a collective blog by indigenous women photographers
In my mind’s eye, I see a reality in which exists an explicitly Black, Indigenous and Person Of Colour (BIPOC) owned club where everyone is truly welcome and able to explore their sexuality via accessing and providing sex work in the ways that feel safest and most uplifting to their spirits.
The three of us were in the hospital; Cole and I were squeezed onto the tiny twin-size bed while Dani-Mae slept in the hospital bassinet beside us. It was around 2 AM and they were both finally sleeping after a long and exhausting day of labour and delivery. I lay there between the two of them, praying and thanking the Creator for my blessings.
This is probably why I am all for selfies – I think we have spent enough time being told to bow our heads, to be silent, to not take up space. Love songs are written about how women don’t know they’re beautiful, as if realizing our beauty is the single greatest flaw we could have. As if we are only beautiful if affirmation comes from someone else. Fuck dat.
Motherhood is hard. What makes it even harder is comparison, and all sorts of external influences, on parenting decisions. If you have been around Tea & Bannock long enough, you may remember this post on sleep and a baby from July 2017. I have contemplated going back and deleting it but I feel its more… Continue reading Sleep, a Baby (Toddler), and Mama Intuition
To this day, I feel like I can express myself better through visual language rather than spoken word. And I want to show everyone what I experience when I am with Indigenous folks; pride, strength, belly laughter, cleverness, beauty, irreverent humour, resiliency, creativity, just to name a few. There is so much to offer.
I’ll keep puttering along though, learning bit by bit. Becoming more and more of myself as I continue to regain what is rightfully mine, the language of my ancestors, the language of love pumping through my veins. One day, maybe I'll be fluent like they were.
It was a month of beautiful femme moments, moments that made me thankful for the women in my life.
In decolonizing the family, I understand now that there is no shame in raising my children together with the larger community.
I need to have the space in my talk to reflect upon problems I see in our cultures and how we can approach them, and I think that non-Indigenous people need to see us critically reflect and progressively move forward with our traditions, cultural practices, languages and kinships.
Each morning, my daughter wakes up… she doesn’t cry, she just lays there and I can feel her. I feel her breathing change. I feel as she starts to reach around for me in the dark and silence.
