Cultural clashes deepen foster care woes
VITA, MB—Behind firmly shut church doors barred with a paper sign reading "private meeting," a group of dissatisfied foster parents gathered in November to make a plan.
The alliance of about 20 Christian foster parents is disgruntled with the way they've been treated by the various First Nations-mandated foster agencies they work for. They feel they're being bullied by a system wary of their Christianity that puts political correctness before the well-being of the children in its care.
But First Nations agencies struggling to find safe homes where children can keep in touch with their heritage, are frustrated by foster parents who clutch the children entrusted to them too tightly, unwilling to acknowledge their need for cultural identity.
Gordon Reimer is the unofficial spokesperson and organizing force behind the group of parents. He and his wife Linda have been parents to 22 foster children over the past 20 years. Things have changed, says Reimer, and not for the better.
Eight years ago the Reimers adopted their first aboriginal child without a hitch.
"It went smooth as glass," says Reimer.
But a white family adopting aboriginal foster children "is almost impossible now," he says. Two years ago the Reimers gave up a court battle to adopt two more aboriginal foster children in their care. Instead, the children were removed from the Reimer home without warning or explanation.
"One of them was four," says Reimer. "Ours was the only home he knew." A social worker arrived at the Reimer home while the parents were away, packed the children's bags and took them away.
"We knew already we would never see them again," says Linda. "It's been almost two years now."
Between 2003 and 2005 the province of Manitoba transferred governance of aboriginal child welfare system to four aboriginal authorities, and handed over 6,700 individual cases to aboriginal agencies.
The goal of the transfer, often called "devolution," was to allow aboriginal children in foster care to develop a deeper awareness of their own culture, to encourage a better understanding of aboriginal families and communities and to make room for more preventative care rather than immediately removing children from their communities.
The Reimers and others at the meeting believe politics are trumping the children's true needs. Caught between competing claims, children are increasingly being bounced around from birth home to foster home to reserve instead of being allowed to build trust with one family, he says.
"A child has no voice," says another foster mother who asked not to be named. "After 20 or 30 placements it's no wonder why the child has an attitude. That child is screaming inside…We have to stand up for them."
Another couple believes their first application to be foster parents for aboriginal children was rejected because of their faith.
The devout Mennonite family, who believes its wrong to have a TV or radio in the house, was accepted after they applied a second time.
The father says he treats his aboriginal foster children the same as his biological children. "To me there is not a difference in culture," he says. "Colour doesn't say anything."
"Maybe those foster parents are not willing to look at First Nations children from a First Nations perspective," says Bobbi Pompana, the director of Dakota Ojibway Child and Family Services (DOCFS). "We found when we took over the service there were a whole lot of First Nations children who had no idea who they were… Some children are embarrassed about the fact that they're First Nations, and that's really sad."
Aboriginal foster homes are the agency's first choice for aboriginal children. But since there aren't enough to meet the need, many children are placed in non-aboriginal homes. Pompana says she doesn't expect families to change their beliefs. "We just ask for understanding and respect—the way they would expect from us," she says.
DOCFS organizes training sessions, cultural camps, sweat lodges and pow-wows where foster parents and children can learn about Native culture.
For the most part, the families who came to the meeting in Vita said they didn't take part in cultural events.
"As far as expressing culture, I don't know how you do that. We just treat everybody the same," says Reimer. Reimer says his family went to a pow-wow once. Though the dancing was "beautiful," he remained wary of anything that seemed "spiritual."
Though some Christian families aren't prepared to listen to anything that has to do with Aboriginal culture, says Pompana, others embrace it.
Marie Roels, a parent serviced by DOCFS, says she and her husband study the Bible with their foster children at home; they also go to culture camps, sharing circles, pow-wows and sweat lodges.
"We can teach them all we can about ourselves and our faith, but if they don't know who they are they can't make a choice," says Roels.
"When I'm in the sweat lodge it brings me closer to God. And it brings them closer to the Creator, and as far as I'm concerned God and the Creator are the same thing."
But being a foster parent is never an easy task, says Roels. "You need a lot of help from God. If I didn't have a strong faith I wouldn't be able to do this."
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