By Ella Nathanael Alkiewicz (Labrador Inuk)
Living with the accumulated knowledge of my ancestors, the indelible imprint of my mother’s genes, and the enduring wisdom of centuries-old Inuit principles presents a profound privilege, yet simultaneously, a formidable challenge in the complexities of the contemporary world. This intricate tapestry of heritage forms the bedrock of my identity, a source of both strength and ongoing introspection as I navigate the intersections of tradition and modernity.
My personal narrative is intrinsically linked to the devastating legacy of Canada’s residential boarding schools, institutions designed to assimilate Indigenous children by severing them from their families, cultures, and languages. These schools inflicted deep wounds, stunting the spirit and near-extinguishing the very essence of my mother, rendering her a "Lost Bird." My subsequent integration into a loving family in the United States has, in many ways, offered me the best of both worlds: the unwavering support of my relatives and the intellectual and emotional space to process decades of unanswered questions. The persistent "Why?" that echoed through my formative years eventually found solace not in empirical data alone, but through profound spiritual insights and the pursuit of higher learning.
This pursuit led me to the University of Massachusetts Amherst, where I immersed myself in the study of journalism and successfully completed the Certificate Program in Native American Indian Studies. Within the hallowed halls of academia, amidst the tragic realities of colonial history, I began to unearth the authentic narratives of Indigenous peoples across Turtle Island. This education provided a crucial counter-narrative to the often-sanitized or omitted histories presented in mainstream discourse.
The sheer scale of Indigenous presence on Turtle Island, encompassing approximately 9.5 million individuals, is a vital statistic that often goes unacknowledged. Within this broad umbrella term "Indigenous," a rich mosaic of distinct peoples exists. The Inuit, my ancestral kin, number an estimated 138,000. The Métis, a distinct Indigenous people with French and First Nations ancestry, number around 640,000. The First Nations, comprising over 630 recognized communities in Canada, account for approximately 1.05 million people. In the United States, the landscape is equally diverse, with 575 federally recognized Tribes and over 60 state-recognized Tribes, collectively representing approximately 7.7 million Native Americans. Understanding these figures is not merely an academic exercise; it is a fundamental step in acknowledging the enduring presence and diverse identities of Indigenous peoples.
The Native American Indian Studies program at UMass Amherst served as a powerful catalyst for my personal empowerment. Prior to this academic immersion, I felt adrift, navigating a treacherous terrain of historical misinformation and societal indifference. Each class was a revelation, a painful yet necessary confrontation with the brutal truths of colonization, its devastating impact on Indigenous communities, and the systemic efforts to erase our existence. The emotional toll was significant, marked by tears and righteous anger, yet my resolve to persevere remained unshaken. The profound understanding that "knowledge is power" became my guiding principle.
Post-graduation, my journey of learning continued. I returned to the university environment to hear the wisdom of my hero, Winona LaDuke, a renowned Anishinaabek activist, economist, and writer. The encounter was deeply impactful. After her inspiring speech, Winona graciously signed my book. In the hushed intimacy of the elevator, a moment of shared understanding, guided by my Cherokee Elder’s knowing glance, transpired. Winona’s unwavering strength and profound wisdom have since become a touchstone for me, a constant reminder of the power of courage and conviction. Her bravery has long been a source of inspiration, a beacon guiding me towards my own inner fortitude.
It was through a combination of spiritual seeking, connecting with the Creator, the Universe, God, or Guti, as referred to in various traditions, that I eventually began to cultivate courage and wisdom akin to Winona’s. This ongoing dialogue, characterized by days and nights of active listening and introspection, often takes place in intimate settings. Whether gathering on Sundays, connecting online, or in small circles of two, the simple acts of breaking bread and holding hands create sacred spaces for profound connection, where answers are felt, and hope for a better future is nurtured.
The clarity arrived not as a sudden epiphany, but as a gentle unfolding. The culmination of my internal questioning led to a simple yet powerful directive: "Just do. Just be. Be Inuk Strong." This mantra encapsulates a profound resilience, a deep-seated strength inherent in the Inuk identity, forged through millennia of adaptation and survival in the Arctic.
This realization was powerfully manifested during a recent family reunion. I crafted and gifted leather bracelets to my relatives, each bearing the stamped words "Inuk Strong." This sentiment, inspired by the post-2013 "Boston Strong" movement, resonated deeply. It became a personal declaration of our collective resilience, a tangible symbol of our enduring spirit.
