Student reflections on Normative Violence and Colonialism. Click on the comments section to read the written pieces.
Inside the Normal Human Box Outside the Normal Human Box
BY Cristina Caronis
BY Cristina Caronis
Reflection/Poem #1: Normative Violence and pondering the Social Environment
Cristina Caronis
SOCI 2630
As human beings, we are constantly bombarded by the concept of fitting inside the normal human box. Society and its institutions feed the minds of its members the musts and must nots in order to fulfill the societal expectation checklist and earn a position inside the normal human box. We are often told “you must get an education, you must work, and you must be a productive member of society.” I often think to myself if I am conforming to society’s expectations like attending university, I must be doing my life right. When I find a reflection of myself in the people around me, I feel a sense of validation.
But why do we try so hard to fit inside the normal human box? The need for acceptance is a basic human need; I want to fit in, we all want to fit in, to belong. I tend to present slightly different versions of who I am depending on my social environment and whose company I am in. The numerous ‘versions’ of myself – for work, for school, at home, or even online are all tweaked and modified to correspond to the inside of the normal human box. This multiplicity of selves works very well for most of us, but some individuals only have one version of themselves to present. They are unable or unwilling to sandpaper themselves down to fit society’s expectations, and because their behaviour or appearance does not match the inside of the normal human box, they are pushed to the periphery of the box. These individuals are all around us, stitched into the social landscape of everyone’s day.
Being a white privileged female, I meet a lot of people who society believes do not belong. People who stand outside the normal human box trying to imitate what everyone else is doing, but never quite getting it right. These are the people who are only ever noticed when something goes wrong, when society needs someone to blame. The rest of the time, they are excluded and ignored, because who they present themselves as does not fit the inside of the normalcy box. These individuals who reside outside the box continue to endure and survive the trauma of normative violence. The normative violence that society has perpetuated through the concept of the normal human box has created resilient human beings.
Similar to the Shut-Eye Dance, the containment of the normal human box is physically, emotionally and spiritually exhausting and draining many people’s life sources. The one duck that was able to break free of the bonds of the Shut-Eye Dance successfully saved the others from death but was given red eyes and outcasted for his disobedience. When we deviate from the norm, we are often punished in the form of isolation which is possibly why no one resists trying to fit inside the normal human box. However, I believe we are still awaiting brave individuals who will wake us up and save us from the bonds of the normal human box that is essentially killing us. Although, I do hope for a future that holds individuals who are collectively working to destroy the normal human box and advocate for restorative justice.
The credit of man in wealth and industry
Living life so foolishly
Forever productive to society
Decaying more and more, endlessly
Till he became most poor
It is getting harder to breathe
Under the rule of thumb
Many will be casualties
When morning comes
Sinking into the dark amnesias of the box
Inside the box, bodies of colour do not belong
Taking the blame
Wearing the shame
Drowning oneself into the Abyss of the box
Blood spilt from its lies
Scars opened wide
Mother tongue in a choke hold
Screaming into the void
No More
No More
No More
Burn the box...
And let beauty rise from its ashes
Cristina Caronis
SOCI 2630
As human beings, we are constantly bombarded by the concept of fitting inside the normal human box. Society and its institutions feed the minds of its members the musts and must nots in order to fulfill the societal expectation checklist and earn a position inside the normal human box. We are often told “you must get an education, you must work, and you must be a productive member of society.” I often think to myself if I am conforming to society’s expectations like attending university, I must be doing my life right. When I find a reflection of myself in the people around me, I feel a sense of validation.
But why do we try so hard to fit inside the normal human box? The need for acceptance is a basic human need; I want to fit in, we all want to fit in, to belong. I tend to present slightly different versions of who I am depending on my social environment and whose company I am in. The numerous ‘versions’ of myself – for work, for school, at home, or even online are all tweaked and modified to correspond to the inside of the normal human box. This multiplicity of selves works very well for most of us, but some individuals only have one version of themselves to present. They are unable or unwilling to sandpaper themselves down to fit society’s expectations, and because their behaviour or appearance does not match the inside of the normal human box, they are pushed to the periphery of the box. These individuals are all around us, stitched into the social landscape of everyone’s day.
Being a white privileged female, I meet a lot of people who society believes do not belong. People who stand outside the normal human box trying to imitate what everyone else is doing, but never quite getting it right. These are the people who are only ever noticed when something goes wrong, when society needs someone to blame. The rest of the time, they are excluded and ignored, because who they present themselves as does not fit the inside of the normalcy box. These individuals who reside outside the box continue to endure and survive the trauma of normative violence. The normative violence that society has perpetuated through the concept of the normal human box has created resilient human beings.
Similar to the Shut-Eye Dance, the containment of the normal human box is physically, emotionally and spiritually exhausting and draining many people’s life sources. The one duck that was able to break free of the bonds of the Shut-Eye Dance successfully saved the others from death but was given red eyes and outcasted for his disobedience. When we deviate from the norm, we are often punished in the form of isolation which is possibly why no one resists trying to fit inside the normal human box. However, I believe we are still awaiting brave individuals who will wake us up and save us from the bonds of the normal human box that is essentially killing us. Although, I do hope for a future that holds individuals who are collectively working to destroy the normal human box and advocate for restorative justice.
The credit of man in wealth and industry
Living life so foolishly
Forever productive to society
Decaying more and more, endlessly
Till he became most poor
It is getting harder to breathe
Under the rule of thumb
Many will be casualties
When morning comes
Sinking into the dark amnesias of the box
Inside the box, bodies of colour do not belong
Taking the blame
Wearing the shame
Drowning oneself into the Abyss of the box
Blood spilt from its lies
Scars opened wide
Mother tongue in a choke hold
Screaming into the void
No More
No More
No More
Burn the box...
And let beauty rise from its ashes
Song written and performed by Sean Jansen in de Wal
Piece by NF
Lost in Your Eyes by Leah L.
My digital artwork which I decided to name “Lost in Your Eyes” consists of a straight-faced Indigenous male, surrounded by the sun, with no pupils. I wanted my drawing to represent my moment during class where my perspective about Indigenous teachings had really shifted. I remember in the chat that someone had mentioned that for years and years, up until grade whatever, colonization was always taught as white people coming to “help”, for lack of a better word. While this seems like something that I probably should have realized earlier, it was in that moment that I really questioned the Canadian school system and how it could have really made me think that the Aboriginals needed “help” or that the settlers have been so bountiful with their offerings as if they were donations. I was a tutor for grades 3 to 6, and they would have social science books that contained the classic Canadian way of teaching about colonization and it was so normal for me to read and teach as these kinds of stories were the ones I’ve been hearing about my whole life. Why don’t elementary school teachers teach otherwise? As a kid, you look up to your teachers and believe everything they say because they are older and you think that they know everything. But it makes me think, did THEY know any better?
The normalized, legal mistreatment and the lack of education about the Indigenous in Canada is what inspired my drawing. The whites of his eyes are representative of these injustices towards the Indigenous and the way that Indigenous communities lose a sense of self in the way that the Canadian government chooses to treat them. I mean, yes, Canada grants Indigenous communities the rights to self-determination, allowing them to practice cultural expressions of self-governance which is their way of saying sorry and serves as means of reconciliation buuuuut they also don’t get clean water…which is a freaking basic human right by the way!!
My title “Lost in Your Eyes” is a play on words of the casual romantic expression, with the “Your” depicting the Canadian government instead of a romantic partner. Non-Indigenous members of society are not taught about them the correct way first and never learn otherwise until corrected and that takes too long. It is so refreshing to be taught by an Indigenous professor. There’s such a huge contrast to my Indigenous literature class last year which was taught by a white middle-aged woman from Toronto. Nonetheless, I look forward to the upcoming subject matter in the course which is taught with no filter.
My drawing contains symbols of my experiences with Indigenous individuals such as the sun in the background and the male character himself. The character and his clothes were modeled after one of my favourite Indigenous TikTok creators, James Jones or @notoriouscree. His videos are very entertaining while also being educational, teaching his 1.4 million followers about Indigenous stereotypes, injustices and even performs beautiful, traditional dances which I will NEVER get tired of watching. The sun in the background was modeled after the sun in a pin that I had gotten from the Grand Canyon, which was operated by the Indigenous Hualapai group in Arizona. The pin has the “Great Seal of Hualapai Tribe” on it which is a stunning design containing a lot of symbolism about their values which I found to be quite touching and uplifting. The sun represents life and the beginnings of the Hualapai people, and it also made for a pretty background. This was my first time drawing on an iPad, as I usually don’t draw and am not so good at it but I wanted to try something new and I had a lot of fun with it.
The normalized, legal mistreatment and the lack of education about the Indigenous in Canada is what inspired my drawing. The whites of his eyes are representative of these injustices towards the Indigenous and the way that Indigenous communities lose a sense of self in the way that the Canadian government chooses to treat them. I mean, yes, Canada grants Indigenous communities the rights to self-determination, allowing them to practice cultural expressions of self-governance which is their way of saying sorry and serves as means of reconciliation buuuuut they also don’t get clean water…which is a freaking basic human right by the way!!
My title “Lost in Your Eyes” is a play on words of the casual romantic expression, with the “Your” depicting the Canadian government instead of a romantic partner. Non-Indigenous members of society are not taught about them the correct way first and never learn otherwise until corrected and that takes too long. It is so refreshing to be taught by an Indigenous professor. There’s such a huge contrast to my Indigenous literature class last year which was taught by a white middle-aged woman from Toronto. Nonetheless, I look forward to the upcoming subject matter in the course which is taught with no filter.
My drawing contains symbols of my experiences with Indigenous individuals such as the sun in the background and the male character himself. The character and his clothes were modeled after one of my favourite Indigenous TikTok creators, James Jones or @notoriouscree. His videos are very entertaining while also being educational, teaching his 1.4 million followers about Indigenous stereotypes, injustices and even performs beautiful, traditional dances which I will NEVER get tired of watching. The sun in the background was modeled after the sun in a pin that I had gotten from the Grand Canyon, which was operated by the Indigenous Hualapai group in Arizona. The pin has the “Great Seal of Hualapai Tribe” on it which is a stunning design containing a lot of symbolism about their values which I found to be quite touching and uplifting. The sun represents life and the beginnings of the Hualapai people, and it also made for a pretty background. This was my first time drawing on an iPad, as I usually don’t draw and am not so good at it but I wanted to try something new and I had a lot of fun with it.
