Speaking Against Residential School Denialism

Content Warning: Residential School Denialism

A few weeks ago a post came across my social media feed that caused me to gasp. A popular right-wing media site was promoting their own line of orange shirts, available in kids' and adult sizes, printed with statements like:

"Dig Deeper"

"Buried Truth"

"Respect My Property Rights"

I sat with that for a while. I thought about my dear friends in community who lived through residential schools, who have shared their truths and their testimony, and I imagined them coming across these shirts. I imagine the shock. The hurt. It breaks my heart.

My brother George saw the ad too, and it inspired him to write this week's Teachings Tuesday. Here is what he shared:

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Uy skweyul siiye'yu (Good day friends),

I have seen the pictures and video reels circulating lately of people wearing shirts that demand "proof" of the deaths and burial grounds of Indigenous children from the residential school system. I need to say clearly how disappointing and disrespectful this is to residential school survivors, my father among them. Haven't our people suffered enough?

The truth has already been told.

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission spent six years hearing firsthand, eyewitness testimony from residential school survivors. That is not hearsay. That is not rumor. That is people telling the world what happened to them, in their own words.

And the record does not stop there. In the 1970s, the University of Saskatchewan conducted an archaeological dig at the Battleford Industrial School and found the remains of more than 70 children. The Shingwauk Residential School had its own cemetery. Let that sink in for a moment: a school with its own cemetery. Not one where names are marked and loved ones bring flowers, but one of unmarked graves. There are schools where the bodies of children were placed beneath the buildings. There are stories of priests and nuns disposing of children's bodies in the ocean, leaving no evidence and no burial at all. And more recently, the world learned what Tk'emlúps te Secwépemc First Nation already carried: the remains of 215 children discovered at the Kamloops Residential School.

The people circulating these shirts are not searching for truth. If they were, they would find it, because it is already there, documented, tested, and confirmed. What they are searching for is fuel for the fire of Indigenous-specific racism, a fire that is burning brighter in the world right now than it has in a long time. There are people actively denying what happened to our people, and worse, trying to erase it through hate speech they are now profiting from. It is disgusting that this hate has become merchandise. It is disheartening that these shirts are being sold in youth sizes. The hate is being packaged for the next generation before that generation has even had the chance to learn the truth for themselves. We are supposed to be in a process of reconciliation, not estrangement.

Put yourself in our shoes for a moment.

Imagine sending your child away to a school and never seeing them again. Imagine hearing from other families that the same thing happened to them. Then, for decades, imagine telling your story only to have people call you a liar, to be told there is no proof, that it never happened the way you said. I am certain you would be devastated if people spoke that way about your story, about your child who never came home. I don't know why it has become acceptable to speak this way about the losses carried by Indigenous communities. It should be treated as what it is: hate speech. What hurts most isn't only hearing these words. It's watching them get printed on a t-shirt and sold. Somewhere along the way, some people lost their humanity. Somewhere along the way, some forgot what it means to be kind and accepting of others.

This isn't about guilt. It's about truth.

Truth and reconciliation was never about making people feel bad. It is about telling our truths and having them heard. I understand that most people alive today did not personally do these things to Indigenous people. That doesn't mean you can't be part of our healing journey. You can listen to our Elders. You can hear the truth without flinching from it. You can be there to help make things better. You can be an ally who speaks up against hate speech when you see it. We all carry a responsibility, as neighbors, as fellow citizens, as human beings, to help repair what was broken. We owe it to survivors, and to their children and grandchildren, who are still living with the effects of what happened inside those institutions. I know hearing this truth is hard and uncomfortable. But reconciliation cannot begin until the truth is heard and accepted, in full, without conditions.

So here is my ask of you.

Look inward and ask what strength you carry that could support Indigenous people right now. Maybe that strength looks like a donation to the Indian Residential School Survivors Society (IRSSS). Maybe it looks like educating your loved ones about what truly happened in those schools. Maybe it looks like standing firmly against hate speech when you see it circulating, even when it's uncomfortable to say something. Don't let our lost children become a political talking point. Wear your orange shirt with pride, because Every Child Matters, not just in September, but always.

Huy ch q'u | Thank you

Wholwolet'za | George Harris Jr

The Son of a Residential School and Day School Survivor

In advance of September 30th, and after seeing this ad, I've asked myself: what will I do if I see someone wearing this shirt? How will I respond?

I know that anyone wearing it is doing so intentionally, and there is likely not much I could say in that moment to change their mind. But I won't stay silent either. If I see it, I will say something. I will name it for what it is: a denial of testimony that survivors, including George's own father, lived and told the world firsthand. I will not let it pass as just another opinion.

If you are able, I invite you to be prepared too. Not to start a confrontation, but to not look away. Think about what you would say, be prepared, practice. Silence in that moment is its own kind of message.