She said, "No more Indian talk."
And then she pushed me.
Former students of Indigenous boarding schools
and their families are demanding that the U.S. government
and religious leaders take responsibility
for the abuse they endured.
I want them to tell the world what they did,
that they have two faces.
One face is evil.
Churches that once operated the schools are now confronted
with their buried pasts.
After Canada discovered hundreds of unmarked graves,
families in the U.S. are still desperately searching
for the remains of missing children.
He could be anywhere.
One of those stones...
We traveled to Oklahoma, the state that housed the largest number
of these government-funded boarding schools and caused generational trauma
for the hundreds of thousands forced to enroll.
They need to say,
they need to let everybody know what they did,
because it affected all of us.
Why did y'all do this? Why?
And they lost their childhood. They lost their spirit.
They lost their innocence.
I just resigned myself to it,
and I closed my eyes,
and I clutched my teeth,
and I put my hands out.
She kept hitting me with the ruler until finally I guess she got tired.
Then she said, "No more Indian talk."
Augustina Warledo was 6 years old
when she was forced to attend a boarding school
called Carter Seminary in 1948.
The school no longer stands,
but was run by the federal government
when Augustina attended.
As Augustina struggled to learn English,
she says she was punished for speaking in her mother tongue, Muskogee.
I felt it was my fault for breaking the rule.
You know, I just blamed myself.
There were more than 350 government-funded,
church-run residential schools
that Indigenous children were forced to enroll in.
In recent decades, there have been allegations
that physical and sexual abuse took place
at these assimilation schools across the U.S.
Augustina also recalls a fellow student facing consequences
for walking outside of a single-file line
and wonders to this day where she may be.
The matron came, and she took her.
Seemed like she jerked her from back here somewhere
and threw her.
I never saw her after that.
The schools came out of a period that many
consider to be systemic cultural genocide
against Native people,
when colonizers forced tribal nations to relocate from their land.
During the violent relocations, thousands of Native lives were lost.
As the U.S. established itself as a nation,
the government, along with several denominations
of the Christian church, set up schools
for Native children.
General Richard Henry Pratt founded the first
so-called "Indian boarding school" in 1879
under the mission, "Kill the Indian, save the man."
That school served as a model for the hundreds
of assimilation schools that expanded
across the U.S. and into Canada.
They baptized us without our parents' permission.
It was, "Yes, ma'am, no ma'am."
If you didn't follow the rules, you had consequences.
Augustina's granddaughter Vanessa only recently found out about her
grandmother's experience.
She says institutions that operated
the schools have stayed silent for too long.
The church, the government, the mission schools, the Catholic Church,
all of them need to be held responsible.
An apology won't be enough.
People need to be prosecuted.
The large majority of boarding schools closed in the 1970s.
Most school buildings were demolished,
abandoned or turned over to Indigenous tribes.
But the lasting effect of these schools
on the Indigenous population is immeasurable.
Students received a poor academic education,
focusing instead on farming, domestic chores
and reciting prayers.
Today, Native people have a higher unemployment rate
than that of the total American population.
While many survived to share their boarding school experiences,
not all children returned home to tell their stories.
What would you want to say to your brother who may be out somewhere here?
We'll find you, eventually.
He could be anywhere...
one of those stones.
Christine Eagle Feeling has wondered for years where her baby brother lies.
She frequently visits the cemetery at Chilocco Indian School
where she suspects her brother may have been buried.
With records missing, Christine doesn't know his cause of death
and can only rely on information her mother passed on to her.
I wonder what name they gave him
when they buried him.
The Chilocco Indian School
operated under the Bureau of Indian Affairs
and closed down in 1980.
Since then, the alumni have continued
to pay their respects.
We honor them, because they were us.
The alumni gathered their own funds
to use a ground penetrating radar to locate dozens of unmarked graves.
So far, they have identified 67 names through their own investigation.
But with insufficient access to records, they're unsure about the causes of death.
It's an ongoing process.
If this is our brothers and sisters,
we will not abandon this cemetery.
He's out here somewhere.
It'd be nice to know...
Many Native people are seeking answers for the children who didn't make it home.
Are we the last ones?
Yeah.
