Daughter:
Do you wish you were more Cree Mom?
Me: Sometimes.
Daughter: Maybe if you just spent a little more time in the sun.
If only it were that easy. I’ve struggled with my identity for most of my life.
Who am I? Really, at the heart of me, who am I?
The product of my First Nation, status card holding Dad (who happens to be light skinned and green eyed and obviously not 100% Native), and my French/English/lordknowswhatelse Mother. Raised in small town Alberta. I’ve always longed to come home. To find the peace of connection.
Me: Sometimes.
Daughter: Maybe if you just spent a little more time in the sun.
If only it were that easy. I’ve struggled with my identity for most of my life.
Who am I? Really, at the heart of me, who am I?
The product of my First Nation, status card holding Dad (who happens to be light skinned and green eyed and obviously not 100% Native), and my French/English/lordknowswhatelse Mother. Raised in small town Alberta. I’ve always longed to come home. To find the peace of connection.
I know it's inside of me. I know no one can give it to me but
me. I know it will only come when I fully embrace who I am. But its been a long road to get here.
At one point in my life I was actually considered Métis, I even had a card to prove it. And then some of the rules changed and I no longer qualified. I get it. My family is from a reserve, not a settlement and maybe you need to draw the line somewhere?
But I have to say that card gave me some space to breathe, some proof that I thought I needed.
So who am I? I have no legal entitlement to status. I actually don’t have a land base either. All I have is this deep desire within me to connect.
The thing is it’s a connection to all of me. An honouring of every part of who I am.
When I first started my spiritual journey my Grandmother appeared to me in a dream. We only know each other in the Spirit realm. She was a little Kokum and she hugged me close and stroked my hair and told me I belonged to her. I knew it was because I was struggling. I needed my little Native Grandma to come to me, to hold me, to give me a sense of belonging. I needed her to breathe her love into me.
And then my maternal Grandma came. And she came in strong. Stormed in actually, broke a few dishes to get my attention, but that’s another story. Maybe she was pissed off that I’d been yearning so much to be Native enough that I’d forgotten who I am. I am a mixture. And this Grandma is important. She witnessed my childhood from her house up the street and had been my first connection to the wildness of Spirit. She’s always here. Guiding me. Loving me. A constant source of strength. How could I deny her? Why would I deny her? How could I pretend her impact on my life was any less because she happened to be English? How could I dishonour her?
And in the process dishonour myself. We can't cut away pieces of ourselves, that's not the way it works.
Who am I?
I am Teresa. I am a woman. I am a Mother, Sister, Aunty and Friend. I am English, French, Cree, Mohawk, Métis and likely a bunch else. I am Human. I am Spirit. I am so much more than any label could ever describe.
I am me. And I am ready to come home.
At one point in my life I was actually considered Métis, I even had a card to prove it. And then some of the rules changed and I no longer qualified. I get it. My family is from a reserve, not a settlement and maybe you need to draw the line somewhere?
But I have to say that card gave me some space to breathe, some proof that I thought I needed.
So who am I? I have no legal entitlement to status. I actually don’t have a land base either. All I have is this deep desire within me to connect.
The thing is it’s a connection to all of me. An honouring of every part of who I am.
When I first started my spiritual journey my Grandmother appeared to me in a dream. We only know each other in the Spirit realm. She was a little Kokum and she hugged me close and stroked my hair and told me I belonged to her. I knew it was because I was struggling. I needed my little Native Grandma to come to me, to hold me, to give me a sense of belonging. I needed her to breathe her love into me.
And then my maternal Grandma came. And she came in strong. Stormed in actually, broke a few dishes to get my attention, but that’s another story. Maybe she was pissed off that I’d been yearning so much to be Native enough that I’d forgotten who I am. I am a mixture. And this Grandma is important. She witnessed my childhood from her house up the street and had been my first connection to the wildness of Spirit. She’s always here. Guiding me. Loving me. A constant source of strength. How could I deny her? Why would I deny her? How could I pretend her impact on my life was any less because she happened to be English? How could I dishonour her?
And in the process dishonour myself. We can't cut away pieces of ourselves, that's not the way it works.
Who am I?
I am Teresa. I am a woman. I am a Mother, Sister, Aunty and Friend. I am English, French, Cree, Mohawk, Métis and likely a bunch else. I am Human. I am Spirit. I am so much more than any label could ever describe.
I am me. And I am ready to come home.
