on the Gila River Indian Community on Oct. 5, 2024.

‘The database is only as good as the number of cases in it’

Closing gaps in state laws that would require and enforce reporting of missing people of all ages could help increase the number of successfully resolved cases. It’s especially important for Indigenous communities in Arizona, a state that was identified in a 2017 study from the Urban Indian Health Institute as having the third highest number of cases of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls in the country. 

Native Americans, particularly Native American women, rank the high rate of missing and murdered Indigenous women among the most important issues facing their communities, according to the First Nations Development Institute’s 2023 National Native American Justice survey.

Indigenous families searching for their missing loved one, or seeking justice for their murdered loved one, often face systemic failures that contribute to gaps in data and reporting. Some families wait years and many never find justice or resolution.

There are 1,072 missing person cases in Arizona entered into NamUs, almost 9% (93) of which are identified on the database as Native Americans, an Arizona Luminaria review of the website on Oct. 30 showed. Yet, Native Americans make up just more than 5% of the state’s total population, according to 2023 population estimates from the U.S. Census Bureau. 

NamUs could not immediately provide Arizona Luminaria with an example of an Indigenous person's case it helped to solve in Arizona.

The program hired Cornelia Perry in 2021 to serve as its tribal liaison “to help bridge some of the gaps between the federal government and the Tribal Nations.” Perry is a citizen of the Navajo Nation and former criminal investigator at the Navajo Nation Police Department. 

“We still encounter a little bit of skepticism on the science and we're trying to help bridge the mistrust with collecting DNA samples from family,” Heurich said, adding that in some Indigenous communities taking someone’s DNA can be considered taking part of their spiritual being. 

“We want to convey to the communities that taking (a DNA sample) may be the only way that we can identify or find their person.”

In comparison to state and local law enforcement agencies, Heurich said there is a general lack of reporting of missing person cases to NamUs by tribal police, which he attributed to a lack of resources, trust and training. That’s why outreach and education — not only about the possible benefits of forensic sciences, but also the existence of NamUs as a resource — is a goal for the program, he said. 

“We're always looking at ways to do better outreach. To let, not only families and everyone in the general public know about NamUs as a tool, but also police agencies,” he said.

“I think one of the biggest things that we could say out in the community of victims, survivors and law enforcement is: Use NamUs because the database is only as good as the number of cases in it.”

Memory Long Chase speaks to guests attending her sister Lori Long Chase's memorial service at the St. John the Baptist Parish on the Gila River Indian Community on Oct. 5, 2024.

Part 2 for Memory

Memory passed out remembrance cards with a photo of Lori wearing a hospital gown and mask while holding her baby boy in her arms. The cards also showed the photo of Lori taken outside their family’s new home at the time on the Gila River Indian Community. The same photo police used on Lori’s missing person’s flyer.

“There are not enough words to express our grief at the loss of Lori, but forever grateful she is no longer lost,” the card reads near the bottom. “Rest in Power after 41 years.”

Lori Long Chase (Phoenix Police Department)

Beyond a short explanation about Lori’s body being found in 1983, Phoenix police did not share any details with the public or Arizona Luminaria about its investigation into her death. At one point in 2018, the department tried to determine if she was Peggy Elgo, a 20-year-old San Carlos Apache woman who also went missing in 1983.  The following year another unidentified person found in Pinal County was confirmed to be Peggy. 

The Phoenix Police Department did not respond to multiple requests dating back to July for an interview about Lori’s case, and on Sept. 10 ultimately denied an interview saying a detective new to the case was still reviewing it. 

The department instead offered to share questions with the detective. Phoenix police spokesperson Sgt. Brian Bower provided an emailed response to those questions to Arizona Luminaria on Sept. 17. Bower has not responded to follow-up questions emailed multiple times. 

A public records request with the agency is also still pending. 

Lori’s death was determined to be a homicide.  Her body was found on Aug. 15, 1983, along a canal in the 4300 block of East Williams Field Road, according to an Arizona Republic news brief Phoenix police shared in their 2022 plea for help solving the case. It was described as a rural farming area south of Ahwatukee and within a mile of the Gila River Indian Community, where Lori’s family had just moved and Memory was raised. 

Phoenix police at the time said she appeared to have been killed somewhere else before being moved to the area where she was found and possibly laid alone for days, according to the news brief. 

“I was kind of wanting to focus on her life more than her death but … I think highlighting her death is equally important because she died horribly,” Memory says. “I think her official cause of death is strangulation, she was found nude, beaten and bloody in a canal where she laid for a couple of days in August.”

