Reflecting on the 60s Scoop

I am sharing my story in support of the Wilson-Christen law firm who are representing 16,000 First Nation, Inuit and Metis children who experienced extreme cultural loss when removed from their homes between 1965-1984.
Many times prejudice views fall on Aboriginal court cases but perhaps descriptions and explanations are not made public enough for the public to understand why the court case surfaced, therefore people jump to their own conclusion and prejudice views begin.
My life in the 1960s is documented in my Children’s Aid records and I have used these records to express my experiences in my own words. I have lived a lifetime of shame, guilt, loss, pain and the inability to speak of the facts and effects of what happened during the 60’s scoop. This lawsuit is giving me my voice back.
Ruth Robbins, Brantford ON,
Formerly of Thunder Bay
Teedee
When I attended the Caramat Public School Reunion, annual Fish Derby and dance in July 2011 this felt like I was at my high school reunion because I felt that same excitement I have heard others speak of when they attended their reunion.
The reunion began with introductions, old stories, a meal and then a tour through the school where we were able to photocopy our school records. Someone had told everyone to photocopy the story written by Sherry Hogan, titled My Neighbourhood, published in Thunder Bay's Chronicle Journal Newspaper on April 14 2002.
When I began reading Sherry's reflections I was instantly brought back to my childhood, visualizing all my friends, recalling incidences she had mentioned that I was a part of and of course as I read I remembered many other happy memories. I remembered my own family and how happy I was living in Caramat and how happy I was here with my old friends again. As I read she spoke of my family and of Teedee. It had been 43 years since I heard this name.
My heart began pounding as I remembered this little girl. I pictured her carrying wood from the woodshed to the cabin style house she lived in, getting newspapers to clean the globes of the coal oil lamps, carrying half full pails of water she pumped from the hand pump that the CN bunkhouse men let her use because her home had no modern conveniences. I can still see her dumping the water in the reservoir in the wood stove and making many more trips back and forth until the reservoir was full. I remember her helping to plant gardens and picking the harvest for the supper meal. I could see her playing double dutch with her friends and siblings. Running through the paths in the bush with her sling shot and bow and arrows. I could feel the anticipation and excitement learning to swim holding on to two bleach bottles. I remember how peaceful the water was when fishing in the lake. I recalled walking the tracks to the townsite to attend the movies and to go to school. The sound of the hand held school bell. I remembered going to Texaco for pop and chips. In the restaurant part was where we heard all the gossip of town and surrounding areas. I could feel the love she had for her mother and siblings. I felt the pride she had to have baby sisters who were loved by her friends too. I remember picking and tasting lush berries of many varieties. I could hear the birds singing and the tapping of woodpecker beaks on hollow trees. I remembered her dog Timber and her cat called "Cat" and I could picture the property where she lived, two small houses, two outhouses, a woodshed and a dog house. I saw the tin bathtub leaning up against the house and the rain-barrel that sat beside it. I saw the two huge gardens and the path leading to the tracks from the main house we used. I saw the moose rack that we used for a swing set. I saw teenagers laughing and walking on stilts. I remember eating the snow and it being piled way over our heads. I remember building snow forts, snow men, snowball fights, skating and tobogganing. I could hear the buzzing sounds of chain saws, the whistle of the train, music playing, budding musicians singing and playing guitars and harmonicas. But most of all I could hear her mother singing You are My sunshine to all of her children. I felt the bonding, laughter and happiness with my siblings. I felt the confidence Teedee owned by being part of a community where every family loved and supported every other family.
I became lost in memories. My hands began trembling and tears were uncontrollably falling from my eyes. Someone said all my memories in Caramat were awesome I don't have any memories from this place that would make me cry. I could not respond.
As I headed outside to try and get a grip on my emotions, painful memories were making me dizzy to the point I was staggering like a drunk person. I am not in the habit of living an intoxicated life, but this day I had to suffocate and drown this pain so I had a few bottles of beer. Some of my friends acknowledged my swollen eyes but were too polite to ask what had happened. I was thankful for their consideration. I attended several fish derbies since 1989 when I began connecting back to Caramat but this was the first fish derby dance that I isolated myself and chose a table in the back corner of the recreation centre. I was so full of emotional pain and felt like an outsider. It was not long though and my table was full of my friends and I knew I was accepted here and belonged here. I felt truly honored.
Teedee was my name for the first 8 years of my life. Upon being removed from my home I was brought to the hairdresser and my hair was cut short, so was my sister's. I was forbidden to use my name and my sister who lived with me at this first home was punished with yard sticks for calling me Teedee. I would jump in and try to protect my sister but I was hit too. I thought the Children's Aid thought that Teedee was in my hair but I knew she was in me.
We were abused physically and mentally at this home, but worse of all for me was the religious abuse. It began on Christmas Day 1964. We did not celebrate Christmas because the people were Jehovah Witness. Living here was the first time I ever heard of God or attended Church. We were so lonely for home, our siblings and lonely for Christmas, I said to my sister we are going to go and find our siblings that were dropped off the day we came here but we can not tell this foster mother. We began walking, it was not long and I recognized the house that my baby sister was in. We knocked on the door and her foster mother invited us in, gave us candy canes and let us play with our baby sister. It was haunting, because our baby sister did not know us. We left and I was heartbroken and wondered how it were possible she did not recognize us. We walked some more and then we found our brother's house. We had a very short visit in the doorway and then we left. My sister was so excited we had found the other two who did not live too far from us, as soon as we got in the door she told our foster mother what we did.
