In the Spirit of Annie Mae

By Johnny Hawke

This week online many have stood up for Annie Mae Aquash after the announcement regarding Leonard Peltier. Yet I see many supporters of Annie Mae in our Circles that engage in the same behaviour that led to her Murder. The Discrediting of someone based on "Influencers", Gossip, Hearsay, Rumours, Snitchjacketing, taking Sides, not knowing all Sides of the Truth, which is rampant in our Circles and Community which can lead to Ppl getting Hurt.

Yes Misogyny exists in our Circles but so does outright Toxic behaviour that is not limited just to a specific Gender. There are “Man Haters”, Women against other Women and even Family against Family.

A snippet of my own experience in our Circles..

A “Warrior” Woman who has reached the status of “celebrity” amongst our Indigenous Resistance community, who travels the world off of the people in poverty's financial support and NGO financing has been called out throughout the years by her former supporters, own family and community members and ppl from her Nation who once stood beside her. They’ve called her out for toxic behaviour, physical violence, gaslighting, embezzling funds of the fight, allowing abusers around vulnerable allies and youth. Such friends, family and allies attempt to seek accountability through proper ways in community but denied only left em to call this individual out publicly with "receipts" to warn others. This person’s mass following, supporters and fan clubs defend her and gives her a pass for her shitty toxic behaviour and become a blood thirsty mob who revictimize her victims when they stand in their truth and seek accountability by speaking out.

In 2013 I called out my own Cousin who treated this older “Auntie” from our community real shitty and demanded her to take down her Teaching Lodge at a “LandBack Camp” in a Provincial Park this Auntie set up. My Cousin was hosting a concert to fundraise for a separate Idle No More issue, piggybacking on the efforts of this Aunties LandBack Camp. She claimed the lodge might cause authorities to shut down her concert. I called her out how she treated that Auntie whose Camp/effort this was. The Camp was not an Idle no More thing nor was funds for the concert going towards this Camp.

A few years later in 2019, I set up a blockade of a Provincial Park and set up Camp. My Cousin being vindictive from when I questioned her then went on her Idle No More FB page she admins by herself and made her own statement using "We" and made it appear her lone statement was coming from a collective of Women and engaged in an outright Smear Campaign on me where it was stated I beat Women, am a Womanizer, beat up Elders, am a Drunk and encourage ppl not to support my cause.

This went viral in which People who did not know me, the truth especially Women across Canada wanted Bad things to happen to me and see me Hurt. I have had 2 bad break-ups in my whole life that ended in ill feelings which is not uncommon but no violence, I have had harsh vulgar words in debates and calling out sellouts and nepotism in community with others and even to an elder or two but own up to my own shit, Yes I have struggled with booze at times and own up to any of my shit but this Smear Campaign was outright based on lies and abuse of a platform where my cousin is seen as a Leader in INM, where an angry mob was formed based on personal bias.

Recently I even stood up for the Character of a Grandmother whose name was being bashed online in First Nations Transparency Facebook Group again by a lone Female Administrator and her White Ally. Ppl on that Page are co-signing this behaviour for not questioning her. I did, Again stood up for an Elder Female, Now they are discrediting my name in this Group.

Yes! Misogyny and Patriarchy exists in our Circles and I acknowledge how I have some these learned flaws that I am working through but Toxic Shitty Colonial Behaviour also exists in our Circles which is not limited to the one Gender and get's ppl hurt.

I feel these Cool Kids Clubs of Activism and "Resistance" are circles that are supposed to be spaces of Humility but are filled of Toxicity and Ego's and unaccountability. I feel I have outgrown the "Movement" which social media narcissism now governs. Our Circles need to evolve. Reemergence of our Inherent forms of Governance and Law and Clan Mothers in which accountability exists.

In the Spirit of Annie Mae

Wab Kinew cosigns on Colonization

by Johnny Hawke

Your Indigenous Role Model, Premier Wab Kinew on Jan 15, 2025 acknowledged the Provinces have Allodial Title to all the Lands and Resources while sitting with the Prime Minister and other Premiers in regards to CANADA's response to Trumps Tariff threats.

- 1893 Statute Revision Act removed section 2 of 1867 BNA Act meaning any future monarchs and their successors have no Jurisdiction over the Dominion, when Queen Victoria died so did the BNA Act.

- 1930 Natural Resources Transfer Act for the Province of Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, B.C was illegitimate as the Parliament had no legal and lawful Jurisdiction to transfer any lands to the title of the provinces.

