3 — Wednesday, October 6, 2021 // The Statement
How a summer of church burnings ignited a new 
understanding of my religious identity
BY MARY ROLFES

STATEMENT CORRESPONDENT

A few years ago, as part of a summer profes-

sional development experience, I was asked for 
the first time to complete a Social Identity Wheel. 
LSA’s Inclusive Teaching website describes the 
Social Identity Wheel as “an activity that encour-
ages students to identify social identities and 
reflect on the various ways those identities become 
visible or more keenly felt at different times, and 
how those identities impact the ways others per-
ceive or treat them.” The version that LSA uses, 
and the one I completed, asks participants to iden-
tify themselves across 11 social identities (such as 
race, gender and socioeconomic status), and then 
to “categorize those identities based on which 
matter most in their self-perception and which 
matter most in others’ 
perception of them.”

Describing myself in 

terms of the 11 param-
eters was fairly straight-
forward, as was picking 
out the identities I “think 
about most often.” When 
I arrived at the second 
categorization question, 
identities I “think about 
least often,” only one of 
the 11 options jumped out 
as belonging here: “Reli-
gious or Spiritual Affili-
ation.” While I thought 
about some of my social 
identities more than oth-
ers, spirituality fell far 
behind the rest — upon 
reflection, I realized I 
rarely thought about my 
religious affiliation at all. In fact, the only times I 
consciously pondered this specific identity were 
the instances in which I was specifically asked 
to identify it, whether it be on an online survey, a 
demographic form or a Social Identity Wheel. In 
these cases, I answered “agnostic” or, more often, 
“non-religious” and moved on to the next ques-
tion. Religion simply did not feel like a part of my 
life — at least, not anymore — and nothing about 
my lack of a label seemed complicated until this 
summer.

***
In late May of this year, a mass grave containing 

the remains of 215 Indigenous children was found 
on the former grounds of the Kamloops Indian 
Residential School in British Columbia, Canada. 
The school was part of an extensive residential 
school system sponsored by the Canadian gov-
ernment and administered by churches. Under 
the guise of providing an education to Indigenous 
children, Canada’s residential school system sys-
tematically stole Indigenous children from their 
families to remove them from their culture, strip 
them of their heritage and force them to assimilate 
to the white culture of Euro-Canadian colonizers. 
This effort is described as a “cultural genocide” 
by Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commis-
sion. The still-unknown number of Indigenous 

children that died in residential schools, and the 
disrespect with which their deaths were treated, 
demonstrates that the Canadian government’s 
effort to destroy Indigenous culture would be car-
ried out no matter the cost, including the destruc-
tion of Indigenous lives.

At the schools, children were forbidden from 

speaking their own languages or acknowledg-
ing their heritage. They were given Anglo names 
and many were baptized against their families’ 
wishes. Their hair was cut short and they were 
dressed in Western-style uniforms. Many didn’t 
receive an education, either — the curriculum was 
focused on prayer, along with manual and domes-
tic labor.

Along with the inherent cruelty of forcibly 

separating children from their family and culture, 
conditions at the residential schools were hor-
rific. The “schools” were places of severe physi-
cal, psychological and sexual abuse. Tuberculosis 
was rampant, and Indigenous children in these 
schools died of the disease at a much higher rate 
than children in the general Canadian population. 
Conditions that contribute to the development 
and spread of tuberculosis, such as “malnutri-
tion, overcrowding and poor ventilation” were 
common in the schools. As early as 1907, the chief 
medical officer of Canada’s Department of Indian 
Affairs noted this problem and urged the federal 
government to improve conditions and to have 
tuberculosis nurses on staff. He was not only 
ignored but also prevented from conducting fur-
ther research and sharing his findings. Two pres-
ent-day tuberculosis experts, looking back, believe 
the devastating impact of the disease in residential 
schools was not an accident, but rather the “result 
of deliberate neglect and mistreatment.”

Kamloops was affiliated with the Catholic 

Church until 1969 when the federal government 
took over operations, using it as a residence for a 
day school until its closing in 1978. It was only one 
of 139 facilities identified within the residential 
school system, which an estimated 150,000 Indig-

enous children were forced to attend. And yet the 
tragedy of the residential schools is not reserved to 
the distant past — the last residential school closed 
in 1996, only 25 years ago.

The discovery of the mass grave at Kamloops 

spurred calls for further investigation, and since 
late May, more than 1,000 unmarked graves of 
Indigenous children have been found in British 
Columbia and Saskatchewan. Many of the former 
sites at which these tragedies are being uncovered 
were affiliated with the Catholic Church.

