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COLUMN: Onus is on us to examine what real inclusivity looks like

"Over the last week different municipalities across central Alberta have revisited their mandates and are looking to see how they can continue the work of Truth and Reconciliation and their proposed calls to action. It’s a step forward, but one that is 25 years behind."
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Columnist Katie Suvanto

Am I inclusive? I challenge everyone to ask themselves those three simple words. Are we accommodating of people who have historically been excluded because of their gender, sexuality, race, or ability?

If we say we are, are we willing to be challenged on it, or does it have a caveat?

It’s interesting that sometimes we are advocates for our community, but only when it suits us. How quickly those narratives can change when they no longer serve us.

 

Communities who identify as non-Indigenous said they felt grief for the unmarked grave discoveries, but were quick to judge when they saw Morinville’s St. Jean Baptiste Church go up in flames. Judgment rose as quickly and anger at First Nations people resumed; tossing all compassion for or consideration on why it happened, simply because it didn’t fit their personal narrative. I saw a quote by @Kristoph_err on Twitter that called it out for what it is: “The difference between dead children and burned churches is one of them can be replaced.”

Over the last week different municipalities across central Alberta have revisited their mandates and are looking to see how they can continue the work of Truth and Reconciliation and their proposed calls to action. It’s a step forward, but one that is 25 years behind. Regardless of how uncomfortable the conversation might be, are our municipalities being inclusive in their calls to action? Or passive aggressive in failing to take the lead to start reconciliation?

Am I frustrated? Yes.

In 2016 I was told not to disclose that my son was First Nations, as he would not receive the same support for his disability as we would going in identifying as Caucasian. How lucky are we to have white skin and be able to pass as a typical family who will have successful outcomes and a higher potential of reaching the goals laid out, yet how demoralizing is it knowing we could be refused support based on our blood.

It gets better. I decided to be brave and self-disclose for his education (I didn’t do it for my oldest two children) and what did I receive this year? I received a call from the school to say they were going to apply to Jordan’s Principle – a youth-first principle accessed through the federal government, designed to ensure all First Nations youth can access the services and supports they need, when they need them – for my son. 

For a moment I was happy because it could mean more meaningful support for him. Then I asked for what, specifically. I was told it's for crisis support and various other support, such as fetal alcohol spectrum disorders. I had to stop for a moment, because we didn’t fall into that category, we fell into the "child with a disability" category. The assumption was out of line and the narrative needed to change. I finally found the courage and used my voice to speak my truth to support change.

When you start to see how things intersect, you might start to see why I pose the question of inclusivity. Many of us have the privilege of turning on a tap to get clean drinking water today, unlike so many Indigenous Canadians who are still waiting on the government to guarantee access to clean water.

Katie Suvanto is a mother of three whose oldest son was born in St. Albert. She is exploring her Indigenous heritage and raising a child who lives with autism.

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