It is said that what happens to one person impacts all of us. While this may seem absurd to some, as I gain experience in life, it becomes ever clearer to me that we share a common humanity.
I have been teaching high school students about genocide for over 10 years now. In the final project of the course, students research a topic of interest to them and present their findings.
Many choose to report on issues which relate to their own relatives. Some have talked about parents and grandparents who survived the residential schools or a long lost uncle who endured the Holocaust. Others draw into question English government policies regarding the Scottish land clearances or the Irish potato blight. Some present the experiences of their families in fleeing more recent conflicts. All who do research related to their background speak with a combination of pride and sadness.
I have to admit that part of my motivation for teaching this course has been to reconcile the histories of my own family. On one side I have Germans, who were at the very least complicit as racist policies took hold in their government in the 1930s and 40s. I recall sitting with family in modern day Germany asking myself how such a horrible thing could happen in such a wonderful place. The answer, of course, is that these things can happen anywhere. It is up to us, as informed citizens, to stand with those who are targeted and let it be known that no form of discrimination is acceptable. I honour my German ancestors by speaking this truth.
On the other side of my family, I have Syrian refugees fleeing persecution by the Ottomans in the early part of the 20th century. Perhaps they looked at what was happening to their Armenian neighbours and asked, "Are we next?" History shows that they made a good decision, as the number of Christians living in the Middle East continues to diminish.
For years, I saw no connection between my own history and that of the Indigenous peoples of Canada. I knew that Canadian policy was aimed at destroying their way of life and that what happened in the residential schools was wrong. I knew that I needed to teach this ugly piece of our history, but I did not feel that it was my own story.
Then I began studying the spiritual aspects of Indigenous culture, a wisdom which my own church tried to erase. I found my neighbours to be very inclusive with regard to this aspect of the healing process; I felt in no way judged and I was simply accepted as the person I am.
As I learned about the medicine wheel, I felt my own life coming into balance. I realized that the wound inflicted on the people who welcome me to their territory is the same wound that was inflicted on my grandparents when they had to flee their homes.
In other words, we share a common humanity. Where one is harmed, we are all harmed. Where one is healed, we are all healed.
As I walked out of the medicine wheel experience, I realized I felt no animosity toward the Ottomans and their descendants. I only felt peace and a solidarity with my grandparents, as well as a deep sense of gratitude toward my Indigenous teachers.
I also knew that I had to tell about my experience. Far too often I hear non-Indigenous Canadians say, "They need to get over this. We suffered too you know."
Yes, you and your ancestors did suffer and the wounds endured are very real. Be aware, however, that First Nations people are not trying to take anything from the rest of Canadian society, they are simply trying to welcome us on their journey of healing, a journey that is for all of us on the shared path to reconciliation.
-- Gerry Chidiac is a champion for social enlightenment, inspiring others to find their greatness in making the world a better place. For more of his writings, go to www.gerrychidiac.com
