05/30/2026
I'm a residential day school survivor. I won't compare AI and the ever rising technology to that, the pain of those schools is not a metaphor, and I won't make it one. But the history of residential schools is also full of the people I come from: Blackfoot leaders, clear-eyed people who saw exactly what was bearing down on them. They weren't naive. They understood that to resist everything, all at once, was to be fought until there was nothing left. So they made impossible choices, not because they wanted to, but because they were trying to keep their people alive in a world that was changing without anyone's consent.
My great great grandmother Rosie Davis was the first Residential School pupil on our reserve. She was the first to graduate. The first to learn English. She did a lot of firsts. People told her, English is bad. Those schools are bad. She persisted nonetheless. Her husband on the other hand, Charlie Davis, never went to residential schools, he refused to speak English, and he tried his best to keep traditional ways as much as possible. Yet somehow they all generally lived peacefully among each other. The people of my reserve had different opinions on how to handle the onslaught of change, much like we find ourselves rapidly enveloped in change.
I think about that when I see how quickly we judge each other now for how we meet change.
Change doesn't arrive like a wave you can see coming. It envelops you little by little. And each of us gets to decide how to meet it. Some resist all of it. Some resist a few things and accept the rest. Some embrace it. Every one of those is a legitimate way to stand in the world. But this is true of all of them: whatever you choose, the change still asks something of you that you never agreed to give.
So I've grown wary of casting judgment on people simply trying to make the best of it, trying to adapt enough not to be washed over, while holding onto enough to still be themselves. When we refuse a change, it's worth asking what replaces the opportunity it carried. When we accept one, it's worth asking what it's quietly costing us.
There's a fine line between how much to resist and how much to adapt. The people I come from walked it with more at stake than I will ever face. The least I can do is walk it thoughtfully, and extend the same grace to everyone else trying to find their footing. I have found judging others for how they do or don't adapt to a world they didn't choose uses a lot of energy I could be spending in better ways.