My brother and I had been (trying) to stay on our best behaviour all morning and it started to show as lunch time began to draw near. He knew as well as I did that instead of our normal routine of biking home for a bologna sandwich and soup we were going to get a slice of pizza and a juice box. All we had left to do was wait the final minute for the bell to ring, then we would walk out and get it; he had been there this morning when I dropped off the signed note to the office on the way. We knew that this time it was our turn to sit down and enjoy it despite the fact we both hated Domino’s pizza. Instead of biking home and back we got to sit down with our friends and eat, we didn’t have to worry about getting back in time because class was steps away. 

Waiting for the bell to go off was always the hardest part in mind, you focused on each tick til it was a thunderous cacophony in your head even as your teacher’s still talking in the background but you don’t hear a word. I remember wondering if my brother had stayed out of trouble or he would miss his chance to get pizza spending lunch in the office, I hoped he had. As the seconds ticked down and rounded halfway I was left thinking about home and still the thought of that pizza. Remembering each and every time I had walked into the office empty handed and presented a note just like it, each time that I had been told no or apologized to and sent away, I wondered if anybody else had to do that. I knew that my sisters had had to bring the letters in before, I knew that this wasn’t a new situation to the school and I knew I wasn’t the one who did it when I was the younger brother. Snapped back to reality by the sound somebody opening a Chubby’s pop I looked up at the clock, 10 seconds to go and each dragged on longer than the last until finally …..RINNNNNNNG!

I leapt out the room with my backpack on my arm and went to stand in line as I saw other kids racing past. I turned around the corner joining the ever growing crowd and heard my brother following with his class somewhere behind me, a voice that I had heard for as long as I could remember and that stood out like a sore thumb to me in the crowd. I wait my turn and eventually I am up next for pizza! I say my name and after looking over the sheet I get given a slice of cheese pizza and a grape juice box so I saunter away to find somewhere to eat. Eventually I hear my brother telling the teacher in charge of pizza that day to fuck off and I see him grab some juice boxes and run away. After looking around outside I found him nearby stashed away in a place we enjoyed relaxing, there he explains that he was told he was not on the list and wouldn’t get anything and since she wouldn’t listen he grabbed some juice and ran. It left me angry and despite everything I had gone through that morning I ended up just giving him mine and heading back to class. I knew there wasn’t anything I could really do about it and felt helpless at the fact that was just how life was for us there. This was what we were born into and, like many things that we had no hand in deciding, was just another part of a life that we try to live.

I remember walking back home with my brother following just behind me, I had several bruises along my chest and arms from getting in a fight with a local bully. I was mad, internally screaming obscenities at my tormentor the whole walk there. As we were nearing the train tracks dividing town, my best friend Ty came lumbering over towards us; he ran over, a crooked smile and familiar scar speeding our way. After he reached us I gave him a firm hug, he was one of the only kids in our town with Indigenous blood besides us and it showed. We walked back and started talking along the way about what happened in class earlier and why I got dragged out. I told him why I got in a fight and how the bully had been talking about my family being dirty Natives. It was easy to talk to him about because he knew that I was not happy with my heritage at the time and that the subject easily provoked me, he also knew that I was very defensive about my family. 

We passed the petro, snagging popsicles and heading back out on the rest of the walk home. After dropping my brother off at home me and Ty went back to his house to play some playstation but I could not get the day’s events out of my mind. This particular incident just left a sour taste in my mouth that no amount of sugar was going to fix, I turned to my friend; I looked him over and then again at my surroundings and took in something that I never had before, despite all my own issues my friend had it even worse than myself. We were both bullied and harassed for blood that we had no choice in pumping through our hearts. We were both poor and disenfranchised with where we lived; what divided us and what I had never seen before was that where I had a choice in the matter he had none. I had skin that could hide my heritage in any place that nobody knew me but my friend was a prisoner no matter where he called home. While I could hide behind an ivory wall to protect me from the worst of things, Ty had his identity plastered all over his face as clear as day. I could pretend or deny and there would be no way to dispute it but Ty could never be seen as anything other than what he was. 