Normative Violence by Ditsha Patel
Ditsha Patel
During these last few lectures, I’ve learned a lot about the struggles that Indigenous communities faced and are currently facing today. We talked about “the box” and how it has imprisoned people, restricted them, guilt-tripped those who don’t fit into it and made the majority of us feel worthless. We also discussed how European societies have tried to destroy Indigenous communities and their cultures as a way to “fix” them, when in reality it was causing normative violence and generational trauma. As a result, these discussions have also made me wonder about my own country and background. My parents are from India and I come from a Hindu background. Occasionally, my parents would talk about India’s history and the British colonization, but I never really paid attention. However, when we were discussing the topic of normative violence in Indigenous communities, I’ve noticed how many other countries were also affected by the European colonizers and their discriminatory methods. Ultimately, this is what I want my reflection to be about, the commonality of normative violence and generational trauma between minorities. The main piece of my reflection is a picture that compares the experiences of normative violence between an Indigenous point of view and an Indian point of view. On the left side, I drew an image of a young girl in a residential school. These schools were established to essentially “kill the Indian in the child”. In previous classes, I’ve read many stories about residential school survivors and how they were often beaten for not following rules and were forced to adapt to Christianity and European cultures and values. These traumatic experiences get carried on through generations, creating generational trauma. Furthermore, in class, we discussed how in Indigenous cultures, we are all stories and that we all share an inheritance and have responsibilities. In India, it was the same thing. Elders told stories to the youth and each family had a certain role that was vital for a village to thrive. However, when the British first came, they tried to “cleanse” us and in order to do so they tried to enforce Christianity and their own values onto us, which is similar to how Indigenous children were forced to adapt to Christianity. Eventually, many Indians were killed, beaten, robbed and Britain stole many riches from our land. Then when they’ve got what they wanted and left us with almost nothing, they went back to their own country. This is what I tried to portray on the right side of my picture, an image of a young Indian girl watching her village being destroyed and her people being murdered for the greediness of the British. These are the stories and lessons my mom learnt in school in India, but not the lessons I was taught here. What I did learn in Canada, was about Indigenous communities, colonization, residential schools, etc. However, it was in this class that I realized that there is a connection between us and that so much is being hidden and kept from us. There are so many untold stories about what people, especially those of colour, have experienced. I personally think it is vital that we tell these stories in order to achieve some sort of peace and recognition. I believe that the more these stories are told, the more we realize how cruel and messed up everything is, but also how we are all connected. That is when we are able to recognize how the world expects everyone to obtain these impossible expectations. Once we connect, tell stories and acknowledge our past, that is when we can get rid of this “box” that is keeping us away from happiness and acceptance.
During these last few lectures, I’ve learned a lot about the struggles that Indigenous communities faced and are currently facing today. We talked about “the box” and how it has imprisoned people, restricted them, guilt-tripped those who don’t fit into it and made the majority of us feel worthless. We also discussed how European societies have tried to destroy Indigenous communities and their cultures as a way to “fix” them, when in reality it was causing normative violence and generational trauma. As a result, these discussions have also made me wonder about my own country and background. My parents are from India and I come from a Hindu background. Occasionally, my parents would talk about India’s history and the British colonization, but I never really paid attention. However, when we were discussing the topic of normative violence in Indigenous communities, I’ve noticed how many other countries were also affected by the European colonizers and their discriminatory methods. Ultimately, this is what I want my reflection to be about, the commonality of normative violence and generational trauma between minorities. The main piece of my reflection is a picture that compares the experiences of normative violence between an Indigenous point of view and an Indian point of view. On the left side, I drew an image of a young girl in a residential school. These schools were established to essentially “kill the Indian in the child”. In previous classes, I’ve read many stories about residential school survivors and how they were often beaten for not following rules and were forced to adapt to Christianity and European cultures and values. These traumatic experiences get carried on through generations, creating generational trauma. Furthermore, in class, we discussed how in Indigenous cultures, we are all stories and that we all share an inheritance and have responsibilities. In India, it was the same thing. Elders told stories to the youth and each family had a certain role that was vital for a village to thrive. However, when the British first came, they tried to “cleanse” us and in order to do so they tried to enforce Christianity and their own values onto us, which is similar to how Indigenous children were forced to adapt to Christianity. Eventually, many Indians were killed, beaten, robbed and Britain stole many riches from our land. Then when they’ve got what they wanted and left us with almost nothing, they went back to their own country. This is what I tried to portray on the right side of my picture, an image of a young Indian girl watching her village being destroyed and her people being murdered for the greediness of the British. These are the stories and lessons my mom learnt in school in India, but not the lessons I was taught here. What I did learn in Canada, was about Indigenous communities, colonization, residential schools, etc. However, it was in this class that I realized that there is a connection between us and that so much is being hidden and kept from us. There are so many untold stories about what people, especially those of colour, have experienced. I personally think it is vital that we tell these stories in order to achieve some sort of peace and recognition. I believe that the more these stories are told, the more we realize how cruel and messed up everything is, but also how we are all connected. That is when we are able to recognize how the world expects everyone to obtain these impossible expectations. Once we connect, tell stories and acknowledge our past, that is when we can get rid of this “box” that is keeping us away from happiness and acceptance.
Is This Living? - A Short Story/Poem/Mashup of Things
By Umayaa Mourad
Umayaa Mourad
Is This Living? - A Short Story/Poem/Mashup of Things
I have been on this earth for twenty-one years. Twenty-one years in which I have forced myself to try to fit in. My life so far has been defined by attempts to force myself to conform to the societal standards that surrounded me. Is this actually what is meant by “living”?
I was still in elementary school when I begged my mother to buy me a razor so I could shave my legs; I was sick of being bullied for having more body hair than was considered socially acceptable for girls; I was sick of coming home in tears.
I was twelve years old when I became obsessed with counting calories because I did not look like the women I saw on screen.
I was fourteen years old when I desperately wished my hair would magically become straight because my frizzy curls stood out amongst my fellow classmates with their pin-straight hair. How could I hate the hair that I was born with?
I was in high school when I restricted my individuality because I was scared of what people would think; scared that I would be judged and ridiculed as I have been in the past. I refused to let people get to know the real me. I spent most of my younger years being miserable because I did not conform.
This is not living.
No matter where I looked, I would see pictures of girls that looked nothing like me. They were thin with hairless skin and had frizz-free hair. I grew up in an environment that enforced the idea that I was not “normal”, that something was inherently wrong with me for what I liked, the food I ate, and how I looked—this belief was reinforced no matter where I turned. In The Princess Diaries, the heroine went from ‘nerdy’ to ‘chic’ by straightening her frizzy hair and wearing contacts. In one of the many Scary Movie films, I watched a supposedly ‘hilarious’ scene in which the non-white maid is ridiculed for having hairy arms, resulting in an eruption of laughter from the crowd. I, however, did not laugh, I felt ashamed for things beyond my control. Ever since I was as young as I can remember, I have wanted to change every aspect of myself. I was sick of being different, of being picked on, of feeling like I did not belong.
This is not living.
I am in university and I am still hiding parts of myself in order to seem normal, to fit in, to not be judged or laughed at behind my back or to my face. I am in university, to begin with, because it was what was expected of me by my teachers, by my family and by society as a whole, not because it was what I wanted. Our formative years have been filled with individuals forcing us all to conform and be on the path they expect us to be on. It has taken me twenty-one years to realize that my life has been shaped by the decisions of others.
This is not living.
I do not wear outfits I love because I am afraid of being mocked. I do not experiment with my makeup or hairstyles because it might appear “weird” to onlookers. I fear that what I post on social media will become a source of comedy for my followers. I am ashamed to tell people that I am taking an extra year of university because it does not fit the expected timeline. I am afraid of being myself.
This is not living.
I am now twenty-one years old. It has taken me twenty-one-long years to realize one simple thing: fuck this idea of being ‘normal’; fuck fearing what others will think or what will they do because we are different. It might be cliche, but this so-called ‘normal’ that is constantly being pushed on us is overrated. This idea of the “normal human” that society is forcing on us is not normal, in fact, there is no such thing as normal. There is no one blueprint for what a human is or for what we should be.
We are all our own human beings. We are individuals and we were created to be an individual. Even identical twins are not truly identical, so why are we expected to all be the same? Our mothers did not carry us for nine long months and go through hours of labour to create a clone—a mere product of the system. Everything about us is unique, from our genes to our fingerprints, and we must embrace our individuality. We were not carefully crafted at conception simply to become ashamed of ourselves, of our bodies, of our culture, and our passions. We should not be ashamed of who we are, no matter how we may end up being perceived by society. Alas, this is easier said than done.
The fear of backlash keeps us from being free. We are afraid to stand out; to be different; it is ingrained in who we are. We have been taught from a young age to conform and to fit in—such a deeply instilled behaviour will take time and practice to unlearn, but it must be unlearned if we want to truly live.
Even after this revelation, I know it will take me a long time to truly be able to be myself without fear of repercussions, but simply recognizing that we have
Even after this revelation, I know it will take me a long time to truly be able to be myself without fear of repercussions, but simply recognizing that we have been pressured into a box for our entire lives provides a newfound sense of freedom. I do not have to do or be what others tell me to. I should not be ashamed of taking the path I want to take, of wearing the clothes I want, of embracing my culture, and of being true to myself. We are all here for a reason and we will not be able to fulfil our destiny or our responsibilities by becoming a carbon copy of everyone else. We owe it to ourselves to be ourselves.
Ultimately, there is no such thing as “normal”. This idea of normalcy that has been shoved down our throats is all a facade; we were not created identically. We must embrace our differences and our so-called “abnormalities”, it is imperative that we do. If by being ourselves we are labelled as “weird” by others, so be it. If you are living your life the way you wish too, then the opinions of onlookers are simply irrelevant. At the end of the day, it will be you who is looking back at your life in regret. Those who judged us will become a distant memory but we will remember all of the opportunities we missed out on because we were afraid of being different.
Embrace all that you are and be kind to others. Do not become a pawn in this societal game. Do not judge others for being who they are. Be yourself and peacefully and harmoniously coexist with all of those around you.
That is what living is.
My eyes are now open and I am making a conscious decision to be myself.
I wish to have no regrets in my life.
I want to live.
Is This Living? - A Short Story/Poem/Mashup of Things
I have been on this earth for twenty-one years. Twenty-one years in which I have forced myself to try to fit in. My life so far has been defined by attempts to force myself to conform to the societal standards that surrounded me. Is this actually what is meant by “living”?
I was still in elementary school when I begged my mother to buy me a razor so I could shave my legs; I was sick of being bullied for having more body hair than was considered socially acceptable for girls; I was sick of coming home in tears.
I was twelve years old when I became obsessed with counting calories because I did not look like the women I saw on screen.
I was fourteen years old when I desperately wished my hair would magically become straight because my frizzy curls stood out amongst my fellow classmates with their pin-straight hair. How could I hate the hair that I was born with?
I was in high school when I restricted my individuality because I was scared of what people would think; scared that I would be judged and ridiculed as I have been in the past. I refused to let people get to know the real me. I spent most of my younger years being miserable because I did not conform.
This is not living.
