Authenticity on orange shirt day

As a settler on Indigenous land I know that acknowledging Orange Shirt Day is the bare minimum. I have learned from Indigenous folks that this day can be fraught with pain and grief, alongside a deep fatigue surrounding educating non-Indigenous people. I question any attempt I make to participate in reconciliation. Is it performative? Is it enough? Is it meaningful? I don’t know how to find the answer to these questions. But I do commit to continue to ask and to take action. Today I made a donation to an Indigenous artist that I admire who is fundraising for a creative project. 

An Indigenous Elder told a group of white folks I was with once, “If you want to make an offering, offer money because money is the thing white people value most.” I felt the sting and the truth in that statement. Money is different than words. It’s not enough – nothing is enough when it comes to the legacies of colonialism. Colonialism was driven by the desire to hoard wealth, among other things. I commit to continue to unravel its legacy in whatever way I can, no matter how small my efforts feel.

In the therapy room, I collaborate with folks I work with to uncover the ways we are impacted by colonialism, racialization and white supremacy. Those impacts are there all the time, like the air that we breathe, causing harm to everyone. Even if we can’t see them clearly, we keep trying.