The systemic elimination of the Native American population did not end with Trail of Tears or the "Wild West." Post Colonialism is still Colonialism, and until one group of people stops devaluing other cultures as less than. I am haunted by the story my great uncle told me that he experienced as a child. He was a small boy during the Great Depression in Northern Georgia. One day he went into his barn and found an ancient, wizened man. He asked the man what he was doing in his families barn. The man told him that this was the spot he was born in, and this is the spot he was going to die in as well. My Great-Uncle went and got his father, and the old man's tale unraveled. The man's family and tribe were removed- forcibly and cruelly by the US government when gold was discovered in North Georgia. The man told them of his hardships and how he had searched for this place. My Great-Grandfather, invited him into the house to eat and stay, but the man wanted to stay in the barn. The family brought him food, and offered him company. He accepted the food, but wanted to be left alone. He died a few days later. Evil actions that took place 100, 200, 500 years before still resonate in the bones of an entire people. The fact that Georgia's Capital building is covered in gold makes me sick- disgusts me. I remember my school books glossing over the Trail of Tears and focusing on the Gold Rush. Some proud state history.
Native parents from around the world held their very young children’s hands as they walked them to boarding schools and residential schools. Some Native parents were forced to completely sign away their guardianship to principals of these “schools”, or face jail time. Others were visited by policemen, who forcibly seized their children from them. A few were undermined by “Indian Agents” on reservations, who withheld their rations on ration days. Some children never saw their parents again.
Boarding schools were built to “assimilate” the Native population into a white society, targeting their children. It had been assumed that conversion to Christianity and assimilation was “for the best interests” of Native and Indigenous people in Australia, the US, and Canada. The Native children were not allowed to practice skills relevant and appreciated to their cultures, such as carving. They were disallowed to speak in their native tongues, and were often physically, sexually, and psychologically tormented for doing so.
A five year old Native boy is raised by his family to know his hair as an extension of his soul, and that people only cut their hair if they experienced a loss of a loved one, a loss of a relationship, or a loss of oneself. As a stranger cuts off the little boy’s hair in order to better assimilate the child into the sex-based roles of a white male, the Native child is left quietly wondering who it is that has died, where his family went, and why the other children are being beaten for speaking to one another.
Only a small portion of each day was spent learning academically at these “schools”. Most of the day the children were exploited for their labor. How the labor was divided was based upon the Native child’s sex. Native girls were expected to do the domestic labor that was expected of white girls and women, such as cooking and cleaning, and Native boys were expected to perform manual labor, such as farm work, blacksmithing, and shoemaking. The children would reach a point where they would be “phased out” of these boarding schools for a summer or year at a time and forced to perform labor for private white and wealthy families who did not want these jobs and duties themselves.
Many boarding schools and residential homes had an overwhelming death rate from Tuberculosis, which swept through these schools and homes. Tuberculosis kills it’s victim within ten days. Native children were forced to play and sleep alongside other Native children who had contracted tuberculosis so that they, too, would die. Boarding schools suffered a 50% or higher death rate because of this, effectively reducing the Native population in an attempt to eradicate them.
Maisie Shaw, age 14, was kicked down a flight of stairs by Alfred Caldwell, the principal of the residential school she was forced to stay in and killed.
Other small skeletons of Native children have been found in church basements, which served as residential homes and boarding schools.
Other children were forced into prostitution rings.
Over fifty thousand children in Canada’s First Nations residential schools were beaten, raped, suffered from electrocutions and electroshock therapy, were forcibly sterilized, often medically experimented on, starved, and murdered.
It wasn’t until 1978 in the US that Native parents won the rights to deny sending their children to boarding schools. This wasn’t that long ago. In 1978, my mother was 21 years old.
In Australia, the residential homes lasted until 1984.
In Canada, the last residential home was closed in 1996.
More goodness from my favorite author.
꧁・:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:・꧂
chapter six. lockheartedness. [new 4/11] ✩
18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 6/25+ | wip | word count: pending. masterlist, notes, & moodboard | chapter six. lockheartedness.
pearl and the monster get to know one another. a little bit. see below for warnings & notes.
I just wanted to learn how to fly. The words lurch in his memory; in his heart and his stomach. If she were gonna be around longer — if he had more time with her— He’s never tried to teach anyone anything and he can’t imagine he’s good at it. Or maybe that’s not quite true; he’d tried to teach A95 and L06 some stuff when they’d been in the cages together, back when he’d been as hopeful and stupid as pearl herself. They hadn’t had an easy time grasping what he was trying to help them learn, though, and since — since them — he’s never really tried. Not beyond explaining to Tullk and the Ravager captain about some of the repairs and modifications he’d made to the Eclector. But Tullk and the Captain had gotten it, hadn’t they? Maybe he could teach her to fly, after all, if they had a little more time— Because if there’s one thing he can understand, it’s wanting to get off the ground and into the beautiful and forever. Wanting to feel untethered from gravity, unstitched from the soil. Loose and free of pain, able to go anywhere a person had the money and heart to go. The first time he’d felt the yoke cradled in his palms, he’d known what it was to finally have his life in his own hands— No, he reminds himself firmly. For her own sake and safety — and for his sanity — she has to go. As soon as possible.
read more on ao3 | masterlist, notes, & moodboard
sometimes you just have to have a chapter to get you from point A to point B. it's so hard to make these chapters GOOD so i'm sorry if it sucks and i hope you enjoyed it at least a lil. more angst to come in chapter seven, some comfort to balance the hurt in chapter eight, and a few anime-style "beach" episodes before we get moving into more plot-heavy chapters. thanks for being part of this with me. the support has been deeply, deeply appreciated. ♡
WARNINGS for chapter six: leftover regret. descriptions of child abuse/grooming (specifically gaslighting, blaming, and pet/animal death).
inspired by mary shelley’s frankenstein; or, the modern prometheus. a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs.
some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎
taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips
The cuteness is so perfect!
Entanglement -Chapter 5
This isn’t my favorite picture BUT I did slowly make this whole feeling really down so I’m just happy I finished it. This amazing story is by @hibatasblog!
Why not? Their dynamics look like this too
Based on:
We all know Peter is the pet in that relationship.
peter was never seen alive again after this
✷ You Were Meant for More ✷
My boy…. Noooooo
In stasis🌌
Love this!
So much amazing art today! I love them together.
A woman sang softly as she held Petra in her arms. Her voice spilled out into the air, a golden river of song. Outside it was windy and cold with snow, but, here, she was safe and warm and happy. Petra nuzzled closer to the woman and pressed her face into her soft sweater. The woman smelled dizzily of the fragrant Georgio Beverly Hills perfume made up of the soft springy scents of orange blossom, rich tuberose, and delicious, mouth-watering vanilla.
Petra’s mother smelled like a dream come true, and she was so, so pretty. Her eyes were clear beryl and her smile filled her heart with pure love and trust. Petra cuddled closer as her mother continued to sing.
-Chapter 7 by @hibatasblog
I love my mom. She’s my rock so I really related to this scene in the story where Petra is left alone after an assault. She taps into memories of her mother to lure herself into a better state of mind. Made me happy… till it didn’t. (Spoilers!)
anyway! Please look up the story! It’s amazing!!! Everyone! Please have a lovely day!
Preview of Petra Quill from the fic Casino Royale- cue Rocket dying.
This is adorable.
Fan art for the amazing fan fic Window Across the Galaxy by raccoonfallsharder
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