Dear Ms. Warren,
How ironic that the Left that screams every year about how nobody should sport culture as a Halloween costume – particularly traditional First Nations attire – and it turned out their Mary Magdalene was playing make-believe and genuinely appropriating this oh-so-oppressed culture the whole time! Elizabeth Warren; the first woman of colour reported to teach at Harvard, the woman of colour this, the woman of colour that, oh look how wonderful women of colour are, Elizabeth Warren is one too. O! how she makes the whole body of all women of colour look great!
You are not Native. You are less Native then the average American, but you got the job!
And that many on the Left are continuing to stand by you, making up excuses for you or disregarding the actual facts of the matter that came out, saying you still have Native blood. I think it’s time for them to take a good, long look at their own beliefs and re-evaluate them a little bit, to assure there are no double-standards. You know the Left don’t hold double standards!
Now, Ms. Warren, I’m a pretty hard person to offend. Darn near impossible, really. But you’ve hit me in a spot a little close to my heart this time.
Let me tell you a little story about my aunt, a Native woman whose ancestry caused problems for her throughout her whole life, no matter how hard she tried to be good and break free of the actual systematic racism in Canada that affects First Nations communities (Longer article about that actual systematic racism coming up later. Don’t worry guys, it’s not about identity politics, it’s definitely not going to be about what you’d guess it’s going to be about).
Most people haven’t heard much about the Sixties Scoop before. You know how when you’re in high school Social Studies classes, you learn all about the hunting and fishing tactics of the First Nations, plus something about Turtle Island, and never anything really important about their history? The Sixties Scoop is one of those things you should be hearing about and probably won’t. It was a planned attack on Indigenous families by the Canadian Government, where thousands of babies were forcedly taken from their families for no apparent reason and put up for adoption. In accordance with the hippie ideals of the era, adopting Native children became trendy among white western Canadians. My aunt was one of those babies. She was of Cree and Blackfoot ancestry, from northern Alberta. She wound up living with my grandparents and my dad, who was two when she was adopted, and moved to England with them shortly after her adoption. She had a pretty typical ‘white’ upbringing after that – staying in England for a few more years, and then moving back to western Canada.
As she was living mostly among other Native people in her early twenties, she fell in love with and married a Native man and moved to the reserve. After her two daughters were born and she had to face the reality of what growing up on the reserve would do to her children: expose them to abuse and poverty, and, even worse, the idea that you can live your whole life willingly oppressed and on the government’s dollar. She had to divorce her husband to move her daughters to a larger city so they would have access to better public schools and a better shot at living a good life. What followed was a long series of her having trouble with other relationships and employment, trying so hard to make a good life for herself, but just finding herself in rough place after rough place.
My aunt was one of the toughest, strongest and smartest women I ever met, but she had trouble finding a good job that suited her needs and paid enough for her to raise her family. And even more trouble finding a good man in the First Nations community, one who would be a good example for her children. She chose the wrong man more than once, but always put herself back on her feet again. Not once did I hear her complaining about discrimination, hardships done to her people historically, or offering other excuses as to her predicament. She took everything upon herself to make her own life better, and never blamed anybody else for anything that happened to her. She died under bizarre circumstances a few years ago. I miss her a lot, and I feel like I’d have a lot to learn from her now at this stage in my life.
As Westernized as my aunt was, her Native heritage and its hardships followed her around for her whole life; it wouldn’t let her forget about itself. Yet she refused to play the race card, go on welfare, or succumb to sadness.
That’s why you frustrate me so much, Ms. Warren. You spent your whole life riding on the coattails of your “Native American” heritage, a heritage that made so much misfortune for everybody born under it who wanted to escape from its vicious cycle. Proudly standing as a woman of colour, and letting being a woman of colour be one of your favourite talking points in itself. You and your Socialist (welfare state) ideals are the same thing that is destroying the native communities to this day, the same force that Crazy Horse warned, and fought, against. (More on this later too).
And here you are, whiter than most assumed-to-be-white Americans are right now!
You’ve been called out by the Right, you’ve been called out by First Nations groups. Where is the Left in all of this, the Left that was so outraged by Rachel Dolezal? Are you making your voices heard, or are you silent again at the wrongdoing of your own party? Hypocrite thou art!
Ms. Warren, your identity politics has eaten itself this time. I guess at least this means we won’t see you running for President anytime soon, so that’s one thing off my mind.
This is one official apology I’m looking forward to hearing. Faking your race for political gain might be the weakest and most genuinely offensive political ploy I’ve ever heard of in my life. Side note: I hope you fired whoever it was who said publishing the results of your DNA test was a good idea.
-Senior Editor A.
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