Thank you so much.
Thank you for your kindness and, even better, for your honesty. That is so important to us.
In my lifetime, it has not been easy, because we were not recognized.
I'm going to tell you the truth of what happened in the residential schools. I'll never forget, and I'll always have in my heart what the nuns always said to us. They said, “I left my home. I left my country. I left my family. I left everybody and everyone to come here and teach you savages the right way of the white people.” They said this over and over. They also said, “There's no such thing as a half-breed. Nobody wants you. The Indians don't want you. The whites don't want you. Nobody wants you. You will never be anything.”
At the time, we were very young. I was eight. I didn't get out until I was 17, turning 18 in about a month. To have them say this to you, day in and day out.... I always remembered what my mom and dad taught us. They taught us love and respect. How could we treat them like that? They treated us like dirt.
Back then, as a child, we had nobody—no one. I say with my heart and my life that it was residential schools that almost destroyed us. The strength....
We remembered what our parents told us, and we were...and some days.... I always remembered those words. I was only about seven or eight. “Some day....”
He always said, “And you, do your share and don't stand by and let everybody else work for you. You are a good half-breed.”
We have helped many people. We don't talk about it. We live it. We live with respect and we have been in so much pain. If I lived to be 100, I couldn't make you understand how we felt. Do you know what it's like to have all these kids who didn't know anything, who were being ignored and who weren't even being hugged or having a kind word said to them?
We must be strong, and we were taught by our parents.
Nobody.... Even the ones in town were all scared of us, because the priests had power, and power almost destroyed us, but we're still here. Sometimes I wonder how we did that. How did we keep our faith? I can't even explain it to myself. I can't tell myself or my kids how this happened. How did I survive? I remembered the love of my mom and my dad.
We had nobody—nobody. Do you know what it's like to have nobody, to not have just one kind word or to even have someone smile at you? No.
Here I am. I'm 87 years old, and I've learned so much. My identity is very, very, very important. That saved my life and saved so many of us from the Métis residential schools.
We were totally ignored, but we knew each other. The bishop said to the government at the time, “Send me 500 Indians and 50 half-breeds, and we will teach you. We will take the Indian out of them. They will be a credit to society.”
What happened? What actually happened to the government? Did it come and check on us? Did it come to see? These thousands and thousands of children all across Canada were totally forgotten.
Our life was rough, but, you know, we helped each other. We were taught that since we were little. We pride ourselves that we made ourselves brave. No, they were not going to beat us. No, my mum and dad loved us too much. We were not going to let anybody ever beat us, and here I am. I'm still the same person, but I'm stronger than I was then, and I will be. I am a Métis. I'm very proud of who I am. I earned it.