Well, we had to sit with the Bible and tell the truth of how we found the houses. So I told her that I remembered where they were because I remembered the houses. She said this is impossible because this was the first that I was in the city. She said I had supernatural powers from the Devil and I was to kiss the Bible and read it. I read it but I did not know what the words meant and could not explain what I read. So then I had to kiss the Bible and read out of this orange book, it had a woman in it who was going to hell for sinning and her hair was almost touching the fires of hell. I understood what I was reading and I became terrified of Hell, the Devil, of God and myself. I was so afraid that the Devil was in me and I was under this punishment from God and going straight to Hell. I carry these memories to this day and feel the pain and confusion.
No adult seemed to understand that Caramat had no street signs and I was taught to recognize my whereabouts by buildings and other things that I was surrounded by.
It was not long and my sister and I both were kissing the Bible for our sins. I had to read to my sister from the orange book because she was younger and could not read yet. Numerous times we were hit with yardsticks and squashed behind the china cabinet until our breath was almost non existent in us. It was terrifying.
Although I did not like the punishment I enjoyed seeing my siblings. We again went to visit my two siblings, but this time my baby sister was gone. Her foster mother let us in to confirm she was no longer there. We were told that she was moved to Toronto. It hurt.
My foster mother told the CAS that she was afraid of me and at this time a couple applied to adopt a child. Perhaps I was chosen for this placement to prevent me from connecting to my siblings. I was placed in this home on a trial basis in Red Rock and this time my middle name and last name changed and I had to call these people Mom and Dad. One day I spoke to them about my brother and the bow and arrow games we used to play. She said your brother did not do that he has been here all his life. I said no not him my real brother. She said he is your real brother. My heart pounded I was so afraid I never again mentioned my family. As time passed this Mom began drilling me with questions of my family but I was afraid to say anything so I did not respond. I spent many hours in the basement as punishment for not responding.
I was enrolled in Girl Guides there and on Remembrance Day we were going to be taking part in laying wreaths for the War Veterans who died fighting for our country. This service was to take place on the ice in the arena; therefore, we were all told to wear sweaters under our uniforms because we had to take our jackets off so our uniforms would be visible. So I did as the leader told me on this day. When I came downstairs for breakfast that morning this Mom noticed I had something on under my uniform she made me remove it and said I was not allowed to take my coat off regardless of what the Leader for Girl Guides wanted. I removed my sweater. I went to the arena and stood with all the other Girl Guides. When the leader told us to remove our coats I removed mine also. Everyone in town attended this service including this Mom I lived with. I near froze to death out there. When I got home she called me terrible names and said I was making her ill because I was so defiant. But no one understood I did not know who to listen to.
While I lived here a child in my class lost her father in a motor vehicle accident. I was overwhelmed with fear because I thought she would have to go to the CAS; after all, I went to the CAS just after the death of my sister. I had a piggy bank that had money in it and I was supposed to deposit this to the bank account they opened for me. But when my classmate's father died the drug store business her father owned was having huge sales because they were permanently closing. I did not want her to go to the CAS and I wanted to help so I took my money and bought trinkets at the store. Of course I got caught. I not only did this, I gave her an invitation to a birthday party that I was invited to because I wanted her to be happy. I was spanked and called an inconsiderate foolish idiot and they said I am nothing but an embarrassment to them.
Shortly after this, this Mom said they arranged for me to visit my sister for Easter break. I was so happy as it had been months since I saw her. They gave me some money when I left and they kept adding things from my bedroom into my suitcase that I may need. When I met my sister she did not know me and this broke my heart. After we talked she began remembering me again and recognized my crooked tooth. I kept telling her Forget-Me-Not. For many years I called myself this and she never forgot me. With the money I was given I purchased gifts for this Mom, Dad and brother and I was going to give them to them after my holiday.
When Easter break was over my sister went back to school. I was left with her foster mother and kept asking her when I was going back home, but she did not know. I was upset because I wanted to go to school. I stayed like this for several days then a social worker came and told me I was not going back to Red Rock, I was being placed in a new home. I cried so much. I broke their gifts I purchased. I was never adopted to them.
My middle and last name changed back to what I was using prior to going to Red Rock. It was very difficult to attend this new school, St. James Public School, because a family that I knew in Red Rock also moved to Thunder Bay and me and this child that I knew previously were again classmates. Because I was now using a different name she avoided me like a plague and her and her new friends ridiculed me endlessly over my name. I was humiliated and ashamed but I knew she was telling the truth.
When I was 14 the CAS gave me an airplane ticket to BC and my birth certificate, this is how I learned my birth name. I was sent here to reunite with my family, for they had moved to BC after I went into the system.
I can't help but wonder whether the CAS was experimenting to see if I would end up with some type of split personality over all my name changes and moves. It does not seem possible that a child welfare system who is to care and foster children would think this is an adequate way to raise children. There was a shortage of foster homes and many children who needed a home. For this reason many homes cared for a half dozen foster children and more at one time. We were moved from home to home and we were placed with the same children more than once. Some of my foster siblings also lived with my own siblings but at different times. The experiences we shared were common. Whatever I experienced at a home so did the child placed there before me and the child who was placed there after me. In addition to this many of these homes also took in room and boarders. Boarders and foster children are not a good mix. Many of us were harmed by adult room and boarders even though the foster home itself was adequate. If we complained to the CAS about a problem caused by a boarder we were further labelled as hard to manage and moved.
In the 60's I was not medicated with prescriptions for Attention Deficit Disorders and ADHD like many foster children are today where this medication is increased and decreased distorting their identity.
I was medicated with every type of abuse imaginable like many other foster children were in the 60's. My medication was also increased and decreased and this distorted my identity.
In my opinion both ways leave and have left permanent scars. This is another reason I have taken a stand for the 60's Scoop cultural loss Class Action suit.