Augustina and her family joined members of different tribes
to walk 24 miles
in remembrance of the missing children.
And these kids, when they were taken
from their parents, were forced to walk to these schools.
So it's only right that we walk.
We got, we're going to stop traffic if we have to. You're going to listen to us.
The march ended at St.Gregory's Abbey, a Catholic Church that previously ran
a mission boarding school for Native children called Sacred Heart.
The community is asking for an investigation into unmarked graves
on the site of the former school.
No specific allegations have been made against the abbey or school.
But demonstrators from several tribes believe
children died under the church's supervision.
This is where we want them to start.
There are probably lots of children out there.
A priest from the church came out to address the demonstrators.
Can we ask a few questions, why you're out here today?
Not on camera, no.
He later read a statement prepared by the abbot
claiming no knowledge of unmarked graves.
We are unaware of any such unknown burial sites
at the locations of our former missions.
We are prepared to work with others to make sure proper honors have been given.
We followed up with the church's abbot, who says within the month,
he has reached out to tribal leaders
to launch an investigation into unmarked graves in its cemeteries.
As Augustina shared her story of abuse with the crowd,
the priest listened and later approached her.
Father Copelin is not affiliated with the school Augustina attended.
But it was a rare opportunity for the two to talk.
Well, he just said, I'm sorry
that you, you know, I'm sorry that you went through that.
Do you feel like that contributed to your healing at all?
Not really.
Not really. It didn't...
Going to have to be more than an apology, you know.
My healing would be when the federal government,
I want them to stand up and tell the world, this is what we did.
You know, admit it.
The abbey said it's unaware of any records
of children who may have been buried at Sacred Heart.
The lack of records and the difficulty obtaining
those that do exist is a common issue with indigenous boarding schools.
Experts say many documents were intentionally destroyed,
while others are scattered in archives across the country.
We spoke to a reverend who isn't surprised records are missing.
I think the lack of knowledge
and lack of records was intentional
to keep it a secret.
The Methodist Church is one of many denominations
that ran assimilation schools.
Reverend David Wilson represents Native people who belong to the institution.
He's calling on leaders of the church
to learn about its past and make amends with its Native victims.
A large majority have no clue about what's going on with these boarding schools
that probably are in their own areas across the country.
Do you think that's a problem?
That is a big problem.
We continue to have to remind United Methodist Church about who we are.
In 2009, President Obama
signed a resolution apologizing
for past policies toward Native people.
Twelve years later, the first Native Secretary of Interior, Deb Haaland,
is launching an investigation into government-funded assimilation schools.
And the history of those schools still remains largely left out in textbooks.
Attending Carter Seminary changed Augustina's life.
She's still working to forgive herself
for the way it affected how she raised her family.
I love my children.
I love them. But at the same time,
I could not tell them, "I love you."
Because I guess it was never said to us, maybe?
I never felt the love.
You know, I was too busy obeying and marching.
And I feel guilty that that's the way that I was.
After hearing her grandmother's stories, Vanessa is just starting
to process her upbringing.
I had so many questions, you know, as I became an adult.
Why aren't we affectionate?
It's an overwhelming feeling to know that the person who, you know, raised you
had to endure all of this. And then...
And then it just, you know, I felt bad.
I still feel bad.
It helps me understand a lot more.
This is turtles?
Loca? Loja. Loja?
Vanessa and Augustina are proof that the forced assimilation policies failed.
Besides learning Muskogee together, the two, who are part
of the Seminole Nation, attend traditional stomp dances as well.
You have them laced up. You...
Generations of Native people
are coming together to march forward,
seeking to be heard.
When they put Indian people in the ground like that, those are seeds.
They could beat us, abuse us, hurt us, mentally affect us,
but our spirit was still there.
Native people may not immediately receive answers from the government or churches.
But by sharing their stories with the world, former students
like Augustina are embarking on a healing journey of their own,
no longer allowing the past to define them.
I love my children, but I could not ever say, "I love you."
I showed them my love
by doing, by doing for them.
I say to the parents of today: Tell your children you love them.
Mvto [Thank you].
-Mom, Mom!
-Mom, I love you.
I love you too, son.