When I first learned of the graves, understood the likelihood that there are so many more to be found, hundreds of children at each site, at each ‘boarding school,” each “residential school,” I was taken aback by the sheer numbers. It is not common, not normal, for hundreds of children to die while at “school.” It’s not normal to shovel the dead into mass graves, hidden graves, their bodies not returned to their families.
What sort of people would do this?
What sort of people hide the dead?
It’s a tell.
Always, it’s a tell.
We see aerial photographs, infrared, revealing gravesites of enslaved people near Louisiana’s chemical factories, on former plantations, unmarked cemeteries tucked alongside the season’s plantings of tobacco, the dead made visible by the technology of our time, the technology of revelation.
We should not be surprised when what it reveals is us.
“They are playing a game. They are playing at not playing a game. If I show them I see they are, I shall break the rules and they will punish me. I must play their game, of not seeing I see the game.”
R.D. Laing
Word of the week: Procrustean. We made your bed. Go lie in it.
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