Who Am I? This notion runs through my mind day in and day out; sunrise and sunset; moon full and moon new. Trying to fill in blank spaces on paper that defines me; trying to write in histories of paragraphs that become books but not now, not acknowledge, not recognized, because there is no room. That little box check list that seems to be so easy to label; that one page write up of past histories that is falsely misinterpreted because of its length.
Lisez l’histoire de Dawn Martin
Scotland, ON
Six Nations of the Grand River
Âge 19
She:kon, Sken:nen. Nikaronhya'a yonkya'ts tanon kanienke:haka ne I:i. My name is Dawn and I am from Six Nations of the Grand River. Born and raised their and I am currently at Trent University majoring in Indigenous studies. I was in Mohawk immersion and wanted to address my struggles with language and fluency and language in curriculum and institutions.
This piece entitled "Who am I" is really simple really, it is about the struggles of the pressures of labels of society and taking charge of one's life. it was written more as a piece that should be performed but can be read. It is about going against the grain by using traditional names like Rotinoshonni, Anishnaabe, and more rather than the words government structures and settlers gave us for their convenience. It addresses reclaiming identity through Indigenous Languages and Mother Tongue languages.
Who Am I?
This notion runs through my mind day in and day out; sunrise and sunset; moon full and moon new. Trying to fill in blank spaces on paper that defines me; trying to write in histories of paragraphs that become books but not now, not acknowledge, not recognized, because there is no room. That little box check list that seems to be so easy to label; that one page write up of past histories that is falsely misinterpreted because of its length.
Who Am I?
The savage tales that keeps me from the big table that marks my skin with red; with dirt, not ‘pure’. The noble that is only worthy of life if not conquered. The dying of voices unheard that keeps me from living; keeps me unnoticed; keeps me from being true; keeps perpetuating ignorance. The drunk that slurs words out loud that form images in your minds of what it means to be onkwe’honweh.
Who Am I?
Labels that mark me, marginalize me, and confine me. Brands that are not mine. Tags that are alien, cruel, and obtuse.
Who Am I? […]
I am woman; the blood that runs through veins is the same blood that has been spilt long ago, and still today. The blood that pours from wounds reopened. The blood that still cries for help overlooked. The blood of the rapped, the missing, and the murdered. The blood of the 1,181.
This is the blood that soaks into Mother Earth as the bodies decay and go back to their homelands. The blood of my mother and her’s before that- the same blood of my ancestors. This blood bleeds red and my skin light but still sings songs of resistance. The blood red that spills on the canvases messy showing true colours of the flag. Blood tied to earth, tied to languages, tied to memory.
Who Am I?
The railways that mark the dead trial of the innocent. The cement that covers bones and brains shattered, smashed, and damaged. The road you paved of the ‘land of the free’ or is it the land of genocide? Still I walk through broken glass; snapped bones; ruined dreams. Cutting feet, hands, and knees as I inch closer to the truth- determined, no matter what it takes. Skin so delicate leaving footprints that mark my presence, my existence, my survival. Look at me, I am here; still here; listen.
Who Am I?
The words I speak still foreign to me. Tongue tied, my mouth aches to be set free once again. It craves to voice words of my language, Kenienkeha. The voices of my ancestors that still linger on throughout time and tradition. My mother tongue of this red earth that echoes through caves, runs though fields, and screams from east to west; north to south; the awakening voices of turtle island.
Who Am I?
Trampling stories that you try to burry but will never prevail. Because like these stories and our spirits we are fluid and still, new and old, liberating and unchained. You cannot submit my speech to silence no more because we are still standing.
Look at me, erase the blackboard of terms; definitions; labels. And see me, I am standing right here.
Who Am I?
I am what I have and I have my languages cultures histories and traditions. I am onkwehonweneha. I am Kanienkeha. I am Kayanerekowa(Kanonkwe). I am a person of the earth; whose ancestors live though my voice. And I will shout to the mountains, to the rivers, to the leaves falling in autumn, to every area overlooked, until you hear me.
Look at me,
I am all and everything
I am standing right here.