Sixties Scoop survivor reflects on the 18-year search for her family

Audrey Mayes is a Mi'kmaw woman from Sipekne'katik who was taken from her family during the Sixties Scoop. The government practice forced tens of thousands of Indigenous children into foster care or adopted homes between the 1950s and 1990s.

After a class-action lawsuit, the federal government agreed to an $800-million settlement for survivors. Information sessions have been taking place across the country for people to learn about the claims process before the deadline in August.

Mayes is writing a book about the experience of being separated from her family, community and culture for 18 years. She shared her story with the CBC's Emma Smith. It's been edited for length and clarity.

Taken from Sipekne'katik in the 70s

I don't think my parents had all the support mechanisms that they required at the time, especially when you have a large family. And the Children's Aid Society was determined — whether it be with good intent or not — to start taking some of the children away. I had older brothers and sisters and they were placed into the homes of different family members, except for me. When I was about two and a half years old, they took me into foster care. 

I was placed into several different homes and then I ended up in a foster home in Hantsport [N.S.]. They weren't Indigenous and there was no access to culture or language, but I was fed, you know, and it was on a farm. But one of the best things about living there was that one of the social workers would allow my brother, Kenny, who I was very close to, to come over on Sundays to visit me.

They would allow us to play and then suddenly they stopped the visits. One of the social workers told my foster mother that his visits were disruptive and they were starting to upset me because every time he came I would want to go home with him, quite naturally. So they said they had to step in and stop the visits and it broke my heart. I would sit there and wait and wait and wait. When I would go to bed at night, I'd look out the window and I would pray, I hope you come and get me. But no, he didn't come.

I remember going to court on the last day that my parents could fight for me. I remember clutching onto my father's neck. I remember wearing a little pink dress with little daisies on it and white shoes and I got to wear little gloves and everything. I wanted to look my best when I went back home. I wouldn't let go of my dad's neck. And the court worker just came over and peeled my tiny fingers off his neck and I was crying for him and he was crying as well and there was nothing nobody could do.

And that was the last time I saw my parents until that day — 18 years later at the Ottawa airport.

Adopted by a white family

I was formally adopted on May 11, 1971 into a non-Indigenous family who eventually moved from Nova Scotia to Ontario.

There were some very serious issues with the family after I was adopted that led to some abusive behaviour and that kind of thing. I think there could have been a better screening and I think there should have been a followup to make sure that the placement was a good one. There should have been some effort to place me back with a family member, instead of whisking me away into a non-Indigenous family who had no connection to my culture, language, identity.

There were so many times where I felt out of place. I experienced racism as child. The first day of school in Hantsport, the first thing they made me do was a rain dance. I was the only First Nation child in that school. It was the first time I'd seen that many non-Indigenous people and they made me do a rain dance.

I've been told several different things and I really don't understand why they took me when my nine other siblings weren't placed in foster care or adopted. I think, why me? Honestly, that's one of the questions that's still out there.

The search

When I was around seven years old, I looked for my documents in my adoptive family's file cabinet. They weren't home but I figured I was going to have a look. And I found all these clippings of adoptive Native children and it was like something you'd see buying a toy in the Sears catalogue. There were headings like 'Free to a good home' type of thing, or descriptions like 'This one has some behavioural problems' or 'This one has a slow walk or a limp.' I didn't find one for me, but I did find a few papers.

I was trying to figure out where I came from. I knew I was Mi'kmaw. I knew I was from Nova Scotia, but I didn't know where. And what I did find was this blank piece of paper with letterhead that said 'Shubenacadie band council.' This is why I started talking to people.

A lot of this stuff was so much coincidence. This person knew that person. And you know they talk about the six degrees of separation? Well, it was true in my case. I would tell anyone who would listen about my story, and it became repetitive but I figured hey, what have I got to lose?

It had to do with connecting with different people who had links to another person, who knew another person, who knew another person, who knew my aunt.

Reunited with parents at 22

The community had raised money for my parents to come and see me when we finally reconnected in February 1988. I was nervous, but I was also anxious, excited, elated. I can't even explain to some people about how all your life you've been looking at people that don't look like you, and then you finally see people walking through the airport doors. And there was no mistake that they were my parents. I could see where I got my eyes, I got to see where I got my chin, I got to see where I got my nose and my hair and the colour of my skin.

I have this birthmark. This strip of white hair at the back of my neck underneath my dark hair. When I walked through the doors and saw them, my father said, 'We have to check one thing,' and he said, 'Turn around,' and then he started going through my hair and then he pulled it out and he said, 'There's my tu's​.' 

My tu's in Mi'kmaw is my baby girl.

They were just like, 'I can't believe that you're here in front of me. What's your story?' And I said, 'I want to hear your story, too.' It was like a calming feeling knowing that that part of the puzzle is now getting put into place and all those questions can be answered.

Returning home

I don't know if there's people out there who can even imagine what the Sixties Scoop adoptees have gone through. Some of them won't talk. Some of them are still coping with the loss and I'm one of the lucky ones that my family opened up. I come down to Sipekne'katik and I learn as much as I can.

I can't even describe what it's like to come home. I think it's like for the first time I experienced what unconditional love is or what it feels like to be loved and to show love. Because when you're an adopted person, one of the things I found is that I missed out on that whole sense of family love and I was just so happy to know that when I did come home, they told me that they celebrated my birthday every year.

So that tells me that they didn't forget about me and that they loved me.