Dibaajimowin: Storytelling
The Denial of Genocide is in and of itself Genocide
As I am writing, my chest tightens, barely giving room for an exploding heart of emotions ranging on a spectrum of rage, distress, and defeat. Despite spending the last few weeks giving interview after interview, answering questions and providing a synopsis of the IRS in laymen’s terms, it seems to fall on deaf ears. Those listening instruments attached to the genocide apologist, the one with selective hearing, the one who completely denies every truth, every body that is uncovered, every day since the first discovery at Kamloops Indian Residential School.
Acts of Great Self-Love: Healing, Wellness & Biimaadiziwin
One of the strangest realities that I’ve come to understand about becoming a lawyer, and a premise and result of living in a capitalist society, is that you learn how to be a high-functioning professional - even when your life is falling apart.
I thought I had it figured out - my healing path. Being an over-achiever, I figured this was just another task I could conquer and excel at. As turns it out, that is a hilariously unrealistic assumption. I stumbled along the way, responding to crisis as it occurred and relying on coping mechanisms that I had developed over a lifetime - some that worked, others that didn't. I am lucky, in the sense that I've had a lot of role modeling in my life. My parents and family overcame adversity and trauma, leaning into our culture as a source of healing and wellness, and instilled me a strong sense of Anishinaabe identity that I've been able to call on and ground myself with. I will never take for granted the tools that were given to me to live a good life, Biimaadiziiwin.
Of course, life is hard, and it is completely out of our control. I grieved over my own as it took unexpected turns. I lost irreplaceable people to death, suicide and relationship breakdowns, and it left me spiraling.
Gizhiiwekweg: Women Who Speak Clearly With A Strong Voice
My stint in law school brought me to a circle of minds that helps me stay the path. Survival of the sisterhood has never been more important to my well-being than it is now. Respectably labelled the “shit disturbers”, the legal world was not ready for our arrival. Through every trial and tribulation (pun intended), we are stronger together. We lift each other up, using laughter and love as medicine. We speak clearly and with a strong voice.
Never a dull moment with any of these women, it’s time you met them all.
Coming For Everything Our Ancestors Were Denied: Indigenous Lawmakers Forging Pathways Ahead
I remember clearly the day I was with a Survivor, sitting amid the raw emotions that filled the space between us after we filled out their IAP form (the Independent Assessment Process was for claims involving sexual and physical abuse). It was July 2012, just months away from the September 19th deadline for Survivors to submit their claims. I had just finished explaining the next steps of the process, recommending that they find a lawyer to assist them with what would be a difficult journey. The Survivor asked, “Are you a lawyer?”
“No, I’m just a form filler,” I responded with regret. It pained me to inform Survivors that a relationship we had so quickly established was limited to filling out a form. I wanted to walk alongside them every step of the way so they didn’t feel alone in a system that I knew would re-traumatize their precious inner child. My role was to assist them in what was often the hardest first step. Beyond that, I didn’t have the credentials or job title to guide the process further.
We were holding hands. They squeezed mine a bit tighter. “I wish you could be my lawyer. We need more Anishinaabe people doing this work.”
Boujee Aunties and the Resurgence of Indigenous Matriarchy
We all have that one Aunty.
She shows up to every event or family gathering fully decked out in fox fur and head-to-toe beadwork, just asking to be roasted by her relatives for “acting good”.
She’s the one who buys you make-up and fancy hand bags that you can’t afford, because you’re only 12 years old and probably eat flavoured Lip Smackers for fun.
She will tell you to smarten up without hesitation when you’re acting up but keep all of your deepest, darkest secrets on lock.
She will answer the phone at 3 AM whether you’re having a meltdown or stranded at some after-party fighting off all of your distant relatives who claim, “We’re only cousins until midnight!”
She loves you fiercely and unconditionally and will be one of the first to say, “That’s my baby!” after every minor and major accomplishment in your life.
Aunties are raising the next generation of the Indigenous resistance to be proud and unapologetic and they’re doing it with sass and ferociousness. To all the Aunties out there doing the damn thing: I salute you and say,
“Long Live the Matriarchy.”