Strength, pride and indignation

I was born to a strong, proud, indignant Indigenous woman. She came from a long line of strong, proud, indignant Indigenous women. They spent their whole lives fighting to ensure we, as Indigenous people, inherited a kinder, gentler world. They had powerful voices and principles. These are my foremothers and I like to think they succeeded in their fight.

Because of their work I’m allowed to dream in ways that my grandparents, great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents never could. But I also understand that as a man walking through this world, my dreams are more accessible.

I’ve never fielded questions at job interviews about whether or not I intended to have children in the near future. I’ve never walked an empty street at night with house keys clenched in my hand like brass knuckles. I’ve been welcomed with open arms to the boys-clubs that exist in every institution and workplace. I’ve been compensated for my time to the same tune as my male colleagues and never expected to prove myself because of an extra X chromosome.

I recently found out that I’m going to be the father of an Indigenous girl. The prevailing thought in my head since receiving this news is that my one-and-only mission in this world is to protect her as she grows into a woman. But I cannot protect my daughter from everything. There will be times that I know I will fail in this mission.

When I was 10, the mother of a non-Indigenous friend told me, “Don’t worry, you’re not like the rest of them.” An early mentor asked me if I was one of those “city Indians?” I’ve lived an easier life than my ancestors, but have still been targeted, ridiculed and rejected because I’m the son of a strong, proud, indignant Indigenous woman.

I can’t insulate my daughter from the casual, institutionalized and entrenched racism that she’ll face because I’m her father. I can’t hold her hand through most of these experiences. I can, however, give her tools to meet these challenges.

To do that, I have to become stronger. We all do. I have to learn to meet these challenges in a way that would make my ancestors proud.

There are times that act as if we’re not a proud people. I’ve done it. I’ve been polite when I should have been indignant. I’ve hidden in plain sight. But I realize that the time for politeness is over. This is our land, not because we own it but because we come from it. It’s not ownership that guides us but responsibility. And it is time that the people we share it with realize that too.

As Indigenous people, we have to be strong, proud and indignant to ensure our children don’t have to face all the things we’ve faced, and that starts with our voice. This is what my mother taught me.