Resistance

I wrote this last night thinking about my Dad, on the eve of his birthday. These aren’t his thoughts but mine, from my own life journey. We all have our own journeys to take, but some of the things I learned from him and others are captured in my writing.

In memory of Gilbert Cheechoo Sr, and his unwavering journey of RESISTANCE. June 9, 1958-January 4. 2018

This is what we were taught- to be subservient, to be quiet, to assimilate into the rest of “normal” society, to take what we were given and to take it all lying on our backs… or on our knees, or as a corpse.

We were taught that our way of life was less than, our languages were going to be extinct, and that our spirits were damaged by our beliefs, while our history was a mere passing thought in our textbooks.

We were taught that our stories were folklore, myths, our medicines were inconsequential, our foods were incapable, and that belonging to the greater society of our lands and discarding what we had, was the only way.

We were taught that our ancestors were gone and that we should forget them. We were taught that our words meant nothing. We were taught that we deserved everything bad we’ve ever received.

We were taught to cast out. We were taught every man for himself, and we were taught that it was futile to go against the colonial grain.

But while all that was taught to us by “society”, we simultaneously felt conflict, with what is flowing through our bodies, our minds, but more importantly, our hearts and spirit. And through being “taught”, we learned that all these things that were completely ingrained in us, that were a part of us, endured, will always endure and will be passed on through our generations. This is where our beauty lies.