Organic Indigenous
I’m not much different from other Aboriginal women. I have brown eyes, long brown hair, high cheekbones, and I come from the west coast. I grew up mostly on the Gitwangak Reserve in British Columbia, Canada, along Highway 16 near the Alaska Highway Junction, on unceded Gitxsan territory.
I don’t remember everything from my childhood, but I do have beautiful memories of the land and the time spent with my family. I learned our traditions, spirituality, and culture. I was taught that everything is sacred—from before we are born to after we die, including our thoughts, dreams, and all life around us. Our main law is about respecting all life to the best of our ability.
However, I also carry the weight of intergenerational impacts from the Indian Residential School system. There are painful memories filled with trauma and horror. This pain is what Canadian society often labels as PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, along with the mental health struggles that come from these intergenerational impacts.
Statistics tell a harsh story about my community. I am part of the 21% of the male prisoner population and 30% of the female prisoner population in Canada. This means many in my family have faced incarceration. Racism plays a significant role in the high rates of imprisonment among our people. I remember Dr. Sanity’s words about “what real racism looks like,” and it resonates deeply.
The issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women is a grim reality for many of us. Some of my friends and family are on that list. My own daughter has escaped two dangerous situations. Once, she was taken to a farm and locked up, but she managed to break free and run away. Another time, she was picked up by a man in an old blue Ford truck on Highway 16 near Hazelton while heading to Smithers, BC. At first, she thought he was her uncle; he was a Native man in his late 40s with short hair and glasses. He had beer and offered her one, and in her peripheral vision, she saw him drop something into her drink. He claimed to have gone to residential school and said his family never claimed him back, living now in Prince George and traveling to Prince Rupert for work. He talked a lot, but when they reached Smithers, he didn’t seem to want to stop. My daughter quickly said, “There’s my granny! I have to get out here or she will get mad!” The door didn’t have a handle on the inside, and the window wouldn’t roll down all the way, so she reached through the small opening and opened the door from the outside. While the truck was still running, she jumped out and ran for safety.
High unemployment is another challenge we face. Many Aboriginal people struggle to find jobs and often aren’t part of a union because they can’t get hired in the first place. The lack of education is a big part of this struggle. Not all of us receive funding from the Indian Band, and there’s always someone with more privilege—more education, more experience, and stronger networks. Those with white skin privilege may have an easier time, but not always; many of us are left fighting for opportunities.
The list of intergenerational impacts from colonization and the ongoing struggle against the genocide we experience goes on and on. But despite everything, we Gitxsan are still here. We continue to survive and thrive, holding onto our spirituality, our matriarchal laws, our traditions, and our culture. We are resilient, and we honor the strength of our ancestors as we move forward.