Reading  Rekindling the Sacred Fire  was a deeply meaningful experience for me. Chantal Fiola’s honest storytelling and thorough research illuminated how Métis and Anishinaabe spirituality are not only alive, but also resilient and adaptable. Through her work, I found new ways to understand the enduring strength of Indigenous spiritual traditions, even in the face of historical and ongoing challenges. Fiola masterfully weaves together personal stories, ceremony, and history,

For whoever needs to hear this today, come, sit with me for a while. Let us talk about the space between things, the in-between. Many people rush to choose a side, to name something as this or that, right or wrong, light or dark. But the old ones knew, and the land teaches, that much of life is lived in the space between. Think of the dawn, when night is not yet gone and day has not fully arrived. The sky is painted with colours that have no name, and the world is quiet, list

The heartbeat of the Métis Nation has always been its women. Across generations, Métis women have shaped our families, communities, and future. Today, Métis women and girls are everywhere—breaking barriers, building bridges, and leading the way in every field imaginable. Their resilience, tenacity, and vision inspire us all. This article is a celebration and a thank you to the women who lead, create, teach, heal, innovate, and dream. Your presence and achievements lift us all

I’ve noticed that reclaiming our identity and personal power can feel unsettling, not just for ourselves, but for the systems around us. This discomfort isn’t new. It’s woven into our history as Métis people. The Personal Unsettling For many of us, stepping into our Métis identity means facing old fears: Am I “enough”? Will I be accepted? What will my family, colleagues, or community think? The act of reclaiming our stories, our ceremonies, and our voices is deeply personal,

For as long as I can remember, I’ve lived with the feeling of being in-between. Not quite fitting on either side of the fence, never “Indigenous enough” for some, never “settler enough” for others. If you’re Métis, you probably know this feeling well. It’s the ache of being asked, “How Indigenous are you?” as if your entire story could be measured, weighed, and found wanting. The truth is, we Métis are the living by-product of colonization. We are the children of two worlds,

After publishing The Battle for Métis Identity , I received numerous private messages from individuals and organizations eager to implement the ideas I shared. I want to be clear: I do this work not on behalf of any organization, but as a proud Métis person, for Métis people everywhere. Over the years, I have heard too many painful stories from our community, and I feel a responsibility to contribute something positive that can promote real change. The momentum around Métis i

For generations, Métis people have stood at the crossroads of cultures, forging a nation defined by resilience and kinship. Yet today, the struggle for Métis identity remains as fierce and complex as ever, shaped by external scrutiny, internal conflict, and the deep wounds left by colonialism. The cost of this struggle is not just cultural or political; it is profoundly personal, impacting the mental health and well-being of Métis individuals and communities. Caught Between W