On September 30, 2025, Canadians and many across North America will don orange shirts, gather in reflection, and remember a painful legacy that continues to reverberate through generations. The National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, first formally recognized as a national holiday in 2021, stands as a testament to the growing acknowledgment of the horrors and lasting impacts of the Indian residential school system in Canada. But it is also a day that calls attention to similar, often overlooked, histories in the United States—histories marked by loss, resilience, and a collective search for healing.
The origins of this day are deeply personal. According to The Huffington Post, the roots of Orange Shirt Day stretch back to 1973, when Phyllis Webstad, a six-year-old from the Stswecem’c Xgat’tem First Nation, arrived at St. Joseph Mission residential school proudly wearing a new orange shirt gifted by her grandmother. The shirt was taken from her immediately—a symbolic act in a system designed to strip Indigenous children of their identities, languages, and cultures. Phyllis’s story would later inspire the Orange Shirt movement, which began as a grassroots campaign in 2013 and quickly grew into a national commemoration of the survivors and victims of residential schools. The simple phrase, "Every Child Matters," emblazoned on orange shirts, has become a rallying cry for remembrance and change.
The impact of these schools is staggering. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), established in 2008, spent seven years documenting testimonies and evidence. Its 2015 Final Report concluded that the Canadian government’s attempt to forcibly assimilate Indigenous children through 140 residential schools amounted to cultural genocide. The commission’s work brought to light not just the stories of trauma and abuse, but also the intergenerational scars that persist. In a particularly harrowing revelation, ACCORDING TO LIZ reported that in May 2021, the remains of 215 children were uncovered at the Kamloops Indian Residential School, sparking further investigations that would uncover over 1,800 graves at other sites by September that year.
For many, these findings were not a surprise, but a confirmation of what Indigenous communities had long known and mourned. The TRC’s summary release marked a pivotal moment for journalists and storytellers alike. As one reporter from The Huffington Post recounted, "My first week as a journalist was the same week the Truth and Reconciliation Commission released the summary of its Final Report. I was twenty-two, a recent graduate of a university named after Christopher Columbus." The author, a member of the Canim Lake Band Tsq’escen in British Columbia, shared a personal connection to these histories: their father was born at St. Joseph’s Mission and abandoned in a trash incinerator as an infant—a stark illustration of the cruelty embedded in the system.
Yet, amid the grief, there is resilience. The Orange Shirt movement has become a vehicle for both remembrance and revitalization. Artists like Jenny Kay Dupuis, an Anishinaabe member of Nipissing First Nation, have used their talents to foster dialogue and healing. This year, Dupuis designed "Hearts in Harmony," the official Orange Shirt Day T-shirt for Winners and Marshalls Canada. The shirt, as described by CBC News, features Grandmother Moon watching over children, with a crane, turtle, and fish representing truth, resilience, and intergenerational connection. Forget-me-not flowers on a bear’s head honor those lost to residential schools. "We’re at a time and space right now where we’re listening to those voices of the residential school survivors, their families and communities," Dupuis said, reflecting on her own grandmother’s experience as a survivor.
Other Indigenous artists have also been central to this movement. Brooklyn Rudolph, a member of Pimicikamak Cree Nation, designed a shirt for Walmart Canada, with proceeds supporting the Orange Shirt Society and the Indian Residential School Survivors Society. Her design, inspired by her grandparents who attended Guy Hill Residential School, features two children holding hands beneath a star and an eagle. "If there’s one thing that my grandpa always told my family was to share love. So I really wanted to include that teaching," she explained to CBC News. Rudolph’s art has become a means of reclaiming identity and bridging communities, "bringing truth and reconciliation to people far and wide and allowing them to stand with us on our healing journeys."
The movement has also prompted reflection and action from non-Indigenous Canadians and institutions. In 2023, Ottawa declared September 30 a statutory holiday for federal employees, and several provinces followed suit. Corporate collaborations with Indigenous artists have helped amplify the message, with proceeds supporting organizations dedicated to survivor support and education. The late Pope Francis’s 2022 pilgrimage of penance to Canada and the Catholic Church’s 2023 repudiation of the Doctrine of Discovery marked significant—if symbolic—steps in acknowledging institutional roles in these tragedies, as reported by ACCORDING TO LIZ.
But the story does not end at the 49th parallel. The United States, too, has a long and painful history of forcibly assimilating Native children. From 1860 to 1978, more than 350 Indian boarding schools operated across 30 states, "educating" over 60,000 Native children, according to ACCORDING TO LIZ. These schools, often run by Christian missionaries and government agencies, imposed harsh discipline, banned Indigenous languages, and sought to "kill the Indian in him, and save the man," as Carlisle Indian School founder Richard Henry Pratt infamously declared. Children were given Anglo names, their hair was cut, and they were subjected to physical and emotional abuse. Many died from neglect, disease, or mistreatment, their deaths often concealed from families and their graves left unmarked.
The legacy of these schools is visible in the ongoing struggles faced by Indigenous communities: high rates of poverty, mental health challenges, disrupted family bonds, and persistent stereotypes. Educational disparities remain stark, with Native students in the U.S. disproportionately suspended and more likely to drop out of school. As one Seneca Nation member and walk organizer, Kevin Nephew, put it, "The journey toward healing is long and difficult. Even now, decades after the residential school doors finally closed, there are generations of Native people who still carry pain and darkness with them every day because of what they experienced at the schools."
Yet, across North America, Indigenous peoples and their allies are reclaiming traditions, telling their stories, and demanding recognition. From powwow circuits and documentary filmmaking—such as the Academy Award–nominated "Sugarcane," which investigates abuses and missing children at St. Joseph’s Mission—to the creation of new literature in the form of traditional Coyote stories, storytelling itself has become a force for healing. As the Huffington Post journalist reflected, "In the wake of near total cultural annihilation, Indigenous peoples are now bringing back what was taken. Not only because our ways, like the Coyote stories, were nearly wiped off the face of the earth. But because our traditions have always gotten the stories of this land right."
As the world marks another National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, the orange shirts serve as both a symbol of loss and a beacon of hope. The journey toward justice and healing is far from over, but each act of remembrance, each story told, and each child honored brings us one step closer to a future where every child truly matters.