Written by: Hope Torres
​​
It was early in the morning and I was jumping onto the bus heading to work. My husband
had walked me to the bus stop after spending the morning together. As I turned and walk away
from him I was becoming more aware of the lump in my throat, it was an emotional morning for
me. I held back the tears that were emerging because I was entering the public bus and I didn't
want anyone to see my cry. I didn’t want anyone to see me being vulnerable.
That same morning when I arrived to work, there was a child a drop off who was playing
with his dad. As his father said goodbye and his body disappear from the frame of the window
the boy didn't hold back his tears like I did. He was in a safe and nurturing environment where
tears are always welcomed.
This is the different between myself and this boy. The power of feeling vulnerable and just
letting go and feeling. Feelings are important, feelings demand to be felt. I admire the educator
who comforted the boy because she gave room for his cry, I admired her for not trying to focus
the child’s attention on something else, for embracing his sadness and letting him feel. This
builds a sense of strength, a sense of confidence in the face of adversity and discomfort.
In so many occasions children are told to fight the sadness, overcome it, but when it comes
to the deep emotional process we need to allow it.
I appreciated the vulnerability that was being shown by this child and I admired him for
just letting go and letting his feelings be felt. Whereas I did not. I suppressed my feelings, I
fought the sadness because I was educated away from our awareness of our feelings. Depression
happens when we repress our emotions. The boy is lucky to have a strong relationship with
someone who has the techniques in terms of resilience. And I am lucky to be in an environment
as supporting and warming as the one I am in now.
As early childhood educators, it is important to have awareness; if I can’t feel my sadness,
the children won’t either. If we know sadness, we can lead a child with sadness, we can safely
guide children through it.
We have to let the emotions be felt in order to bounce back. It wasn’t until we went outside
when the boy was able to bounce back. He was supported and cared for a long period of time,
not once telling him to stop crying, not once saying you’re ok, not once ignoring him.

Written by: Lindsay Lichty

I offered this territorial acknowledgement to an Early Learning and Care class at Camosun College. I am inspired by the work of Enid Elliott, and her commitment to sharing authentic ways of taking ownership of being a settler. It's important that we place ourselves within our stories, and that we reflect so that our stories can evolve. This is the third time I've shared this acknowledgement, this time, editing the words to more accurately reflect the tone of the day, and the urgency for us to acknowledge and give voice to Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women.


​
I.
I am a woman.
I am a woman living on stolen land.
I am a woman living on stolen land and trying to plant my roots.
I am a woman living on stolen land trying to plant my roots in the soil that contains the blood from the granddaughters of the women whose land we stole.
 
I.
I am a woman.
I am a women living on stolen land.
I am a woman living on stolen land trying to plant my roots.
I am a woman living on stolen land trying to plant my roots in the small space that the world allows for me to be a woman.

I.
I am a woman.
I am a woman living on stolen land.
I am a woman living on stolen land trying to plant my roots.
I am a woman living on stolen land trying to plant my roots in this colonialized Canadian soil. Soil that cakes the faces of the corpses of women that remain nameless on the news. Headlines buried beneath a story about the cost of living.
No mention of the cost of living as a woman.

I am a woman from a long line of women that deserve to be honored.
I am a woman at the front of a long line of women that deserve to be honored.
I am a woman committed to living honorably for of all of them.
 
I am a woman living on stolen land trying to plant my roots.     
I am a woman living on stolen land.
I am a woman.
I.
 
I am a woman living on the land stolen from the Lekwungen -speaking people, of the WSÁNEĆ nation, on the traditional territory of the Songhees and Esquimalt nations.