No matter where I looked, I would see pictures of girls that looked nothing like me. They were thin with hairless skin and had frizz-free hair. I grew up in an environment that enforced the idea that I was not “normal”, that something was inherently wrong with me for what I liked, the food I ate, and how I looked—this belief was reinforced no matter where I turned. In The Princess Diaries, the heroine went from ‘nerdy’ to ‘chic’ by straightening her frizzy hair and wearing contacts. In one of the many Scary Movie films, I watched a supposedly ‘hilarious’ scene in which the non-white maid is ridiculed for having hairy arms, resulting in an eruption of laughter from the crowd. I, however, did not laugh, I felt ashamed for things beyond my control. Ever since I was as young as I can remember, I have wanted to change every aspect of myself. I was sick of being different, of being picked on, of feeling like I did not belong.
This is not living.
I am in university and I am still hiding parts of myself in order to seem normal, to fit in, to not be judged or laughed at behind my back or to my face. I am in university, to begin with, because it was what was expected of me by my teachers, by my family and by society as a whole, not because it was what I wanted. Our formative years have been filled with individuals forcing us all to conform and be on the path they expect us to be on. It has taken me twenty-one years to realize that my life has been shaped by the decisions of others.
This is not living.
I do not wear outfits I love because I am afraid of being mocked. I do not experiment with my makeup or hairstyles because it might appear “weird” to onlookers. I fear that what I post on social media will become a source of comedy for my followers. I am ashamed to tell people that I am taking an extra year of university because it does not fit the expected timeline. I am afraid of being myself.
This is not living.
I am now twenty-one years old. It has taken me twenty-one-long years to realize one simple thing: fuck this idea of being ‘normal’; fuck fearing what others will think or what will they do because we are different. It might be cliche, but this so-called ‘normal’ that is constantly being pushed on us is overrated. This idea of the “normal human” that society is forcing on us is not normal, in fact, there is no such thing as normal. There is no one blueprint for what a human is or for what we should be.
We are all our own human beings. We are individuals and we were created to be an individual. Even identical twins are not truly identical, so why are we expected to all be the same? Our mothers did not carry us for nine long months and go through hours of labour to create a clone—a mere product of the system. Everything about us is unique, from our genes to our fingerprints, and we must embrace our individuality. We were not carefully crafted at conception simply to become ashamed of ourselves, of our bodies, of our culture, and our passions. We should not be ashamed of who we are, no matter how we may end up being perceived by society. Alas, this is easier said than done.
The fear of backlash keeps us from being free. We are afraid to stand out; to be different; it is ingrained in who we are. We have been taught from a young age to conform and to fit in—such a deeply instilled behaviour will take time and practice to unlearn, but it must be unlearned if we want to truly live.
Even after this revelation, I know it will take me a long time to truly be able to be myself without fear of repercussions, but simply recognizing that we have
Even after this revelation, I know it will take me a long time to truly be able to be myself without fear of repercussions, but simply recognizing that we have been pressured into a box for our entire lives provides a newfound sense of freedom. I do not have to do or be what others tell me to. I should not be ashamed of taking the path I want to take, of wearing the clothes I want, of embracing my culture, and of being true to myself. We are all here for a reason and we will not be able to fulfil our destiny or our responsibilities by becoming a carbon copy of everyone else. We owe it to ourselves to be ourselves.
Ultimately, there is no such thing as “normal”. This idea of normalcy that has been shoved down our throats is all a facade; we were not created identically. We must embrace our differences and our so-called “abnormalities”, it is imperative that we do. If by being ourselves we are labelled as “weird” by others, so be it. If you are living your life the way you wish too, then the opinions of onlookers are simply irrelevant. At the end of the day, it will be you who is looking back at your life in regret. Those who judged us will become a distant memory but we will remember all of the opportunities we missed out on because we were afraid of being different.
Embrace all that you are and be kind to others. Do not become a pawn in this societal game. Do not judge others for being who they are. Be yourself and peacefully and harmoniously coexist with all of those around you.
That is what living is.
My eyes are now open and I am making a conscious decision to be myself.
I wish to have no regrets in my life.
I want to live.
Take me Back
Digital work by Helia Zamani Mortazavi
| Potheads in Pajamas |
Bite the Hand
By Julia P.
Built Broken
by: Sean Singh
Built Broken
Do you remember the days? The days where you wake up filled with excitement and joy to take on the day ahead of you, see your family and friends, smiling and laughing endlessly with not a single ounce of stress? Do you remember being able to smile freely without hesitation, live freely with no restrictions, express your passions, express yourself in any way you desire? Neither do I.
Born into this world, I am subject to operate in a society that forces you to conform to perform, behave and think a certain way. Failure to conform within these binary expectations will allow others to ridicule, harass you prompting for their endless cycle of mental, physical and emotional abuse. Imagine being three years old and still remembering the way it began, stripped your innocence and forced you to keep a straight face and move forward. It was clear to me that I was not human; unable to express myself without judgement, address concerns without judgement or reach out for help without judgement. But rather at the young age of three I knew I was a part of something greater, stronger and above me but not in the good way.
I have come so far, achieved so much yet the feelings of a nuisance or being abnormal conquers me. As a kid, I enjoyed dancing and aspired to do gymnastics. Unfortunately, my passion and excitement as a child was quickly prohibited by my father and his authority. Broken and supressed for years on end, I wondered why did my own father shame me for being passionate and good at something? Was he too subjected to ridicule by family members because he had a son who can fix cars but prefers dancing? Has society failed to provide room for individuality? Has society failed to family to provide authentic love from your own parents?
Why did I allow him to shut my feelings down, disregard my interest and rather abuse a child for being just that… a child, enthusiastic and genuinely interested in something besides Spiderman, batman or superman. Moving forward in life from elementary to middle to high school, why did I feel the need to behave and act a certain way untrue to myself? Why were others shamed when they expressed their individuality? To see the sparks on students faces expressing their learnings, passion and creativity then followed by other students or staff members negatively criticizing their work because it was “not expected” or failed to “meet the requirements” despite their hard work and valid points made…it makes no sense not to reward them and rather award someone who “fits the criteria”. In other words, adhering to the society norms will allow for your inclusion but you must forfeit your individuality. (values, moral, ethics, passions, goals, behaviour)
So, is this why I never felt good enough growing up? Why I hide my talents and minimize my passions? Why I spent hours thinking of outfits and styles for the first day of school and every day following? Why I spent hours, days, sleepless nights, contemplating my worth or value? After every achievement, I still felt inferior and below. Why am I still not enough?
Normative violence has had a detrimental impact on my upbringing. Blinded for so long, focused on trying to fit in and be a part of a community when in truth, you are enough and you are a definite asset to society the more you embrace your true authentic own self. One must feel pain in order to know how to heal. I am determined to utilize my experiences, lessons and upbringing to empower others, provide a voice and encourage others to embrace themselves. Regardless of what has or is transpiring, they will grow from it and be stronger from it. No one has an easy life but your voice, words and smile can provide healing beyond imaginable.
Do you remember the days? The days where you wake up filled with excitement and joy to take on the day ahead of you, see your family and friends, smiling and laughing endlessly with not a single ounce of stress? Do you remember being able to smile freely without hesitation, live freely with no restrictions, express your passions, express yourself in any way you desire? Neither do I.
Born into this world, I am subject to operate in a society that forces you to conform to perform, behave and think a certain way. Failure to conform within these binary expectations will allow others to ridicule, harass you prompting for their endless cycle of mental, physical and emotional abuse. Imagine being three years old and still remembering the way it began, stripped your innocence and forced you to keep a straight face and move forward. It was clear to me that I was not human; unable to express myself without judgement, address concerns without judgement or reach out for help without judgement. But rather at the young age of three I knew I was a part of something greater, stronger and above me but not in the good way.
I have come so far, achieved so much yet the feelings of a nuisance or being abnormal conquers me. As a kid, I enjoyed dancing and aspired to do gymnastics. Unfortunately, my passion and excitement as a child was quickly prohibited by my father and his authority. Broken and supressed for years on end, I wondered why did my own father shame me for being passionate and good at something? Was he too subjected to ridicule by family members because he had a son who can fix cars but prefers dancing? Has society failed to provide room for individuality? Has society failed to family to provide authentic love from your own parents?
Why did I allow him to shut my feelings down, disregard my interest and rather abuse a child for being just that… a child, enthusiastic and genuinely interested in something besides Spiderman, batman or superman. Moving forward in life from elementary to middle to high school, why did I feel the need to behave and act a certain way untrue to myself? Why were others shamed when they expressed their individuality? To see the sparks on students faces expressing their learnings, passion and creativity then followed by other students or staff members negatively criticizing their work because it was “not expected” or failed to “meet the requirements” despite their hard work and valid points made…it makes no sense not to reward them and rather award someone who “fits the criteria”. In other words, adhering to the society norms will allow for your inclusion but you must forfeit your individuality. (values, moral, ethics, passions, goals, behaviour)
So, is this why I never felt good enough growing up? Why I hide my talents and minimize my passions? Why I spent hours thinking of outfits and styles for the first day of school and every day following? Why I spent hours, days, sleepless nights, contemplating my worth or value? After every achievement, I still felt inferior and below. Why am I still not enough?
Normative violence has had a detrimental impact on my upbringing. Blinded for so long, focused on trying to fit in and be a part of a community when in truth, you are enough and you are a definite asset to society the more you embrace your true authentic own self. One must feel pain in order to know how to heal. I am determined to utilize my experiences, lessons and upbringing to empower others, provide a voice and encourage others to embrace themselves. Regardless of what has or is transpiring, they will grow from it and be stronger from it. No one has an easy life but your voice, words and smile can provide healing beyond imaginable.
