A Mixed Blessing: Stories by Intergenerational Residential School Survivors by Martha Troian Ben Powless is a 26 year-old activist and photojournalist. A Mohawk and Ojibwe, he’s travelled to over 28 countries; Mexico to study sustainable rural development, Rome for sessions on world food security, even the centre of a massacre in Bagua, Peru. He believes in what he does. Perhaps it’s because Ben understands first-hand when a world is turned upside down. Ben is an intergenerational residential school survivor - the son of parents forced into a disastrous education system. These schools were places where many children faced sexual and physical abuse, and families were torn apart - leaving a generation suffering to this day. This is Ben's story. But this is also Gloria Ranger and Amy Bombay's story. A story of pain, loss, resiliency, and healing.
The Early Days Not unlike today, Toronto in the 1970's was a place of refuge for many First Nations looking to escape reserve life. Among those refugees were Rose Moses, from Parry Island First Nation in Ontario, and Richard Powless from Six Nations of the Grand River near Brantford, Ontario. The two hit it off, married in 1985, and were soon expecting. Ben Powless was born on April 30, 1986. The young family bounced around before settling in the nation's capital while Ben was just an infant. “I was raised in Ottawa, which is rare. I mean nobody is ever from Ottawa,” Ben says with a chuckle. With a slender build and long black hair typically pulled back in a pony tail or braid, Ben is soft spoken and careful with his words. Raised in Ottawa by his parents Rose and Richard Powless, Ben’s upbringing was far from easy. The same can be said for his parents and their upbringing. Ben comes from a family of Indian residential school survivors.
Uprooted from their families, grandparents from his mom and dad's side attended residential schools. There, they experienced horrific abuse that’s still felt today. Ben's family has since struggled with substance abuse, suicide and dysfunction.
'Killing the Indian in the Child' During the 19th century, the Canadian government undertook an aggressive assimilation policy, where children were forcibly removed from their families and placed in Indian Residential Schools. Church-run and funded by the Department of Indian Affairs, over 130 schools operated across the country, the last closing in 1996. The mission was to address the 'Indian problem' and through its policies, 'kill the Indian in the child.' Dr. Evan Adams, a Coast Salish physician from the Sliammon Band near Powell River, B.C, calls it ‘phenomenal genocide of a whole generation of children and families.’ “The system was about removing people from their land. It wasn’t to help the child, or to assist the child, or to educate the child, or to give them opportunities,” says Dr. Adams. Sadly, for many children this often meant emotional, mental, physical and sexual abuse - sometimes even death - at the hands of priests, nuns, and school staff. More than 150,000 First Nations, Metis, and Inuit children attended the schools, becoming known as 'survivors.' Descendants of these survivors are called intergenerational residential school survivors. Because of the abuse - and the simple fact that many were raised away from their families - parenting skills in Aboriginal communities were often profoundly altered. Known as 'intergenerational trauma' - the cycle of abuse was transferred from one generation to the next.
“There is a holistic connection between body, mind, and spirit, between the past and the present, we know that to be true,” says Dr. Adams. “There is evidence to show the experiences of the parents are passed onto their children.” The stories of these survivors and intergenerational survivors are becoming more common today, but that wasn’t always the case. In 1990, Phil Fontaine publicly declared that he had been physically and sexually abused while at residential school. The now former National Chief of the Assembly of First Nations (AFN) - which represents over 600 First Nation communities in Canada - became one of the first leaders to do so. According to Dr. Adams, more people are aware of the experiences at residential schools and beginning to acknowledge previous trauma and the role it might play in how people are functioning today. “I am seeing a small increase in terms of programming towards discussing previous trauma,” says Dr. Adams. While many students were not sexually or physically abused, being uprooted from their families and forbidden to speak their language was often just as traumatic. Ben’s paternal grandparents were from Six Nations of the Grand River. Located near Brantford, Ontario, it’s one of the largest First Nations in Canada. Ben’s grandfather attended the Mohawk Institute Residential School - known as ‘mush hole’ - near Brantford, Ontario. Attending the school had a profound effect on Ben’s grandfather. “He was a victim of physical and psychological abuse during his time there,” says Ben. “He would never talk about it.” Despite being fluent, Ben’s grandfather never taught the Mohawk language to his children. Ben recalls his father recounting the time he asked his grandfather why.
“Apparently, my grandfather broke down and started to cry. He said, 'we were ashamed of the language and what it was to be an Indian'. That really affected my dad.” “My dad always felt he didn't have access to his culture or to his language.” Ben’s grandfather also didn’t know how to discipline his children without getting physical, eventually driving Ben's father away from home. But by then it was too late and Ben’s father - Richard - grew to be both quick tempered and aloof. This left Ben always feeling an arm's length from him. Although he escaped the physical abuse, Ben says his father’s strict parenting led him to resent him.
