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MONTREAL—What does it feel like when the Canadian government does not feel like you are worth the same amount of money as other children in Canada and being told to “be patient” by the government when you talk about the problem? Shannen Koostachin could answer this because she lived on reserve at the Attawapiskat First Nation, where the federal government funds public services but does so at far lesser levels than other people in Canada receive from their provincial/territorial governments. Shannen came from a loving family, spoke Cree and English, danced and was taught to stand up when something was not right. There was a lot to stand up for in Attawapiskat—she had to go to a communal tap for clean drinking water, housing was over-crowded and food insecurity was rampant. Shannen Koostachin wanted a good education so she could “grow up and be someone important” and to her, that meant being a human rights lawyer. That dream would be difficult, if not impossible to achieve, as the school in her community was nothing more than broken down portable trailers sitting atop a toxic waste dump. Everyone at the school was getting sick, teachers were underpaid, there was no science lab, and black mould and ice covered the inside walls. The school was not the only underfunded public service on reserve—everything was. The community constantly found itself in a colonial catch-22. Underfunded services meant problems were more likely to develop into crisis and then there were few services to deal with the crisis. Shannen decided to act. She did a video of the portables and posted it to YouTube hoping other children in Canada would join the community's campaign to get a proper school. Thousands of children answered her call and wrote letters to the minister of Indian affairs who told the children that he did not have enough money for a new school. Shannen and the children did not believe him and kept pressing. At age 13, she had to travel hundreds of miles away from her home to go to high school because the high school in her community was so underfunded that she would have never gotten the kind of education she needed to become a lawyer. In 2010, she died in a car accident on her way to school—a school she would not have attended had the one in her own nation been properly funded. She was 15 years old and had spent her entire childhood fighting with Canada to treat her equally. This year marks the 10th anniversary of Shannen’s Dream. The children who support Shannen created this campaign to honour this great leader and promised to keep pressing for what Shannen called “safe and comfy schools.” In 2014, a new school opened in Attawapiskat but the underfunding of education and other public services still lingers. Since Confederation, Canada has deliberately underfunded services on reserve. They know about the tragic consequences and that there are solutions to address it—still the government excuses this blatant racial discrimination by saying “you can’t change things overnight” or “it is complex.” None of these hold water—Canada does a lot of complex things—negotiating a trade agreement with Trump is clearly complicated but they did it. The “be patient” speech is given by those who do not have to be patient themselves. The politicians and bureaucrats have clean water and their kids do not have to go to school in moldy and cold classrooms with dedicated teachers who are paid far less than they deserve. COVID-19 has placed all the inequalities in stark relief. It has also shown that Canada could have addressed these inequalities long ago. Large amounts of money, that they claimed did not exist when the children begged for equality, has been doled out generously during the pandemic. Many Canadians are weighing the option of sending their kids to school or studying online during COVID. Far too many First Nations parents have no option—only 35 per cent of First Nations homes have broadband access. For those of you thinking remoteness is an excuse for this disconnection—the International Space Station (population 6) has excellent service. Every day, Donald Trump shows us what state-based systemic racism looks like. We can see it clearly and yet—here in Canada, we let politicians get away with asking First Nations kids like Shannen to be patient and be satisfied that government is taking “good first steps.” Governments hope the public buys the rhetoric and looks the other way and too often we do because Canadians still do not fully understand that governments rarely create change—they respond to change. If we want to really honour Shannen and the many children like her—we need to speak up, keep talking until government takes immediate action to end the inequality. If they don’t—vote them out because kids like Shannen are worth the money. The time for patience is over. Cindy Blackstock is the executive director of the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada and a professor of social work at McGill University. The Hill Times

The colonial toxicity of the ‘be patient’ speech

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The colonial toxicity of the ‘be patient’ speech

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