Recently, an unusual convergence of events ignited an interesting and frequently vicious battle of words between those who believe in the multitude of unmarked graves at the sites of residential schools and those who think it’s a conspiracy involving a cabal of Indigenous masterminds (who may or may not be lizard people) eager to make those of European descent feel guilty.
First, Tanya Talaga published a book, The Knowing, detailing her exhaustive search — through a labyrinth of documents, communities, and graveyards — for her great-great-grandmother, who was gobbled up and spit out, along with numerous other members of her family, by the residential-school system.
Next, on September 26, an NDP MP introduced a bill in Parliament that would criminalize residential-school denialism, arguing it would help reduce harm to survivors, their families, and their communities. On social media, many asked: What happened to freedom of speech?!
Finally, on September 30, we marked the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, a holiday originally known as Orange Shirt Day. It commemorates children who attended residential schools across the country and did not come home. Many now lie in unmarked graves across the country.
It was a hell of a week for reminding Canada of its history — or just one small segment of Canadians. Some unsympathetic commentators felt the entire issue was unnecessary and pointless. I guess that’s what happened to freedom of speech.
I received vitriolic comments on X, the social-media platform. For many, the fact that one of their institutions, funded by their government (and tax money) and operated by their Church (their gateway to paradise), might be involved with child abuse on an epic and systemic level was like somebody peeing in their Rice Krispies.
Some examples:
“Show us the bodies or shut the f**k up.”
“Where are the bodies?”
“There is zero credible evidence [of unmarked graves] and it will remain that way until someone gets a shovel. The fact that nobody has dared to dig a hole yet says there’s nothing to find.”
“There were no mass graves, but there's been hundreds of churches burnt to the ground and statues of Sir John A ripped to the ground. That's the truth.”
Normally, I don’t care about social-media comments. It’s essentially a kindergarten yard with a lot of kids thinking they have something worth saying. As a fellow Taylor once said, “The haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.”
But these outrageous comments are not few and far between. And they represent a prominent line of thinking — one that is both difficult and disrespectful. In a bizarre twist of logic, many in the dominant culture apparently hate the idea of seeing dead Indigenous children pulled out of the ground. Then they would be proven wrong.
As for the primary argument: I have researched what goes into excavating graves. It’s a little different from digging up the soil and planting hostas. There are obvious cultural, legal, and family considerations that must be respected. It’s time-consuming. Too many of these commenters watch way too much CSI or Law and Order. Digging up graves does not happen in an hour.
It costs a lot for just one grave, let alone 1,000. Many belong to children from communities that are financially strapped, not having clean drinking water or sufficient proper housing.
Pam Palmater, Mi’kmaq lawyer and activist, faces many denialists in her work. She has little time for these types. “Like their conspiracy-theory colleagues — the flat-earthers, moon-landing denialists, 5G mobile networks spread COVID, and those who believe lizard men are running governments — they do not care about facts,” she says. “This isn't about truth: this about their deep fear of the inevitable end to white supremacy on the horizon. So they are pushing back with a vengeance.”
“It's time to confront this dangerous hatred head-on."
Some tend to discount Palmater’s opinion, seeing her as an agent of Big Indigena.
Deep down inside, I hope the denialists are right. I hope there are not a thousand or so Indigenous children that died and were disposed of in the ground by uncaring overseers and then forgotten. I know the world is full of horrible events and this is just one of them, but I can’t help hoping it’s not true. Also, I would still like to believe in Santa Claus.
In the meantime, the denialists should know this truth: we are already injured, and they are adding insult.
Buried beneath the angry remarks, I found a comment online that summed up my feelings: If the Earth beneath our feet could speak, it would first cough up blood.
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