Indigenous Is

My paternal Indigenous roots. My Grandma Nellie on the far left and my father Jerry on the far right with my uncle Chief Ervin Charleyboy (my father's successor) to the left of him. I think of this picture often as it was taken when my mother arrived to the reservation from the United States and first met my father. My family stuck to their traditions, my grandmother only spoke Tshilqot'in.

Indigenous is not a skin color,
Indigenous is not my nose,
Indigenous is not my eye color,
Indigenous is not my lips,
Indigenous is not romanticizing ancient teachings,
To appropriate,
To disseminate,
To cut to pieces,
And abbreviate in a research document,
Indigenous is removing layers of shame from your ancestors trail,
Indigenous is stepping up to the plate,
Healing and creating a new way for future generations,
Indigenous is standing tall,
Indigenous is standing beautifully,
Indigenous is an honor.

This poem was posted on November 6, 2009 on Anishinaabekwe and I just fell in love with it and wanted to share it. She is a Native American, Two-spirited, feminist, activist writer and has a great blog that she has been working on for over a year and a half.

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