Final Blog Post — Jumbled Thoughts

Amy Cook
Amy Cook
Jul 25, 2017 · 5 min read

Jul. 24, 2017

Sitting on this flight I can’t really pinpoint how I’m feeling. Emotions come in waves of happiness and sadness — it truly is bitter sweet to leave. I know I’m coming back to Ottawa a changed person in so many ways. My thought process is different for one. The way I approach and evaluate a situation is different — based on all the interactions we’ve had in the territory I know this to be true.

In a way, I could say I don’t feel ready for Ottawa. I’m not prepared to explain my experiences or to be questioned about what exactly they mean to me, or how I’ll translate them in the future. I feel this way because I myself haven’t really had time to process much of the trip. I liked that about the course — we were always doing something or speaking to someone — it made for an experience I’ll never forget. If I think back to everyone we talked to, there isn’t one person I would have chosen to miss out on in order to have some time to myself. Everyone brought something entirely different to the table, and I’m eternally grateful for the lifelong lessons I’ve learned throughout this course.

It’s odd to me to be writing about how great of an experience this was and how much it’s helped me grow personally and professionally when I can’t seem to explain why. It’s been frustrating me this entire course. I feel so much and say so little. It’s my biggest set back. I’m nervous to go back to Ottawa because I know my words won’t do this course justice. Not when I first get home at least — which is when my parents and brother and best friends will all be hounding me for details. I’m not looking forward to that. I’m hoping they understand I’d rather share in bits what I’ve learned — the bits that I’ve had the time to digest and am willing to share.

When we handed in our uninterrupted writing days before the course began, I didn’t have much to say in terms of the Yukon specifically. I understand now that it would be impossible to have any idea what the Yukon looks or more importantly feels like without having been there or felt it. Aesthetically and internally, the Yukon is the most awe-inspiring place I’ve ever stepped foot on. Here I am on my way back to Ottawa speechless yet again. But the feeling is there, and as so many say about the Yukon, the feeling will stay forever, and it’ll likely bring me back. I feel so connected to a place and body of people I only spent one month with. Ottawa has never felt so impersonal, and I haven’t even landed yet. That’s another feeling I know I’ll struggle with. After immersing ourselves in northern communities for a month, Ottawa will have a few more ‘crazies’ out on the streets saying hi to everyone we pass. It’s what we’ve been surrounded with for the past month, and it results in a warmth and familiarity everyone should feel while walking the streets they live.

In my uninterrupted writing, I wrote that “reconciliation has a lot to do with listening and fully digesting what we learn while we’re in the Yukon. It’s about taking in and understanding peoples’ stories and histories and appreciating them… It’s important to recognize that reconciling the past is a process — it will be a lengthy one. Us going up to the Yukon is a step in the right direction, and hopefully it’ll result in lasting relationships that lead to more steps being taken in the future.”

I think we did just that with this course. We listened — and although we may not have had the time to fully digest, we are coming home with a greater understanding and appreciation for a past we all share the burden of as Canadians. Thanks to Kanina and Bronwyn and the connections they were willing to share with us as former and current Yukoners, we as journalism students fostered relationships with knowledgeable people I would feel comfortable going back to the Yukon and connecting with in the future.

If it weren’t for Bronwyn Beairsto, our class wouldn’t have been able to connect with locals the way that we did — Harold Gatensby especially.
Memories made this past month will live on through Wolf Pack Force until her dying day — which might be sooner than later.

Before coming, I knew common narratives needed altering. Sitting here now I can feel the opportunity that change could result in. It’s evident in the Yukon, and could easily be evident elsewhere — it all starts with a relationship founded on respect, communities in the Yukon represent this relationship. Leaving the Yukon after a month, I have a solid grasp of our past and thus and understanding of why mainstream narratives so desperately need changing. It’s like Kanina said, reconciliation has to do with accepting the fact certain forms of journalism are broken and need changing. Certain forms of journalism often cause or perpetuate the very problems that exist.

After making the final podcast and reflecting on other students understanding of the course and the culture here, I’m leaving with a new perspective as well. I don’t necessarily know what I think reconciliation means per se, but I think that’s okay. I don’t see the objective of this course as finding a way to define reconciliation, but rather, to listen to varying opinions. Everyone we talked to had different but insightful views on what they thought it meant, some didn’t like the term at all, and I agreed in part with all the people we met here. I think it’s really important to understand and recognize that reconciliation journalism can manifest itself in different ways. The mini doc ‘Shift’ is the one that’s really stuck with me. Our class showcasing our major assignments at the Kwanlin Dun Cultural Centre after a month, in search of feedback, is also a representation of reconciliation journalism. Reconciliation journalism should feel like it means something to the audience and to the writer — if there even is such a thing — maybe it’s the way all journalism should be. Maybe that’s why so many people say journalism is dying — because there’s a lack of heart in 24 hour news reporting.

When I came here I told Kanina I didn’t have any burning questions, I just wanted to learn more about our history and Indigenous culture and connection. I did learn about those things, and I felt them too.

Sid, Rach, Michael and I spent a portion of our last night in the Yukon on the side of the road between Pelly Crossing and Carmacks, after stopping behind a car that had hit a pothole. Bronywn first drove the mother-in-law to sell service, and then later the couple and their baby. We had a full van, and it was late at night. Regardless, Bron was more than willing to stick around and help out however she could. The hospitality of people in Whitehorse is something that will stick with me for the rest of my life. It’s refreshing.

Written by

Amy Cook

Carleton University Journalism and Communications

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