Home: What is it?

Home? What is it? That’s a question that often crosses my mind and as I contemplate it I think about my biological family, question the audacity of the Canadian government and their puppets who took my siblings and I away from my mommy, and that we were kidnapped to another province. It has taken me years and I’m still healing from that so called family that adopted me, only to give me up and put me back into care at the age of ten, where I went through the foster care system, and lived as a ward of the Children’s Aid. Where is home I ask? I made TORONTO my home after I moved here for eating disorder treatment in my early twenties. I found my birth mommy in my early thirties and I travelled back and forth n fought to establish a relationship with her because that is what I wanted the most. Holidays and birthdays are hard because I have often felt like I’m the one who is lost-lost because essentially I am an orphan and have been for years-especially since my mommy died. I can no longer call her or reach out-she was the glue that held me together in so many ways because I could finally say “I have a mom”. I can’t say that anymore.
Others have stepped in and have helped me to establish what home could mean-I thank the TORONTO community, I thank First Nations House and the thousands I’ve met while I was fortunate to study at the University. Time is fleeting.
Today I was asked to write about the impact that the sixties scoop had on me for my claim. Canada you made me and countless other Indigenous children/people to feel lost because really what is home without community, culture and language? home- what is it, where is it? It’s a question that often leaves me reeling and wondering will I ever feel at home spiritually and emotionally? There’s a physicality to what home is and where it’s at-in the end, it’s up to you!