Reflections on the TRC Alberta National Event

What the TRC Taught Me

by Tatiana Wugalter, Programs Coordinator

Over the past year, compassion has become an overarching theme of much of the work I do at JHC.  I have been working with JHC Peace-Builders, a group of young people aged 18-30, to foster a genuine appreciation of Edmonton’s faith diversity and to build communities where compassion, peace and human rights prevail. As participants of JHC’s interfaith leadership program, we often speak of compassion in the context of spiritual diversity and interfaith understanding and appreciation. We define it as treating others with the utmost respect and dignity, even if someone has a set of values or beliefs that differ from what you believe. Despite my best efforts to foster compassion and act compassionately, my experience at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission recently taught me what compassion truly means.

Throughout the four days of the TRC, the JHC had the opportunity to share an interactive booth with the United Nations Association of Canada and the Inspirit Foundation. At the booth, we asked people to reflect on the question, “what actions can we take to reach reconciliation?” and to write their answers on colored index cards, which were then pinned to a large bulletin board. The board became a colorful rainbow of reflections on the hopes and challenges we face when continuing the reconciliation process.

My experience at the booth was truly incredible. With close to 500 comments pinned to our board, I met dozens of dynamic, inspirational, strong, courageous, hopeful, wise, enthusiastic individuals from a wide diversity of backgrounds. I met residential school survivors who shared the unthinkable atrocities they endured and exhibited the profound resiliency of the human spirit. I began to truly grasp the deep extent of intergenerational suffering as many survivors would relay how their experiences at residential school affected the way they treated their parents, spouses, children or other loved ones. I listened to intergenerational survivors explain how their parents or relatives never spoke of residential schools or associated their childhood experiences with shame, suffering and confusion. I learned how violence, drugs or alcohol were used as coping mechanisms to dull the pain and erase the horrors experienced at residential schools. While several individuals expressed anger and hurt, reinforcing how the journey of reconciliation still has many miles to go, others exhibited excitement, hope and a willingness to work together, as Canadians, in building a better future.

There were others still who didn’t share their experiences or vocalize their opinions but privately reflected on the question we posed to them. One such individual stood out to me. He took time writing his card and asked me to read it back, ensuring it clearly communicated the importance of sharing the truth about residential schools with future generations. His thoughtfulness and precision differed from others who quickly jotted down their ideas; I could tell that it was very important to him that others both saw and understood his message.

Later that day, I attended a survivor’s sharing circle and was surprised to see this man step up to share his experiences at residential school. I watched as he recounted them with tremendous strength and dignity. Not only had he endured barbaric treatment at residential school, he had the courage to share these experiences with a room full of strangers. My heart truly ached for this man as I could not begin to imagine what he, and his sister who was there supporting him, had withstood throughout their childhood and into their adult years. As I listened to him, I thought back to earlier that day when he was filling out his index card. I realized that I would have never known this about him had I not happened to join this sharing circle. How many other residential school survivors had passed by my booth? How many people did I interact with that day, not knowing a single thing about their lived experiences, their beliefs, their hopes and dreams? I was friendly and respectful but was I compassionate? Did I convey to them that I did truly care about the statements they pinned to our bulletin board?

I was deeply impacted by my experience at the TRC that day and spent the rest of the evening reflecting on how compassionate I really am. I will be forever grateful to this brave survivor for unknowingly teaching me one of the most important life lessons: compassion is treating others, always and no matter who they are, with genuine care, respect and dignity. It’s as simple as asking the person serving me Tim Hortons how their day has been, understanding that the grumpy gas station cashier has more to her life than ringing through my payment, or recognizing that the person who just cut me off without signalling might be stressed and late for something important. It’s acknowledging that everyone is fighting their own battles, enduring their own struggles, achieving their own dreams. It’s taking time, even just a single second, to show someone that you value them and that they were important to you in your moment of interaction.

I tell this story because I believe compassion is incredibly important when reflecting on the TRC and the continued efforts towards reconciliation which must occur throughout Canada. Although the TRC has come to an end, the reconciliation process has not; nor have centuries of oppression, systemic racism and marginalization of Canada’s First Nations, Inuit and Métis communities. In order to work together in building a better future for everyone in Canada, we must act with compassion and do away with centuries of outrageous stereotypes and misconceptions. They deter us from genuinely listening and understanding, they build walls that restrict us from connecting through our common humanity and they derail us from acknowledging the truth, injustice and wrongdoing of the treatment of Aboriginal people in Canada.

So, what actions can we take to reach reconciliation? I’m not sure if I had an answer before the TRC, but  I do now. We can truly act with compassion – we can take time to listen, to acknowledge that the experiences of residential school survivors and their descendants are real and unjust and we can recognize that the negative impact of residential schools continues to affect thousands of people throughout Canada.  Those of us who did not experience residential schools must make known that while we may never truly feel the pain and suffering of residential school and intergenerational survivors, we do care very much about what they experienced and the impact it had on themselves and those they care about. Most importantly, we can work together to implement the lesson I learned at the TRC; that true compassion is understanding, acknowledging and cherishing our common humanity.