The Queen in your genes
If this makes me a disloyal Canadian, so be it: I didn’t love the Queen. When her death was announced, I had a fleeting moment of hope that Charles (sorry, King Charles) would immediately abdicate in favour of his son. He would have had history, if perhaps not the rules of Royal succession, on his side. Alas, it was not to be.
I realized that my ambivalence about his ascent to the Throne ran deeper than just my issues with him as a person. I was hoping, and continue to hope, that this moment would give us reason to question the future of the monarchy itself.
Like Uju Anya, I found myself thinking a lot about the Queen’s role in perpetuating colonialism. And it’s not just about the “legacy” of colonialism; it’s about the very real and profound effects it continues to have on so many communities and entire nations around the world. Those who have benefited from colonialism — largely white, male, able-bodied and affluent — like to argue that what’s past is past. The sanctimony and privilege implied, if not explicit, in that view is breathtaking. The Nigerians in Anya’s experience and the First Nations, Métis and Inuit (FNMI) peoples in Canada (also known as Turtle Island) continue to live the reality of colonialism and its effects every single day.
Broll and others have argued that FNMI peoples experience pervasive health inequalities that result in increased physical and mental health concerns, including substance abuse, psychological distress, psychiatric illness, and suicide. There is a compelling case to be made that some, perhaps much, of this experience is related to what’s known as epigenetic trauma, the idea “that an individual’s experience might alter the cells and behaviour of their children and grandchildren.”
The science of epigenetic trauma is relatively new, barely more than 20 years old. It’s by no means universally accepted; at this point, it remains a theory subject to continuing and rigorous scientific analysis, as it should be.
Beyond genetics, the attitudes that fuelled colonialism remain prevalent throughout our society. We see it in our schools. FNMI peoples represent about four per cent of the population in Canada; 30 per cent of FNMI students in grades five through eight report being bullied in school. A study done in 2011 found that “FNMI students had rates of bullying in all four categories identified by the Safe Schools Study (physical, verbal, social and electronic) higher than the average for other groups in Canada.” Broll also makes the point that “bullying and cyberbullying victimization and perpetration are prevalent among Indigenous adolescents, and that cyberbullying victimization uniquely contributes to internalizing problems among Indigenous youth, above and beyond the contributions of age and gender and involvement in traditional bullying.” (Let’s save for the moment the even more terrifying statistics around the rates of incarceration and participation in the child welfare system of FNMI peoples, although those factors are almost certainly also related.)
Bullying is fundamentally about power in relationships. Bullies do what they do because they want to feel dominant (although there’s some interesting documentation to suggest that their actions may, in fact, be driven by deep-seated feelings of insecurity). Victims, real and intended, can internalize this behaviour because of their own insecurities, thus perpetuating the cycle.
These students can’t just will themselves out of that cycle. As Noah Golden, writing about the experience of Black students, has argued, “(they) share an entrenched set of values and that these values are the cause of undesirable educational and other outcomes.” Then there’s the myth of resilience. Just stand up to the bully. Be tougher. Push back. Here’s the problem: resilience is also deeply rooted in neo-liberal beliefs and the power of individual, rather than collective, responsibility.
It’s not hard to draw an almost-straight line from colonialism to Residential Schools and onto bullying of FNMI students. The attitudes that settlers brought with them and imposed on others — the right to pursue economic opportunity and social dominance at all costs among them — can easily be seen on either side of the equation. Bullying of FNMI students might seem like a niche issue; it’s not. It’s a predictable and troubling expression of generations, and centuries, of abuse. That’s exactly how those who study epigenetic trauma will tell you it works.
Is the Queen directly and personally responsible for this problem herself? Some would argue yes. While it’s too late for her to do much about it, her heir and successor is a different story. King Charles can’t repudiate colonialism without negating his entire existence (much as some of us might wish he would do exactly that). What he could do is to recognize the harms that have occurred on his predecessors’ watch and use them to launch a discussion. That would be a good starting point.