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Unsettling Colonialism in the Canadian Criminal Justice System: Human to Human: A Poem Written for Pamela George

Unsettling Colonialism in the Canadian Criminal Justice System
Human to Human: A Poem Written for Pamela George
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“Human to Human: A Poem Written for Pamela George” in “Unsettling Colonialism in the Canadian Criminal Justice System”

Human to Human A Poem Written for Pamela George

Chevelle Malcolm

An intake of breath, a shake of the hand—what do we all have in common, human to human?

Behind her second face are tear-stained cheeks, in solitude she pens her soul,

oh, how she bleeds.

She bleeds

with an empty stomach and two mouths to feed.

She bleeds,

in a world that passes her by without so much as second look, too much brown on its white canvas,

oh, how she bleeds.

She whispers, “Mama, it’s cold outside.”

She bleeds

when white supremacy forces itself onto her, once again assuming ownership of what does not belong to it.

As it rears its two ugly heads, oh how she bleeds.

She bleeds

when white supremacy leaves her for dead, battered and bruised—too much brown on its white canvas,

although crimson it could choose.

She bleeds,

her heart, her soul bleeds,

She whispers, “mama, it’s cold outside.”

An intake of breath, a shake of the hand—what do we all have in common, human to human?

She was here

her tears familiar to the earth.

She was here

her cries familiar to the heavens—

to lady justice.

She was here,

abused and forsaken by man as she took her last breath, her dignity robbed by white supremacy.

She was here.

Abused by man,

but not forsaken,

not forgotten by her kin.

Not forsaken, not forgotten by those who also bleed.

Not forsaken, not forgotten, by the heavens

that whisper, “Pamela, you’re safe to breathe.”

An intake of breath, a shake of the hand—what do we all have in common, human to human?

When you look in the mirror, she looks back at you;

when your tears fall those are her tears too.

When you try everything in your power to make sure the stomachs of your loved ones are not left empty,

when you give life your all,

when you square your shoulders and hold your head high,

when you put on a smile, muster up the last bit of courage you have inside, not allow the cold outside on the inside,

that’s the Pam in you.

Abandoned by man,

but not forsaken, not forgotten by her kin,

not forsaken, not forgotten by those who also bleed,

not forgotten or forsaken by the heavens.

An intake of breath, a shake of the hand, what do we all have in common human to human?

Inspect yourself,

look deep within,

the outside might not be the same—

different eyes, different hair, different skin,

but what about within?

Look to the human in you, she bleeds, you bleed

Look to the human in you, put down your stones,

We all bleed.

When you square your shoulders and hold your head high,

when you put on a smile, mustering up the last bit of the courage you have inside,

When you put on a smile—not allowing the cold outside on the inside,

That’s the Pam in you.

Abandoned by man but not forsaken.

Not forsaken, not forgotten by her kin,

not forsaken, not forgotten by those—who also bleed

Not forgotten or forsaken by the heavens, it whispers, “Pamela, you’re safe to breathe.”

To the self-righteous crowd I say, “put down your stones, we all bleed.”

An intake of breath, a shake of the hand, what do we all have in common human to human?

Abused and forsaken by man,

but not forsaken, not forgotten by her kin—

by those who also bleed.

The heavens whisper, “Pamela, you’re safe to breathe.”

The eyes of Lady Justice are not as clouded as it seems—it whispers, “My child,

you’re safe to breathe.”

The eyes of Lady Justice are not as clouded as it seems,

“You’re safe to breathe.”

Abused by man, but not forsaken.

Not forsaken, not forgotten by her kin;

not forsaken,

not forgotten

by those who also bleed.

An intake of breath, a shake of the hand—what do we all have in common, human to human?

To the crowd I say, “Put down your stones,

we all bleed.”

“Pamela, you’re safe to breathe.”

Postscript

In January 2020, news stories reported that the University of Regina in Saskatchewan planned to host a lecture by a well-known Canadian poet. The acclaimed poet planned a talk focused on varied themes including truth and reconciliation, murdered and missing persons, Indigenous experiences of injustice, along with showcasing four Saskatchewan poets. Advocates strongly opposed the talk because the keynote lecturer had a friendship and a literary connection with a man, S. K. S. K. had also become a published poet, partially due to the mentoring granted to him. S. K. was living outside of Canada after serving a short sentence for the 1995 death of Pamela George, a mother, provider, daughter, sister, member of the Zagime Anishinabek (formerly the Sakimay) First Nation in Saskatchewan, and poet.

The acclaimed poet even reported he might read from S. K.’s work during the talk. Eventually, the poet withdrew even though the university planned to proceed, citing freedom of speech related arguments. The renewed attention to the case brought home the deep inequities in the Canadian criminal justice system given that an Indigenous woman’s victimization and death were diminished by the legal system.

Toronto-based Cree/Métis filmmaker Danis Goulet, a former resident of Saskatchewan and a peer of S. K.’s, penned a letter to the university administrators who were refusing to cancel the event. Danis Goulet recalled the fatality with horror as a young Indigenous woman who knew the accused on a casual basis. She stated that violence against Indigenous women was still a crisis even though twenty-five years had passed since the killing of Pamela George. The tragic phenomena could only be countered by collective efforts. She argued that it was “bewildering” that a public institution would believe “that the way to start contending with violence against Indigenous women is to give voice to the person who murdered Pamela George in the very city her murder took place” (Simonpillai 2020). It was important to remember that this was “not an intellectual or philosophical exercise; there are peoples’ lives and families involved.” Furthermore, it was “brutally irresponsible to the George family and to Indigenous communities” to host the event (2020). This decision was contrary to “any purported reconciliation efforts.”

Chevelle Malcolm read this poem at an event on 23 January 2020 at St. Thomas University held to honour Pamela George. By that time, the senior poet had withdrawn from the public lecture in Saskatchewan, which was finally cancelled. The First Nations University Student Association at the University of Regina held a smudge walk around the campus to clear some of the energetic harm and to offer healing (Soloducha 2020).

References

  1. Simonpillai, Radheyan. 2020. “George Elliott Clarke Cancels Regina Lecture After Outcry.” NOW Toronto, 3 January 2020. https://nowtoronto.com/culture/books/george-elliott-clarke-cancels-regina-lecture/.
  2. Soloducha, Alex. 2020. “FNUniv Students Call for Apology from U of R Over Poet Controversy.” CBC News, 23 January 2020. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/matriatchs-on-duty-hosting-regina-event-1.5437425.
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