In my neighbourhood there are five to six native halfway homes that provide food and shelter to any aboriginal person in need. There are a few rules that you need to follow and obey in order to stay in these homes.
One of those rules is the prohibition of any drug or alcohol within the walls of the establishment. Another is to respect the curfew at all cost. You must be signed in at the front desk and inside the building by 11pm. I knew a guy that lived in one of those places and one day I went inside to see him.
His room was no bigger than what was needed to accommodate him. He had one bed, one small desk and a wooden chair. The bathroom was shared with eight other people and the kitchen was communal for the whole house. What struck me first was the layout of the rooms. It was just like a residence at Glendon or the Keel campus. Small corridors, dorms separated by cardboard walls and the resident’s doors had posters of Scarface or Tupac on them. My friend who I cam to see had similar decorations but he had Muy Tai fighters on his posters and he painted his room with graffiti because he was a “writer”.
He told me that most of the young guys there were pretty rugged and that thanks to martial arts and graffiti he was able to steer clear of all the temptations he faced on a daily basis. The kids he was talking about had tattoos on their necks and faces and wore strictly red and black. My first impression was that gang-members surrounded me. At first I was unsettled but my friend quickly reassured me that within these walls, I was safe and that I was regarded as a friend of the house simply because I was inside it.
When I returned home I was curious about natives gangs in Canada and if there were many of them. I found this documentary on aboriginal gangs in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
I was sucked into it right away because most of the things being said in the documentary were said in our class!
It all started in the 1840’s when the Canadian government deliberately established the famous residential schools strictly reserved for aboriginal kids sixteen years of age and under, to separate them from their families. These kids were forced into these schools, directed by nuns and priests, and were forbidden to speak their native language or practice their traditions under the constant threat of being beaten with a ruler or whipped. The ultimate goal that the Canadian government was to supress or “kill” the Indian inside them…When those kids got out of the schools they were released (I used the word “released” because to me, those schools feel like incarcerations) into society without an identity.
Raphael Marcolini In the 1960’s, one of Manitoba’s hydroelectric plants flooded the traditional hunting grounds of aboriginal people living in that area at the time. They were forced into the city with little to no job experience in some of the poorest and dangerous neighbourhoods were drug abuse and gang violence was an everyday thing.
One aboriginal woman described her first few months in the city as a “hunger”, a hunger to know who she was and were she came from. She quickly started drinking, taking drugs and she joined a gang because that was the only place she found security and an identity. She had a son and her son witness everything going on around him so he too joined a gang at the tender age of ten. What struck me the most were the names of the gangs. Indian Syndicate, Native Posse and even Manitoba Warriors. Even without being around their Elders teaching them their ways of life, they were still able to apply some of their traditional concepts to this new “sub-culture”. All of the gang members interviewed said the same thing in different ways. They all wanted to belong, they all wanted money and they all wanted security. If I were living in a city that was nicknamed Murderpeg, I would also want those things.
After watching the documentary a couple of times, I realized that the halfway homes for natives on my street were bringing those things to the native community. They offer them shelter, food and security. If someone living in one of those homes wanted to get a nine to five, there are people there that can help them write a CV or prepare them for a job interview or maybe just to motivate them to go further, to double their efforts, to NOT give up. I personally think that these homes are key for the aboriginal community and I no longer avoid walking passed them because in one visit that lasted a few hours, I felt like a piece of that house belonged to me just by being welcomed.
Imagine if we all started welcoming people. Not by inviting them into our homes, but not shutting the door in a strangers face when approached on the subway or in the street. Respond to the man in the streetcar stoop asking you how your day was, or simply smile when smiled at instead of frowning and thinking to yourself that that person is crazy.
Try telling that to people who’ve suffered for centuries, who’ve been segregated from society and who blame you for it, see how they respond to that.
One of those rules is the prohibition of any drug or alcohol within the walls of the establishment. Another is to respect the curfew at all cost. You must be signed in at the front desk and inside the building by 11pm. I knew a guy that lived in one of those places and one day I went inside to see him.
His room was no bigger than what was needed to accommodate him. He had one bed, one small desk and a wooden chair. The bathroom was shared with eight other people and the kitchen was communal for the whole house. What struck me first was the layout of the rooms. It was just like a residence at Glendon or the Keel campus. Small corridors, dorms separated by cardboard walls and the resident’s doors had posters of Scarface or Tupac on them. My friend who I cam to see had similar decorations but he had Muy Tai fighters on his posters and he painted his room with graffiti because he was a “writer”.
He told me that most of the young guys there were pretty rugged and that thanks to martial arts and graffiti he was able to steer clear of all the temptations he faced on a daily basis. The kids he was talking about had tattoos on their necks and faces and wore strictly red and black. My first impression was that gang-members surrounded me. At first I was unsettled but my friend quickly reassured me that within these walls, I was safe and that I was regarded as a friend of the house simply because I was inside it.
When I returned home I was curious about natives gangs in Canada and if there were many of them. I found this documentary on aboriginal gangs in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
I was sucked into it right away because most of the things being said in the documentary were said in our class!
It all started in the 1840’s when the Canadian government deliberately established the famous residential schools strictly reserved for aboriginal kids sixteen years of age and under, to separate them from their families. These kids were forced into these schools, directed by nuns and priests, and were forbidden to speak their native language or practice their traditions under the constant threat of being beaten with a ruler or whipped. The ultimate goal that the Canadian government was to supress or “kill” the Indian inside them…When those kids got out of the schools they were released (I used the word “released” because to me, those schools feel like incarcerations) into society without an identity.
Raphael Marcolini In the 1960’s, one of Manitoba’s hydroelectric plants flooded the traditional hunting grounds of aboriginal people living in that area at the time. They were forced into the city with little to no job experience in some of the poorest and dangerous neighbourhoods were drug abuse and gang violence was an everyday thing.
One aboriginal woman described her first few months in the city as a “hunger”, a hunger to know who she was and were she came from. She quickly started drinking, taking drugs and she joined a gang because that was the only place she found security and an identity. She had a son and her son witness everything going on around him so he too joined a gang at the tender age of ten. What struck me the most were the names of the gangs. Indian Syndicate, Native Posse and even Manitoba Warriors. Even without being around their Elders teaching them their ways of life, they were still able to apply some of their traditional concepts to this new “sub-culture”. All of the gang members interviewed said the same thing in different ways. They all wanted to belong, they all wanted money and they all wanted security. If I were living in a city that was nicknamed Murderpeg, I would also want those things.
After watching the documentary a couple of times, I realized that the halfway homes for natives on my street were bringing those things to the native community. They offer them shelter, food and security. If someone living in one of those homes wanted to get a nine to five, there are people there that can help them write a CV or prepare them for a job interview or maybe just to motivate them to go further, to double their efforts, to NOT give up. I personally think that these homes are key for the aboriginal community and I no longer avoid walking passed them because in one visit that lasted a few hours, I felt like a piece of that house belonged to me just by being welcomed.
Imagine if we all started welcoming people. Not by inviting them into our homes, but not shutting the door in a strangers face when approached on the subway or in the street. Respond to the man in the streetcar stoop asking you how your day was, or simply smile when smiled at instead of frowning and thinking to yourself that that person is crazy.
Try telling that to people who’ve suffered for centuries, who’ve been segregated from society and who blame you for it, see how they respond to that.