To be clear, the Catholic Church was not the 

only religious organization affiliated with these 
schools — the Anglican, Methodist and Presbyte-
rian churches also oversaw the operation of schools 

within the system. But the 
Catholic Church was the 
one whose schools were 
associated with recent 
findings 
of 
unmarked 

graves, and therefore was 
the focus of scrutiny this 
summer. In the wake of 
this discovery, 68 Catho-
lic churches across Can-
ada were subsequently 
vandalized or burned in 
“suspicious” fires, some 
of 
which 
completely 

destroyed the churches. 
While no suspects or 
official 
motives 
have 

been identified, the burn-
ings seemed to be an act 
of protest. Additionally, 
statues of Queen Victoria 
(the leader of the British 

Empire from 1837 to 1901, during which the Cana-
dian Confederation was founded) and Queen Eliz-
abeth II (Canada’s current head of state, a reminder 
of their colonialist past) were toppled as part of pro-
tests on Canada Day.

The vandalism was met with criticism from 

some, including from Prime Minister Justin 
Trudeau — who happens to be Catholic. He 
claimed that while he understood the anger, these 
acts were “actually depriving people who are in 
need of grieving and healing and mourning from 
places where they can grieve and reflect and look 
for support.” Brian Pallister, then the premier of 
Manitoba, also “strongly condemn(ed) acts of 
violence and vandalism,” calling it a “major set-
back” and urging Canadians to “come together” 
to advance “real reconciliation.”

The response among Indigenous leaders in 

Canada was more ambivalent. Arlen Dumas, 
grand chief of the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs, 
expressed shock at the vandalism and said he 
“personally wouldn’t have participated.” But he 
also shared that the discovery of the unmarked 
graves had been “very triggering” and the events 
were a symbol of hurt, frustration and anger. 
Greg Gabriel, chief of the Penticton Indian Band, 
said his community had “mixed feelings” about 
the burning of Sacred Heart Church on their 

land; while the memory of the Roman Catholic 
Church’s subjugation was painful, the church 
had also become an integral part of their com-
munity. Chief Clarence Louie of the Osoyoos 
Indian Band expressed similar ambivalence about 
Sacred Heart Church, saying that while he doesn’t 
believe in the Catholic church, “some of (his) peo-
ple do.” Other Indigenous leaders said the church 
burnings were “not in solidarity” with Indigenous 
peoples, worsening the strife of those in mourn-
ing and furthering the divide between Indigenous 
and non-Indigenous people.

While vandalism may not have been the most 

productive response, the burnings demonstrate 
the visceral anger and hurt that the Catholic 
Church created through its role in the residential 
schools. These feelings are only exacerbated by 
the Church’s response to its past wrongdoings. 
The Church, along with the federal government, 
has resisted sharing the records that would, 
among other things, help identify the remains 
within the uncovered graves. Pope Francis has yet 
to explicitly apologize for the Catholic Church’s 
part in this cultural genocide. The Canadian Con-
ference of Catholic Bishops did recently issue an 
official apology for their role in the residential 
school system, after years of refusal to do so.

But this isn’t nearly enough. 
When the Church resists taking full account-

ability or working cooperatively with reconcili-
ation efforts, property destruction directed at a 
destructive organization may feel like the only 
outlet. It should be mentioned that, though there 
were concerns that church burnings could add to 
already significant wildfire risk, there is no evi-
dence that anyone was killed or severely injured 
by the burnings, only that property was damaged. 
Yet some responses to the burnings seemed more 
concerned with the hypothetical lives that could 
have been lost than the Indigenous lives that were.

To be clear, Indigenous voices should have 

been prioritized in the responses to these tragic 
discoveries. While the vandalism may have gen-
erated mixed feelings for Indigenous communi-
ties, the condemnation of the church burnings on 
behalf of Indigenous leaders was clear, and their 
calls to end the violence and the further damage it 
was inflicting upon their communities should’ve 
been heeded immediately. But the destructive 
protests demonstrated that the discoveries of 
unmarked graves created anger, and perhaps felt 
personal, even to non-Indigenous people.

I am not Indigenous, nor even Canadian. But 

the events of this summer created an anger that 
felt personal for me as well. Of course, it reminded 
me that boarding schools analogous to Canada’s 
residential schools were operated in the United 
States — including three in Michigan and 16 in 
my home state of Minnesota — with the objective, 
summarized by Captain Richard H. Pratt, to “kill 
the Indian ... save the man.” But the events of this 
summer also made salient an aspect of my identity 
I hadn’t thought about in years.

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

Illustration by Katherine Lee, Page Design by Sarah Chung