A Much Needed Rant
by Dominika Staniewski
A Much Needed Rant
In terms that anyone can understand, normative violence has nothing to do with knocking tooth outs and swinging fists, but instead not getting what you want out of a situation. Like a toddler, I myself get frustrated and throw emotional tantrums when I do not get what I want in life. Whether it's a trash guy that rejected me or disagreeing with how a TA marked my lab report, it’s easiest for me to act on my emotions. This is actually a trait of mine that I choose to work on, only because the actions I take based on my emotions usually get me in trouble. I always remind myself to not make permanent solutions based on temporary emotions. To be honest, the decisions that get me in trouble are because of the bad emotions I feel. These include greed, jealousy, anger, despise, or to get revenge on that guy that rejected me I mentioned earlier. It’s hard to not want to relieve myself of those feelings, especially when I know what I could say or do to make those feelings of discomfort or sadness go away. For example, let’s go back to the guy that told me he’s not ready for a relationship, since I have brought it up twice now which means I am clearly still not over it. An easy way out to feel better about that would be to start entertaining his friends (yes, plural). An impulsive action that would make me distracted and feel any little validation I think I need to get over the one I wanted the most. The point of this is to satisfy the desire of feeling wanted by his friends. This relates to one of the stories we talked about in class, Nanaboozhoo and the Ducks, or the loons specifically. Long story short, Nanaboozhoo got hungry and saw some loons by the lake. He made a plan to tie a few of their legs together and pull them with rope onto the shore. Once Nanaboozhoo got a little taste of the loons and underestimated their intelligence, he decided to try to take all of them with him. When he was coming up for air, he blew his own secretive cover and the loons flew in a V shape, pulling Nanaboozhoo with them. This then led Nanaboozhoo to an embarrassing fall over a swamp. The moral of this story is getting greedy only causes you to not get anything in the end at all. Nanaboozhoo got confident, more so cocky, in his ability in thinking he was smarter than the loons. He thought that he would not be noticed and could get away with the desire of undermining the loons. He got a rather rude awakening that he is not so to speak the “smartest person in the room”, to put it in modern day, 21st century figure of speech. It is common to get ahead of ourselves and undermine other’s intelligence based on our own feelings. Nanaboozhoo saw that he could get some loons, and got excited at the accomplishment that his actions went undetected. He then got faced with a predicament that he did not see coming, which was the loons flying together to then drop him on his back. The plan backfired since he did not get to eat all the birds he wanted. This relates to even my situation because I thought I could talk to the friends without going undetected and making the guy jealous. In turn, it backfired on me, not only did it make me look worse, but it made me feel worse. Some things that happen in life are actually blessings in disguise. I got greedy off the attention I got from guys at the end of the day. It backfired because it just made me feel worse about the situation. It was a solution I had made based on the temporary emotion of rejection. In reality, I should have faced the rejection as a blessing in disguise. I should welcome only the things that want me, and that includes people. I should be able to learn on my own from my own mistakes, and grow from them to make me a better individual. Another story we had talked about in class was how Nanaboozhoo is so smart. The story’s main message was that you have to think for yourself to get the best version of yourself. It is important to observe and pay attention for the betterment of yourself. I know it is common for me as a Biomedical Science student to rely on textbooks and information to study for tests, to regurgitate information for my professors to mark correctly and attest my self-worth to a mark I see on a computer. I know that for myself it is hard to try not to, because I know the feeling of validation when I do a good job on an assignment or test. Knowing the social environment I am in that's filled with other individuals that also want to be doctors, is freighting and discouraging. However, I try to remind myself to not compare myself to others. I know that no matter how long it takes me to get there or the routes that I choose to take, it will allow me to reach betterment and knowledge about myself.
In terms that anyone can understand, normative violence has nothing to do with knocking tooth outs and swinging fists, but instead not getting what you want out of a situation. Like a toddler, I myself get frustrated and throw emotional tantrums when I do not get what I want in life. Whether it's a trash guy that rejected me or disagreeing with how a TA marked my lab report, it’s easiest for me to act on my emotions. This is actually a trait of mine that I choose to work on, only because the actions I take based on my emotions usually get me in trouble. I always remind myself to not make permanent solutions based on temporary emotions. To be honest, the decisions that get me in trouble are because of the bad emotions I feel. These include greed, jealousy, anger, despise, or to get revenge on that guy that rejected me I mentioned earlier. It’s hard to not want to relieve myself of those feelings, especially when I know what I could say or do to make those feelings of discomfort or sadness go away. For example, let’s go back to the guy that told me he’s not ready for a relationship, since I have brought it up twice now which means I am clearly still not over it. An easy way out to feel better about that would be to start entertaining his friends (yes, plural). An impulsive action that would make me distracted and feel any little validation I think I need to get over the one I wanted the most. The point of this is to satisfy the desire of feeling wanted by his friends. This relates to one of the stories we talked about in class, Nanaboozhoo and the Ducks, or the loons specifically. Long story short, Nanaboozhoo got hungry and saw some loons by the lake. He made a plan to tie a few of their legs together and pull them with rope onto the shore. Once Nanaboozhoo got a little taste of the loons and underestimated their intelligence, he decided to try to take all of them with him. When he was coming up for air, he blew his own secretive cover and the loons flew in a V shape, pulling Nanaboozhoo with them. This then led Nanaboozhoo to an embarrassing fall over a swamp. The moral of this story is getting greedy only causes you to not get anything in the end at all. Nanaboozhoo got confident, more so cocky, in his ability in thinking he was smarter than the loons. He thought that he would not be noticed and could get away with the desire of undermining the loons. He got a rather rude awakening that he is not so to speak the “smartest person in the room”, to put it in modern day, 21st century figure of speech. It is common to get ahead of ourselves and undermine other’s intelligence based on our own feelings. Nanaboozhoo saw that he could get some loons, and got excited at the accomplishment that his actions went undetected. He then got faced with a predicament that he did not see coming, which was the loons flying together to then drop him on his back. The plan backfired since he did not get to eat all the birds he wanted. This relates to even my situation because I thought I could talk to the friends without going undetected and making the guy jealous. In turn, it backfired on me, not only did it make me look worse, but it made me feel worse. Some things that happen in life are actually blessings in disguise. I got greedy off the attention I got from guys at the end of the day. It backfired because it just made me feel worse about the situation. It was a solution I had made based on the temporary emotion of rejection. In reality, I should have faced the rejection as a blessing in disguise. I should welcome only the things that want me, and that includes people. I should be able to learn on my own from my own mistakes, and grow from them to make me a better individual. Another story we had talked about in class was how Nanaboozhoo is so smart. The story’s main message was that you have to think for yourself to get the best version of yourself. It is important to observe and pay attention for the betterment of yourself. I know it is common for me as a Biomedical Science student to rely on textbooks and information to study for tests, to regurgitate information for my professors to mark correctly and attest my self-worth to a mark I see on a computer. I know that for myself it is hard to try not to, because I know the feeling of validation when I do a good job on an assignment or test. Knowing the social environment I am in that's filled with other individuals that also want to be doctors, is freighting and discouraging. However, I try to remind myself to not compare myself to others. I know that no matter how long it takes me to get there or the routes that I choose to take, it will allow me to reach betterment and knowledge about myself.
The stupid box we try to fit in
by Mackenzie Gauthier
Mackenzie Gauthier
The stupid box we try to fit in
In these past 3 classes I have learned more about indigenous peoples than I have in my entire 14 years at a public school or my past two years in my undergrad program. I always wondered why we never had to take a class like this in high school? Why was math, science and french mandatory but learning about the people who were here before us not. In our mandatory history class in grade 10, I did not learn about the indigenous peoples who were on turtle island way before the white colonizers came and took it over. Not only have I learned this but I have also learned about normative violence and the way that it affects us all. I never realized what this was before Maya and her class. I was always striving to fit in with others, be the right body type, have the right personality and it never seemed to work no matter how hard I tried I was always one step away. I never truly fit into the box that society deems normal.
So what is normative violence and why should you care about it? Well let me tell you, normative violence is, based on what google tells us, the violence of norms; this violence is not physical, it is more the norms produced from different people. The definition that google gives is not completely wrong but it certainly does not do a good job in explaining exactly what it is and what it consists of doing. So then what is a good definition and example of Normative violence? Well it is a socially acceptable violence defined as legal and if you do not act this way society tries to force you to conform to what they think is “normal”. For example, spanking your child is a form of normative violence because society used to think that it was correct to do that.
This box does not fit anyone and it excludes the peoples who were here on turtle island long before us. Indegnous peoples are not treated as normal and people try to force them to be normal. This box will try and take the culture of indegnous peoples away because it does not fit it with their idea of normal. Canada attempts to change them from “Indians” to Canadians in any way possible. If a person from a reserve decides to marry an non indigenous person they automatically lose their indian status and now are canadian which for them is one step in the right direction of becoming socially acceptable.
The normalcy that we as a society are trying to achieve is so we can be accepted by our own society and not forced to be labeled as different and out of the box. If someone acts differently or looks different than what is considered “normal” , they will be shamed or ridiculed and forced to go back into the horrible box. I hate to break it to everyone but not a single person in this goddamn shit show of a world we live in fits into this tiny box that people continue to strive for. This box we are all attempting to fit into is complete bullshit and is so unattainable. I was explaining what this box is to one of my family members and they thought that the only time someone would fit into this box was when they were born. I had to explain to them that not even a baby can fit into this box, if the baby isn’t the right religion, gender or skin colour they automatically, before they are even born do not fit into what society deems as normal.
I for one do not understand why society thinks this is okay and why there are still so many people in this world who want to be this perfect human within this tiny box. If everyone in the world fit into this box it would be so boring, no individuality nothing all we would have is straight white catholic people and that is not a world I would ever want to live in.
I know that it is in no way easy to stray away from trying to fit into this box, some days I still attempt to fit into the box but I have to remind myself that this box is so toxic and unrealistic and it is better to stay true to yourself.
Work by Poppyseed
Lately I’ve found myself thinking a lot about high school for some gross reason, and not in the bullshit romanticizing netflix way, but in the “lol oh how you chewed us up and spit us out” way that makes you orchestrate mental scenarios where you obliterate your opponent with fancy strings of words.
Mainly I’ve been rehashing all my bones to pick with that school, and it turns out there’s a trend on that list of fuck yous, and that trend is normative violence. Is it fair to argue that withholding information is a form of normative violence for all the shit it coaxes you into learning in place of what’s withheld? I think so?? I was pulled out of high school and hospitalized for anorexia in 10th grade (wrestling with that godforsaken “box” in a few ways here huh), and in that one year I managed to miss all of the history lessons I was to be taught throughout high school. Four years of high school and only one history class. Seriously? And even then it would’ve been a white man’s glorified rendition of history. Instead, my Catholic ass high school forced mandatory religion classes down our throats and funneled us into the Advanced Placement program. And in taking those religion and AP classes, you know what else those of us who fell into their ~normalizing~ trap were kept from learning about? Well for starters, the arts, but that’s no surprise. But more relevant to this course is that the AP kids would never learn about Indigenous studies because the one and only course on the topic was the lowest level grade 10 English class (which itself is uhhh.. what the fuck….). They would instead be kissing Shakespeare ass in AP English, because that’s what the institution on the whole deems worthwhile, the “right” thing to study. The message this sends is clear: your knowledge is more “valuable” or well-regarded if you’re familiar with medieval freaking feudalism and less so if you happen to know or care that residential schools were still running a mere couple of years before you were born. This is some meta normative violence shit. The school accomplishes both the feat of grooming its students for ~the box~ via ideal knowledge (??) while successfully suppressing truths about Canada’s dark underbelly of colonization and continued oppression. Again, it’s as if to say that “oh successful folks ~need not trifle with the lowly issues of the colonized~, and are in fact better off for turning a blind eye”. And AGAIN again, what the fuck??? (Writing this literally makes me feel sick because I hope my sarcasm comes across.) I find myself now playing catch-up, eager to hear the truths spoken in this class. I’m so very grateful to finally participate in a class in which the prof is rightfully hellbent on turning the institution on its head, to say the least. As a cis white person I definitely acknowledge that my relationship with the infamous box has been (and will always be) significantly less turbulent than those of my black, brown, and LGBTQ2 friends, and I intend to use my privilege to dismantle such toxic notions of normalcy. I really don’t think the onus for this box-destruction should be on those who the box most oppresses. I know this isn’t really what’s meant by inherited responsibility, but it strikes me as something of a responsibility for those of us like myself who have benefitted from colonialism in one way or another (and ought to admit that) to fucking do something about this shit, to lighten the load wherever possible.
