As I write, I am filled with sadness and a sense of illness. A video sent to me on Twitter initially seemed like just another far-fetched conspiracy theory, but as I dug deeper, the reality set in.
The video captured a 1965 interview with Robert J. Carney, a Catholic educator and federal day/Indian residential school principal in the Northwest Territories, who described Indigenous children as "culturally retarded." His words, though reflective of the time, were harsh then—and remain unforgivable today. Carney explained that “culturally retarded” referred to children from Native backgrounds who hadn’t attended school regularly or were behind in their studies. His words were steeped in ignorance and systemic racism—language that was damaging then and remains damaging now.
As I reflect on these words, I can’t help but wonder: Do people see me the same way? Do they consider all Indigenous people "retarded" because of our identity? These thoughts haunt me, especially when I think back to my time in Parliament. I fought an election that many thought I couldn’t win, and yet, we triumphed. But even in victory, I faced constant reminders that my space was limited to Indigenous issues alone. “This is your space; don’t speak outside of it,” was the unspoken rule I faced within the Liberal party. Whenever the media sought a comment from me, it was always on Indigenous issues. My contributions outside these boundaries were dismissed.
Years of proving myself, building a resume I thought would stand on its own, felt minimized to “you’re good on this one thing.” I constantly had to fight for a seat at the table where my voice was valued—not just as an Indigenous person, but as a human being with thoughts and opinions that mattered beyond my heritage. This reality became even clearer when I realized that people like Mark Carney—despite his father’s controversial legacy—are not bound by these limitations. His father’s ties to the system of cultural erasure in the Northwest Territories are undeniable. How much of Carney’s perspective is shaped by his father’s legacy?
Carney’s legacy is tangled in colonial history. While we may not be responsible for the actions of our parents, we must acknowledge their impact on shaping the present. The scars of residential schools, day schools, and the destruction of our languages and cultures run deep, passed down through generations.
Mark Carney has a chance to shape the narrative moving forward. I wonder how he will approach the reckoning that is long overdue. Will he address the harms of the past in a meaningful way? Will he work toward reconciliation, not just as a political gesture, but as a genuine commitment to undoing the legacy of cultural genocide still affecting Indigenous peoples? And perhaps, could he stop talking about Trump as if he’s the only thing that matters? Indigenous struggles are often sidelined, and it’s time for leaders like Carney to give these issues the attention they deserve.
The truth is, the reality of these atrocities is often swept under the rug. We are told to move on, but the past continues to haunt us. As an IRS survivor’s child, I am constantly reminded of the life my father never had. His experiences shaped his world in ways I can never fully understand. But what I can do is ensure that his legacy—his resilience—is honored. I strive to live the life he never had the chance to live. I strive to be good to my children, offer help to those in need, and contribute to my community.
When I watch videos like the one about Robert Carney, I feel grief and anger. This history is not something we can easily forget, nor should we. Even today, many Indigenous peoples still face the consequences of a system designed to destroy our culture, language, and identity.
I understand why Carney, when he came to Winnipeg on April 1, could not use the word “Indigenous” in his speech. For so long, terms like “Indian,” “Native,” or “culturally retarded” have been used to define us in a way that was not our own. The reluctance to embrace the term “Indigenous” reflects discomfort in confronting the truth of what these terms represented—a system built on the destruction of our cultures, erasure of our languages, and undermining of our identity. But as much as I understand why the word may have been avoided, I feel it’s time to stop hiding behind these old terms. It’s time to reckon with the past.
Why did Robert Carney leave the Northwest Territories when Mark was six? Was it because he didn’t want his children attending school with what he referred to as the "culturally retarded"? Did they sit around the dinner table, and if Mark asked why they no longer lived in the NWT, was the answer simply that they wanted him to have "better opportunities, better friends"? What motivated the decision to leave, and how did this decision, tied to his father’s work, shape Mark’s understanding of Indigenous peoples?
In education, there is the written curriculum and the unwritten curriculum—the words left unsaid. Which is more important? Stephen Harper once said it wasn’t the major decisions that mattered, but the 150 decisions a leader makes throughout the day. How was Carney shaped by the subconscious values in his life?
https://ici.radio-canada.ca/espaces-autochtones/2154487/robert-carney-enfants-autochtones-heritage
