My Indigenous Life

There’s something I’ve been carrying for a long time, and lately it’s been coming back to the surface – partly because people have been sharing their own stories with me, and partly because I can’t ignore what I still see happening around me.

This is a sensitive topic. It’s touchy. It’s painful. And I want to say this carefully: I’m not speaking for all Indigenous people, and I’m not here to accuse or shame anyone. I’m sharing this because I love my community, and because I believe we can do better for our women, our children, and our families.

We have to stop looking away

Physical and sexual abuse has existed in our communities for generations. Some people talk about it quietly. Some people never talk about it at all. And too often, many of us – again, not all- learn to look the other way.

We tell ourselves it’s “not our business.” We don’t want conflict. We don’t want to cause division. We don’t want to be the one who “ruins” someone’s reputation or brings trouble to a family.

But looking away doesn’t protect anyone. It protects the harm.

*We also know this isn’t rare. Across Canada and the U.S., Indigenous women, children, and families are disproportionately impacted by violence and sexual harm – something many national reports and inquiries have documented. Naming that reality isn’t about shaming our people. It’s about refusing to normalize what was never meant to be normal.

My truth: I didn’t have a safe place

I’ve lived through physical and sexual abuse, starting when I was very young and over a long period of time. The harm came from both men (sexual) and women (physical) – people I should have been able to trust. As a young Indigenous girl and young Indigenous woman, I didn’t have a safe place.

Those experiences shaped my life in ways I’m still untangling.

At 16 years old, 4 months pregnant and scared, I left home because I had to. I needed distance to heal. I needed to get away from the things that were pulling me down. I truly believe that if I had stayed, my life would have gone down a very dark path. For whatever reason – spirit, instinct, guidance – I knew I had to go, and I did.

Leaving saved me – and it broke my heart

Because of what I lived through, I made choices as a mother that were rooted in protection, even when they broke my heart and kept me away from my home.

I love where I come from. I love my people. I love our land, our teachings, our ways.

And I also know I did the right thing when I look at my beautiful children – children who have never had to endure what I endured, or what I still see some of my relations enduring.

No child should have to become “strong” because adults failed to protect them.

How trauma can shape intimacy – and what helped me heal

One of the parts people don’t always talk about is how trauma can distort your relationship with intimacy – what sex means, what closeness feels like, and what your body learns to expect. For a long time, I carried a warped understanding of it all. Even as an adult, in a stable relationship, my body didn’t always feel safe.

There were times I’d have flashes of the past. There were also times I realized I had blocked out so much of what happened that I didn’t have full access to it. And sometimes, during intimacy, I’d catch myself doing the same thing – disconnecting, going numb, mentally leaving the moment. Not because I didn’t want love or connection, but because safety took a long time to become real for me.

It took years to heal, and I still don’t know if I’ll ever heal completely from it. But I do believe my mind was protecting me until I had the support and steadiness to carry it differently.

I also want to share something that changed how I approached healing. I worked with a traditional healer who offered a teaching I’ll never forget: healing doesn’t always require reliving every detail. Sometimes people believe you have to retell it, reopen it, and re-enter it again and again in order to release it. But she reminded me that you don’t have to keep returning to the worst moments of your life to prove they happened. You don’t have to remember everything. You don’t have to speak every detail out loud.

You can acknowledge what happened, recognize what it took from you, and still choose to leave it in the past – while you build safety, boundaries, and a better life in the present.

Coming home can reopen wounds

Coming home can bring you face-to-face with parts of your past you’ve worked hard to survive.

I’m not writing this to point fingers. I can’t explain every circumstance that leads people to do what they do. I know trauma has roots – colonial violence, family breakdown, addiction, unresolved pain, and things I may never fully understand. I don’t judge people’s entire lives by their worst actions.

But I also won’t pretend it didn’t happen. And I won’t pretend it doesn’t matter.

Alcohol isn’t the whole story – but it can intensify the harm

I also want to say something about alcohol, because it’s part of the reality for many of us.

I’m not judging anyone for drinking. I know people carry heavy things. I know some people drink to escape memories, grief, shame, or pain that never had a safe place to go.

But we also have to be honest: alcohol can intensify unsafe situations and make it harder for truth to surface. It can turn a bad situation into a dangerous one. It can make it easier for harm to happen – and harder for victims to be believed.

Safety changes everything

I’ve been fortunate to experience what safety and love and connection can look like – what it feels like to be defended, uplifted, cared for, and believed. And even now, having steady support in my life gives me a sense of security I don’t take for granted.

That’s why I think about this so often: how many lives would change if more people had real safety? How many lives would change if leaving to heal was supported instead of judged? How many lives would change if we didn’t normalize harm, or excuse it, or bury it under silence?

What I want for us

I want a community where:

• Women and children are protected – not just in words, but in action
• Survivors are believed and supported
• People stop minimizing harm as “drama” or “family issues”
• We stop rewarding silence and start rewarding courage
• Healing is treated as sacred work, not weakness

I know this is hard. I know it can feel like speaking up will cause division.

But the truth is: the harm already divides us. Silence already divides us. The fear already divides us.

A gentle invitation

If you’ve been through abuse, I see you. If you’ve stayed silent because you were scared, I understand. If you’ve looked away because you didn’t know what to do, I’m asking you – gently – to reconsider.

We don’t have to be perfect. But we do have to be brave.

We can be a people who protect our most vulnerable.

And we can be a people who stop treating abuse like something we have to live with.

What we can do (even if we feel unsure)

• Believe people the first time. You don’t have to have the perfect words – start with, “I’m sorry this happened. I believe you.”
• Stop minimizing. Don’t call it drama. Don’t explain it away. Don’t pressure someone to “forgive” to make others comfortable.
• Check on the vulnerable. If a child, teen, or woman seems withdrawn, scared, or controlled, don’t ignore it – gently ask if they’re safe.
• Be a safe person. Offer a ride, a place to sit, a phone call, a meal – small supports can be life-changing.
• Know where help is. Save the resource numbers now, before you need them.
• If you’re the one carrying it: you deserve support, and you’re allowed to seek help in a way that feels safe for you.

Support

If this brought anything up for you, you don’t have to carry it alone. If you’re in immediate danger, call 911 (or your local emergency number).

If you’re in Canada, you can contact the Hope for Wellness Help Line (for Indigenous people) at 1-855-242-3310, or access online chat by searching “Hope for Wellness.”

If you’re in the U.S., you can contact the National Sexual Assault Hotline (RAINN) at 1-800-656-HOPE (4673), or access online chat by searching “RAINN hotline.”

If you’re experiencing intimate partner violence, you can contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline (U.S.) at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233), or access online chat by searching “thehotline.”

You deserve safety and support.