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Joseph BoydenA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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Content Warning: This section references cultural genocide and child abuse, including sexual assault, and replicates (in reference to legislation) a term for Indigenous peoples that many First Nations, Métis, and Inuit people consider outdated and offensive.
In addition, this section explores the contested and probably fraudulent nature of Joseph Boyden’s supposed Indigenous identity.
Residential schools were created to assimilate First Nations, Inuit, and Métis children into Euro-Canadian culture by teaching them the French or English language and forcibly converting them to Christianity.
During the 19th century, Indigenous peoples lived self-sufficiently throughout much of Canada. In fact, colonial governments were often economically and militarily dependent on these groups. Even so, certain Indigenous groups had become increasingly reliant on public aid. This was particularly the case for the Plains Nations, whose Indigenous ways of life were totally disrupted by colonial farming practices. Colonizer governments and churches recognized that Indigenous peoples were living on the fringes of an unfamiliar society, without the requisite knowledge or skills to take part in it. Residential schools were founded in the hopes of integrating Indigenous children into Euro-Canadian culture by providing them the knowledge and skills needed to gain economic self-sufficiency (as the colonizers defined it). Some First Nations leaders hoped that the residential educational system could help their youth to navigate an alien culture, whose values were both antithetical to and hostile toward their traditional practices. However, many more strongly condemned the mass intrusion of Euro-Canadian education into First Nations life. Despite the presence of significant Indigenous opposition, the Indian Act in 1876 legally enshrined residential education for Indigenous children throughout all of Canada (Miller, J. R. “Residential Schools in Canada.” The Canadian Encyclopedia, 2023).
While residential schools in some cases originated from a place of compassion and were conceived of as a means of integrating and supporting First Nations, Inuit, and Métis peoples, all of them were built on the premise that Euro-Canadian cultures, languages, spiritual practices, and worldviews were superior to those of Indigenous peoples. The extent of forced residential schooling was massive: Between 1831 and 1998, over 150,000 children were enrolled in 140 federally supported Canadian residential schools (Treisman, Rachel. “This New Canadian Holiday Reflects on the Legacy of Indigenous Residential Schools.” NPR, 30 Sep. 2021).
Over a period of eight years (2007-2015), the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada interviewed 6,500 witnesses regarding their experience of the residential school system. Its findings revealed that these schools systematically forced students onto militant schedules, compelled them to perform involuntary labor, administered punitive and cruel punishments for even minor infractions, inflicted widespread sexual, emotional, and physical abuse on children of all ages, and intentionally covered up the deaths of countless youths. The commission concluded the residential schools had carried out an intentional, government-mandated program of cultural genocide. The Abuse in the Residential School System and its relationship to the Loss of Indigenous Language and Culture are core concerns of Wenjack.
The process of attending a residential school was intensely traumatic even for children who managed to escape horrors like molestation. Many young people were forcibly separated from their families and communities (often for years), given new Anglo names, and punished for speaking Indigenous languages or referring to Indigenous practices or even community members. It was also common for children’s hair to be forcibly shorn in open degradation of the fact that long and/or braided hair carries cultural significance for many First Nations, Inuit, and Métis groups. Approximately 6,000 children died in residential schools from disease, neglect, accidents, abuse, or exposure suffered during attempts to escape. The true fatality count may in fact be much higher than this, as school records of students’ deaths were deliberately kept vague, were intentionally destroyed, or were never created at all.
Residential schooling’s legacy of disruption, devastation, and despair continues to unfold. Indigenous groups still grieve the family members and friends lost to these institutions. Moreover, they struggle with intergenerational cycles of trauma caused by the physical, sexual, and emotional abuse inflicted on survivors, as well as the irretrievable loss of cultural, linguistic, and spiritual knowledge within their community. Although the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada ended in 2015, new facts regarding residential education’s sophisticated, multilayered execution of Indigenous genocide continuously come to light. In 2021, an unmarked mass grave holding the bodies of 215 children was uncovered next to a decommissioned school in Kamloops, British Columbia. Self-proclaimed “residential school denialists” entered this site without permission during the night, confident that by doing so they could disprove local First Nations’ claims about the existence of this mass grave. Instead, they uncovered tragic proof of it. Since then, the remains of more than 2,300 children have been found in mass graves across Canada, usually next to old residential schools or so-called “Indian Hospitals” (“Childhood Denied.” Canadian Museum for Human Rights, 2018).
