The bones, too. Eat the bones too. Eat the leaves of strawberries; do not bite the fruit off and throw the rest away as if the plant grew itself with the intention of being easier for human hands. Soft salmon... Continue Reading →
I wrote a feature for the November 2016 issue of Red Rising Magazine, a publication run by and for Indigenous people, based in Winnipeg. On land and language: "Our languages and lands were made for love. We have wide skies,... Continue Reading →
As the doctor empties a third needle into my face to temporarily freeze the colonial eye twitch I’ll endure the rest of my life, she chirps, “It’s great that you started this procedure so young: you’ll never get wrinkles!”
Poetry gives me freedom, sometimes. Sometimes forces me into shapes, corners, feminities that are stunning, suffocating And deliciously dishonest. Once I said I wanted my writing to taste good served with misâskwatômina, like sweet berries. Like the only way Native women are... Continue Reading →
Shame is the reaction requested when they look you in the mouth and say, “lost her language”, but I know language well enough to pinpoint each time it's lost instead of stole, and that my shame alone cannot build homes or sustain bodies.
What truths would be written if academics weren't afraid of losing their jobs? What truths would be written if you followed through, in practice, the type of sovereignty and decolonization you theorize in journals? All the times I've heard some version of "I'm... Continue Reading →