Laws of Matriarch

Today is going to be really great; I’ll be gathering with some women to pray together. There’s a special energy that flows when we come together, sharing our hearts and intentions. I used to visit Musqueam often to join the healing group led by Jeri Sparrow. Those gatherings were incredibly healing for me, especially after my son passed away. Being surrounded by women who focused on traditional healing helped me navigate my grief, and I truly miss that sense of community. I also participated in the Sun Dance, even though it’s not my own tradition. My dad taught me to learn about other traditions as a sign of respect, but he always reminded me to hold onto my own identity. Gitxsan spirituality is rooted in simplicity; we believe that the spirit of the Creator is within us and around us. Every thought we have is a prayer, a way to connect with the world. We respect all spirits and all forms of life because our ancestors walk with us every day, and each moment is sacred. My grandfather a...

The bear with the tongue hanging out of its mouth is not what you think.  Gather around, and let me share a story that carries the weight of our history, a tale that speaks of resilience and survival. Many people do not understand the significance of the tongue, often mistaking it as merely a feature of the bear. But there is much more to this story, one that we must keep alive as our Aboriginal stories, culture, and beliefs are too often appropriated for the profit of others. In our tradition, totem poles are read from the bottom up, with the tribe usually depicted at the base. It is important to note that the Gitxsan do not have a bear tribe. Instead, the bear symbolizes Russia, a powerful force that once threatened our lands. Long ago, the West Coast nations—including the Gitxsan, Nisga'a, Haida, and others—joined together to stand against Russia when they began to claim our traditional territories and take our people as slaves. Among those who suffered was a woman from th...

Not too long ago, I spoke at a community meeting about how public health services are not accessible to those who are poor, and even less accessible to Aboriginal people, specifically status Indians. There’s this ongoing myth that people living on reserves have more rights, but the truth is, we are still governed by the Indian Act, both on and off reserve. When we’re off reserve, we are seen as less Indian and have fewer rights. We talk about self-determination, but that self-determination is often dictated by Canadian courts and the government. Our identity as a people is defined by the government, unlike other groups—Chinese are considered Chinese, Asians are seen as Asians, and French people are just that. But for us, our identity is tied to the Indian Act. Even though we are granted some human rights, the reality is that we still don’t fully experience them. Any changes to the Indian Act have to go through the courts, and only a limited number of Aboriginal cases can be heard at a ...

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 intergener...

The term 'matriarch' is a new word that’s been introduced to describe women who hold some kind of status in the community. It's a word I’ve never heard in my life, and neither has my mother. There are also phrases like 'grassroots' that seem to attempt to define what we already know, often with good intentions but sometimes leading to results that feel oppressive. In Gitxsan culture, the concept of matriarch is already woven into the fabric of our lives. We honor our mothers and follow their guidance. Children belong to their mothers, and if the mother is Gitxsan, then the child is Gitxsan. Our respect for mothers runs deep; it is a fundamental part of who we are. Every Gitxsan person, except for those who are adopted, has the right and responsibility to speak for their house, tribe, and nation. In our community, we believe in a holistic way of living where no one is elevated above the others, and no one is left behind. Yet, we've seen new terms introduced that ...

Many Aboriginal people have stepped forward to apply for the Indian Residential School Independent Settlement. In my family, I stand alone as the only one who was not taken against my will. I can only imagine the horror of a child being dragged into a car, abducted and violated. It makes me wonder, why is this behavior so accepted in Canadian society when the child is Aboriginal? It seems to me that it’s rooted in that “as long as it’s them and not me” mentality. For many in my family, talking about what happened in the Indian Residential Schools is a painful process. It doesn’t feel real until you know someone who has lived through that experience, until you see the tears of pain and shame in their eyes. Some have survived and have worked hard to share their traditional knowledge, while others have been consumed by their pain, some even lost to death. If you love someone who has been taken against their will, raped, beaten, or starved, you might begin to grasp the depth of the sufferi...

Last year, I sat in a class and listened to a woman speak about something heavy on her heart—a reporter, much like herself. She shared the story of the missing women, especially those taken from our communities. There was a man in Nanaimo, accused of harming Aboriginal women, and she was set to interview him.  As she approached his home, fear crept in. She stood at the door, her heart racing, hearing noises from inside. When the door finally opened, she felt a chill but pushed through, starting her questions. He answered her, and for a moment, it seemed okay. But then, she caught sight of a young Aboriginal girl in the background, and she breathed a sigh of relief. In her mind, she thought, “He only targets our women, so I am safe.”  This woman’s feelings reflect many in society. She is a public figure, but I am one of those women at risk—my daughter and granddaughter are too. Just thinking about the possibility of my child facing violence from someone who hates Aboriginal wom...