Because My Name Isn’t Pocahantas
I am awake, I am alive and as a result of last night’s post and the resulting nightmares, this morning I have homework for the non-Indigenous who want to be allies, those who insist they want to help, to be part of positive change …
For the next 72 hours, until Monday morning, I want you to read comments on any and every news story you come across online that involves indigenous people, especially if it involves individuals speaking out, standing up, or some indigenous victory of some sort.
Because I still hear “it’s only a few bad apples” or “a few trolls” and it isn’t. It is far more insidious than that, far more widespread. Read. Be disgusted. Then imagine how much worse it would be if they were talking about you, your parents, or your kids.
It won’t be easy but being an ally isn’t because being indigenous within Canadian borders isn’t. To change things is to face a whole lot of ugly and not just online. Much is whispered as we enter the room (if verbalized at all). Micro aggressions abound when it isn’t.
And if you can’t or if you won’t, know that is your privilege, your white invisibility cloak that gives you the choice. Those much darker than me have no such option because all they have to do is hail a cab (or try to), walk into a store or try to order a meal and suddenly, there is the ugly.
This is our Canada and this is me praying you do the homework, praying you do educate yourself because we need your help to make this stop.
Because my name isn’t Pocahantas.
I love you