During the memorial service, Memory says Lori’s boyfriend is an alleged suspect in her homicide case.  Responding to Arizona Luminaria’s inquiry about suspects, a Phoenix police department spokesperson said they would look into the case.

Memory also told the group that Phoenix police learned Lori had been hospitalized between the time her family last saw her and when her body was found. “Her boyfriend beat her severely enough to put her in the hospital for several days,” Memory says. “That was the last time anybody saw her alive.”

Memory Long Chase wipes away her tears during her sister Lori Long Chase's memorial service at the St. John the Baptist Parish on the Gila River Indian Community on Oct. 5, 2024.

‘She was meant to be here for a reason’

After sharing Lori’s story with the group, Memory thanked everyone for attending her sister’s memorial. “It’s an orphan’s lot to go through things by yourself,” she says. “Thank you for being here and helping me celebrate the fact that she lived because she mattered.”

Then, Memory fell silent. In the quiet, the low rumble of cars passing by on the nearby main road sounded like a roar. She cupped her face with her hands, propped her head over the table and began to cry. 

“She didn’t deserve that,” Memory muffles into her hands. 

Her cries hung in the air for a moment while everyone else sat in silence. Many of the guests were women working to end domestic violence. They were there to support Memory, but also to pay respects to a girl who may have fallen victim to domestic violence — the very people they aim to help. 

“I had that last bit of hope that she’s off living her life somewhere,” Memory later says. “But once I saw that drawing it was over for me, I think I kind of knew without knowing.” 

“I don't think it was any coincidence that I do the work that I do and it reaffirms that this is where I’m supposed to be,” she continued. “It’s heartbreaking but I love it … I believe in what we do and I believe in who we do it for.”

Memory’s journey into advocacy began in 2014 when she worked at the Arizona Coalition to End Sexual and Domestic Violence. Now, she serves as the Domestic Violence Response Director at SWIWC, formerly known as the Southwest Indigenous Women’s Coalition. 

The organization helps Tribal Nations in Arizona address and respond to domestic and sexual violence in their communities through education, training, policy advocacy and more, according to its website. They also helped organize the first Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls event at the Arizona State Capitol in May 2019. 

For her work, Memory was awarded a “Courage in Action” Distinguished Service Award from Arizona Attorney General Kris Mayes in 2023. The award recognizes a crime victim or survivor who creates “positive systemic change on behalf of other victims,” according to a brief from the attorney general’s website. 

“Working with Indigenous communities and drawing on personal experience of being a victim herself, has given her a unique perspective on how to address and respond to all forms of violence, as well as how to educate community members on the dynamics within Native communities,” the brief states about Memory alongside a photo of her and Mayes. 

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. It’s also Lori’s birthday month. 

She would have turned 59 on Oct. 11. Rather than celebrating together, Memory is instead planning where to lay her sister and nephew to rest. She launched a GoFundMe campaign days after Lori was identified to help cover cremation costs. It had raised $3,150 of its $3,500 goal as of Oct. 30. 

Memory says she might return Lori with her son to the San Carlos Apache Reservation, where she originally was from. 

“She was meant to be here for a reason and maybe this was it, maybe her case helps advance science for the next family and maybe the detectives who worked her case can be a model on how investigations can go,” Memory says. 

“I refuse to let it be without purpose and I’ll continue to share her story until I die.”

Correction: An earlier version of this story had an incorrect date for when Phoenix police responded to emailed questions. A spokesperson responded to Arizona Luminaria on Sept. 17.

This article first appeared on AZ Luminaria and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

60s Scoop survivors say cases of 'pretendians' make reconnecting with community even harder

 

Impact of Indigenous identity fraud goes beyond headlines

Savannah Ridley · CBC News · Oct 30, 2024

Raven Reid is a Cree musician and mother of two. (Submitted by Raven Reid)

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As a kid, Raven Reid knew all the tiny places she could squeeze into surrounding her grandparents' home. She could never guess when her kokum would abruptly start a game of hide and seek,  but she was determined to win every time.

It would be many years before Reid understood the weight of the schoolyard game she played at her grandmother's house.

"I didn't realize we were hiding for our lives," said Reid.

She says the impromptu hide and seek sessions began when child welfare staff arrived in their area of Fort Smith, N.W.T.  Although she was just a toddler when it happened, she said she still remembers the screams when RCMP came to take her and her siblings.  Reid would never see her grandparents again.

