Each week of the summer, “Le Devoir” has taken you on the crossroads of university life. A proposal that is both scholarly and intimate, to be picked up like a postcard during the summer season. For this last meeting, Tania Rock-Picard, law student at UQAM, talks to us about the challenges of university life.
I moved to the great metropolis of Montreal to study law at UQAM, which welcomed me with open arms. I have only made it to my first two semesters, and my university journey has been far from easy, strewn with obstacles, pitfalls, challenges and unforeseen events.
Far from my family, my friends, my children, who are my main source of motivation, I often thought of returning home and dropping everything. I tripped more than once. I got discouraged. I even questioned my decisions. I had made so many sacrifices to be where I am. Did I make the right choices? Was I at the right time, in the right place?
I asked myself so many questions. I had to make many reflections concerning my situation, my objectives, my future, the future of my children, my nation, but also that of the next seven generations. The series “Summer is made for thinking” allowed me to stop for a moment, to think during this beautiful summer as odious as it is wonderful, as nostalgic as it is sometimes painful…
Not so long ago, I practiced the magnificent profession of journalist. First at the Société de communications atikamekw montagnais (SOCAM), then at Radio-Canada. As a reporter, I had the chance to talk to many personalities. People for me as important as each other. Elders who share their wisdom, leaders who defend their convictions and young people who shine with their dreams and their passions.
Covering issues dealing with Aboriginals, when you yourself are a First Nations person, has its share of antagonisms, with your values, your principles, your objectives, your wishes, your ideologies and your personality. There is a duality between the desire to make people understand through facts and examples and the desire to also share ideas and a deep desire to participate in living together so that we can finally recognize the trampled rights and freedoms of Aboriginal people after so many years.
We can no longer hide it, it is obvious. The last centuries have been devastating for the First Nations with the arrival of Europeans. Colonization, evangelization, disease, laws, residential schools and the psychosocial impacts caused by the uprooting of languages and cultures persist from generation to generation. The past few years have been even more trying for First Nations with the death of Joyce Echaquan live on social media, followed by that of Napa André, found frozen in a chemical toilet. Not to mention the discovery of thousands of alleged burials near residential schools across Canada.
These gruesome discoveries sent a global shockwave through the national media spotlight. It was extremely difficult, painful for each of us who are human beings. A mother, a father, a grandparent, a member of your family who imagines the fear of being killed because of their skin color. To be afraid for the safety of his children. Afraid that they will not be treated well or even to imagine a girl or a boy that you know, that you cherish, being forcibly torn from your arms.
Imagine those same children never came home and experienced many atrocities and you are completely devastated. It breaks your heart, it quickly puts into perspective the history and the suffering of the First Nations, but also their admirable strength and their legendary resilience.
Strength and resilience are what pushed me to enroll in law at UQAM in order to learn about the workings of the state system, to demystify the laws that govern us, but especially those that control and bind us, the First Nations. Learn — just as Quebecers were able and knew how to defend loud and clear their Constitution, their culture, their language, their traditions during the Anglican invasion — to bring out the pride and the safeguard of their nation with the codification of the civil law of the Quebec. We are not so different, we have the same wishes, the same desire to safeguard our culture.
We too can defend the heritage of our ancestors, tell the importance of our history and claim who we are, to recognize where we come from, where we come from. Because yes, we come from very far away, although we have always been from here. We will forever stay here, standing, resilient, united and proud of our origins, of our roots. We are not strangers, although sometimes it may seem so.
There is still a long way to go. Even after having doubted the possibility of turning the page, of starting a real step towards reconciliation following the multiple, divided reactions of the population. Despite my authentic but shared feelings during the publicized visit of Pope Francis to Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré, I am convinced that we can undertake the journey together, Aboriginals and non-Aboriginals, to work together to heal nations. Learn to know each other, to understand each other, to tame each other, to better live together.
During the twenty years spent in Quebec for my college and university studies, I knew that it was possible to live together. The Kabir Kouba falls are for me a very significant place which proves that one can go beyond promiscuity. A meeting point between the region of the St. Lawrence lowlands (the park) and that of the Canadian shield, this place is for me like a place of union between two peoples, two nations, Aboriginals and non-Aboriginals.
This same place has relieved me so many times during my questions, my sorrows, my doubts. It also allowed me to get up to get in good health, to make me experience successes and let me dream of big projects that could help my fellow human beings, such as continuing my studies in law so that one day I can advise and represent the rights and interests of First Nations. Those stairs at Kabir Kouba Falls, I’ve been down and up so many times.
This is why, during my moments of doubt, I will remember the confidence that UQAM showed in my abilities. I will remember the fervent motivation that those responsible for the Albert-Leblanc scholarship retained during my presentation, but above all I will remember the trials that my people have gone through to draw strength and resilience from them to continue despite the obstacles and unforeseen. Because yes, today, I know that I am in the right place, at the right time and that I made the right choices. I know it won’t be easy, but I also know I can do it because I’m strong and proud because… I’m a woman and I’m Indigenous.