But anyways, I made a little loon embroidery to remind myself to stay vigilant with regards to the rabbit poops we’re served on a silver platter, and I used my time spent stitching to rage internally about all that’s written above. I guess this embroidery is also a reminder of the times that I’ve already succumbed to this sinister form of abuse, and shitty as those times may be to recollect, I hope that going forward I can be more mindful of my option to unsettle when faced with normative violence
Mainly I’ve been rehashing all my bones to pick with that school, and it turns out there’s a trend on that list of fuck yous, and that trend is normative violence. Is it fair to argue that withholding information is a form of normative violence for all the shit it coaxes you into learning in place of what’s withheld? I think so?? I was pulled out of high school and hospitalized for anorexia in 10th grade (wrestling with that godforsaken “box” in a few ways here huh), and in that one year I managed to miss all of the history lessons I was to be taught throughout high school. Four years of high school and only one history class. Seriously? And even then it would’ve been a white man’s glorified rendition of history. Instead, my Catholic ass high school forced mandatory religion classes down our throats and funneled us into the Advanced Placement program. And in taking those religion and AP classes, you know what else those of us who fell into their ~normalizing~ trap were kept from learning about? Well for starters, the arts, but that’s no surprise. But more relevant to this course is that the AP kids would never learn about Indigenous studies because the one and only course on the topic was the lowest level grade 10 English class (which itself is uhhh.. what the fuck….). They would instead be kissing Shakespeare ass in AP English, because that’s what the institution on the whole deems worthwhile, the “right” thing to study. The message this sends is clear: your knowledge is more “valuable” or well-regarded if you’re familiar with medieval freaking feudalism and less so if you happen to know or care that residential schools were still running a mere couple of years before you were born. This is some meta normative violence shit. The school accomplishes both the feat of grooming its students for ~the box~ via ideal knowledge (??) while successfully suppressing truths about Canada’s dark underbelly of colonization and continued oppression. Again, it’s as if to say that “oh successful folks ~need not trifle with the lowly issues of the colonized~, and are in fact better off for turning a blind eye”. And AGAIN again, what the fuck??? (Writing this literally makes me feel sick because I hope my sarcasm comes across.) I find myself now playing catch-up, eager to hear the truths spoken in this class. I’m so very grateful to finally participate in a class in which the prof is rightfully hellbent on turning the institution on its head, to say the least. As a cis white person I definitely acknowledge that my relationship with the infamous box has been (and will always be) significantly less turbulent than those of my black, brown, and LGBTQ2 friends, and I intend to use my privilege to dismantle such toxic notions of normalcy. I really don’t think the onus for this box-destruction should be on those who the box most oppresses. I know this isn’t really what’s meant by inherited responsibility, but it strikes me as something of a responsibility for those of us like myself who have benefitted from colonialism in one way or another (and ought to admit that) to fucking do something about this shit, to lighten the load wherever possible.
But anyways, I made a little loon embroidery to remind myself to stay vigilant with regards to the rabbit poops we’re served on a silver platter, and I used my time spent stitching to rage internally about all that’s written above. I guess this embroidery is also a reminder of the times that I’ve already succumbed to this sinister form of abuse, and shitty as those times may be to recollect, I hope that going forward I can be more mindful of my option to unsettle when faced with normative violence
Ponderings by Marie-Eve Ross-King
Marie-Eve Ross-King
I would like to start with the fact that I am beyond grateful to have the opportunity to learn and absorb the information getting thrown at me from this course. These past three weeks have been emotional to say the least, feeling a variety of emotions such as frustration, excitement, anger and the list goes on. I enrolled in this class with the hopes to prime my brain for what I was getting myself into next year as I am going to be enrolling in a Midwifery program that touches on some indigenous practices in fall of 2021 and simply because I don’t know very much about indigenous culture...and I already feel like this course is going to hit the nail right on the head.
Over these last three weeks an emotion/feeling that has always come up in class is safety, I feel so safe. I feel like I am in a place where it is okay to be ignorant, to ask questions. I have the freedom to say what is on my mind without being judged. I haven’t spoken to everyone in the class, but in the breakout rooms I feel so comfortable with everyone, and it is so comforting to know that some people are either going through similar situations than me or I can relate to an experience they had for example there is another mature student who went back to school because they didn’t know what to do for work and everyone in their social circle was telling them this is what they should do (CONFORM TO THE NORMS *eyeroll*).
In week 2 during the discussion of the Loon-Lunatic I realized that I need to be more of a Lunatic LOL. I guess I was feeling guilty that I was conforming and being part of the problem...This ongoing issue of being different is bad, and feeling like myself I had to do what everyone else was either doing or did; go to school, find a job as teacher because I speak french and love kids of all ages...everyone has always pushed for me to become a teacher and that is what I initially went back to school for just because everyone told me to. And I am not playing the blame game here but guilt is a feeling I had because I am shaping myself to fit in that box. I am someone who is very quick to encourage loved ones to pursue their goals and dreams but subconsciously I stop myself from doing things because “it’s weird” or “different”, that feeling of guilt makes me want to work on myself and I WILL be more of a Loon, a problem solver, i’ll take risks for the better of myself and others. The idea of complying to normalcy continued into week 3 and as our lesson progressed this past thursday I began to feel more and more disturbed and that feeling of guilt lingered. Now I’m a huge scary movie buff, I love all of them.. The lame ones, the gory ones, the classics, the modern, etc. When Maya said “Why does our history begin with the white man..the colonizer? We don’t hear about before the white man arrived”, it gave me that feeling you get when you realize the murderer was the best friend all along. Just a sinking feeling that left me thinking HOW HAVE I NEVER REALIZED THIS? And there came that guilt feeling again, how is this something I have never questioned, or thought was wrong. And again I realized I am being shaped to fit into “the box”. It left me very disturbed to think that we have just erased generations of culture and traditions as if it never even existed because colonizers were not there to witness it first hand. It was eye opening for me and it solidified the fact that I need to be more of a Loon and ask these questions.
In earlier weeks Maya you mentioned black folks, and indigenous folks are always discussed if they are with a white person.. a colonizer. I myself am black and I feel very sad that I have never noticed this and it has really made me take a step back and look at things that are going on around me differently (especially the news, social movements etc). This class has already begun to spark new conversation and discussion topics with my partner(who is indigenous part of Six Nations), my friends, my parents, siblings etc and I really like that! I shouldn’t take for gospel what an authoritative figure has to say, I will ask more questions.
I am very excited for what is to come and hope that these realizations continue to happen not because I want to continue to feel ignorant but because I want to learn how to be a change, and I want to be able to promote these messages to others!
I would like to start with the fact that I am beyond grateful to have the opportunity to learn and absorb the information getting thrown at me from this course. These past three weeks have been emotional to say the least, feeling a variety of emotions such as frustration, excitement, anger and the list goes on. I enrolled in this class with the hopes to prime my brain for what I was getting myself into next year as I am going to be enrolling in a Midwifery program that touches on some indigenous practices in fall of 2021 and simply because I don’t know very much about indigenous culture...and I already feel like this course is going to hit the nail right on the head.
Over these last three weeks an emotion/feeling that has always come up in class is safety, I feel so safe. I feel like I am in a place where it is okay to be ignorant, to ask questions. I have the freedom to say what is on my mind without being judged. I haven’t spoken to everyone in the class, but in the breakout rooms I feel so comfortable with everyone, and it is so comforting to know that some people are either going through similar situations than me or I can relate to an experience they had for example there is another mature student who went back to school because they didn’t know what to do for work and everyone in their social circle was telling them this is what they should do (CONFORM TO THE NORMS *eyeroll*).
In week 2 during the discussion of the Loon-Lunatic I realized that I need to be more of a Lunatic LOL. I guess I was feeling guilty that I was conforming and being part of the problem...This ongoing issue of being different is bad, and feeling like myself I had to do what everyone else was either doing or did; go to school, find a job as teacher because I speak french and love kids of all ages...everyone has always pushed for me to become a teacher and that is what I initially went back to school for just because everyone told me to. And I am not playing the blame game here but guilt is a feeling I had because I am shaping myself to fit in that box. I am someone who is very quick to encourage loved ones to pursue their goals and dreams but subconsciously I stop myself from doing things because “it’s weird” or “different”, that feeling of guilt makes me want to work on myself and I WILL be more of a Loon, a problem solver, i’ll take risks for the better of myself and others. The idea of complying to normalcy continued into week 3 and as our lesson progressed this past thursday I began to feel more and more disturbed and that feeling of guilt lingered. Now I’m a huge scary movie buff, I love all of them.. The lame ones, the gory ones, the classics, the modern, etc. When Maya said “Why does our history begin with the white man..the colonizer? We don’t hear about before the white man arrived”, it gave me that feeling you get when you realize the murderer was the best friend all along. Just a sinking feeling that left me thinking HOW HAVE I NEVER REALIZED THIS? And there came that guilt feeling again, how is this something I have never questioned, or thought was wrong. And again I realized I am being shaped to fit into “the box”. It left me very disturbed to think that we have just erased generations of culture and traditions as if it never even existed because colonizers were not there to witness it first hand. It was eye opening for me and it solidified the fact that I need to be more of a Loon and ask these questions.
In earlier weeks Maya you mentioned black folks, and indigenous folks are always discussed if they are with a white person.. a colonizer. I myself am black and I feel very sad that I have never noticed this and it has really made me take a step back and look at things that are going on around me differently (especially the news, social movements etc). This class has already begun to spark new conversation and discussion topics with my partner(who is indigenous part of Six Nations), my friends, my parents, siblings etc and I really like that! I shouldn’t take for gospel what an authoritative figure has to say, I will ask more questions.
I am very excited for what is to come and hope that these realizations continue to happen not because I want to continue to feel ignorant but because I want to learn how to be a change, and I want to be able to promote these messages to others!
Victoria Tininkin
Reflection 1: Normative violence and pondering the social environment
Our world is run on money, power and people constantly trying to fit into the norms that are set up by society. We start to lose ourselves chasing society's standards, and most of the time ignoring our inner voice. It is in human nature to try to fit in, we follow the crowd because of fear of feeling abundant, isolated or alone. Individuals that dare to go against the flow of the “box” can find themselves at times rejected from the rest of society. Therefore, it makes it easier for people to follow the crowd to feel belonged and excepted. The constant chasing of the “special parameters" of the “box” is what makes people so miserable and lonely. Therefore, I believe it`s so important to keep talking about this issue to make individuals aware of the “box”, and that we get dragged into it all of our lives. Each person is unique in their own way, and that is exactly why the standers that are looked at as “ideal” do not work for everyone.
