The dark history of forced assimilation of Indigenous children and the modern path toward Truth and Reconciliation.
The Bottom Line Up Front: The story of Residential Schools is not ancient history; it is a current event. For over a century, the government and churches of Canada operated a system designed to “kill the Indian in the child” by forcibly removing Indigenous children from their homes. Today, the legacy of that trauma is visible in every community, but so is the incredible resilience of Indigenous peoples who are reclaiming their culture. As travelers, we cannot just consume the beauty of the landscape; we must acknowledge the history of the land and the people who have stewarded it for millennia.
I have spent 15 years in the travel industry, often curating trips to Italy, Korea, and the Philippines. In all these places, history is the bedrock of the experience. You cannot understand the Philippines without understanding Spanish colonialism; you cannot understand Korea without understanding the Japanese occupation. Similarly, you cannot visit North America without confronting the Residential School system. It is the single most defining factor in the relationship between Indigenous peoples and the state today. Authentic travel means embracing the “Dark History” alongside the pretty views. It means having the courage to look at the scars.
To understand the Residential School system, you must look at the “Indian Act” of 1876. This piece of legislation gave the federal government sweeping control over every aspect of Indigenous life, from their status to their land. The government viewed Indigenous cultures—their languages, spiritual practices, and communal living—as obstacles to the development of the nation. The “solution” they devised was aggressive assimilation. They believed that if they could isolate the children from the influence of their parents and elders, they could mold them into Euro-Christian citizens.
The system was mandatory. Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) officers were often sent to reserves to forcibly seize children from their parents’ arms. If parents resisted, they were jailed. Once at the schools, which were run by Catholic, Anglican, United, and Presbyterian churches, the children were stripped of their identity. Their long hair—often spiritually significant—was cut. Their traditional clothes were burned. They were given numbers instead of names. Crucially, they were forbidden from speaking their own languages. Survivors recount being beaten, starved, or shamed for whispering a single word of Cree, Ojibwe, or Inuktitut.
The abuse went far beyond cultural erasure. Physical, sexual, and emotional abuse was rampant. The schools were underfunded, leading to malnutrition and the rapid spread of diseases like tuberculosis. The mortality rates in some schools were shocking, sometimes exceeding 50%. The children who died were often buried in unmarked graves in the schoolyard, their parents never notified. For decades, survivors told these stories, but they were largely ignored by the broader public and the history books. It was a “hidden” chapter that wasn’t actually hidden—it was just willfully ignored by the dominant society.
This system continued for generations. The last federally run residential school did not close until 1996. That means there are Indigenous people in their 30s and 40s today who are survivors of this system. It also means that almost every Indigenous family has been touched by this intergenerational trauma. The poverty, addiction, and mental health struggles visible in some communities today are not inherent; they are the direct, engineered result of breaking the family bond for over a century.
In May 2021, the Tk’emlúps te Secwépemc First Nation announced a devastating discovery. Using ground-penetrating radar, they had identified the remains of 215 children buried near the former Kamloops Indian Residential School in British Columbia. These were children as young as three years old. There were no records of their deaths. They were the “Missing Children” that elders had spoken about for years, the ones who “ran away” and were never seen again.
The number “215” became a rallying cry. It shocked the world. But for Indigenous communities, it was not a shock; it was a validation. Following Kamloops, other First Nations began scanning their own school sites. In Cowessess First Nation in Saskatchewan, 751 unmarked graves were found. In Williams Lake, 93. The numbers kept growing. As of today, thousands of potential graves have been identified across the country, turning former schools into crime scenes and sacred grounds.
This “discovery” fundamentally shifted the conversation around reconciliation. Before 2021, many people viewed Residential Schools as a sad but closed chapter of history—a “mistake” made by well-meaning people. The graves proved that it was not a mistake; it was a systemic disregard for Indigenous life. It forced the government, the churches, and the public to confront the reality of “Cultural Genocide,” a term the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) had used in 2015 but which many politicians had hesitated to adopt.
For the traveler, this changes the landscape. When you drive past a beautiful old church or a government building, you now have to ask: what happened here? The discovery has led to a wave of monument building, orange flags, and memorial walks. It has made the history visible. You will see “Every Child Matters” flags flying from porches and businesses. This is not a trend; it is a collective mourning process that is still very raw.
