May Maybes Idea: maybe we could make a point of making eye contact with strangers.
I have been trying to write this post for nearly 2 weeks. I've been struggling with how to frame it. I don't want it to come across as a post about something that I did. I want it to be about humanity and the importance of treating ALL people with dignity and respect. No matter what. I want it to be about my discomfort with celebrating Canada's 150th birthday; an unpopular opinion, I have discovered.
For example, do I agree with the policies of Donald Trump? No. But if I had the unfortunate opportunity to meet him, I would still speak respectfully. Even if it was to tell him what I think about his policies.
Simply because he is a living being.
I have a great deal of privilege. I am a white, Canadian, university educated, English speaking, teacher. I have a clean apartment, access to safe water, the ability to seek help and support when I need it. I pass as straight. For me, this privilege both opens doors for me, as well as gives me the responsibility to learn, to pay attention, to hear the voices of marginalized people, and to both acknowledge and challenge systemic and institutionalized injustices.
A few weeks ago, I walked past a man that I see often on Bay Street. He is homeless and sits in front of a building, banging on a drum. He is an indigenous person. I feel like that fact matters in this story.
I walked past as I always do, looked him in the eye, said hello, and continued my walk to Starbucks. After about half a block, I stopped and asked myself "do I really need to spend this $5 at Starbucks on a drink I don't need, and could also just make at home?" ... so I turned around, walked back, gave him my $5 and planned to say goodnight and walk away.
However, as I got closer, I noticed blood on his drum. Then I noticed it was a great deal of blood. His hand was drenched in blood and it was running down his arm. He was very inebriated and said "oh I cut my finger". I found a napkin in my bag and told him to put pressure on the wound.
I wondered to myself, how many people walked by and ignored the blood? How many people walked by and averted their eyes before they could notice him bleeding? And how many people walked by without even seeing him at all?
I walked to my car, got my first aid kit, and walked back to him. As I got there, a security guard arrived. At first I felt relieved. In my naive mind, I thought she was there to help him.
Me: "Oh! I just came back to give him first aid."
Security Guard: "sir, I had a complaint from the cafe owner, you need to move."
Me: "he's bleeding. I need to assess his wound and see if he needs an ambulance"
Security Guard: "you can do that across the street"
Me: ".......... or, I can take 2 minutes to check him out and give him a bandaid"
Security Guard: "well he has to move so you'll have to do it somewhere else."
Me: "...................... it will take me 2 minutes. Then he will move"
Security Guard: "I'm calling the police"
She went back into the building. Presumably to phone the police.
I sat with the man and cleaned him up. I found the cut (which was TINY) and cleaned it with an alcohol swab. I put a bandaid on and helped him clean the blood off of his hand and arm. I sat and talked to him for a few minutes, and gave him a granola bar. Then I told him it would be better to move before the cops came.
He was grateful and kind. I left all riled up feeling angry at the security guard and at society in general. I have had mixed reactions when I tell this story. I've had everything from being thanked for helping him, to being told I'm crazy and could have caught a communicable disease (I did wear gloves).
I know that not many people would have stopped to help him. And yet, I don't feel like I did anything special. A living being needed help and I stopped to help. If he had been a child, people would have stopped. And I bet if he was a dog, people would have stopped to help. People would have been so upset to see a dog bleeding on the street. They would have taken the dog to the humane society, or at least called someone.
And yet a man can have a drum covered in blood, with blood running down his arm, and be completely ignored.
When I was younger, I didn't give money to people on the street because I believed they were going to use it to feed their addictions. Now I believe that it's their choice. If I lived on the streets, I would want to be numb.
The cultural genocide of Canada's indigenous people has created generations of poverty and despair. 134 First Nations Reserves in Canada have been, and are, facing a water crisis. Neskantaga First Nation in Ontario, has been under a boil water advisory for TWENTY YEARS. The Canadian government has strict regulations for water treatment. But those regulations are not part of the Indian Act and do not apply to reserves. Even the United Nations has condemned the situation. The federal government has promised funding to build water treatment systems. But that won't cover the costs of maintaining these infrastructures.
The systemic racism and lack of knowledge of indigenous people in Canada is what allows this to happen. A drunk Indian on the street has less worth than a dog. Much of the settler population of Canada has little knowledge of the crimes and harm committed against the indigenous people of this land.
Did you know that the last Residential School only closed in 1996? Did you know that they existed for 150 years? Have you thought through the generational repercussions of this systemic and institutionalized racism?
Imagine all the children of a community being taken away. Raised by nuns and priests of various Christian faiths in a foreign language. Viewed as savages needing to be rescued. Those children were not parented. They then had children. Those children were either taken to residential schools, or raised by parents who never learned to parent. Parents who suffered the trauma of being in these schools. Survived the abuse. And potentially suffered from PTSD. This cycle lasted 150 years, however, the results of this impacted the generations that followed. Drug and alcohol abuse rose out of generational trauma and cultural genocide. As well as from the Canadian government not living up to its treaty obligations.
The majority of people walking past the bleeding man on Bay Street likely saw a drunken Indian who made choices that led to his state. I saw an inebriated social worker, who had worked in harm reduction, but lost his job due to alcohol abuse. I saw a human in need. I looked him in the eye and saw sadness behind his friendly smile. I saw 150 years of a country ignoring its obligations to its indigenous people.
No one person is to "blame" for the stereotypes and discrimination against Canada's indigenous people. We are, however, responsible for learning and for challenging our own beliefs. Canada is celebrating its 150th birthday, while its indigenous people are still struggling to recover from 150 years of legalized abuses against them, and their children.
The next time you pass a person who is homeless, you don't have to give them anything. You don't have to say anything. I'm asking that you look the person in the eye. Acknowledge they exist. You don't know their story.
Acknowledge they are human.
Be kind,
To yourself too
xo
**** NOTE: I do not know the story of the security guard. Maybe she has pressure to clear the street. Maybe she has had previous interactions with this particular man. I do not judge her for her actions. I judge a country that is known for human rights advocacy, yet manages to allow systemic and institutionalized injustices.
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