“There’s got to be a certain irony in speaking English, French and Latin. Why couldn’t they have appended Ojibway? And Ojibway history?” – Carl Beam page 34

As I did the reading prep for our class visit to the Museum of Anthropology, I kept noticing how often language (and the loss thereof) turned up in residential school survivors’ stories and art. Many of those interviewed mentioned the particular pain of losing their language, linking it to loss of culture and community. As Chief Robert Joseph recalled, replacing Aboriginal languages with English was an integral part of the Residential School’s mission, and the punishments for resistance were harsh: “I didn’t speak any language other than Kwak’wala. I started attending Grade 1 and the teacher was just brutal.She gave instruction in English, and if you didn’t respond correctly, you’d get cuffed in the ear or both ears, you’d get strapped on the back of the hand or on the palm of the hand, or you’d have to stand in a corner for two, three, four hours and just be left there.”

This reminded me of the work we have been doing in Geography on global culture and language; I believe Dr. Ley mentioned that a language disappears from the world every two weeks. English’s place as the second most spoken language on Earth is neither accidental nor innocent– it is the result of a long history of violence and brutal colonization. As we learned in Sociology, language is perhaps the basis for self-consciousness, and we use to to create our conscious thoughts. When one of the most basic and deeply-held aspects of self and communal identity is ripped away, there are bound to be consequences.

I’m not sure how to end this post, but I’d like to continue this discussion in another post or in my final paper, if anyone has something to add I’d love to read your comments.