So, I’ve been wondering whether I should comment on race. A post by buymeaclue made me decide “yes” (because it was a good post, I should add. It made me think, and it was the kick in the butt for me to write this). Therefore, I’m going to tell a story about racism:

Once upon a time, I was involved in a show that centered on a British music hall thingy. Each of us was assigned a solo, which fit into the larger show (those familiar with Fledermaus will know the scoop on this). After I was assigned my solo, I took it to the practice room and quickly discovered that there was no way, in good conscience, that I could sing it. The song, which was called “Indian Song to the Moon” or something like that (It wasn’t the more well known “Indian Love Call”, FYI) was written in pigeon English (Moon dear/how clear/your love/my hand…or something like that). Right about that time, a friend of our family was in the middle of a battle with the Canadian government because his mother had sold her scrip when she was young in order to buy food for her family and was trying to get his aboriginal status back (imagine the concept of selling your race to buy food…wow), so at the time, I was pretty aware of how cultural appropriation like this played into the whole concept of the “ignorant savage”, and how that attitude was still prevalent in modern culture.

So, I took my concerns to the director of the show, who didn’t want to deal with me. She pawned me off onto the assistant director, who told me that he grew up on the edge of a reservation and so he didn’t think there was any problem with the pigeon English, or the sentiment that “noble savage” also implied stupid Indian, so suck it up, because if I wanted to be a singer, I’d better learn to deal with sexism and racism (and, I had been warned by my own teacher at the time that if I went ahead and brought my concerns forward, I’d be blackballed by the individuals in question, which was pretty major as the director is a very well respected teacher in the opera community). Needless to say, I was pretty taken aback, but I wasn’t in a place where I felt strong enough to go further than this. So, I did what I was told, sucked it up, and sang the damn song, even though every fiber in my body hated it.

Fast forward two years: my aunt, while researching our family genealogy, discovers that we’re Métis. Since then, I’ve wanted to write to that assistant director and tell him that as a person of aboriginal descent, I officially object to that stupid song, and he and his high-handed attitude are jerks.

However...

I’ve really struggled with the concept of being of aboriginal descent. Because my family didn’t know we were Métis, we’re considered Nouveau Métis, which is just so bizarre – Nouveau Métis are considered lesser by some because we weren’t raised within our culture. Nothing like racism within one’s own cultural group. I’ve also been told by people that being Métis makes me less of an Indian because the Métis were the wealthy Indians, when, in fact, the Métis are the most marginalized aboriginal people in Canada. We weren’t entitled to live in towns, or on the reservation, and so there are records of Métis making their homes in ditches because that’s the only place they were allowed to live. To this day, my grandmother denies her native heritage because it was so shameful to be Métis, and my paternal great-grandmother always hated my mom because my mom looked Indian. (I should note that my personal struggle isn’t because I’m native – it’s because it’s really weird to wake up one day with the realization that you aren’t who you thought you were.)

The odd thing is that I’m the only person in my family who’s struggled with all of this. I don’t look native. I have fair skin, blue eyes, and my natural hair colour (which hasn’t seen the light of day in some time) is light brown. My sister, on the other hand, has very dark skin. When we were children and living in the Middle East, the Iranians thought she was Iranian and that my parents had adopted her. Some of my relatives have embraced our native status so much that, despite the fact that they are from an affluent family, they’ve taken advantage of all the grant money available to those of aboriginal descent (which is something that I am wholly opposed to – it’s my belief that that money is for those who need it, not for those who have lived with white privilege all their life). My brother, who is a social worker, works with aboriginal youth (child intervention, in fact. Want an education on what sort of horrors exist in aboriginal communities? Hang with him for a day. Nothing like realizing a third world country exists within our lovely first world nation.). My mom is the representative for women’s issues for our local Métis nation, and has begun to attend conferences dealing with all sorts of issues that are so horrendous that I can’t even begin to explain the depth of my anger. Just look up “residential schools” on Wikipedia. That’s what my grandmother was subjected too (we believe - we aren't entirely sure because of her silence), and it’s no wonder she denies her heritage.

Anyhow…getting off track.

My way of working through all of this was to write The Shadows Cast by Stars, which is about a girl of mixed race who doesn’t fit into either world, and how she tries to find a place where she can be who she is, and no one else. I am fully aware that I’m probably going to get called to task by some within the aboriginal community, but no matter what happens, I know, within myself, that I have written this book from a place of absolute respect. I’ve struggled with cultural appropriation through the entire writing process, but I knew that I had to write this story and so I decided the risk of being called out was worth it.

So, after reading all the kerfluffle about RaceFail, as a person of a racial minority, a person whose heritage has been stolen from her because it was shameful to be a half-breed, this is what I say: any author should be able to tell the stories he or she wishes to tell. Should you wish to tell a story and include a character that has somehow been marginalized by the mainstream, I would encourage you to challenge every single stereotype you want - delve into those stereotypes, explore them, see if there’s a kernel of truth, mine them, push the boundaries of what’s consider nice and good, but above all, be aware of what you’re doing. Honor the traditions you’re working with. Speak to those who live them. Educate yourself on what it’s like to lose everything you’ve ever had, or to lose what you’ve never known you could have. And if you choose to play into stereotypes, do it because it is true to the individual character, and not to the race as a whole. If a character is "bad", let him/her be bad because that's inherent to who they are, not because of the colour of his/her skin (and I think anyone who decides to criticize the works of others should take this into consideration as well). Be aware that the wounds within some communities run very deep and have a long way to go before they're healed.

Because when all is said and done, I don’t define myself by my skin colour, or my race, or my gender. Those are components of who I am, but I am not just those things. I am a half-breed woman whose history and culture were stripped from her a hundred years ago, and who walks in shadows that are all colours. I am richer for wanting to learn of my Celtic heritage, and I am richer for being given the opportunity to explore what it means to be of mixed race, and I’m sure as hell not going to let anyone tell me which box I fit into or which stories I should tell, which means I’m sure as hell not going to tell anyone else how best to tell the stories they want to tell either.

Just go forth with respect and awareness. I think, if everyone did that, the world would be a much different place – and better for it.

Thanks for listening, and should you wish to discuss or ask questions or challenge what I've written, feel free.