“She was beaten so badly by the nuns that she was deaf for the rest of her life. She had to rely on a hearing aid.” Ben’s maternal grandmother was raised to become a traditional medicine woman. Originally from Parry Island First Nation near Parry Sound, Ontario, she too attended residential school and suffered at the hands of the nuns and priests. “She was beaten so badly by the nuns that she was deaf for the rest of her life. She had to rely on a hearing aid,” says Ben.
“My grandmother suffered a good part of her life from alcoholism.” With nine children but few parenting skills, most of her children were placed in Children’s Aid. “My grandmother suffered a good part of her life from alcoholism,” says Ben. “She had to endure some of the worst injustices. There are some parts that will always be painful.” Ben’s mom never knew her own mother in any personal way. While she was placed in a good foster home, she still carried the scars of her biological home.
“I never met grandfather. He died early because he became an alcoholic after residential school.” Amy Bombay, 29, is an Ojibwe with roots in the Rainy River First Nation in northwestern Ontario. Though born and raised in Ottawa, she too is an intergenerational residential school survivor. Her grandmother and grandfather attended St. Mary's Indian Residential School in Fort Frances, Ontario. “I would hear through my mother and my aunt that my grandmother use to say things like, 'you can't run for class president or homecoming queen because you're an Indian.’ She would say these things to her children without explaining why she said it.” Through her non-First Nation mother, Sheila Bombay, Amy learned about her father's history. “He never spoke to us about the difficulties he had growing, up and I don't think my grandmother spoke to him about her difficulties either. He's really good at shutting out his emotions when facing difficult things,” says Amy about her father, Harry Bombay. Earning a PhD in psychology at Carleton University, Amy focused her studies on understanding the transmission of trauma in First Nation families - inspired by research on children of Holocaust survivors. Amy found that children of residential school survivors had higher rates of depressive symptoms and stress. She also found that children of survivors were more likely to be exposed to childhood adversities such as abuse, neglect, and having an alcoholic parent or a parent who's been incarcerated placing the intergenerational survivor at greater risk of traumatic experiences in their own adulthood. As adults, they perceive higher levels of discrimination. All of these factors contributed to their susceptibility to depression. It’s something Amy's seen in her own family. “I never met my grandfather. He died early because he became an alcoholic after residential school.”
“My grandmother had emotional problems because of residential school which impaired her parenting skills.”
“I did my best to try to fit in and not be seen as different.” Rose and Richard Powless separated after just two years of marriage. Ben went to live with his mother, visiting his father on weekends at Six Nations. His mom raised Ben on social assistance, living in subsidized housing “I did my best to try to fit in and not be seen as different,” says Ben. “Already growing up in poverty during that time, and having my mother on welfare, that was the biggest taboo in school. You don't want to be seen as the poor kid.” Despite attending a culturally diverse school, Ben felt embarrassed about his race and feared questions about his background. But he does recall moments of pride. Like the day his parents took him to a rally at the Ottawa courthouse and his picture appeared in a local newspaper. Ben proudly shared the clipping with his peers. “Sometimes it was other people that made you feel proud about being native. Someone would say, 'oh hey, you're native, that's cool.'”
“I couldn't bring people home. My mom was going through a period of manic depression. She had covered all the windows.” When Ben was six, his mother’s sister killed herself. He believes it was because of the treatment she received from his grandmother. He also says the suicide had a profound effect on his mother. “I would try to hold her hand, try to hug her. But being a young boy, I didn't know what to do,” he says quietly. The suicide brought on a period of deep depression for his mother.
“I couldn't bring people home. My mom was going through a period of manic depression. She had covered all the windows,” recalls Ben. “You feel embarrassed as a child, but then at the same time, you cannot really comprehend and understand what is happening.” As if to compensate, Ben thinks, she became consumed with work. She cofounded Minwaashin Lodge, a non-profit organization for women and children who are survivors of family violence and the residential school system. But it may not have been enough to help her. “She spent some time in a mental institution. She was diagnosed with depression, amongst other things.” During the difficult times, Ben lived with his father. Growing up, he remembers little healthy communication. “You don't know how to express your emotions. Especially as children, it's kinda necessary.“ “There were a lot of inter-family trauma and dynamics. Those kind of things are directly related to residential school.” Dr. Adams agrees. ‘If you have a family already under distress and trying to cope with previous trauma, their capacity to deal with current trauma is shortened,” he explains.