Then it was my turn to ask Ty a question: how do you do it I asked. At first he was confused thinking I had meant a trick in the game but I told him what it was that I really meant. Looking into his eyes it was like looking into a partial reflection on water, he was both there and not there at the same time, an image poised to fade apart at any moment; but, just as quickly, the life returned with his normal crooked smile and he said something that stood with me. “I cannot choose who my blood parents are no more than I can choose who my foster parents are. I realized that stuff doesn’t matter and that I will do what makes me happy not what makes someone else happy. Why would I run around so somebody else can stay in place.” He turned back to the game and I followed suit but my heart was not in it.

I came to the realization that despite my own issues there was somebody right beside me who had even more than I did. While I had always known that we were both Indigenous I had never stopped to wonder how my appearance had been buffering the storm for me. I may get catcalled and bullied for a part of my history that I cannot change but I was not met with immediate discrimination just for looking Native. Despite spending days and weeks together I had never thought about the differences we had only the similarities that brought us together. I always grouped us together as cut from the same cloth but in many ways we were just as different as we were alike. The friend that I thought of as a brother, who I had always thought of as a twin to my own chaotic life suddenly seemed so different and strange yet nothing had changed at all.

The white kernels pop out from the roof, I find myself looking forward yet my eyes were always only drawn to one point. The world was still swimming from earlier but the rush of adrenaline was fading and my muscles were tight and exhausted from getting here. Even as I feel the burn of my legs and the cramp in my back laying on the old carpet yet had never felt more comfortable. Where once i had felt i could never say enough i could barely find a single word or sentence to describe my emotion. I think of what I have heard and I blink away the moment; my hair is being stroked softly and I feel the soft pressure on my head, it feels strangely at home and familiar. I breathe once and my heart settles down, a second breathe then exhale, as  I draw in another my eyes reopen and stare back at an ocean of blue. In that moment I realized somebody well and truly was by my side and that room felt safer than any vault. I ask with a ring in my ear “How can you be optimistic when nothing seems to go right?” All I hear is light humming, its pitch goes softly up and then down and think of what got me here: the humming a soft reminder beating to the rush of blood. Up and down the rustle of freshly cut hair becomes a wave of water crashing to the bank, the feeling of panic and feeling trapped creeps slowly out of thought. A few words had tripped me on stage, words that i had known and had allowed the panic to overtake me blocking them from my sight.

I swing up, the feeling of wavy nausea a temporary annoyance that slowly fades away. I look around and see the feathers on the ground and can’t help but wonder how I had made such a mess. I  start to gather up the feathers and notice that there is a small pile in the corner, yet again I had been saved without noticing. I settle into the chair and she quickly goes over the eyes and powder so the lights dont glare. As I begin to pace the floor she leaves and I am alone again in the room, it feels colder and yet I still feel back at home. This school had been there and would be there for the rest of my stay under its roof. Those around me would change and fluctuate but I know the cornerstones of my life were underway. I begin to put feathers back in place all along my body and feel as if it has been hours since my last breath but i know it has only been a bit under a minute. Before the handle jiggles I am already saying lines under my breath, the door opens and I feel confident despite the fact I was no different than before. 

As I walk out I caw out: “Welcome and rejoice for you are attending the council of the birds! Whether by Owl’s wisdom or Hoopoo’s strength we must find a way, feast feast feast the raven will yet have his day!” I stare forward and am blinded by the light as usual, its glare hiding faces and stress burns away; I fail to see past the light but I know there is a smile that hides behind glasses, blue eyes looking at me and whispering support. Panic melts away and the thrill of the stage takes a grip on my heart. I would be on stage another night and I would not allow house life or another class to out-stage me. Tonight was for the birds but this was opening night, I was on here for two people and could never allow my selfishness to ruin such a moment in this second home. Nobody here was ever the popular one but we could be us just among us like nowhere else.

Blog 1 – Francios d’Auteuil