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I want to tell you a story. It's about my brother. The story is about hope, survivance, and micro-resistance to the colonial project.
First, let me introduce you. This is Braden. He is from the Saddle Lake Cree Nation. He was apprehended at birth during the 60s scoop. So was I.
First, let me introduce you. This is Braden. He is from the Saddle Lake Cree Nation. He was apprehended at birth during the 60s scoop. So was I.
There's a lot of backstory as to how two Indigenous children from different provinces and Nations ended up as siblings. Too much to explain here, so I'll leave you some resources : https://www.cbc.ca/cbcdocspov/features/the-sixties-scoop-explained
Johnston, P. (1983) Native Children and the Child Welfare System
Johnston, P. (1983) Native Children and the Child Welfare System
Anyhow, like most siblings, we've had our ups and downs. No matter what, we've always stuck together. After the death of our adoptive mother when we were teens, we spiralled away from each other and have, over the last 15 years or so, slowly come back together.
Our lives are different & have always been. He's always seemed to have a rougher go & has long struggled with addiction, homelessness, unemployment, & discrimination. Sadly, these are not uncommon experiences for Indigenous men & women. But society has always been harder on him.
But my brother has an endless reserve of hope & perseverance & has fought for everything he has. He never gives up. Never. He hustles for everything. He makes sure his kids have what they need before meeting his own needs. He sacrifices. He is generous. He is humble.
But more than anything, he is kind. Like, the kind of "kind person" you hope to be some day. I can't say I've ever seen him be unkind to anyone. Ever. Anyhow, he's wildly kind and I wish I was more like him.
Anyhow, over the years he's come to live with us for weeks, months, and even years at a time when his housing insecurity became overwhelming or a safety issue. At the core of it all, stable and affordable housing has been the one thing that has been painfully out of reach.
Sometimes he'd find a place, & then the landlord would meet him, find out he's Indigenous & deny his application. Other times, they would rent to him only to pull the rug out from under him a few short months later. Other times the skyrocketing rent has been simply unsustainable.
Through it all, my house has been a stable force; allowing him time and space to gather himself, rest, and recuperate. But he would always head back out into the Thunder Dome of the rental market, only to come back a few months or years later. He never had permanency.
And while I love him, I needed to help him find a permanent solution. And then something happened. Earlier this year, once the 60s Scoop Class Action was settled, we were awarded our settlement monies. I thought about it for a bit and then made a proposition. This was it:
1. As hard of a time it was for us all during COVID, Braden and I would each reserve part of our settlement monies. Actually, we set aside a lot of money.
2. We'd use this $ as a downpayment for a condo. The important part was that we had to carefully plan how much to save so..
2. We'd use this $ as a downpayment for a condo. The important part was that we had to carefully plan how much to save so..
that the downpayment would create a mortgage pmt less than $400/mth. In total, we needed to plan so that his monthly housing costs including insur. & condo fees, would be $700 total. This number was crucial. It meant that even if he lost his job, he could afford it with EI.
So, we did some math and saved what we needed. I held it in trust for us both and I called a friend who was also a realtor. I also called my bank and my lawyer. My realtor searched and searched and found a few places. We viewed, we pondered...
Our bank walked in step with us the whole way. While Braden didn't have strong enough credit, he leaned on mine and we applied for a mortgage together. After a few months of looking, we found a perfect one-bedroom condo.
It's in a safe building, in a safe neighbourhood. It has in-suite laundry, and a walk out into a large green space so his son can run around. It has underground secured parking. It has a gym. The condo fees included *all* utilities. Yes, ALL.
and then we made an offer. They accepted.
Yesterday, Braden and I moved all his stuff from my house into his. Just me and him. We laughed. We also spent a lot of time in silence. There was something profound to this whole thing.
Because you see, the colonial project always wanted us to give in, give away. Surrender, if you will. But we fought back. Instead of using the settlement monies, which were released during the hardest financial time in COVID, on short term and immediate needs, we saved it.
Instead of subsidizing the federal governments failures and the long term effects of colonialism (ie. poverty) by spending on immediate needs - we planned. We calculated every move. Because you know what? Colonialism is slippery. But resourcefulness has always been in our bones.
And so here we are. Just Braden and me, in the house he owns that will one day be the foundation upon which he can build wealth and security for his own children. There is no going back now. We made it. We survived.
Now, go live. Kisâkihitin, Nistis.
Now, go live. Kisâkihitin, Nistis.