Reid was adopted by a white family when she was five.  Due to her birthplace, she was told that she was Dene.  After reconnecting with her biological family much later in life, Reid learned that she was actually Cree. Over time, Reid's cultural muscles atrophied, leaving a void in her personhood she did not know how to fill.

"It's been a lifetime of not having any kind of roots.  A lot of times, I feel like I'm a dead leaf that fell off a tree and is just floating in the wind," she said. 

When Raven Reid was about four, she was taken from her grandmother’s home and into the child welfare system. (Submitted by Raven Reid)

For Reid and many other Sixties Scoop survivors, the game of hide and seek never stopped.  They want to seek out the culture they've been removed from but fear of not approaching the search in the right way results in continued disconnection from their communities.

The threat of being labelled a fraud can be so daunting, some survivors opt to hide from their own people. 

Now, at age 47 with two children of her own, Reid still can't bring herself to visit the nation she's maternally tied to — the Mikisew Cree First Nation. 

"I'm afraid. What if people think that I'm a pretendian? I'm not, but you know what I mean? There's always people out there who are," Reid said. 

The term "pretendian" has come to refer to someone who claims First Nations, Inuit or Métis heritage that doesn't stand up to deeper scrutiny.  Due to recent headlines about Indigenous identity fraud, some Sixties Scoop survivors and their descendants feel they have an even higher hoop to jump through to rectify disconnection that they are not responsible for.

Allyson Stevenson, Gabriel Dumont Research Chair of Métis Studies at the University of Saskatchewan, describes this added barrier as the expected embodiment of the "perfect survivor," which is a label with no definition.

Allyson Stevenson is the Gabriel Dumont Research Chair of Métis Studies at the University of Saskatchewan. (Kelsey Victoria Kerr)

Stevenson said the images people have come to associate with "survivorhood" — grandiose performances of Indigeneity in beaded earrings and feathers — have often come from fraudsters.

"They're also sort of like determining what Indigenous is and looks like, what it thinks like and what it acts like and speaks like and sings like and prays like. It becomes this total colonization," Stevenson said. 

For Anij Morton, a member of the Northwest Angle 33 First Nation in northwestern Ontario and another Sixties Scoop survivor, the discomfiting optics of survivorhood are especially potent at powwows.

Morton often wonders how they're supposed to act in spaces populated by Indigenous people who've sustained their cultural connections. 

Anij Morton is a member of Northwest Angle 33 near Kenora, Ont. They have never visited the community but they’re hopeful to make the journey soon. (Submitted by Anij Morton)

Morton was taken from their family at just six months old. Though they were taken so young, the rumble of the drum circle awakens something they can feel but can't put a name to. 

"It's really hard to break in when people are watching you, expecting you to know and you don't know," Morton said.

Morton said they long to regenerate lost cultural ties but struggle with how to engage with people in a way that would show their authenticity. Due to this minefield, like Reid, Morton has yet to revisit their community.

"There are so many gatekeepers now because of pretendians," said Morton. 

"You jump through so many hoops in order to get what they have just by grabbing it, and it's really unfair."

• In Depth
  Sixties Scoop survivors journey home to N.W.T. to reunite with family, reconcile past

Barriers to discovering one's identity also exist outside of Indigenous communities. Ellen Blais, another Sixties Scoop survivor, always knew she was First Nations from her adoptive mother's verbal abuse, often containing the phrase "dirty Indian," but it wasn't until Blais was in her 30s that she learned she was linked to the Oneida Nation of the Thames in southwestern Ontario. 

Ellen Blais, a Sixties Scoop survivor, takes every opportunity to connect with her people. (Submitted by Ellen Blais )

Shortly after the birth of her son, Blais applied to Ontario's Adoption Disclosure Registry. Using the registry to connect with blood relatives can take years as an applicant waits for kin to register themselves, learn of the applicant's wish to connect with them and actually reach out.

In Blais's case, it was a full decade before she established a relationship with her biological siblings. It was through her sister that she discovered the specificity of her Indigeneity. 

Since this discovery, Blais has taken every opportunity to connect with her people in an effort to make up for lost time, regardless of how awkward or uncomfortable she felt. It's a laborious task she wishes could have happened naturally. 

"Oh man, if I could grow up in the longhouse and I could speak my language — I don't know what it would feel like," said Blais.

"It's kind of a fantasy of mine. Would I feel more grounded?"

Elaine Kicknosway is a co-founder of the Sixties Scoop Network. (Theland Kicknosway)

A way to guard against frauds while saving Scoop survivors from feeling shame has yet to be established, but for Elaine Kicknosway, a co-founder of the Sixties Scoop Network, the answer can begin to be found in empathetic "community care conversation." 

