Patrick Pine Is My Father

     Years ago I joined Ancestry and it's been quite the ride. It all started when I decided to find out more about my biological father, Patrick Pine. I never met the man. All I knew was he was an Ojibway Native from Cutler, Ontario. My Mom refused to speak about him and the rest of her family kept quiet. I always felt that it was a dirty little secret that stained the Mousseau name. It wasn't the fact that my mother married a Native man that brought shame to the family. It was because my mother had two children while she was married to him that were not his. There's a name for that.

      Growing up with Mom wasn't a great life. The woman was a mean, vicious alcoholic who took her anger out on me. Patrick was always my one ray of sunshine, he was my Dad. I have only one picture of him that I stole from my mother and when things got really bad I would hide away and hold that picture close to my heart. I would dream that he would come and rescue me and take me back to his village and make me an Indian princess. Then life would be good. Oh the dreams of a child.

     Life never did get better with Mom but I survived. She's gone now and to be honest, I don't miss her. The only gift the woman gave me was the strength to survive and make a better life for myself.

     As for Patrick, the man I never knew, he gave me so much more. He gave me a dream. All through my life I studied the Native culture. I read everything I could find, which wasn't much back in the 60's and most of that was very derogatory. The 90's when computers arrived on the scene was amazing. I was able to find articles written by actual Natives instead of the white man's version. I studied their culture, their belief systems, their stories and it brought back the dreams of a child who so wanted to belong to something. As a woman I felt as if I had no past, no connections, no home. Suddenly I felt a bit of hope.

     In 1989 I applied for my status card and received it a few months later in 1990. I was ecstatic. I didn't get full status but that was okay. It gave me a sense of pride. I had something material that told me who I was. My mother was so angry with me but I didn't care. Now I had history. I had a past and maybe even family that might want me someday.

     In 2014 I applied to Garden River Reserve, Patrick's birth place, for full status. A year later Ancestry came out with DNA testing and I think I was one of the first to get tested. While I was waiting for my test results I received a letter telling me I had received full status with Garden River. I can't begin to tell you the feeling that went through me at that moment. A couple of weeks later my DNA tests came back. I had less than 2% Native blood running through my veins. Patrick was not my father. How could this be? Did they make a mistake? In a few short minutes my dreams were washed a way and once again I was homeless. For once in my mother's life she had actually told the truth.

    I spoke with someone from the reserve because I felt I should return my status card. I explained the situation. Patrick signed my birth certificate, my baptismal papers from the church, and he registered me with his reserve. He was married to my mother but he was not my biological father. She told me that basically Patrick had adopted me and as far as they were concerned I was Native and always would be regardless of the color of my skin. Patrick wanted out of the marriage so he could move on with his life and that's the only way Mom would grant him a divorce. I was devastated.

     I've come to accept that I may never know who my real family is and that's okay. I've lived this long without it and I'll survive the rest of my life not knowing. Even though I never met Patrick and he's not my father, he gave me the biggest gift of all. He gave me a past. He gave me a culture I can be proud of. His ancestors gave me the strength to survive when the odds were totally against me and I couldn't find my way. His history taught me to pray to the Creator and to have faith. His culture taught me to respect the land and to use it wisely. His spirit taught me to be proud of who I am and how to stand up for what I believe in. His ways taught me to pass my knowledge on to my children and my grand-children. He gave me his name, something I can be proud to own.

     Patrick Pine is my father and I will always be thankful for what he gave me. He gave me a history when I thought I had no past. That is the truest gift any father can give a daughter.