Genevieve Williams always has been candid about her years at the Tulalip school, Cushman Indian Hospital and St. Georges Mission School near Tacoma. By the time she left the schools for good at age 14, she didn’t recognize her own mother. The two never did bond. Later, she didn’t know how to nurture her own children. Her husband had been physically abused in a Canadian residential school and instilled in their children his deep suspicion of white people. how we grew up,” said their daughter, Leslie Lopez. “That’s After many prayers, Lopez decided to judge people by their actions instead of their race and to teach her children to do the same. a long time. I try hard,” she said. getting easier.” “It’s “It’s Williams now lives on the reservation with Lopez, with whom she’s grown close. She encourages the grandkids to learn the Lushootseed language, and she sometimes watches language classes on the tribe’s closed-circuit TV network. But the only word she knows, she says, sounds like meaning white person. “paw-sted” — To this day, questions haunt her such as why she was sent to a TB hospital when no — doctor ever found evidence that she had the disease. Sometimes she looks back and cries. know I missed out on a lot “I … “ But like others of her generation, she doesn’t want to be cast as a victim. At 85, she’s proud to be an elder. am Native American,” she says. survived.” “I “I Marsha King: 206-464-2232 or
Genevieve Williams always has been candid about her years at the Tulalip school, Cushman Indian Hospital and St. Georges Mission School near Tacoma. By the time she left the schools for good at age 14, she didn’t recognize her own mother. The two never did bond. Later, she didn’t know how to nurture her own children. Her husband had been physically abused in a Canadian residential school and instilled in their children his deep suspicion of white people. “That’s how we grew up,” said their daughter, Leslie Lopez. After many prayers, Lopez decided to judge people by their actions instead of their race and to teach her children to do the same. “It’s a long time. I try hard,” she said. “It’s getting easier.” Williams now lives on the reservation with Lopez, with whom she’s grown close. She encourages the grandkids to learn the Lushootseed language, and she sometimes watches language classes on the tribe’s closed-circuit TV network. But the only word she knows, she says, sounds like “paw-sted” — meaning white person. To this day, questions haunt her — such as why she was sent to a TB hospital when no doctor ever found evidence that she had the disease. Sometimes she looks back and cries. “I know I missed out on a lot … “ But like others of her generation, she doesn’t want to be cast as a victim. At 85, she’s proud to be an elder. “I am Native American,” she says. “I survived.” Marsha King: 206-464-2232 or
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