I was 13 years old and in grade 8 when my son Jeremy was born. All of us little children were crying and no one cared. I didn’t understand why they wouldn’t give it back to me, it was mine! The color orange has always reminded me of that and how my feelings didn’t matter, how no one cared and how I felt like I was worth nothing. When I got to the Mission, they stripped me, and took away my clothes, including the orange shirt! I never wore it again. It had string laced up in front, and was so bright and exciting – just like I felt to be going to school! I remember going to Robinson’s store and picking out a shiny orange shirt.
We never had very much money, but somehow my granny managed to buy me a new outfit to go to the Mission school. I lived with my grandmother on the Dog Creek reserve. I went to the Mission for one school year in 1973/1974.
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