Reconciliation is not a single act; it is a way of life. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) released 94 “Calls to Action” in 2015, urging governments, institutions, and individuals to take specific steps to repair the harm. For the travel industry, this means “Economic Reconciliation.” It means shifting the power dynamic so that Indigenous people are the ones telling their own stories and profiting from their own culture.
In the past, Indigenous culture in tourism was often appropriated. Souvenir shops sold cheap totem poles made overseas, or tour guides told romanticized stories about “Indians” without any input from the local tribe. Today, there is a renaissance of authentic Indigenous Tourism. From the Haida Gwaii Watchmen who guard their ancestral village sites to the Inuit guides leading polar bear expeditions, Indigenous people are reclaiming the narrative.
Reconciliation also involves “Land Back” movements and the renaming of places. You will notice that many places are reverting to their traditional names. The Queen Charlotte Islands are now Haida Gwaii. The Salish Sea is recognized alongside the Strait of Georgia. This is a crucial part of erasing the colonial map and restoring the Indigenous geography. It acknowledges that the land had a history and a name long before European explorers arrived.
Visiting the **Woodland Cultural Centre** in Brantford, Ontario, is a profound example of reconciliation in action. It is one of the few remaining Residential School buildings (the Mohawk Institute) that has been saved from demolition. The survivors voted to keep it standing not to celebrate it, but to use it as evidence. “Save the Evidence” is their campaign. Touring the cold dormitories and seeing the scratching on the walls is a harrowing experience, but it is necessary. It transforms the abstract concept of “assimilation” into a physical reality that you cannot unsee.
As a traveler, you are a guest on Indigenous land. Whether you are in a city or a national park, you are on the traditional territory of a specific Nation. The first step of reconciliation for a tourist is acknowledgement. When you check into your hotel, take a moment to find out whose land you are on. Apps like “Native-Land.ca” make this easy. It’s a small gesture of respect that shifts your mindset.
Secondly, put your money where your values are. Seek out Indigenous-owned experiences. Stay at the Skwachàys Lodge in Vancouver, which funds housing for Indigenous artists. Take a tour with a local elder in Banff who can explain the medicinal plants, rather than just hiking the trail for the view. When you buy art, look for the “Authentic Indigenous” tag to ensure the artist is actually Indigenous and is being paid fairly.
Finally, listen more than you speak. If you attend a Pow Wow or a cultural demonstration, observe the protocols. Don’t touch regalia without permission. Don’t take photos during sacred moments if asked not to. Understand that you might hear stories that make you uncomfortable. That discomfort is part of the journey. We are not traveling to be comfortable; we are traveling to understand the world. And understanding the resilience of a people who survived an attempt to erase them is one of the most powerful travel experiences you can have.
Definition and Scope: Residential Schools were a network of mandatory boarding schools for Indigenous peoples. They were funded by the Canadian government’s Department of Indian Affairs and administered by Christian churches. The system originated in the mid-19th century, with the last school (Gordon’s Indian Residential School in Saskatchewan) closing in 1996.
The Purpose: The stated goal was assimilation. The government believed that Indigenous cultures were inferior and that children needed to be “civilized” and converted to Christianity to become productive members of Canadian society. The infamous quote from Duncan Campbell Scott, a high-ranking official, was “to get rid of the Indian problem.” This was not an education system in the modern sense; it was a social engineering project designed to break the transmission of culture from parent to child.
The Reality: Children were forcibly removed from their homes, often by police. Siblings were separated. They were forbidden to speak their languages or practice their traditions. The education provided was often substandard, focusing on manual labor (farming, housekeeping) rather than academics, to prepare them for menial jobs. Abuse—physical, sexual, psychological, and spiritual—was endemic. Nutritional experiments and lack of medical care led to high death rates from tuberculosis and other diseases.
The Legacy: The system caused “intergenerational trauma.” The children who survived often lost the ability to parent because they had never been parented themselves. They returned to their communities traumatized and alienated from their own culture. This legacy directly contributes to the current crises of addiction, suicide, and family breakdown in many Indigenous communities today.
The Commission (TRC): The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada was established in 2008 as part of the Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement. Its mandate was to document the truth of what happened by listening to the testimony of thousands of survivors.
The “Truth”: The first step is acknowledging the facts. For decades, the severity of the abuse was denied or downplayed. The TRC report, released in 2015, concluded that the Residential School system amounted to “Cultural Genocide.” This truth-telling phase is crucial because there can be no healing without an honest accounting of the harm done.
