Written and produced by Shibastik

Originally recorded in 2006 as a mixtape track, this new version of Hurt People has a new sound and a new chorus.

"Hurt people hurt people
That's truth
They tried to cut our roots when they took our youth
I refuse to call them schools
They were more like prisons
They said "Thou shall not steal" then stole are children
Torture chambers and forced religion
They said "Thou shall not steal"
Then they stole our children"

This is a song about the intergenerational effects of residential schools in Indigenous communities. Addressing the cycle of pain, anger and confusion that started in these institutions, Hurt People tells the story of our youth today as they struggle to connect the past to the present, and the present to the past.

For 150 years the Canadian government stole Indigenous children from their homes and forced them into concentration camps they called schools. Parents who refused to let their children be taken were imprisoned and the children apprehended anyway.

The image in this video is the burning of St. Anne's residential school rectory. St. Anne's was located in Fort Albany, ON, only 155 km north of Shibastik's home town of Moosonee, ON. It was at this 'school' that an electric chair was used not only to punish, but also to entertain staff and visitors. There are many horror stories left to be told, and they need to be told. This story told in Hurt People ends the way too many have ended for our youth. Our northern reserves have the highest suicide rates in the world. They also have our most traditional elders and our language and culture is still alive and thriving in many very, very happy homes. The difference is most likely whether or not kokum and moochum went to residential school.

"I personally spoke with a very old Ojibway man who said that he had to witness 9 of his best friends beaten to death in front of the classroom because the teacher heard them whispering in their language. He remembered very clearly the trail of blood on the floor behind the bodies as they were dragged away. Little 7 and 8 year old bodies. Our people are still suffering from PTSD on a massive scale. We're hurting, and we're hurting each other, but we're also healing, and we're still here. Many are not. This song is for them, as well as for those still here living with the pain. Years ago, at a youth justice conference in Kenora, I performed this song in front of a hall full of youth corrections workers, police officers, lawyers, P.O.'s and other professionals who work in youth justice. During my performance of this song, an elder got up and walked over to the table at the front where she had her bundle. She filled and lit up a smudge bowl and came over and proceeded to smudge myself and the stage while I performed. Afterwards, when I was being thanked and presented with a gift, she stood and asked for the microphone. I will never forget her words. She looked my it the eyes and said "Thank you. For the first time in 90 years, I can stand up again. I thought that nobody cared." I that moment my heart both broke and soared at the same time. I can not explain the feeling. Validation? Encouragement? Confirmation that I was on the right path? No, even bigger than all of that. There are no words, but it forever changed me." ~ Shibastik