*This is not the most easy read: discussions of residential school survival, family rejections, and trans trauma in this newsletter*

"Introducing Myself to You," a poem ↓

Must I beg you to see me?

To love me?

Plead, reason, explain,

myself in pieces 

to be understood?

Why must we walk through this portal of isolation and grief?

To be born,

anew,

ourselves.

How many times can you be born in this life?

Remember when we were riding horses in the summer and our guide, Ashley from Minnesota, shared of her fatal spinal injury?

Remember when she said waking from walking amongst death gave her a new perspective on life?

(And it confirmed she was a horse girl 😂)

Some of us need to encounter the faintest touch of the lips of death

to wake up,

to live life the way we know we need to live it.

Some of us turn to find death when we see the living don’t want us

don’t understand us.

We wonder what’s wrong with us?

What’s wrong with our bodies?

Why can’t I be?

…

My sister once said so plainly:

“There is no choice in being trans,

it’s an arrival of information.”

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In late August, I went to see a documentary titled “Sugarcane” at the suggestion of my girlfriend. For context, I’m not really a movie person, I’m not gravitated to film in the way a lot of my loved ones are. Plus, I tend to like movies that most people find cringey or corney (i.e. the Kristen Stewart christmas movie :D I cry every time too). I didn’t see the trailer for this documentary, but my gf said it was about the residential schools here in kkkanada. There were a number of reasons why I felt drawn to see this film. I found the theme fitting for the time in my life, as I was also exploring the feelings of grief in my own little world. Plus, it felt like the bare minimum as a settler here, to witness the truth of the hidden violence behind how this land continues to be occupied. Last, I was also drawn to see this film because of the title “Sugarcane.” When I heard that word, I thought of my own ancestral lineage of indentured labourers from India to Trinidad & Tobago. People who arrived to the islands to work in the sugar cane fields following the emancipation of enslaved West African peoples. It felt like it was a film I couldn’t miss. We ended up choosing a date where there was a q&a with the directors afterwards.

During the film, we see one of the directors, Julian Brave NoiseCat, get called into the action of the documentary by an elder in the cast. He went from directing behind the scenes, to being called forward in front of the camera, to begin looking at the impacts of residential schools in his own family lineage. The documentary then transforms into a more personal story for Julian, in which we see him partake in many extremely vulnerable conversations with his father, Ed Archie NoiseCat - who is a residential school survivor himself. I found myself in tears for the entire duration of the documentary, as I knew I would be, but I also found myself extremely grateful for Julian and his family for sharing these very personal conversations. I felt a sense of familiarity in the difficulty of the conversations taking place between these family members. Seeing them engage in the painful process of speaking hard truths to one another reminded me of many conversations I’ve been apart of in my own life.

Seeing these raw conversations take place in front of me in the theatre reminded me of conversations I’ve had with my own family about the topics of queerness and transness as of late. These topics can bring out a similar level of discomfort and deep pain in both participants. Hearing and seeing Julian confront his father about the ways he was deeply hurt as a child because of his father’s actions (or lack thereof), but simultaneously, wanting to hear and understand the pains his father went through in residential school, brought out much compassion in my spirit. It was a familiar moment I’ve seen in my own life between elders in my family and the younger generation discussing their transness. The desire to be heard and received lovingly by an elder whom you trust and love, while simultaneously trying to find the middle ground between your own pain and someone else’s inner world of turmoil that transness (+/ queerness) can bring up. It was striking to see Julian attempt to hold these types of heavy and necessary conversations that have seemingly not been held within his generation of family before. Witnessing him doing the work of breaking cycles of silence and repression felt similar to the work I’ve seen in my own trans + queer community. It’s hard, it’s heavy, and truly requires the support of a strong community around you who can replenish your cup and remind you of the importance of the work.

Since I am privy to understanding the pain and POV of trans people, for a long time anger was the only emotion I could generate towards those prone to not-understanding. However, with age and time, I have learned to have compassion for those who do not react well to their queer and trans loved ones (with anger still present of course, but differently). For queer + trans people, sharing with others (specifically family) the truth of yourself can feel like walking alongside the edge of a cliff. Depending on the reaction and outcome of the conversation with whomever it is that matters, the result can impact your journey alongside this cliff’s edge. Will we fall rapidly into a deep unknown place? Or be gently pulled back from the edge? Do we have people to support us no matter the outcome?