- 1931 Statute of Westminister the UK extinguished its possession of lands and jurisdiction over its Dominions for the Dominions to become Free Independent States. Thus all lands obtained by the UK in Treaties reverted back to the Indigenous Nations allodial title and possession. The Treaties are also extinguished where its all our Land and Monies. We never made Treaties with Provinces or Fed Government. Provinces have no lawful legal title to any Lands and Resources.

-1982 Constitution Act was an amendments to the BNA Act and a creation of a Charter by a foreign Monarch an Govt who had no legal and lawful right to do so. Canada has yet to make a Constitution and is only a corporation.

Some Premiers and Ottawa have hinted and blocking Energy Resources from going into the U.S in this threat of a Trade War. Such Energy Resources are being exploited from our Territories and still are our Resources in which we set up blockades to halt Canada's economy we are called Terrorists, Militarized Forces are sent in and we are Criminalized.

Many of our People believe that having an Indigenous People in the system will create change. Wrong! These systems have been created over time which include oath's degree's, fraternities, order's, blackmail entrapment and rituals and mechanisms to ensure that the system does not change.

The first Indigenous person and female to be Canada's Attorney General and Minister of Justice, the first Indigenous person and female to be Governor General has sat at the helm of CANADA while overseeing violations of Treaty Rights and Human Rights abused on our Nations and Peoples while sitting at the helm. Change in the System?

Now Uncle Tomahawk is a Premier.

I'll never be a Role Model for our Peoples by the People like Wab as most of our People are complicit to colonization and sellouts or brainwashed and not properly educated.

My Grandfather Jesus - An Anishinaabe Christmas Story

By Johnny Hawke

(Loosely based on stories I've heard growing up in my community)

A warm willowy whiff of fermenting hay with the burnt chocolate leathery aroma of Cigar smoke married with the pungent scent of manure and Old Spice aftershave. This was the fragrance that let me know it was Christmas Morning. This was the fragrance of my Grandfather and his Team of Horses. The magical sounds of harnessed brass bells jingling in rhythm to soft gentle galloping trot you could tell they were near. My excitement grew and grew with every jingle of those bells as they got closer. It was time for our Christmas Morning ride with my Grandfather around our Village.

I was just a very young child but Christmas and those Horses and my Grandfather are some of the earliest cherished memories I have before I was taken away to become civilized and a Christian. On Christmas Eve, my Mother would prepare pies for the coming day and sing these lyrics to song “Jesus is Coming. A Saviour is Born.” At that very young age Christianity was not known to me and the meaning behind why were celebrating we not known to me. So every year my Mother would prepare those pies and sing that same song on Christmas Eve and like clock work the next morning my Grandfather would show up to take us for a ride around the village with his Team of Horses.

My Grandfather wasn’t always around and was always working throughout the year up the lakes and in the orchards and in the fields. Up until then at that young age I remember only seeing him at Christmas and because of that song my Mother would sing “Jesus is coming, A Saviour is Born,” I actually thought my Grandfather’s name was Jesus and that it was him she was singing about.

I was 10 years old when I was taken away. These Zhagonosh People I’ve never seen before were gathering us children on our island. I remember this day very clearly because it was the day my Grandfather passed away. He died that morning. I think it was from this trauma. In some sort of way it felt that his spirit came with me. These People who came to take us away said they were taking us to Boarding School so we can learn about Jesus and become Civilized and Canadian. I thought I was going to where my Grandfather worked at this place called heaven. Up until then I still thought he was this Jesus my Mom sang about on Christmas Eve.

This story is not about the awful things of what happened to me at this place but is about my escape. While at this place we were forbidden to speak our language and talk of where we came from. In order to keep my spirits up I would sing the song my Mother would sing on Christmas Eve. “Jesus is coming, Jesus our Saviour is born.” This was my trick to fool those Nuns and Priests. Singing this song would take me in my mind back home. It would help me think of my Grandfather where I would call upon him to help me as I sang this song.

When I turned 12 during the fall one year, when I was feeling extra lonely for home I started singing the song and that night I had a dream. My Grandfather came to visit me in my dream. In this dream my Grandfather spoke, “ My Boy, when you finish your supper tomorrow, I will give you a sign. You will know what it is. Follow it, every time you recognize this sign keep following it” He said. I woke up the next day and thought all morning about that dream.

The time came, we just finished our supper and the Nun’s gave us time to get fresh air while they set up for a presentation from a theatre group that came to put on a play for us. As we were playing outside, something very familiar was in the air. It was a warm willowy whiff of fermenting hay and a burnt chocolate leathery aroma of cigar smoke married with the pungent scent of manure and Old Spice aftershave. The smell of My Grandfather and his team of Work Horses but how could it be? And where were they? I followed the scent and it led me to a truck and trailer at the entrance of the school. I had a plan, I would try to escape.