"Right now it's like, 'expose so and so lied,' but how do we deal with the aftercare and aftershock? What is our responsibility to each other," said Kicknosway.

"It's up to a lot of us to do because we're still waiting for our siblings to come home, too. We're still waiting." 

**

Savannah Ridley is one of three recipients of the 2024 CJF-CBC Indigenous Journalism Fellowships, established to encourage Indigenous voices and better understanding of Indigenous issues in Canada's major media and community outlets.

Apology Opens Doors To Healing And Restoration

(EAGAN, Minn., October 25, 2024) – “We acknowledge President Joseph Biden as the first to formally apologize to Native Americans for the mistreatment of our children in Indian Boarding Schools. His eloquent speech recounted Native children forcibly taken from their parents to boarding schools - some as young as toddlers - who grew up in a world of trauma and forced assimilation. Deprived of love, family, and community, many did not survive and if they did, they returned to their communities as strangers.” said CEO Lori Jump, StrongHearts Native Helpline.

Native Americans experience some of the highest rates of domestic and sexual violence across the nation. Our experience of violence is related and connected to the historical trauma experienced by our relatives, which has been passed down from generation to generation due to the lack of resources dedicated to healing.

The majority of American Indian and Alaska Native victims have experienced violence at the hands of at least one interracial perpetrator in their lifetime — 97 percent of female victims and 90 percent of male victims.

Now in its seventh year of operation, StrongHearts Native Helpline is a culturally appropriate helpline for American Indian and Alaska Native survivors of domestic and sexual violence. Advocates have answered over 60,000 calls, texts, and chats and made over 27,000 referrals to resources.

“This apology comes from a leader with more than half a century serving the United States government. A president who understands that truth and reconciliation is required for healing to occur,” concluded Jump. “It is our deepest hope that the apology opens the doors to restoration of those things lost due to boarding school era policies - our culture, traditions, and most importantly our languages.”

StrongHearts Native Helpline serves all individuals who reach out for services regardless of race, ethnicity, gender, gender identity, age, religion, national origin, sexual orientation, disability, or any other factor protected by local, state, or federal law. Advocates are available 24/7. Call or text 1-844-762-8483 or to chat online, visit our website at strongheartshelpline.org.

Babies are Cosmic (book): Gerhard Schroth Prenatal Bonding

👉I think if we treated all babies as cosmic, we'd have a better brighter and different world! (Trace, blog editor)

"...Research in prenatal and perinatal psychology taught me that our future can be very bright when we understand the importance of prenatal life. The mother's womb is our first environment and the way we develop there profoundly influences the way we later treat ourselves, others, and our planet.

As the Bulgarian philosopher and mystic Omraam Mikhaël Aivanhov advised, “Instead of leaving the State to spend billions on hospitals, prisons, law courts, and reform schools, I advise it to concentrate all its attention on pregnant mothers. The cost would be far less and the results infinitely superior.” - Elizabeth Carman

 

READ THIS: 

https://unbekoming.substack.com/p/interview-with-elizabeth-carman 

(EXCERPT) 

In summary, the memory of experiences during the period of gestation becomes wired into our nervous system. It is stored deep within us and becomes a reference point for later experience.

Our need for love, to be connected and in a relationship, and to be welcomed appears to be strong from the beginning of life.

(Find more examples in our book about studies and clinical reports about what goes wrong in life when children are rejected. They are too frightening and threatening to include here in this limited context.)

👇 For readers who are intrigued by these ideas, how can they stay connected with our work or contribute to this field of study

Please read our books. Share this information with others.

Cosmic Cradle, Spiritual Dimensions of Life before Birth (2013) by Elizabeth Carman and Neil Carman, PhD.

Amazon.com: Cosmic Cradle, Revised Edition: Spiritual Dimensions of Life before Birth: 9781583945520: Carman, Elizabeth M., Carman Ph.D., Neil J., Siegel M.D., Bernie S.: Books

Babies Are Cosmic, Signs of Their Secret Intelligence (2019) by Elizabeth Carman and Neil Carman, PhD.

Babies Are Cosmic: Signs of Their Secret Intelligence: Carman, Elizabeth, Carman, Neil: 9780960071302: Amazon.com: Books

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/CosmicCradle/

https://www.facebook.com/babiesarecosmic/

You Tube:

Prebirth Memories of the Light

Websites

https://www.cosmiccradle.com/

https://babiesarecosmic.com/