'Other' Aboriginal

I have said it before, I’ve even written it before, I struggle with identity.

Who am I?

White, Red, Pink? English, Metis, Cree, Mohawk?

I was recently reading over a report by the Government of Alberta which categorized Aboriginal people living in the province as consisting of First Nations, Metis, Inuit and ‘Other’.

And there you have it. That’s me. If I really have to define myself, and for some reason I do, this is me.

‘Other’ Aboriginal.

It’s not too catchy and it doesn’t command the status of First Nation or Metis or Inuit but for me, I finally feel like I found a spot, written out in black and white and formalized by the government.

My struggle with identity is a reflection of me, a piece of a larger challenge of self-acceptance, worthiness and ultimately love. I’ve tried all different ways of fitting in. I tried to wish away my blue eyes. I grew my hair. I took every Aboriginal university class I could. I read books authored by Aboriginal writers. I attended Cree language classes when I was told that understanding language was fundamental to understanding culture. I’ve attended ceremonies and community events. I lived on reserve. I spent my whole career working with Aboriginal people, communities and organizations. I married a status man and birthed two status children.

And most of the time, if I am really, brutally honest, I shut off the inner part of me, the knowing part of me. In my quest to be good enough I shut off the part of me that provides guidance and assurance, the part that kicks in warnings to stop and step away.

I heeded the words of others and the teachings of others because I thought:

WHO THE FUCK AM I? Little white girl. Who am I to question the authority of others in a place where I have no authority? 

And after all of these years of struggle, I am choosing instead to surrender. I’m letting go. I am going to stop defining. I am going to stop paining myself to find the answer. Because there is no one way of being an Aboriginal woman. When I connect with Creator we speak the same language because I came from Creator and because I am Creator. Because no language can truly capture the essence of spirit. It is unspeakable.

But it is feelable. However you feel it. Whether it is out in nature or in the giggle of your children, or with a group of friends. That is what has become more important to me.

To feel and to trust.

Because here`s the thing. I am enough.

If I only speak English. I am enough
If I never attend another ceremony. I am enough.
If I never work on a reserve or with another Aboriginal community for the rest of my life. I am enough.

ENOUGH. ENOUGH. ENOUGH.

In my career I`ve heard it over and over and over again.

Our youth today struggle because they don`t really know who they are.

True? Maybe. I’d hazard a guess that its not just the youth who are struggling.

Maybe we should all start with ENOUGH.

You are enough. Right where you are. Right in the middle of all of the glorious fucked upness you find yourself in (or not).

You, my friend, are enough.