There was a compartment for tools in the trailer that was empty and I managed to fit my way in there and kept quiet for the longest time. I felt movement. I was on the road and I was outta there, I was gone!. It must have been a few hours I was stowed away. I was out of that Hell we called the “Mushhole.” There were a few stops and it kept continuing on a journey but I didn’t hop out until I felt the coast was clear. The truck kept going. I woke in the morning and peaked around and we were parked but nobody was in the truck. I hoped out and I found myself in this big city called Toronto and was only 12 years old.

As I walked the streets of this city I became disoriented, there was so much noise and too much people. Out of all that noise I heard a very familiar sound it was the magical sounds of harnessed brass bells jingling in rhythm of a soft galloping trot. My excitement grew and grew with every jingle of those bells as they got closer. I followed it. It was not my Grandfathers Team of Horses but I knew it was a sign. It was a Trolly and I hoped on it without being seen. I rode this Trolly for a while until I recognized a bunch of trains in a train yard. Trains is how all of us children were taken away and so I crawled and stalked and like my Grandfathers before me out on a hunt in the vast wilderness, I crept slowly and made my move.

Again I heard the magical sounds of harnessed brass bells jingling in rhythm of a soft galloping trot. It came from one paticular train. I took it as a sign to hop on that one and wouldn’t you know it, it was a train heading north. I found a cargo car carrying blankets of canvas that were stacked like pancakes. I snuggled in between some like a mouse and hid. I was on my way closer to home. It was mid December and got off the train and things were a lot colder. I took one of the smaller folded canvases to use for a coat and blanket for my travels. It took me a while to figure out where I was and how to get home. I went to the nearest town and found out my location and managed to get a map. I stuck to the back roads and kept out of sight as I didn’t want to get caught if those Nuns, Priests and Cops had the whole country looking for me. I was a fugitive from God.

I walked for days on the side of roads, the snow was coming heavy. I slept in barns. This escape started to build me into a man at 12 years old. I couldn’t give up or I would die somewhere on the side of the road. Every now and again I would get a sign that pointed me in the right direction for safety or a safe friendly ride further home. I made it! I was at the landing where a wooden passenger boat usually brings people back and forth to the island, my home. But there was no wooden boat. The Bay had froze over early it seemed. I couldn’t wait so I started walking on the ice to get home to see my Mom and Dad.

It was late afternoon during the day and snow was still coming down and no-one was coming or going so I just started walking on the ice. I got a quarter of the way until I heard snips and snaps and then finally creaks and cracks and then splash. I was in the water and fell through. I was dead. The last thing I remember was feeling someones arm pulling me out of the ice. Somehow by someone put in the back off a sleigh and covered me in a blanket. I was in shock and I must have fainted because I didn’t remember much only the warm willowy whiff of fermenting hay and a burnt chocolate leathery aroma of cigar smoke married with the pungent scent of manure and Old Spice aftershave. The magical sounds of harnessed brass bells jingling in rhythm to soft galloping trot.

I woke up underneath an avalanche of blankets near a wood-stove. I was home. I made it. Next to me was my Mother and Father. I only seen my Father cry once in his whole life and it was that morning. And that morning happened to be Christmas morning. I asked my Mother, “Who brought me home, who had the team of horses that brought me home and rescued me from the ice.?” With a look that both my parents gave me which I’ve never, ever Forgot with these words they said to me. “Horses? What Horses? How did you get home? Who brought you back from that place? The boat has not been crossing the bay and nobody has been going across. We found you curled up outside the door this morning.”

That place I was taken must have not missed me because they never came to look for me or get word to my parents I was missing. I never returned there. Many children at the Residential Schools tried to escape, some were caught and some died along the way and some never returned from those Schools.

When I grew older I became a solider for Canada to go and civilize other Peoples. I was in Korea. When I was in combat my Grandfather was still with me and every time I smelt a warm willowy whiff of fermenting hay and a burnt chocolate leathery aroma of cigar smoke married with the pungent scent of manure and Old Spice aftershave and heard the magical sounds of harnessed brass bells jingling in rhythm to a soft galloping trot I would be magically led to safety where again I made it back home.

I never got to know Jesus and for our people it has always been our ancestors who has helped us so that we can be here and who watch over and help us when we call upon them, just as the Spirit of my Grandfather had. I will never forget this one Christmas where my life was saved and I made it home for Christmas morning and for me this is why I celebrate Christmas. A Miracle.