Chanie Wenjack was only nine years old when Canadian officials forcibly removed him from his home in Ogoki Post, Northern Ontario, and took him to the Cecilia Jeffrey Indian Residential School in Kenora. There, his teachers renamed him “Charlie.”
Two years later, in 1966, Wenjack ran away with two schoolmates: brothers whose family lived 30 kilometers away. After this group reached the home of the brothers’ uncle, aunt, and cousin, Wenjack decided to journey on in the hopes of reaching his own home and family—a distance of over 600 kilometers. He is presumed to have understood the direction of his family home, but not how far away it really was. On October 23, 1966, a railway engineer found Wenjack dead beside some train tracks; the boy was likely following these in an attempt to return home. The boy’s body was returned to his family two weeks later; this was the first intimation that his parents and his two sisters had of his death.
Later that year, journalist Ian Adams wrote an article detailing Wenjack’s life and death for a Canadian magazine, Maclean’s. His piece, “The Lonely Death of Charlie Wenjack,” garnered national interest and was a significant driving factor behind the first public inquiry into the residential school system (Boyden, Joseph. Wenjack. Penguin Canada, 2016).
In the Author’s Note, Boyden remarks that he sees Wenjack as a symbol of not only Indigenous “tragedy” but also Indigenous Resistance and Resilience. Though Boyden does not specify further, he is presumably referring to Wenjack’s choice to run away from boarding school in search of his home. While the novella makes it clear that an 11-year-old child—particularly one uprooted from their family and culture—could not fully understand the dangers of such a decision, it nevertheless celebrates his courage and hope.
Joseph Boyden, the author of Wenjack, claims to have maternal Ojibwe and paternal Nipmuc ancestry. His critically acclaimed novel, Three Day Road (2005), won the McNally Robinson Aboriginal Book of the Year Award, an honor created for Indigenous writers. He has since released an award-winning sequel to this book, Through Black Spruce (2008), as well as an acclaimed work of historical fiction, The Orenda (2013); co-created a piece about residential school survivors with the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, Going Home Star (2016); and published Wenjack (2016). He speaks publicly about Indigenous issues on a regular basis.
However, Boyden’s right to claim any Indigenous identity came under fire in 2016, when investigative journalist Jorge Barrera alleged that Boyden has no First Nations, Métis, or Inuit ancestry, and is instead of Scottish and Irish descent. Others who have investigated Boyden’s claims have likewise found no evidence of Boyden’s alleged Indigenous ancestry. Even so, Boyden continues to claim that he is a “white kid with native roots” (Andrew-Gee, Eric. “The Making of Joseph Boyden.” The Globe and Mail, 2018). Boyden’s ex-wife, novelist Amanda Boyden, has stated that he took a DNA test that revealed that he has “a few drops of indigenous blood from overseas […] from Greenland,” but “no DNA that can be traced to the First Nations people in Canada or to the Americas at large” (Boyden, Amanda. “Amanda Boyden’s ‘I Got the Dog’ Is a Fierce, Funny Account of Marriage to a Fraud.” The Liberty Review, by A.C. “Skinny” Jackson, 15 Oct. 2020).
In fact, DNA testing is a highly controversial means of “proving” Indigenous heritage regardless of what the results show. This is because Indigeneity is not simply a racial category or set of genetic markers. Rather, it encompasses the lived experience of belonging to an Indigenous community, something that includes “sharing beliefs, cultural practices—and even official membership or citizenship.” Kim TallBear, an Indigenous scholar at the University of Alberta and enrolled member of the Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate of the Lake Traverse Reservation, points out that Indigenous peoples “construct belonging and citizenship in ways that do not consider these genetic ancestry tests. So it’s not just a matter of what you claim, but it’s a matter of who claims you” (CBC Radio. “Sorry, that DNA Test Doesn’t Make You Indigenous.” The 180, 4 Nov. 2016). Viewed through this lens, Boyden’s attempt to use DNA testing as proof of his supposed Indigenous heritage further underscores his failure to understand and accept his lack of authentic tribal connections. More broadly, Boyden’s decision to accept an award meant for Indigenous authors, to acquire wealth and social privilege based on his dramatization of Indigenous pain, and to publicly portray himself as an Indigenous commentator on Indigenous issues raises questions about the ethical relationship between his identity and his art.
By Joseph Boyden