Reravelling Canada

I want to be part of reravelling Canada. It can be a thing. The Urban Dictionary says reravel means to put something back together that has become unravelled. Wool workers get it. We have all reravelled balls of wool that have become a jumble. It’s not easy. It takes time. But if you don’t do it the whole thing is useless and you have to throw it away. I think it’s a good time to discover ways to reravel our country.

Unravelling Canada, my travel book about our 2015 knitting road trip, was meant to be a mental revisit of the country I was struggling to come to peace with. The book looks through the lens of knitters from coast to coast and is a gentle and somewhat off-beat analysis of Canada. During the time the book was floating in the publishing never neverland waiting to find a home, Canada, and indeed the world, has become truly unravelled.

In this country it might be said that the public unravelling began with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and Idle no More. Although we know the unsettling of Canada has been going on for generations, the public’s consciousness has only been sparked for the past dozen years or so. Since then Canada’s comfortable space has been rattled. The recent convergence of social justice movements has been ramping up public pressure and our country is not fairing well.

International movements like Black Lives Matter and Me Too and, of course, the COVID 19 pandemic have rearranged deeply held assumptions about race, gender and our collective health. In Canada, the report on the Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women and Girls and the discovery of the 215 graves from the Kamloops Residential School and hundreds more across the country have “shocked” even people who haven’t been listening. Closer to home, the “In Plain Sight” report on systemic racism in BC’s healthcare system have given us details, the real stories we can’t ignore. These are lessons we can’t forget.

We are grieving the loss of old growth and worried about whether we’ll remove the fish farms in time to give wild salmon a chance of survival. We have a deep disturbing anxiety about the outcomes of continued fracking and that Site C Damn is going ahead in spite of all our collective good sense.

And, as if we haven’t been rattled enough, the recent weather disaster, the hundreds of British Columbians who died in the heat wave, the loss of the tiny village of Lytton and the surrounding First Nations communities, reminds us of the climate crisis, the existential threat to our very survival.

I don’t know about you but I am unravelled. I am also a grandmother and I know that I don’t have the luxury of remaining unravelled for too long. My narrative must change to rallying the masses and building strategies and creating hope. I’m not willing to wait until the last drop of injustice has been eradicated before I call for another narrative, not to replace the unravelling but to go side-by-side.

As we continue to unearth the real stories of our past and our present and figure out our real identity I’m thinking we can also get serious about reravelling ourselves and our country. I’m not interested in wrapping it up again into a ball with the nasties buried in the middle. I’m not talking about shutting down the ravelling…there is so so so much more to do. The pressure needs to continue. I’m saying we need a new paradigm as well and new way to become whole and well and compassionate and real.

I don’t have a tidy wrap up for this blog because we have to build the new paradigm together–the reravelling–and so far we don’t know how to do that. Perhaps we need to wait and do more unravelling first. I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure we can do both at the same time. The grandmother in me says pull ourselves together. The children need hope.

Grown-ups

Canada has been stuck in perpetual adolescence…unprepared to face the next step…growing up. I hope these painful days will be seen as a ritual moment when we were faced with our country’s true self and when we began to grow ourselves up.

Remember when you were a kid and you heard your parents whispering in the other room. You couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. If they caught you listening they shushed you away and said that they talking about things that weren’t meant for kids’ ears.  

Remember the first time you heard your parents swear and then you realized that they probably swore all the time, just not when you were around.

Remember when you thought your parents, and especially your grandparents, were perfect and then found out your grandfather was an alcoholic and your grandmother still met up with her old boyfriend.

That’s us Canadians. We are grown-ups now. We are old enough to hear grown-up stories—the nasty ones everyone knew but didn’t want to talk about. We are old enough to know that our ancestors weren’t always the nice people we thought they were.

Hopefully now we will stop whispering. Hopefully we will believe the stories that are being told, especially about Canada’s particular racism against First Nations people.

Nothing has changed except our perception. But with that there is hope. Now we are coming face to face with the racism of our past we are better able to acknowledge the racism of our present and, with effort and determination, with everyone working together, perhaps prevent racism in our future.

That’s the challenge, Canadians…for all of us.

Human beings

Ron Martin and his sister Louise

You ask me for a solution—for some advice that will help the problem of racism towards me? Towards Indigenous people? That’s easy. I am not an Indian. I am not an Indigenous person. I am not a person with a disability. I am Koous. I am a human being. I am a human being in exactly the same way you are a human being. If people saw me as a human being—if people treated me like a human being I would receive the help and respectful care I need.

(Ron Martin, Mukwila, Tla o qui aht First Nation)

Ron Martin is a friend of mine. In our earlier lives we both married into the same family so we became relatives, of a sort. In the 1990s we worked together in the field of First Nations administration and travelled throughout the province. I heard Ron’s stories about being Nuu chah nulth and from Tla o qui aht. His family’s traditional lands include the world famous Long Beach near Tofino. We spent time on the beach imagining the life before. He told me the names of his ancestors going back more than 20 generations (reciting not reading their names—astounding).

Ten years ago Ron had a stroke. We no longer work together, but Ron was and still is one of my teachers. I asked him the other day if I could share this quote of what he told a class of nurses from UVIC while we were doing a workshop with them in the late 90s. His answer was, “Of course yes.”

During the discussion the students asked Ron if he could point to one thing that gets in the way of improving relations between Indigenous people and other Canadians. His answer was:

“We don’t know each other.”

There are a myriad of reasons why—all are understandable. That was 25 years ago. Hopefully we are getting to know each other better today.

I am not sure. Are we really listening to each other? Is it a two-way conversation? Are the minds and hearts open on both sides? Are we moving closer together or further apart?

But I am hopeful. My sense is that we will not move ahead in a good way, as a country, until we get do get to know each other and perhaps we are starting on that journey.

There’s a lot of “getting real” happening. Canada’s real history is becoming clearer. Canadian’s are getting over the façade of being the “good-guys” and getting real about the nasty side of our nature and our relationship with Indigenous people. Indigenous people are taking their place and thriving in every sector of society. They are thrivers, not just survivors—that’s real. White people (or whatever we call everyone who is not Indigenous) are not all bad, or all guilty, or all anything—that’s real. None of us have all the answers—that’s also real. We all need each other and to be compassionate with each other—that’s the most real of all.