Diary of a Black Indigenous Womxn: On Vulnerability – Dominique Daye Hunter, Guest Blogger

"Vulnerability is allowing yourself to be unapologetically Black, unapologetically Indigenous. To operate in multiple planes of thought. To use slang and Ebonics in one sentence, and to speak eloquently in the next. It is accepting your paradox and embracing it with your whole self. To allow your boundaries to be the only lines that define you, to be multi-dimensional in your healing."

“Just make me look like Aquaman”: An Essay on Seeing Myself -Smokii Sumac, Guest Blogger

"I came out as a transgender man at 29. For me, this felt late. I remember the first moment I ever said it out loud. I was sitting with one of the first trans men I'd ever met in the shade of a truck at our summer ceremonies in Montana."

Indigenous Resistance, Indigenous Selfie

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.

breathe, then speak

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.

summer memories

A night of dancing on Granville with an insta-queen and now real-life friend. We bonded over 90's hiphop and perusing a late-night sex shop. Getting lost on Burnaby mountains and shopping makeup, sipping sangria and sharing stories of men, family, and dreams. Eating tacos and getting lit at 11 AM, thick accents on point as we laughed and teared up, mourning and celebrating in the moment, like Indigenous women do. And finally, pasta and poetry shared on an adventure of lost restaurants, a decade's worth of friendship, and planning the next sleepover.

rez baby, coming home

Raising a child off-reserve, I often think about how she is going to walk through this world. Don’t get me wrong – all of what is currently known as Canada is Indigenous land. Growing up Urban will not and does not make her less Indian. I’m raising a Dene warrior, no matter if she walks on cement or grass.

#IndigenousLove

I remembered that I come from people who are storytellers. Artists. Lovers. Foolish friends and mischievous family. We are drenched in the survival and reclamation of generations past, and by our very act of breathing, laughing, loving - we are claiming our rightful space for our descendants. We are here.