Hurtful words not part of our spiritual being
- Maria Campbell | March 07, 2014
Two things that were very powerful for me happened almost at the end of the year. One was the death of Nelson Mandela and the other was reading an article written by a young man who spoke of his work to create change for gay, lesbian and transgendered people. Both the death of a man whose life epitomized freedom in every sense and the life story of a man whose suffering was inflicted by his own people caused me to reflect on freedom and what that means for each of us, and for us as a people and community.
I was about five or six years old the first time I heard the word "queer." I spoke only Cree and Michif at the time and so hearing an English word spoken by one of our people made it memorable. I am sure they spoke other English words, but it is this one that I remember.
We were travelling in a caravan of wagons loaded down with family and bags of seneca root to sell in Prince Albert when we saw a huge building. Never in our lives had we seen anything so big. My sister was so excited she almost fell off the wagon as she clapped her hands and yelled, "Look at that big shack, mamma!" I was older so I knew it wasn't a shack: it was a fairy castle and a king and his princess daughter lived there. I had seen a picture book in Debden. "No, not a castle," my dad explained to us as we all stared at the building in awe. "It is Prince Albert
Pen. That's where the government puts people that break the law."
"No. It's a fairy castle," I argued and just then my 20 year old uncle, who was well travelled and knowledgeable about outside ways, laughed and said, "It's a fairy castle all right, and it's full of fairies and queers."
"Queers!" I'd never heard that before but I knew from the way my uncle laughed that it must mean something mean and ugly, because most of the time my uncle was a mean man. I never associated the word to another relative who often came to visit us and who dressed like a woman. We called him Uncle, but to this day I don't know how he was related to us or if he even was, because in our way we called all friends of our parents, aunty and uncle. What I do know is he was a kind, gentle man who spent his time in the house with the women helping them with the endless work of cooking, cleaning, laundry and gardening. My mom and aunties always looked forward to his visits because he came with news from other communities, relating his stories with colorful, graphic detail and great humor.
He was fun and loving to be around and he made the best chocolate fudge in the world. All of us little kids loved him dearly and we never questioned why he dressed as he did or why he spent his time with women. We knew he was different but he was different like our red headed cousin was different and our old Uncle Pahchuneese, who had been a great buffalo hunter when he was young and loved to tell us those stories. His difference, like our cousin's and old uncle's, made us rich, which is what difference used to mean when we were kids. It was what our moshoms and kokoms believed and what they taught us. It was people like Uncle ------- who went away and came back with mean, ugly laughter and words like queer, bastard, bitch and other demeaning and humiliating words that made us feel poor. We need only look at our old languages to know that there are no curse words that dehumanize or ridicule what the Creator has put on the earth. The words that are used to do that today are new words. Colonized words that come from a "chimaksees" (pitiful) place. They are not the words of rich or free people.
I have since that long ago day, met many men and women like that kind old uncle who worked with the women. Some of them are old, some of them young and it is always painful to hear them say they left home and came to the city because of the persecution at home by family and community. "Kitimahksowak" our kokoms and moshoms would have said about that behavior. "We are pitiful and will continue to be so as long as we behave that way."
Our way to freedom is so clearly lit by the spiritual teachings of our people. Kindness, courage, generosity, humility, respect, wisdom, and love. Each one of these words has a bundle filled with knowledge, teachings and all the things that are the keys to our freedom. So my wish for 2014, is for all of us to open the bundles and reflect on those words. Sookaymoowin for example, means courage. Sookaytah to think in a courageous way, sokaymook, to take courage and sookaymootan, let us all take courage. So to all of us, "sookaymootan ni-wahkoomakanak."
"Let's all take courage my relatives and walk that road to freedom together. It is how we treat each other that frees us, not government dollars." Hiy hiy, Marci.