But consider for a moment, that the person we are talking to may be encountering the same feelings - but from a different side of the cliff. I know, I know. It’s not the same but, the two are connected no matter what. In the film, Julian yearns for his dad to hear him out about how he was hurt by him in childhood and to hear his dad acknowledge that he failed in some areas as a father. Saying these truths are hard for Julian and we witness his father struggle with digesting what Julian is telling him. However, Julian is also the one encouraging his father to speak about the details of his own childhood pain from residential school. He encourages him because it’s important to have our pains witnessed. It alleviates the weight of shame that can wear down our spirit and life force. Julian is then able to point out to his father the cycle of abandonment in both their childhoods and that they both are hurting. These honest conversations force Ed Archie NoiseCat to face his hidden past and begin healing his child self.

Another important factor in the unfolding of their healing is time. The film took over two years to complete and therefore, there was definitely many more conversations and emotions that were omitted from the film. Witnessing Julian choosing courage by sharing his wounds with his father and witnessing his father also choosing courage by accepting what his son is telling him and sharing what he’s never shared before, as viewers, we are gifted with watching a space for true healing take place. I don’t know where father and son stand today, but by the end of the film I felt in my emotional body like I went through the work with them. Witnessing Julian’s personal story alongside the larger story of the atrocities and horrors faced by countless native children which were facilitated and created by the Canadian Government, left me wondering about all the levels in which justice is sought. The level of justice we seek from governing bodies to do the right thing - the fantasy (?) of a loving restorative justice approach. And the justice we seek from one another. Whether it’s bio family, chosen family, coworkers, whomever makes an impact in our daily lives.

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If you haven’t seen this film, I definitely recommend it. Not only are the stories of each cast member so important and rich, the film has a beautiful cinematography and soundtrack to help balance the very dark and gut wrenching themes. It’s also important to educate ourselves on the history of the occupation that is kkkanada. I know I still have ways to go in my own decolonial learning, especially as a settler who privileges from the on-going colonization of these lands I consider home.

The ways I’ve learnt that I lend my energy best is showing up to various events and calls to action throughout the year that are indigenous led. I’ve been attending the annual strawberry ceremony every valentines for the past few years outside the police headquarters on college street downtown. It’s about 20 years in progress. It’s an event that discusses and commemorates the lives of many missing and murdered indigenous women and two spirit people.

In terms of resources for discussing specifically transness with loved ones, here is a great resource I came across by PFLAG that I found quite helpful.

I was speaking with a mentor recently and she shared how the role of ceremony could offer much needed help/release/ease to all loved ones involved in a trans person life and for trans people themselves. It got me thinking:

What would this ceremony look like? Would it be a naming ceremony? Who would be invited? What type of ritual would take place here?

I really appreciated her insight and I wonder how this can come to fruition in the future in my life or in the lives of my loved ones. What comes to mind for you?

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What I’m Up to Now…

This is my second newsletter and I think it gives more of an idea what kind of things I will be writing about on here. If you have any thoughts about what I wrote in this edition, you can reply to this newsletter and it will get sent to me.

I am no longer tatuing for the time being and instead I am focusing on my divination practice through tarot and other tools. I deeply enjoy this practice because it offers space and time to deeply reflect on any issue/conflict/idea going on in your life right now. To me the practice of divination and tarot are ways of accessing an honest space for healing. I revisited my pricing for this practice and now offer three different pricing tiers:

20 minutes is for quick and straight forward inquiries i.e. general check-in, insight into a situation, a yes/no situation … etc…

1 hour is more a deep dive into a more complex or layered situation, or if you just want more time + space to check in with yourself.

1 hour with candle divination is an opportunity for me to practice a new divining technique I’ve learnt in which I use candle wax and water to discern messages about a situation happening in your life.

If I’ve tatued you in the past, I’m offering you a 20 minute reading for free! 

To book this reading with me, simply reply to this newsletter with your name and that you’re interested in the newsletter offer. I’m currently offering all my readings virtually at the moment. This is especially good if you’ve never had a reading before and would like to see what’s going on. But even if you have, it’s a chance to explore whatever dilemma is on your mind. I’m offering this because I’ve tatued a lot of really rad people and I’m interested to see how healing dynamics shift with the change of my public practice.

For everyone else, feel free to use this link to book a virtual reading with me and you can read more about my tarot practice here.

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Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed what you read here, feel free to forward it to someone who may enjoy reading these types of emails in their inbox.

Below are other independent or local writers who I enjoy getting emails from to avoid being chained to socials:

• Friday things by Stacy Lee Kong (smart & compassionate pop culture analysis)

• The Grind Mag (radical independent mag and offers free physical copies avail all around TO!)

• SapphSociety (journal-like observations and stories from a great trans/black/caribbean mind)

• Bonesthrown (deeply mindful thoughts or interviews about the body and our relations to earth and each other)

much love,

carah (care-rah) ♡