Laws of Matriarch

Here’s the article of the day: "All Indians Are Dead" - Indian Country. For a long time, I didn’t think much about it. I kept hearing stories about Indians who once existed, as if they were just figures in the past. I never knew anything different until I left the Indian Reserve for Vancouver.  My son’s dad opened my eyes to the truth—we are still here, and we are still practicing our laws and traditions.  At first, I learned about the smudge, a powerful ritual for cleansing and connection. Then, I was taken to a sweat lodge. I was shocked! This is it! This is happening! We still do this!  The sweat lodge I attended was different from how the Gitxsan use them. For us, the lodge was a place for emotional healing; in our tradition, we would use it to remove the human scent before going out to hunt. We don’t just go somewhere to pray; we believe that the Creator is within us and with us always. Every thought is a prayer. We would also fast in the mountains to learn respect f...

If this were written from a white man’s perspective, it might look something like this: I’m not sure if we discussed the electronics. I’ve been trying to call my granddaughter D’s cellphone, the one I bought her as per court order, but every time I call, it goes straight to voicemail. D says it’s because they never charge it, and it just sits in a drawer. I would like to have the Samsung tablet and Motorola cellphone returned, since D will never be allowed to use them to contact her biological family—me, her brother E, and her relatives. Instead, I hear her stepmother and stepsister use the tablet most of the time. These devices cost a lot, and I’m now stuck in a cellphone plan that I thought would be respected. I believed the judge when he said this court order would actually mean something.  It feels like D’s stepdad has gotten away with kidnapping my granddaughter. He’s lied to the court, his family, and the community. Only my family knows the truth because we know who my daug...

Last night, I dreamt of a new cousin, young and handsome, full of life. He came to visit as we were settling down for the night, and he asked if we had any fish for supper.  In that moment, I remembered my grandfather and his teachings about respecting all spirits. He would share stories with me, always speaking in a way that connected our past to the present. My elders are always there, guiding me with their wisdom, reminding me of our traditions and the importance of our connections. My grandfather, Auto Moto, always had soup simmering on the stove, and he would feed his huskies first, for they were the protectors of our family. Many think that Aboriginal spirituality requires Fire and Lightning, but the truth is, it is woven into our very being, passed down through generations. It flows in our blood, teaching us to respect all spirits, all forms of life, and especially our Mothers. I took a moment to reflect, and then I remembered I had oolichans in the freezer. I rushed to get...

What would you do if your daughter’s boyfriend took your grandchild, the one you have court-ordered guardianship over? Imagine that child being alienated, lost in a world where no amount of reasoning or court process could bring them back to their biological family.   With the new Family Law Act, the biological family seems to have no rights. A stepfather can take a child and cut them off from their true family, claiming parentage without any bloodline connection. This is the reality we face. The abductor, the one the child has come to know as a parent, suddenly holds all the rights, while we, the biological family, are left powerless.   From what I've seen in courtrooms in Vancouver and Terrace, this practice is rampant, even if the definition of 'parent' doesn’t align with what we know to be true. It’s happening now, and it feels like a storm is brewing.   Even when I’ve had a lawyer, my arguments—backed by evidence—have not been enough to regain custody. Without privil...

I love myself, deep and true,   Though you may not see it just by view.   As strong as any, I stand my ground,   A warrior's spirit in my heart is found.   Crafted by trials, we rise and survive,   From the shadows of genocide, we strive.   In Vancouver's streets, I learned to blend,   Guided by programs, with support to lend.   Navigating a world that often feels strange,   I embraced my identity, refusing to change.   Through it all, I’ve found my grace,   A reflection of strength, in every space.   I urge you to see the beauty in us,   In acceptance and love, let there be trust.   Together we rise, our stories ignite,   In unity and power, we shine so bright.  I love myself deeply, though you might not see it just by looking at me. I’m as strong and resilient as any other Indigenous person. We were crafted by the trials of our ancestors, survivors of genocide, and that strength runs through my veins. I sp...

I had a dream, a vision woven with the threads of our struggle to protect the land, a path that carries a heavy cost. I saw the faces of many, and I knew that lives may be lost in this fight. In my dream, there was a white woman, self-absorbed and ignorant, who clung to the lie of the Indian Act—that we are lesser, that we are children who should remain wards of the state. This is the belief held by her people. I watched as she fell, a harsh lesson written in the fabric of the dream. We will face great loss, but in that loss, I also saw a transition—a fight for the future. A young Native man approached me at a place of reflection, where I sat as an elder, worn from the weight of so much loss. He was well-dressed, exuding strength and respect. He shared with me that the people were waiting for a crucial decision, a moment that would determine whether the laws would change to honor our Aboriginal laws or continue down the path of white law. In that moment, I felt my spirit rising, as I ...

We are part of the animal world. Growing up, I didn't know much about the raven, but I heard many stories about it. Those stories never carried the main lesson for me. As Gitxsan people, we don't fancy up our spirituality. Our lives on the West Coast are tied to the land and the sea—filled with seafood, moose, deer, rabbits, grouse, and the plants that grow here. We’ve learned to respect all spirits. When we take an animal's life, we do it respectfully, honoring its spirit and returning its remains with gratitude. Every day is sacred. Our ancestors guide us, and the divine is both within us and around us—every thought we have is a prayer. In the end, it's not about our outward appearances. What truly matters is how we, as spirits, carry ourselves with respect and honor. We have our mystical and magical stories that shape our gatherings and experiences, reminding us of our connection to all living things. In Gitxsan spiritual beliefs, ancestors hold a central and revered...