Indigenous Women and Street Gangs: Survivance Narratives by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Social Science, Sociology, Urban, Women's Studies, Indigenous Studies
ISBN: 9781772125498
Google: lFFFEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: University of Alberta
Published: 2021-09-15T20:31:27+00:00

Faith

I remember growing up in the US we had a big white picket fence and a dog that guarded us. Our dad was overprotective because drug dealers lived right next door. So we had a big old high fence so nobody could look at us and we couldn’t get out.

I grew up a Christian. Before my dad became a Christian, he was well known as a thug, and everybody was scared of him. He was crazy and known as a sniffer. He drank heavy and would constantly be the deadliest person wherever he was. Everybody was scared of him. The reason we were Christian is because he stopped in a church one night and he was gonna kill himself. He went in there and said he felt love for the first time. You see, he never felt that because he was raised in an orphanage. After that night, he turned to Christianity. He then came to Canada and met my mom. My mom at the time was all over the place because her mom was dead. She died in a house fire when my mom was five months old.

In the orphanage, my dad was molested. My mom was also molested. It was because of this that they tried to protect us kids. They did a really good job, there were good things, and there were bad things, like all families, but they kept it together as best they could. They tried to give us everything when we were kids. We had the first TV, a big floor TV, a record player, we didn’t know how to use it, but we had one. It was what people would call normal because we had everything, but we were isolated.

My parents would travel all over the United States. We had a lady living with us who would look after us. I remember some bad things and some good things during this time. I remember my dad getting mad at my mom and throwing a cup at us. It just missed us, and hit the glass. I don’t know what they were mad about, but we knew to stay in the room.

I grew up in a white town in the US. I didn’t know we were the only Aboriginals in the town. When we went into town, I remember my mom always standing up for us, but I didn’t know why. I just remember her never backing down and making sure we were okay. At the white school, the white teachers would treat us differently. They believed that all Native Americans had head lice so we got sent home. My mom just went marching up there pissed off. When my mom came there, she was just wicked to get her point across saying we were individuals as much as the other white students. The teachers apologized and told her that it was just dandruff.

In grade three, I remember another teacher centering me out. She said, “Did you know that you’re an Indian? Look at your skin and look at Peggy’s skin.

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