One important conversation we need to have in Indigenous literary circles--both the writing itself and the criticism--is why we're so hesitant to respond earlier to serious questions about dodgy identity claims and our personal and professional investments in that silence.

And those of us with light skin and white-passing privilege need to do some deep and honest soul-searching about the ways our own identity anxieties often lead us to be complicit in embedding problematic people in positions of power in the name of generosity and inclusivity.

We can be kind and still be forthright; we can make space for complex stories and growth and people learning new things about where they come from without losing our critical faculties or good sense. We can call people to account and still be in meaningful community with them.

But we have some hard discussions ahead. And we have hard work to do. And when I say we, that definitely means me, too.

This isn't only about one person or one situation; not about blood quantum, adoption, Indian status or enrolment, recognized or unrecognized tribes--it's about all the ways we're complicit when those very legitimate complexities get weaponized against legit Indigenous peoples.

And let's not forget all the ways that anti-Blackness also informs these issues. This isn't about asserting a singularity of Indigenous identity or experience--it's about facing our exclusions, erasures, collusions, and silences all the way through.