Our world is a mess. Nations are warring against nations, our leaders don’t seem to know which direction to go, some of our communities are ransacked by violence and terrorist acts, families are broken, and people are searching, longing for elusive solutions to their problems.
Since the beginning of the human race, people have asked “where did we come from?” “Why are we here?” “Who am I?” or “Why am I different?”
While some may not agree, what everyone is searching for—whether it is children, adults, communities, leaders, and even nations—is identity. Who we really are.
In our search for identity, people and nations have tried to segregate the human race. Separate us according to color, language, political and religious beliefs.
Trevor Noah, the South African comedian and host of “The Daily Show” wrote a memoir entitled Born a Crime (2016 Doubleday). His search for identity was birthed out of his ethnicity.
Noah’s father was a white Swiss, his mother a South African black. For much of his early life, he was kept hidden and rarely seen outside his home because for him to be seen in public, his mother ran the risk of being arrested for the crime of having slept with a white man, creating a child who was neither white nor black—a “colored” boy [thus the title of his book].
“Racism is not logical,” Noah writes. “Consider this: Chinese people were classified as black in South Africa. I don’t mean they were running around acting black. They were still Chinese. But unlike [East] Indians there weren’t enough Chinese people to warrant devising a whole separate classification. Apartheid, despite its intricacies and precision, didn’t know what to do with them, so the government said, “Eh, we’ll just call ‘em black. It’s simpler that way.” He went on to describe how South Africa classified the Japanese, on the other hand, as white.
So no matter what our classifications, people are trying to figure out who they are and where they belong. Some go to great lengths to find answers to their questions and solutions to the longing in their heart and spirits to belong.
This is also the quest of many Indigenous Peoples, particularly those who were taken away from their families and sent to Residential Schools or became wards of Child and Family Services (Child Welfare). Sadly, many of the ones we see homeless on the streets, ravaged by drugs and alcohol, are either survivors or descendants of survivors.
Those who escaped and became “successful” in the eyes of mainstream society are hiding a lie. The fallacy that some handled it better than others is the lie. Let’s just say they have and are coping, hiding their true emotions.
It never was, and never is good for children to be sent away—for any reason. Not for patriotism, commercial gain, nor religious commitment.
Early separation of children has done irreparable damage to thousands and no person or thing—not even the government’s money—can make up for the years these children have lost. When Native and non-Native children are pulled from their families, it leaves a wound—an empty place—that nothing human can replace. It feels daunting but it’s the life so many have been left to endure.
Native teens on remote reserves are taking their lives because in their search for identity and purpose, they’ve come up empty-handed. Neither their culture nor spiritual traditions can fill the gaping hole in their souls.
Noah writes that when he was 24, his mother told him, “You need to find your father.” When he asked why, his mother replied, “because he’s a piece of you…and if you don’t find him you won’t find yourself.”
Noah writes: “Too many men grow up without their fathers, so they spend their lives with a false impression of who their father is and what a father should be. You need to find your father. You need to show him what you’ve become. You need to finish that story.”
He’s right. I too was sent away to go to school and lived three years in a foster home and later to a boarding school for my secondary education. I faced issues of loneliness, abandonment, sexual and emotional abuse from which I’m still recovering.
To most people, I must be OK because I’ve been a full-time writer and editor for over 40 years (27 of those with Indian Life). But the primary reason I’ve been able to interview and share the stories of Indigenous people from across North America, is because they have taught me lessons I could not have learned any other way. And if it hadn’t been for what I went through as a ten-year-old boy, and the years following, I may not have been able to bear to hear and share the horrific stories of Native people.
In all humility, I write that without the help of my Creator Jesus, my family, and you, our Indian Life readers, I would not have survived.
The Bible tells us that there is a vacuum in every human, which only Creator can fill. “The God who made the world and everything in it, this Master of sky and land, doesn’t live in custom-made shrines or need the human race to run errands for Him, as if He couldn’t take care of Himself. He makes the creatures; the creatures don’t make Him. Starting from scratch, He made the entire human race and made the earth hospitable, with plenty of time and space for living so we could seek after God, and not just grope around in the dark but actually find Him. He doesn’t play hide-and-seek with us. He’s not remote; He’s near. We live and move in Him, can’t get away from Him! One of your poets said it well: ‘We’re the God-created’ (Acts:17:28-29 The Message).
That’s identity. That’s purpose for living. If you haven’t yet found it, we hope you will find it through reading the pages of this issue.
