reclaiming, relearning, and reliving our lives as Indigenous women has taken courage.
it has taken strength.
it has taken years.
it has been painful.
it has been violent.
it has not happened without struggle, and yet in a very deep and loving way, it has instilled into us a resilience far unmatched. and it is still rising.
we, we are daughters of our mother’s mothers’.
as i channel in one of my favorite Indigenous authors and poet, Lee Maracle (Sto:loh Nation) i feel an immense pride that also immediately reminds me… Daughters are forever.
we women, we birth nations.
we have endured for over 500 years settler colonial wickedness founded on the rape of our sacredness through the pillage of our homelands, languages, and cultures.
we women, we are the hearts of those nations we created.
we have been resisting so that our daughters, nieces, mothers, aunties, and grandmothers could remember the sacredness of what womanhood is and remains to be.
we give life, some of us birthed children lovingly. some not knowing or understanding that sacredness because it had been taken from us as children. maybe as a young girl? maybe as young woman? maybe as wives? lovers? or creator forbid because of the wickedness of incest. the pain, heartache, and violence that violated our sacredness did not just happen, it was brought, taught, perpetuated, and used to turn one another against each other.
settler colonialism did all that. through Indigenous lifeways and love, we will reclaim every child, especially our daughters because they are forever.
you see, not all children are born daughters. some of the children we birth are boys and they come from an infinite sacred journey of boys to men. they become relatives such as fathers, husbands, lovers, uncles, nephews, and grandfathers all under the majesty of our grandfather sun and grandmother moon.
to some men, she is a wonderment and something so beautiful she must be loved, protected, and uplifted in such a way she is the blessing.
to some men, she is a reminder of that one woman who hated the boy-child and left him with forms of arrested development, emotional loss, and the devastation to his inner child, it lasts until he finds peace from within. the memory triggers the hatred for everything sacred. in some form, the wicked memories emasculate him. to the spirt of that man, those men, this is a sacred soliloquy. the loving mother spirits do not forget you.
a gentle reminder, we have risen from the ashes of our ancestral mothers who were ground into the dirt from the boots of settler colonial boots made in europe.
those settler colonial boots that replaced the sacred, soft soles of mocassins taught Indigenous men to be violent and abuse, hate and hurt Indigenous women with the wickedness of misogyny, sexism, internalized racism, objectification, lust, control, even to her death.
what those settler colonial boots did not know is that Indigenous women were seeds embraced by our first mother, Mother Earth.
the soles of those settler colonial boots may have ground the bones and blood of our ancestral mothers into the precious lands, but the bones and blood of those sacred women became ashes and fertilized the precious lands we walk on today.
those settler colonial soles sent us directly to a mother who so lovingly held our spirits for the next generation of women to reclaim.
you see, as women, we are survivors of over 500 years of settler colonial genocide. we never died. we just kept coming back again and again.
Women, the keepers of cultural survival, passed on stillness as the ultimate way to protect their daughters. Daughters are forever. Daughters never leave. Sons are temporary: they belong to future families. When they marry, they leave. Sons are dispensable, but every daughter is needed to recreate the villages. (Maracle, 2002, p. 22)
in this same light, we, daughters of the earth are reclaiming, relearning, and reliving our lives so that we can heal for the next generation of daughters.
in our mother’s image, At Your Best, we are always love.