I have my own story of how I`ve been trying to battle of breaking the norms of the “box”. When I was eight years old my mom received a working visa to Canada. This was her dream, she was excited for the bright future that was ahead of us filled with endless opportunities. My mom was a single mother that was ready to concur an unknown country to provide a better future for me. We were filled with hope and dreams but they all completely shattered one day. My mom became extremely Ill, and I got taken away into foster care.
My life became a rollercoaster of different events, at that point no-one believed I had a future for myself. I was going through a range of emotional problems that took effect on all areas of my life. Additionally, I was straggling to finish my second year of high school. My life became a painful repeating cycle of frustration, hurt, fear and sadness. The only family I had in Canada was my mom, and I was scared to tell anybody else what happened to me, so I kept to myself. I was scared of the fixed image that represented children in foster care, I believed that no-one will ever find me valuable or good enough. Over time I started attending counseling and building a strong support system around myself. I finally started to understand as time passed that I don't need to follow everyone's path, I have my journey to follow. In addition, there are only a few children in foster care that are fortunate enough to have a strong support system, others have to manage with whatever resources they got. By creating a strong support system for these children we will be able to start breaking the pattern of children in foster care feeling worthless. Furthermore, the “box” only gives the "ideal" way for individuals to live and follow, this limits people in their choices, options and opinions. Society builds all these barriers and limitations to ensure that individuals contribute to society by paying taxes, buying goods and services. Valuable members of our society are considered people that contribute to the economy, if a person is not making any financial contributions they are viewed us useless. I think that one of the ways to battle a problem like this would be to grow our perspective and understanding deeper on this subject for people to start opening their eyes.
The story that was told in class about Nanaboozhoo made me realize that I need to trust my inner self, be curious, and cautious. This world is surrounded by danger all around, especially when we are least expecting it, that is why we need to be on guard at all times. This story demonstrates that if the Loon didn't listen to his inner voice, then the ending of the Nanaboozhoo story would have been completely different.
Artwork by Luxshica
My drawing is a picture of a dark place (the charcoal mountains) which symbolizes isolation. The cooking pot and the fire to the side symbolizes a safe place or in other words, community which makes one feel warm. I used traditional South Indian spices to fill the drawings. The fire is built using kumkum (said to have powers to uplift one's spirit) and turmeric (said to have healing and immunity powers). The wood for the fire is built using cinnamon sticks (said to have benefits to cure heart diseases).The seeds in the pot are for good health and the flowers represent hope
Reflection
by Barb Power
Work by Sloan
My reflection comes from a conversation that we had a few weeks ago about clans and finding a purpose for ourselves in this life. I did some more research on this topic and I believe that the clan that best represents myself and my values is the fish clan. From what I have read, the people of the fish clan are the teachers of the community and help children develop healthy skills and spirits.
Since I am in my last year of my psychology degree, I have been thinking (and stressing) about what my next steps are. Recently, pursuing an additional degree in education has been on my mind. As a young Métis woman, I am still trying to find my place in the world and where my Indigenous identity fits into my life. As I figure it out for myself, I want to use the skills that I learn to help children find themselves as well. I strongly believe that having a good mentor is integral for children to grow up with a positive image of themselves and the world around them, and I truly hope that one day I can be the role-model that someone needs.
I drew this image of 5 fish to represent the 5 years that I have been working on my undergraduate degree, as well as the Anishinaabe clan that I feel best represents who I am. The fish pictured are a sucker fish, a whitefish, a pike fish, a sturgeon fish, and a catfish.
Since I am in my last year of my psychology degree, I have been thinking (and stressing) about what my next steps are. Recently, pursuing an additional degree in education has been on my mind. As a young Métis woman, I am still trying to find my place in the world and where my Indigenous identity fits into my life. As I figure it out for myself, I want to use the skills that I learn to help children find themselves as well. I strongly believe that having a good mentor is integral for children to grow up with a positive image of themselves and the world around them, and I truly hope that one day I can be the role-model that someone needs.
I drew this image of 5 fish to represent the 5 years that I have been working on my undergraduate degree, as well as the Anishinaabe clan that I feel best represents who I am. The fish pictured are a sucker fish, a whitefish, a pike fish, a sturgeon fish, and a catfish.
Reflection by Jeffrey Mauceri
Hello, my name is Jeffrey Mauceri and this is my week three reflection for SOSC2630. Now I just want to say that I am very far from being a social scientist (the degree that I am pursuing is in electrical engineering where we really don’t get into these kinds of deep discussions) but in the first three weeks of this class I have definitely learned a few things about Anishinaabe culture and some possible issues with our contemporary society, especially with respect to the indigenous communities. I appreciate that this class has been presented with an insider’s perspective and I have been exposed to some viewpoints which I had never previously considered. I think that it is very cool how Maya incorporates traditional Anishinaabe stories into the lectures. This is an interesting way of teaching and makes the lessons far more memorable than conventional western teaching methods. At the end of the day, stories are what our lives really come down to. I’ve also started reading the Indigenous Writes book by Chelsea Vowel which is great for someone like myself as the text is not overly formal but presents some real issues to people who may not be aware of them. I really believe that understanding where other people are coming from is the key to moving forward.
So jumping into my actual thoughts regarding our in-class discussions, the thing that hit me the most was the tragedy of the wampum belt treaty. Now it’s obviously pretty difficult for two drastically different nations to live together without any issues, but to me this agreement seems like a good road map for what could have been a peaceful, mutually beneficial relationship between European settlers and Indigenous communities. I believe that both groups could learn from one another while still maintaining a mutual respect for the people in the other “boat”. The world would be a much better place if everyone could respect each other’s differences. Everyone should have the right to continue their own way of life and it is truly upsetting to know that this agreement was not upheld. In fact, I had never even heard that such a thing was ever established.
Clearly a lot of time and effort was put into drafting the agreement. The communication process itself could not have been easy, and Maya had mentioned in class that Wampum beads are quite difficult to construct. This must have been very important to the people who were originally involved. The main question I am left with is why …? Why did it fail. Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer to this, but it is something that I hope to learn by the end of the semester. I can only guess that the parties who drafted this treaty were led into a “shut eyed dance” of sorts and unfortunately there was no one with the clan responsibility to stop it. I believe that it is important to understand what went wrong and why it happened so that we can issue a warning cry if something like this ever happens again.
Overall, I have been very surprised by what I have learned so far in this course. Both the readings and in-class discussions really have changed my view regarding the way Indigenous Peoples are treated in Canada. It seems that a lot of what I was taught in school (even including the anthropology) does not appear to be accurate. At this point I think that I have a lot more questions than answers but I’m looking forward to the upcoming lectures and hope that I can learn more about the history surrounding these relationships as well as the impacts on contemporary society. It is clear that the direction of this story needs to change. And as sad as it is to know that our initial efforts failed, I hope that we can work towards building new routes on the post-apocalyptic turtle island.
So jumping into my actual thoughts regarding our in-class discussions, the thing that hit me the most was the tragedy of the wampum belt treaty. Now it’s obviously pretty difficult for two drastically different nations to live together without any issues, but to me this agreement seems like a good road map for what could have been a peaceful, mutually beneficial relationship between European settlers and Indigenous communities. I believe that both groups could learn from one another while still maintaining a mutual respect for the people in the other “boat”. The world would be a much better place if everyone could respect each other’s differences. Everyone should have the right to continue their own way of life and it is truly upsetting to know that this agreement was not upheld. In fact, I had never even heard that such a thing was ever established.
Clearly a lot of time and effort was put into drafting the agreement. The communication process itself could not have been easy, and Maya had mentioned in class that Wampum beads are quite difficult to construct. This must have been very important to the people who were originally involved. The main question I am left with is why …? Why did it fail. Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer to this, but it is something that I hope to learn by the end of the semester. I can only guess that the parties who drafted this treaty were led into a “shut eyed dance” of sorts and unfortunately there was no one with the clan responsibility to stop it. I believe that it is important to understand what went wrong and why it happened so that we can issue a warning cry if something like this ever happens again.
Overall, I have been very surprised by what I have learned so far in this course. Both the readings and in-class discussions really have changed my view regarding the way Indigenous Peoples are treated in Canada. It seems that a lot of what I was taught in school (even including the anthropology) does not appear to be accurate. At this point I think that I have a lot more questions than answers but I’m looking forward to the upcoming lectures and hope that I can learn more about the history surrounding these relationships as well as the impacts on contemporary society. It is clear that the direction of this story needs to change. And as sad as it is to know that our initial efforts failed, I hope that we can work towards building new routes on the post-apocalyptic turtle island.
Angel's Reflection
The lines/cracks going through the majority of the silhouette's face is to indicate normative violence and the effects it has on aboriginal people. In a sense I'm trying to show that normative violence has scarred aboriginal communities and how the memories will forever remain embedded in them (aboriginal people/communities). The silhouette of a face is there to show that even after time passes the scars will remain even if it's a metaphorical scar (From Normative verbal violence and abuse). The white-out areas represent the pieces of themselves/their culture that they are still missing due to the effects of history and colonialism. The reason why I didn't draw an actual face is because I wanted it to represent aboriginal people in social environments and how they are disregarded/ignored due to their background and spiritual beliefs in society, which is why I drew the face in a type of silhouette. The reason why I used the colours black and white is because I wanted to further show how aboriginal people are viewed, disregarded and ignored as people and living as shadows in today's society
Conform
by Mary Danielle Delos-Reyes
Our society is bullshit
by Breanna Totten
Normative violence and pondering the social environment Reflection #1
Growing up I did not know that my Grandfather was metis (since he died before I was born) until my father did research on his background and it was confirmed. It sucks because I barely know anything about our tribe (Painted Feather Woodland Metis). It is really hard to hear about the things that have happened and continue to happen. I just want to say this class in the couple of weeks have taught me more about indigenous people than my own family could have taught me.
Going to a primarily White school, it was almost sickening to witness this. I made it clear that I was Native and it automatically put me in a different “box”, I was already different since I’m half Caribbean as well, therefore this just added on to be discriminated against even if it was “just a fucking joke” as everyone would say when my feelings were hurt after they called me things like Pocahontas. Also, can we just take in the fact that the only time schools acknowledge anything about aboriginal people is in the morning while they “acknowledge the land the school was built on”, AKA stole.
I think of society as a big box. Everyone is constantly pressured to fit in this box and if you don’t? society stops acknowledging you. To think that its 2020 and society is telling us to all be the same is embarrassing as fuck, we’re failing as human beings. Thinking about Normative Violence, I personally think of it as being forced to be the same and or to fit into one category. I know for me at least there was and still is so much pressure to be the “same”. To look a certain way, dress a certain way and act a certain way. It is exhausting. To think that Aboriginal people have this pressure 10x, is heartbreaking. Society is literally forcing indigenous people to change everything they stand for and believe in”, in order to fit in the “box”. Thinking about this pisses me of and its truly disgusting. Anyone who is “different” gets neglected, different as in not a Caucasian rich straight male. In society different = bad. Which is why there are all of these negative images of indigenous people, that people have in their heads.
