There is a particular kind of forgetting that happens slowly, beneath the surface of a functioning life. It does not announce itself as crisis. It arrives disguised as competence, reliability, and momentum. You wake up each day, move through the hours, meet expectations, and call it living, while something essential inside you quietly recedes.

For a long time, I believed that this erosion was simply the cost of adulthood. That to be serious in the world, to provide, to contribute, to matter; required a gradual departure from the self. I mistook this departure for maturity. I believed that if I could endure enough, override enough, surrender enough of my inner life, I would eventually be rewarded with stability or peace.

When I think about the challenges Indigenous and First Nations communities face in Canada today, it feels less like a checklist of social issues and more like a long shadow cast by history, one that stretches across generations and still falls over the present. It is a shadow shaped by choices made deliberately, systems built intentionally, and values imposed without consent. Among the most damaging of these impositions was patriarchy, a foreign social order enforced through colonial rule, law, and religion, and weaponized to dismantle Indigenous systems of balance, governance, and care.

Colonialism did not merely occupy land; it restructured society. In many Indigenous nations, women held central roles as leaders, decision-makers, knowledge keepers, and stewards of land and kinship. Authority was relational rather than hierarchical, rooted in reciprocity, accountability, and collective well-being. The imposition of European patriarchy disrupted this balance, replacing it with male-dominated governance systems that devalued women’s authority and severed them from power, land, and status. This was not accidental. It was strategic…