June 2001

The following is used with the permission of Jody Paterson,
a columnist with the Victoria Times Colonist

Activist plans to tell world of Canada's insidious racism

OK, so nobody has to sit in the back of the bus anymore, at least not in Canada. But the little insults hurt just the same.

Like the night over the Easter weekend when a group of young people in town for an aboriginal softball tournament arranged to meet at a local nightclub, only to find a ``private party'' going on inside and admission set at $15. Fair enough, except that the group kept seeing the guys on the door letting in non-aboriginals for $5.

Nothing wrong with Indians, a bartender familiar with the strategy told me. It's just that nobody wants too many of them all in the same place.

Local poverty activist Rose Henry has had pharmacies take it upon themselves more than once to give her a cheaper medication than what her doctor was prescribing, figuring she's First Nations and thus limited to what Health Canada will pay for.

They always seem a bit startled when she tells them she has an extended-health plan through her workplace that will cover the cost of the drug. It leaves her with the feeling that they're surprised she has a job.

The anecdote will be one of many that Henry will take to the United Nations World Conference Against Racism this summer in South Africa. Few people in Canada know the impact of racism as intimately as aboriginals, and Henry has plenty of stories to tell.

``Racism in Victoria is alive and well, whether it's at school or work or on the streets,'' says Henry. ``I've grown up with it, hearing that I was nothing but a squaw and should keep quiet. I put up with that for years, and all it did was lead me from one abusive relationship to another.''

Henry's heartfelt speeches against racism and poverty have been a mainstay at Victoria rallies for years. But it was the speech she gave at an anti-racism event in March that landed her a place at the UN conference. Elizabeth Carron and David Turner, acquaintances from the Together Against Poverty Society and the Vancouver Island Human Rights Coalition respectively, were impressed enough by what they heard to submit Henry's name as a Canadian delegate.

``I found out that other people liked what I had to say,'' she says.

Like far too many aboriginals, Henry grew up in foster care, the only Indian kid in an all-white school. She spent five years on the streets before moving here from the mainland 17 years ago with her little boy. Her plan was to study social work. Instead, the boyfriend she had at the time beat her up worse than usual, breaking her leg. She ended up on welfare.

``From there, it was into the Bridges employment program,'' says Henry. ``They taught me to use my voice, because that was the only thing I had.''

These days, she's working at an emergency shelter. But her real love will always be activism.

``What I want to take to this conference is that Canada is not the have-all, be-all country it's made out to be, that we are dealing with the abuse of our First Nations communities,'' says Henry. ``We have 360 street people in Victoria on any given night, and I'd say well over 60 per cent of them are First Nations. And there's only a very small percentage who haven't dealt with racism.''

Henry has her work cut out for her in the weeks leading up to the Aug. 31 conference in Durban. She was approved as a delegate too late to take advantage of UN travel subsidies, so she has to raise at least $5,000 to cover the cost of her trip. She's selling T-shirts, ones with a big red slash through the word ``Liberal.'' Must have something to do with that referendum on treaties the new government is planning.

Henry's son is 19 now, part of a new generation of aboriginals that she characterizes as ``young, high-tech, educated and political.'' They weren't sent to residential schools, didn't grow up ashamed of their culture, are still in touch with their families and their bands. There are plenty of them among the Native Youth Movement, which Henry was proud to lead through the streets of Victoria recently for the Liberal swearing-in ceremony at Government House.

Still, she saw the way people were looking at them along the way, as if they were waiting for the trouble to break out. It never did. But the damage was done all the same.

jpaterson@times-colonist.com