First of all, I fell in love with your deep boreal-born hands and all the things they create. So I became a lover again for the first time, you, my beloved anew, I, amazed by the shapes you carve and sketch with a care far beyond settler state celebration of firsts and onlys. Weaving your… Continue reading Görvik
Aunty said when I’m her age, I’ll only remember the important, the beautiful, the good things, and the rest won't matter; only the moments of hot sun ecstasies they laid at my doorstep as gifts. Separate from the heartbreak which they could not help, which could not be any other way, which cannot be undone but forgive them anyway or don’t. If you can’t.
...some days, we wish for no different than what we have in front of us. The soil we hold in our hands, the hands we hold in ours, the rocks stuck in our shoes, caught in the warm summer rain in a jean jacket: this is what I know of the land. Not the scientific names of flowers, but the way they make me feel. This is a reminder that many days we want for no more.
Tenille helped me become more comfortable in my own skin at a time when my self-esteem was fragile. I've had a lot of media photos and headshots where the photographers would lighten my skin, airbrush away the features that make me visibly Cree, or simply not understand how to photograph Indigenous women in a consensual, empowering way.
"Indigenous women and girls — especially those on reserve and in rural communities — face barriers to accessing basic health care; and yes, access to abortions is a necessary part of the basic health care package that we deserve."
When I am old, I will tell you I remember dancing. I remember morning ceremonies at the Squamish, xʷməθkʷəy̓əm, Tsleil-Waututh waterfronts, shutting down malls in amiskwaciwâskahikan, organizing all night in Iqaluit, and the Chief setting up camp by that funny little concrete flame.
"There have always been divergent stories of "home" in Canada. Mythic, pluralistic Glowing Hearts, on one hand, oppressive Home on Native land, on the other. In the former, symbols dominate: empty wigwams and tipis because they don't speak back to paternalism; sacred stories removed from their keepers to prevent carrying the memories of our worlds into the… Continue reading The Wigwam Conspiracy (CBC Canada 2017)
I wrote a feature for the fabulous GUTS Canadian Feminist Magazine's issue 7: Love, titled In Defense of the Wastelands: A Survival Guide: "...for those of us in the wastelands - for those of us who are the wastelands - caring for each other is refusing a definition of worthiness that will never include us." "To provide… Continue reading In Defense of the Wastelands (GUTS Magazine)
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 vertebrae melting into my jaw like warm chalk, and taking bitter green with the sweet… Continue reading Bones
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, northern lights, and thousands of chokecherry bushes to duck behind. I know it’s taboo, but… Continue reading Red Rising Magazine: Land, Language and Decolonial Love