“My vision of a boarding school was similar to the book Madeline.” Gloria Ranger is a longtime resident of Thunder Bay and an Ojibwe whose family hails from Neskantaga First Nation (Lansdowne House) in northwestern Ontario. The 36-year-old works at the Thunder Bay Indian Friendship Centre where she is an Urban Aboriginal Healthy Living Worker, promoting events and activities.
Her mom, Francine Pellerin, attended residential school in Sault Ste. Marie over 700 km away from her home and family. “She grew very distant from my grandmother,” says Gloria. “I always felt like there was a lack of a deep connection with my parents. There is a distance between my mom and I.” Gloria says it extends to her sister and brother.
“I didn't really get to grow up in the community. I can go back to visit but I would never make it a home.” Growing up, Gloria often asked her mom about her time ‘down south.’ “My vision of a boarding school was similar to the book ‘Madeline’,” she says. “It was more of an idealized version when I was small.” “I didn't really get to grow up in my community. I can go back to visit but I would never make it a home.” As a young adult, Gloria resented residential school survivors themselves, blaming them for the disconnect she felt. She lashed out at a group of residential school survivors attending a reunion but an Elder pulled her aside, telling her, 'You can't lead out of anger.” “Those words have stuck with me.” she says.
“I think everyone was in tears by the end of the night. Everyone who had these stories to share were impacted by all the other stories.” Ben excelled at math and science in high school, eventually earning a university scholarship. But the death of his girlfriend from a rare liver condition right before his first year of studies made him reconsider his options.
Within a month of her death in the spring of 2005, Ben took a study tour of Guatemala with Wilfred Laurier University. He was deeply moved by meeting victims of torture, former rebel fighters, and Indigenous people who survived massacres during the country’s decades long civil war. “Coming back to Canada, my perspective on everything was different,” he says. Taking the advice of an Elder, Ben threw himself into exchange programs, furthering his education - in the class and out. While attending university, he became involved in panel discussions and events. He recalls one event in particular in late 2005 that was dedicated to Indian residential schools and intergenerational trauma. Like Gloria, Ben felt anger about the schools but attending the event lead to something of a breakthrough. “I think everyone was in tears by the end of the night. Everyone who had these stories to share were impacted by all the other stories.” Justice Murray Sinclair is Chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), meant to raise awareness about residential schools and to provide former students with an audience to share their experiences. He says more people are becoming aware of the effects of intergenerational trauma. “The fact that there was abuse in the schools has been an eye opening experience for the public. It has been an eye opening experience for aboriginal people who did not go to a residential school,” says Sinclair.
“It started to give me a real sense of accomplishment as well a a sense of community, which I never really had.” As Ben worked his way through university, he got increasingly involved in Ottawa’s activist scene. “It started to give me a real sense of accomplishment, as well as a sense of community which I never really had.”
But it wasn’t until he worked with the Indigenous Environmental Network (IEN) - a non-profit aimed at helping Indigenous peoples address environmental and economic justice issues - that his career really kicked off. A cancelled flight in 2009 forced him to stay longer in Peru, becoming a life changing experience. Ben found himself in the Amazon jungle, amidst a massacre in Bagua. Snapping pictures since he was 15, he used those skills to act as a photographer for an organization there, reconstructing the crisis through interviews, photos and note-taking. He was deeply moved by this experience and began taking photojournalism seriously. But not before completing an interdisciplinary undergraduate degree from Carleton University in 2010. Today, Ben reflects on his past with mixed feelings. “There's no changing the past. But it's not easy to live with,” he says.
“I cannot speak Ojibwe.” The struggle for Gloria and many other intergenerational survivors is learning their mother tongue. Like many, Gloria’s mother Francine was told by residential school staff not to speak, let alone teach the Ojibwe language. Ben feels this loss too. “I've always resented the fact that I never knew the language,” he says. Since its inception, the TRC has attempted to address the issues facing intergenerational survivors. But Justice Sinclair believes ultimately change will come from them and not the government or anyone else. “The best solutions to the legacy of residential schools are going to come from the families of survivors and communities where survivors reside,” says Justice Sinclair. “In the long term, you cannot ask the person who has damaged you to fix you.”
“None of them were alive to hear the apology.”
In 2008, Prime Minister Stephen Harper made an historic formal apology to former residential school students and their families. For Ben, it wasn’t enough. “None of them were alive to hear the apology,” he says, referring to his late grandmother and aunt. “I had a difficult childhood than most. But, the residential school system gave me experiences that were really powerful. It taught me what is valuable in life and what I should be doing with it,” he says. “It really is a mixed blessing.”