The “Reconciliation”: This is the hard work of rebuilding the relationship between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples. It is not about “forgiving and forgetting.” It is about restitution and change. The TRC issued 94 “Calls to Action” covering child welfare, education, language, health, and justice. Reconciliation means implementing these calls. For example, Call 92 specifically asks the corporate sector (including tourism) to adopt the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) and to provide education for staff on the history of Indigenous peoples.
For the Individual: For a regular person or traveler, Reconciliation means educating oneself, rejecting stereotypes, and standing as an ally against racism. It means understanding that we are all “Treaty People”—meaning that the treaties signed between the Crown and Indigenous nations apply to all of us and define our rights and responsibilities on this land.
Context is Everything: Visiting a former Residential School is not like visiting a castle or a museum. These are sites of profound trauma, and in many cases, they are active investigation sites where unmarked graves are being recovered. Whether it is appropriate to visit depends entirely on the wishes of the local community and the nature of the site.
Educational Sites: Some sites have been intentionally preserved as museums or cultural centers to educate the public. The Woodland Cultural Centre (formerly the Mohawk Institute) in Brantford, Ontario, is a prime example. They run the “Save the Evidence” campaign and offer guided tours. Visiting such a site is highly encouraged because it supports the community’s goal of education and remembrance. You are invited to be there.
Sacred/Private Sites: Other former schools have been demolished, or the grounds are currently being searched for graves. These are not tourist attractions. Visiting to “take a look” or take selfies is deeply disrespectful and arguably “Trauma Tourism.” If a site is not explicitly set up for visitors, you should stay away.
Etiquette: If you do visit an educational site, show absolute respect. Dress modestly. Speak quietly. Do not take photos of people without permission. Listen to the guides—often survivors or descendants of survivors—with an open heart. Be prepared for the emotional weight; many visitors find the experience overwhelming. If you see “Orange Shirts” or memorials with teddy bears and shoes, do not disturb them. These are offerings to the spirits of the children.
The Origin: Orange Shirt Day originated from the story of Phyllis Webstad, a survivor of the St. Joseph Mission Residential School. When she was six years old, her grandmother bought her a shiny new orange shirt for her first day of school. When she arrived at the Residential School, the nuns stripped her of her clothes, took away her orange shirt, and never gave it back. The color orange became a symbol of how her feelings and her existence didn’t matter to the system.
The Date: It is observed annually on September 30th. This date was chosen because it is the time of year when children were historically taken from their homes to the schools. The slogan of the day is “Every Child Matters.”
National Day for Truth and Reconciliation: In 2021, the Canadian government officially designated September 30th as a federal statutory holiday. It is a day for public commemoration, similar to Remembrance Day. It is not a day for “vacation”; it is a day for reflection.
Participation: On this day, Canadians across the country wear orange shirts to show solidarity with survivors and to honor the children who never came home. As a tourist, if you are in the country on September 30th, you will see a sea of orange. You are welcome to participate by wearing orange, attending a local walk or Pow Wow, and taking the time to learn the local history. Buying an official orange shirt from an Indigenous artist or organization is a good way to contribute, as the proceeds usually support survivor programs.
Economic Reconciliation: The most powerful tool a traveler has is their wallet. Indigenous Tourism is one of the fastest-growing sectors in the industry, and it offers a path to economic sovereignty. By choosing Indigenous-owned businesses, you are ensuring that the economic benefits of tourism stay within the community.
Where to Look: Look for the “The Original Original” mark or accreditation from the Indigenous Tourism Association of Canada (ITAC). This ensures the business is at least 51% Indigenous-owned. This can range from luxury resorts like the Spirit Ridge in Osoyoos to wildlife tours in the Great Bear Rainforest.
Cultural Appreciation vs. Appropriation: Support authentic art. Do not buy “Native-style” dreamcatchers made in a factory overseas. Buy directly from artists at galleries or cultural centers. When you buy authentic art, you are supporting the continuation of traditional skills that the Residential Schools tried to destroy.
Education: Take the time to visit Indigenous cultural centers, such as the Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre in Whistler or the Wanuskewin Heritage Park in Saskatoon. These places offer a modern, living perspective on Indigenous culture, moving beyond the “museum” view of the past. Engaging with these centers shows that there is a market for Indigenous truth and culture, encouraging further investment in these projects.
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