I am of the Ojibwa tribe, often referred to as Anishinabe. I am of my father’s clan the Bear, and yet am also part of my mother’s clan the Loon. The Bear is the protector of the people; the loon carries the weight and hurt of the tribe on her back. My Grandmothers taught me our language, and many stories and traditions before the tender age of five. The elders teach the children in our tribe, to lay the foundation for the generation. By the time I was five and reading books, I was totally immersed in our culture. To me it wasn’t our “culture,” it was merely how my family lived.

As I said, I am full-blooded Anishinabe, also known as Ojibwa. I was born and raised on my Father’s tribal lands known as Keweenaw Bay and am an enrolled member of my Mother’s tribe Lac du Flambeau in Wisconsin. My Ojibwa name is Maagwan-ni-niigabo, which means Standing Feather. My father’s is Nagaan-niigabo, my Mother’s Be-dway-way-gizhigokwe. My Grandmother Brunk’s name is Gabo-wance and my Grandmother Pine’s name is Abe-disa-niikwe. For their own privacy, I will not reveal what their names mean, but would like people to understand where I came from.

It wasn’t until I went to grade school, high school and beyond into my college years that I understood that I was “different.” It was then I knew I was of another race, another culture that was separate from the norm. I was never taught I was different from my friends I had made in school until it was pointed out to me. My Grandmothers never taught me that I was different, they merely said to be proud of my family, my clan my tribe. They both instructed me of my place in this world of the Ojibwa people, Bear Clan and the Brunk family.

My first images and memories are of warm, comforting voices speaking in Ojibwa. I see the smiles of my Grandmothers peering down at me; I smell the sage they smudged over me in sleep. I remember the toys they handmade for me. A beaded rabbit’s foot was my prized possession for many years, and also served as a homing device for my Grandmothers and Mother. It rattled, and they always knew where I was.

Life is a circle and that circle has taught me we evolve and better ourselves continuously. We learn from the past and what is has offered and shown us. My Grandmother passed when I was thirteen, but she teaches me day after day. At home I was given direction, was taught lessons I would need for this life. In grade school I was teased for being Native American. The boys would pull my long black braids and call me, “Injun.” I was called stupid, lazy…and dirty among other things. Teachers would send home notes to my Mother stating that I never participated in class discussion, never took notes and never looked at her when speaking. Apparently these traits among all the Native children caused great concern among the faculty. Thankfully, I had a mother who was a strong woman who had no fear when it came to defending her children.