perhaps it’s just the folks i know up there,
but nearly everyone i know in Canada
has passed on their normal July 1 celebrations
to contemplate the bodies of indigenous children
that continue to be unearthed.

and i feel guilty that i’m not surprised.
and i feel ashamed that my country probably has ten times as much blood on its soul
(at least)
and i feel embarrassed that there is no national day of reckoning here,
no setting aside celebrations
for the purpose of confronting our relationship with the
problematic,
hardly taught,
secret history of our nation.

last year i confronted July 4th,
i marched and chanted and sat and listened
in a crowd gathered;
white folks there to learn,
Black and Brown folks there to share and celebrate.
i stared squarely into the face of what it means to be
born
on stolen ground.
i looked down at my feet,
where i expected to see myself standing on only my own accomplishments,
and finally saw the backs of Black folks i’d unintentionally climbed over,
that my ancestors had climbed over,
had climbed onto
had used (knowing or not) as a step up for themselves.

and i saw the blood on all our hands.

i watched native dances from the tribes of lands we live on now,
and i heard words from folks who chose this country over their homeland,
in spite of what it meant for their skin,
but because of what it meant for their queerness,
(though that story is also so very complicated)
and last year the only fireworks were from everyday people in the neighborhood
just letting off a little steam,
no city or state or nation led celebration,
instead individually making the ‘holiday’ what everyone wanted.
what everyone needed.

what do i do this year?

there should have been ten times as many people confronting July 4th last year,
there should be ten times more doing the internal work this year,
but i can only worry about myself and what i do.

so i’ll do my work.
i’ll continue to do my work.
though i know there’s no end in sight;
that’s what it means to be a citizen here.