Going back to my grandfather being metis, he ended up marrying my grandma who is Caucasian. My grandma’s parents thought my grandfather was not good enough for my grandmother based on the fact he was metis and did not have the same beliefs as the basic Christian white man. Therefore, my grandma got disowned by her family. Like what the actual hell… ridiculous. This is a prime example of what I mean. If you are different, you are frowned upon. It is not right that if you are different than what society wants us to be, you get treated like trash. I also wanted to touch on the fact about how happy the government probably was that my grandfather decided to marry someone who was not aboriginal. Since it is clear to see they want nothing to do with indigenous people.
The truth is my grandfather’s decision to have kids with my grandma meant that he was almost giving up his metis status in the eyes of society, why? Because it meant that his kids were going to have pale skin and have a white mother. My father almost knowns nothing about his aboriginal decent and it is definitely because my grandma is not Metis. I know for a fact my father gets treated better by society because he has a Caucasian mother than my grandfather did when he was alive. Which makes me furious and breaks my heart. Perfect and normal will never exist. Our society is bullshit.
Growing up I did not know that my Grandfather was metis (since he died before I was born) until my father did research on his background and it was confirmed. It sucks because I barely know anything about our tribe (Painted Feather Woodland Metis). It is really hard to hear about the things that have happened and continue to happen. I just want to say this class in the couple of weeks have taught me more about indigenous people than my own family could have taught me.
Going to a primarily White school, it was almost sickening to witness this. I made it clear that I was Native and it automatically put me in a different “box”, I was already different since I’m half Caribbean as well, therefore this just added on to be discriminated against even if it was “just a fucking joke” as everyone would say when my feelings were hurt after they called me things like Pocahontas. Also, can we just take in the fact that the only time schools acknowledge anything about aboriginal people is in the morning while they “acknowledge the land the school was built on”, AKA stole.
I think of society as a big box. Everyone is constantly pressured to fit in this box and if you don’t? society stops acknowledging you. To think that its 2020 and society is telling us to all be the same is embarrassing as fuck, we’re failing as human beings. Thinking about Normative Violence, I personally think of it as being forced to be the same and or to fit into one category. I know for me at least there was and still is so much pressure to be the “same”. To look a certain way, dress a certain way and act a certain way. It is exhausting. To think that Aboriginal people have this pressure 10x, is heartbreaking. Society is literally forcing indigenous people to change everything they stand for and believe in”, in order to fit in the “box”. Thinking about this pisses me of and its truly disgusting. Anyone who is “different” gets neglected, different as in not a Caucasian rich straight male. In society different = bad. Which is why there are all of these negative images of indigenous people, that people have in their heads.
Going back to my grandfather being metis, he ended up marrying my grandma who is Caucasian. My grandma’s parents thought my grandfather was not good enough for my grandmother based on the fact he was metis and did not have the same beliefs as the basic Christian white man. Therefore, my grandma got disowned by her family. Like what the actual hell… ridiculous. This is a prime example of what I mean. If you are different, you are frowned upon. It is not right that if you are different than what society wants us to be, you get treated like trash. I also wanted to touch on the fact about how happy the government probably was that my grandfather decided to marry someone who was not aboriginal. Since it is clear to see they want nothing to do with indigenous people.
The truth is my grandfather’s decision to have kids with my grandma meant that he was almost giving up his metis status in the eyes of society, why? Because it meant that his kids were going to have pale skin and have a white mother. My father almost knowns nothing about his aboriginal decent and it is definitely because my grandma is not Metis. I know for a fact my father gets treated better by society because he has a Caucasian mother than my grandfather did when he was alive. Which makes me furious and breaks my heart. Perfect and normal will never exist. Our society is bullshit.
Stories..
by Pem Shulman
Reflection 1: Stories
I tossed and turned in my bed. I shivered. And not just because of the cold mountain air. I wished I hadn’t watched that stupid movie on the airplane! I could still see the Mad Hatter’s powdered face, and his crazed, piercing blue eyes glaring at me. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Would I ever be able to fall asleep? My mind began to drift.
And then it happened… THE WHOLE ROOM BEGAN TO SHAKE. My heart beat faster and faster. With the dim light of the fire I could see colorful textiles shimmy and shake. And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped. I lay paralyzed. What just happened?
… to be continued
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT (Yes, that’s right, Monty Python)
Undercover Christian in Guadalajara
Fingir, no quedar atrapada, ¿le importaba a Dios?
Faking it, not getting caught, did God care?
Emptying my stomach at 6 am on the roadside
Chasing cows off the football field
Signing autographs in Wayanad at age 11
Devouring thalis of appam, fish curry and fluffy red rice
Getting I.M. Vijayan’s autograph
Big spiders and bonfires
An elephant with a temper
A Hyderabadi Girl in Kerala
The kid with the tail ogled her. She basked in the attention. My brother and I wanted to jump off the bus, but we would probably land in a pothole in the roads of rural Uganda. They salivated and jabbered on like a pair of Long Tailed Starling. If that’s what teenagers do, count me out. We passed the school gates. Escape was near! We exited the bus, only to be bombarded by a hoard of her admirers. Possibilities of true escape looked grim, she lived with us;
until my parents sent her back home to the US.
What was the worst part?
Was it the lines?
The rules?
The blank stares?
The silent lunchroom?
The inner city charter school was like a rotting carcass in the heart of Minneapolis - home to murderous cops and the martyred George Floyd.
Let’s get out of here.
The elevator doors opened. Whoever arrived first would start with the ball. She pushed through and sprinted ahead of her brother.
Marcela and Artur were already there.
The afternoon sun beat down on them.
They played.
The sun went down,
they played.
He teased her,
they played.
She kicked him,
they played.
October in Belo Horizonte.
Story continued from the beginning (in case you forgot)…
I looked around the room. Kinlay and my sister Sonam lay motionless under layers of blankets. I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I told everybody about the room shaking, but nobody believed me. Then aunty Sonam arrived and asked if we had felt the earthquake. Apparently earthquakes happen all the time in Bhutan. Later, I found out from another aunty that it was a thunder dragon, not an earthquake. To this day, the magic of Bhutan, land of the thunder dragon, sparks hope in this sometimes dismal world.
These stories are all me. They all happened.
But who will understand? No one but my sister Sonam.
I tossed and turned in my bed. I shivered. And not just because of the cold mountain air. I wished I hadn’t watched that stupid movie on the airplane! I could still see the Mad Hatter’s powdered face, and his crazed, piercing blue eyes glaring at me. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Would I ever be able to fall asleep? My mind began to drift.
And then it happened… THE WHOLE ROOM BEGAN TO SHAKE. My heart beat faster and faster. With the dim light of the fire I could see colorful textiles shimmy and shake. And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped. I lay paralyzed. What just happened?
… to be continued
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT (Yes, that’s right, Monty Python)
Undercover Christian in Guadalajara
Fingir, no quedar atrapada, ¿le importaba a Dios?
Faking it, not getting caught, did God care?
Emptying my stomach at 6 am on the roadside
Chasing cows off the football field
Signing autographs in Wayanad at age 11
Devouring thalis of appam, fish curry and fluffy red rice
Getting I.M. Vijayan’s autograph
Big spiders and bonfires
An elephant with a temper
A Hyderabadi Girl in Kerala
The kid with the tail ogled her. She basked in the attention. My brother and I wanted to jump off the bus, but we would probably land in a pothole in the roads of rural Uganda. They salivated and jabbered on like a pair of Long Tailed Starling. If that’s what teenagers do, count me out. We passed the school gates. Escape was near! We exited the bus, only to be bombarded by a hoard of her admirers. Possibilities of true escape looked grim, she lived with us;
until my parents sent her back home to the US.
What was the worst part?
Was it the lines?
The rules?
The blank stares?
The silent lunchroom?
The inner city charter school was like a rotting carcass in the heart of Minneapolis - home to murderous cops and the martyred George Floyd.
Let’s get out of here.
The elevator doors opened. Whoever arrived first would start with the ball. She pushed through and sprinted ahead of her brother.
Marcela and Artur were already there.
The afternoon sun beat down on them.
They played.
The sun went down,
they played.
He teased her,
they played.
She kicked him,
they played.
October in Belo Horizonte.
Story continued from the beginning (in case you forgot)…
I looked around the room. Kinlay and my sister Sonam lay motionless under layers of blankets. I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I told everybody about the room shaking, but nobody believed me. Then aunty Sonam arrived and asked if we had felt the earthquake. Apparently earthquakes happen all the time in Bhutan. Later, I found out from another aunty that it was a thunder dragon, not an earthquake. To this day, the magic of Bhutan, land of the thunder dragon, sparks hope in this sometimes dismal world.
These stories are all me. They all happened.
But who will understand? No one but my sister Sonam.
Short Story
by Charleen Ayeni
Short story: Northern lights
Reflection 1
I grew up in Northern Ontario, a small community located in the mouth James Bay called Moose Factory, Ontario. As I grew up we always had beautiful Northern lights shining in the sky, the colours of turquoise, blue, white all dancing in the sky. Were always told as kids not to whistle at the Northern lights at night or the Northern lights would come down and take us, we thought this was normal, and we tried not to do as told, although some tricksters would still whistle to the Northern lights and they would be dancing away in sky, moving and rippling away so quickly and the Northern lights would be moving all around it was a beautiful site to see. The teaching of not to whistle at the Northern lights was seen to teach kids to not stay out late at night because of the dangers of being chased or encountering animals such as wolves in the trails or streets to our homes. As I grew older when we drove on the skidoo late at night on the ice river from camp or from the main land Moosonee were always living with close to zero street lights in the community, although the Northern lights provided light to our path to get to our destination. One time I became stranded and there was no taxis available at the time and I had to walk home, I remember the crisp crunching on the snow as I walked and the great Northern lights shining down helping me on my walk.
Remembering that teachings of the Northern lights from my elders/teachers that took care of us when younger reminds me of the readings and teaching within the past month that taught us about Nanaboozhoo, Indigenous storytelling always teaches life lessons within the story that is told, and reflects on ways to teach children to connect with there own environment how to learn life lessons. I was always amazed how elders had such a great knowledge in their teachings within there communities to express ways to give guidance on our paths of life.
As we learn further in the class, I come to realize that we all come from unique backgrounds and cultures and our experiences come from the teachers and elders that guided us along our way. The latest lecture helped me reflect on the harsh impacts on Indigenous people that were created by the colonial systems that were formed. It made me think of the systems that were placed within turtle island and how people lived during these times and what the land would of looked like then and how it has come to be to this day.
Meegwetch for reading my reflection.