My brother and I are the children of residential boarding school survivors, a generational trauma that casts a long shadow. Our parents, who welcomed us as "Irish twins" in their early twenties, grappled with the intergenerational effects of this trauma and associated health challenges, which necessitated keeping us at a distance until healing processes began. While my mother survived the profound adversity, my father did not. It was my mother, through her own journey of resilience, who instilled in us the strength to "Be Inuk Strong." My sister, Kittungaga Reggi, embodies this spirit, while my brother, Angutiga Chris, stands as a fierce and loving ally in our shared journey. My mother, nurtured by the love of her kin, blossomed, fully embracing her identity as a strong Inuk woman. Her artistic expression, captured in a beautiful drawing, serves as a testament to her enduring spirit and creative power.
The persistent narrative of Indigenous feminism, a force that thrives despite the often-bleak realities presented in daily news cycles, is a source of profound inspiration. I anchor myself in strength, laughter, love, and unwavering resilience. This internal fortitude was articulated in a poem, "My Present," published in 2020, which captured a transformative experience at the 21st Inuit Studies Conference:
My Present
I drove to the
21st Inuit Studies Conference
a short five-hour drive,
and it was
EPIC!
Ajaitsiavak!
I finally felt
heard and seen
seen and heard
I sat
in the aisle and
the award-winning, famous, marvelous Inuk,
a daughter, a fren, a mother, filmmaker
spoke.
Tears rolled down my nose
If others saw me, I do not know
My eyes were blurry with glory
I knew she knew.
I finally felt
seen and heard
heard and seen
I rocked and
whimpered.
My hand rose,
my head bowed low,
I knew she knew.
Her words I cannot repeat verbatim,
Feelings of love flooded over my crown,
The beautiful Inuktitut that she spoke with grace shined across her face
I knew she knew.
I left her talk a little taller.
I left her talk a lot prouder.
I left with the message – “Own your life, tell your story, be the voice.”
This profound sense of recognition and validation was amplified by another powerful experience, this time through the television series "Reservation Dogs." While watching an episode with my brother, Angutiga, I was deeply moved by a scene featuring actors Paulina Alexis (Alexis Nakota Sioux) and Lily Gladstone (Piegan Blackfeet/Nez Perce). In a poignant exchange, Gladstone’s character, Hokti, imparts wisdom to Alexis’s character, Willie Jack, who is grappling with her life’s struggles. Hokti guides Willie to connect with her ancestral strength, stating:
“Remember the stories I told you when you were growing up about the people we come from, generations of medicine people, caretakers. These are the ones that held us together as we arrived from our homelands. The healers who carried us and buried us as we marched. Men and women whose songs led us through the dark. They’re watching you, my girl. You don’t need me. You have them. This is the power we carry. When you really pray, they’re all around you all the time.” (Season 2, Episode 9)
The on-screen appearance of ancestral spirits behind Willie Jack was a deeply cathartic moment, a powerful visual affirmation that shattered the years of misinformation and denial I had endured from the dominant culture, the "Kallunait." This televised revelation, coupled with subsequent conversations with friends, illuminated how societal pressures and habits, such as smoking and shame, had inadvertently diminished my personal joy.
Numerous other instances have served as potent reminders of my inherent strength and the profound wisdom embedded within my relatives’ experiences. My hope is that fellow Indigenous relatives and our allies will embark on their own journeys of self-discovery, uncovering the reasons for their existence and recognizing the immeasurable greatness they contribute to the world.
The celebration of women, particularly Indigenous women, is paramount. We are the Life Givers, the carriers of culture and tradition. Ensuring our safety, longevity, and the vibrant continuation of our heritage is not merely a matter of social justice; it is an imperative for the survival and flourishing of our peoples.
Ella Nathanael Alkiewicz (Labrador Inuk) is a journalist from Nunatisavut. She is an active member of the North American Indian Center of Boston (NAICOB) and the proprietor of Ella Alk Inuk LLC. Her work has been featured by UnMonument, and she is slated to exhibit her art at NAICOB in July. Residing on the ancestral lands of the Nonotuck people, she shares her life with her family and her cat.
Top Photo: Ella Nathanael Alkiewicz with Winona LaDuke.