Reflection 1
I grew up in Northern Ontario, a small community located in the mouth James Bay called Moose Factory, Ontario. As I grew up we always had beautiful Northern lights shining in the sky, the colours of turquoise, blue, white all dancing in the sky. Were always told as kids not to whistle at the Northern lights at night or the Northern lights would come down and take us, we thought this was normal, and we tried not to do as told, although some tricksters would still whistle to the Northern lights and they would be dancing away in sky, moving and rippling away so quickly and the Northern lights would be moving all around it was a beautiful site to see. The teaching of not to whistle at the Northern lights was seen to teach kids to not stay out late at night because of the dangers of being chased or encountering animals such as wolves in the trails or streets to our homes. As I grew older when we drove on the skidoo late at night on the ice river from camp or from the main land Moosonee were always living with close to zero street lights in the community, although the Northern lights provided light to our path to get to our destination. One time I became stranded and there was no taxis available at the time and I had to walk home, I remember the crisp crunching on the snow as I walked and the great Northern lights shining down helping me on my walk.
Remembering that teachings of the Northern lights from my elders/teachers that took care of us when younger reminds me of the readings and teaching within the past month that taught us about Nanaboozhoo, Indigenous storytelling always teaches life lessons within the story that is told, and reflects on ways to teach children to connect with there own environment how to learn life lessons. I was always amazed how elders had such a great knowledge in their teachings within there communities to express ways to give guidance on our paths of life.
As we learn further in the class, I come to realize that we all come from unique backgrounds and cultures and our experiences come from the teachers and elders that guided us along our way. The latest lecture helped me reflect on the harsh impacts on Indigenous people that were created by the colonial systems that were formed. It made me think of the systems that were placed within turtle island and how people lived during these times and what the land would of looked like then and how it has come to be to this day.
Meegwetch for reading my reflection.
Sara Tariq
Attending the lectures, made me see that the “perfect normality” we try to achieve has in fact imprisoned us. We all try to reach the unrealistic expectations of being “normal” that were set by the elite capitalist class. The need to reach that stage in life or fit into that box was embedded in us due to colonialism. It is common for us to believe that once we fit into that box, we will be happy.
Everything I was made to believe that I need to achieve is because I was always taught to fit into that box because that is how I will be ‘happy’ and that is how I will be accepted and earn respect from those around me. The expectations that were set for me were to graduate by 22, get married by 24, have a kid by 26 and buy my own house by the age of 30. To think that I am 21 and nowhere close to graduating already pushes me farther away from reaching that box. The stress given from those around me and myself has made my anxiety get really bad because I would not be graduating at the same time as my peers. I am already being started to be considered a failure which effects my motivation to reach my goals and brings down my mental health.
It makes me angry that fitting into an unrealistic box which is not even fair to people of colour or those with disabilities is what society tries to fit everyone into. The stigma it creates hurts those outside the box even more. It alienates people and I have seen it happen to someone very dear to me. My friend, they started off with a traumatic childhood which in return led to doing bad in school and being the ‘trouble kid’. Being alienated as a kid and seeing other parents tell their kids not to play with them added a lot of insecurities on top of dealing with their own mental health issues. They are now at the age of 21, living on their own, working full time and going to university part time. They are doing their hardest to live a better lifestyle while fighting the society who still considers such people ‘bums’ because they haven’t reached certain goals at a certain age.
Our society always blames the individuals for the setbacks they face in their lives and completely blinds itself from the fact that our system is constantly dragging down those who are struggling or are different from the ‘norm’. It ignores the bigger picture.
Instead of providing support to those who are struggling, our society creates even harder challenges for those outside the box. Anyone who is outside the box is considered BAD or lesser as a person. The normative violence that people outside the box face is completely unacceptable. I think this box is complete and utter bullshit and we need to destroy it to progress as a society. It was made to assimilate us all into reaching the goals of a “perfect 30-year-old white male who has everything” apparently.
The society is so quick to judge those outside the box. Even those outside the box tend to judge themselves and feel like a failure because of the unrealistic expectations that are unreachable. We are stuck in this prison that we need to break out of. The prison built on expectations of European colonizers.
Attending the lectures, made me see that the “perfect normality” we try to achieve has in fact imprisoned us. We all try to reach the unrealistic expectations of being “normal” that were set by the elite capitalist class. The need to reach that stage in life or fit into that box was embedded in us due to colonialism. It is common for us to believe that once we fit into that box, we will be happy.
Everything I was made to believe that I need to achieve is because I was always taught to fit into that box because that is how I will be ‘happy’ and that is how I will be accepted and earn respect from those around me. The expectations that were set for me were to graduate by 22, get married by 24, have a kid by 26 and buy my own house by the age of 30. To think that I am 21 and nowhere close to graduating already pushes me farther away from reaching that box. The stress given from those around me and myself has made my anxiety get really bad because I would not be graduating at the same time as my peers. I am already being started to be considered a failure which effects my motivation to reach my goals and brings down my mental health.
It makes me angry that fitting into an unrealistic box which is not even fair to people of colour or those with disabilities is what society tries to fit everyone into. The stigma it creates hurts those outside the box even more. It alienates people and I have seen it happen to someone very dear to me. My friend, they started off with a traumatic childhood which in return led to doing bad in school and being the ‘trouble kid’. Being alienated as a kid and seeing other parents tell their kids not to play with them added a lot of insecurities on top of dealing with their own mental health issues. They are now at the age of 21, living on their own, working full time and going to university part time. They are doing their hardest to live a better lifestyle while fighting the society who still considers such people ‘bums’ because they haven’t reached certain goals at a certain age.
Our society always blames the individuals for the setbacks they face in their lives and completely blinds itself from the fact that our system is constantly dragging down those who are struggling or are different from the ‘norm’. It ignores the bigger picture.
Instead of providing support to those who are struggling, our society creates even harder challenges for those outside the box. Anyone who is outside the box is considered BAD or lesser as a person. The normative violence that people outside the box face is completely unacceptable. I think this box is complete and utter bullshit and we need to destroy it to progress as a society. It was made to assimilate us all into reaching the goals of a “perfect 30-year-old white male who has everything” apparently.
The society is so quick to judge those outside the box. Even those outside the box tend to judge themselves and feel like a failure because of the unrealistic expectations that are unreachable. We are stuck in this prison that we need to break out of. The prison built on expectations of European colonizers.
Reflections on the Teachings by Camila R.
Normative Violence
By Martyna Komadowski
Normative violence and Pondering the social environment
Normative Violence. It is something so fucking disgusting that makes you want to bawl your eyes out. It happens every second in the world. There’s many bystanders but not one steps in and tries to stop it. I wonder why the world is so grey and dark when it comes to the violence of people. The amount of hatred one person can give another person can lead to suicide, threats, disasters, riots, no world peace. At this point I believe the world will never find world peace, it just gets worse and worse when it comes to inequality. Inequality differs from race, gender, sexuality, skin colour, disabilities, cultures, religions, etc. The list can go on forever due to people always finding something to fight and cause violence about. Ask you think about it, the socials in the environment always step away from these kinds of things, its fucking ridiculous. There are many who fight for the rights and justice who have fallen within the process of trying to make the world a better place. Many don’t want to see others committing themselves to change something that can happen if everyone just stops these horrendous acts and treat one another as if we are all family. There are millions of racist people who do not want equal rights among people who are of a different culture or skin tone from them. Let’s talk about Trump. Trump is looked at as both good and bad. Good to the people who believe and follow everything he believes, and bad by the people who see how racist and unfair he is at people who are ‘not’ like him, white. He might have done some good things for his country, I won’t lie, but there’s more proof of him being sexist, racist, and just disgusting in general when it came to questions about people who were not Caucasian. As you ponder on the fact that many people support people him, it makes the world a darker and cruel place. There’s many people out there, one of the many reasons why nothing is being done. As 2020 has been a very eventful year due to Covid-19, many violent acts have occurred. It started a chain of riots and angry people who want that justice for the fallen and innocent others. Most of the population tagged on for the justice and tried to change the world. Even though it helped a few of the violence cases, there’s millions of others. No matter how hard you thrived to accomplish at least one, many people suffer within for the suffered ones. It truly is a vile place. Society makes it even worse and it doesn’t improve what so ever. Many try and some succeed but most of the time it doesn’t get past the first stage, realization. The realization that your neighbour is in pain, your brother is suffering, your sister has taken her life, your mother and father have been murdered. It all could happen in one little violent act, when it done, the act can end an entire nations population. All it takes to end it, is to take a stand and try to make this dark and vile planet a little lighter, then just stand and listen closely to all the people in power shake. Shake because they’re scared, that the people that once followed them, are against them and are with their fellow brothers and sisters who want to end suffering in this fucking disgusting world that has been created.
Normative Violence. It is something so fucking disgusting that makes you want to bawl your eyes out. It happens every second in the world. There’s many bystanders but not one steps in and tries to stop it. I wonder why the world is so grey and dark when it comes to the violence of people. The amount of hatred one person can give another person can lead to suicide, threats, disasters, riots, no world peace. At this point I believe the world will never find world peace, it just gets worse and worse when it comes to inequality. Inequality differs from race, gender, sexuality, skin colour, disabilities, cultures, religions, etc. The list can go on forever due to people always finding something to fight and cause violence about. Ask you think about it, the socials in the environment always step away from these kinds of things, its fucking ridiculous. There are many who fight for the rights and justice who have fallen within the process of trying to make the world a better place. Many don’t want to see others committing themselves to change something that can happen if everyone just stops these horrendous acts and treat one another as if we are all family. There are millions of racist people who do not want equal rights among people who are of a different culture or skin tone from them. Let’s talk about Trump. Trump is looked at as both good and bad. Good to the people who believe and follow everything he believes, and bad by the people who see how racist and unfair he is at people who are ‘not’ like him, white. He might have done some good things for his country, I won’t lie, but there’s more proof of him being sexist, racist, and just disgusting in general when it came to questions about people who were not Caucasian. As you ponder on the fact that many people support people him, it makes the world a darker and cruel place. There’s many people out there, one of the many reasons why nothing is being done. As 2020 has been a very eventful year due to Covid-19, many violent acts have occurred. It started a chain of riots and angry people who want that justice for the fallen and innocent others. Most of the population tagged on for the justice and tried to change the world. Even though it helped a few of the violence cases, there’s millions of others. No matter how hard you thrived to accomplish at least one, many people suffer within for the suffered ones. It truly is a vile place. Society makes it even worse and it doesn’t improve what so ever. Many try and some succeed but most of the time it doesn’t get past the first stage, realization. The realization that your neighbour is in pain, your brother is suffering, your sister has taken her life, your mother and father have been murdered. It all could happen in one little violent act, when it done, the act can end an entire nations population. All it takes to end it, is to take a stand and try to make this dark and vile planet a little lighter, then just stand and listen closely to all the people in power shake. Shake because they’re scared, that the people that once followed them, are against them and are with their fellow brothers and sisters who want to end suffering in this fucking disgusting world that has been created.