You must be one of those Urban Indians...

I guess you can call me an Urban Indian. I grew up in the city of Thunder Bay, so it makes sense. But back when I was young, that distinction never seemed to be made, especially in our little part of northern Ontario where travel was frequent between reserves, towns and the only city in the area.

I grew up with cousins who were straight off the rez, their influence strong. But usually, I was mixing with my non-Native classmates. Even then I was still distant from this group, never quite fitting in. If a Native kid ever joined my class, we’d always get along straight off the bat. More often than not, however, they never seemed to last long at the school. I can only assume they headed back to the rez with their family.

Anyway, my point is simple. Despite growing up in the city, I often interacted with other Native folk, whether from the rez or others growing up in the city.

But something nagged at me. Something never seemed right. I didn’t know what it was when I was a kid, but it left me feeling empty. It seems to have ties to a simple question. It’s a question other Native people ask each other all the time when meeting for the first time: “Where are you from?”

When I was younger, when the judgmental ways of the world had little impact on me, I often responded by saying I was born in Toronto or I was from Thunder Bay. However, the cynicism of the world took its toll. As I grew into adolescence I struggled with identity. I questioned who I really was, where I really came from, what place do I have in the world. Tough questions for a young person to deal with.

Where are you from? The question never stopped. Constance Lake? No, that’s what the status card says, but I never lived there. Heck, I haven’t even been there. Thunder Bay? Well, that doesn’t make you much of an Indian does it? You must be one of those urban Indians?

It seemed to me that because I wasn’t from a reserve, it meant I wasn’t as Indian as the person next to me who was from a reserve. And I struggled with that. It perpetuated my struggle with identity, the son of a Cree mother and French father.

But in time, I learned a few things. I learned of my families past, the reasons why I wasn’t from a reserve, why I didn’t know my culture, why I often felt displaced.

*****

The urban Aboriginal population was relatively small in Thunder Bay when I was growing up. So ties were strong to the families living nearby in small towns or reserves.

In my case, our family had roots to the small town of Nakina where my grandparents settled. From what I’m told, my grandparents chose not to live on reserve. Constance Lake was where they were supposed to move, but for whatever reason they refused the move and settled in places like Klotz Lake, Longlac and finally Nakina.

Originally, my grandparents hailed from the James Bay coast. With other families, they often traveled distantly inland down the Albany River and into Pagwa River where a small seasonal settlement was established called Mammamattawa. Further down river from this settlement was a Hudson Bay Trading Post in the small community of Pagwa, located alongside a now defunct CN rail line.

It seems to me, the Cree people of this area moved freely along the river, traveling for the hunt, trading with the fur traders. But at some point, probably between the 1930s and 1950s, the settlement of permanent reserves in northern Ontario was forced on to the Aboriginal inhabitants of the area. The move to reserves effectively put an end to the nomadic way of life for the people in the area. However – and I don’t know the details as to why – my grandparents didn’t make the move to Constance Lake.

So as it is, my family has no ties to a reserve. Sure the government said we belonged to Constance Lake, but we never lived there.

It almost seems like my grandparents were still nomadic in a way, moving from place to place. But in my lifetime, they always lived in Nakina. My aunt and uncles, however, seemed to pick up where my grandparents left off. As soon as they were old enough they moved around a lot, looking for jobs, love, life. Who knows? My mother, she eventually moved to Toronto where she met my father and where my brothers and I were all born. When they split, she moved us closer to her home but a few hours away to the city of Thunder Bay, where she still resides. And as you now know, where I grew up.

*****

I’ve come to terms with my identity as I moved into adulthood. But for a period, perhaps to still fit in, I said I was from Constance Lake when asked where I was from by other Native people. It was easier to say a reserve and leave it at that. If I ever said Thunder Bay, the question that most often followed is: “Yeah, but which First Nation?” Well, Constance Lake but I never lived there. Reactions varied.

It was my younger brother who finally enlightened me, allowing me to embrace my identity, the son of a Cree mother and French father. He’s the one who pointed out that he’s not less of an Indian because he’s never lived on reserve. And he’s right. We’re diverse people and I believe we often forget that. And let’s also remember that not too long ago, our people once roamed freely on the land. The reserve system simply did not exist.

So today, I say I grew up in Thunder Bay. If people want more details, I’ll gladly share, if not, I leave it at that.

This whole Urban Indian label though, well, it never jived with me. It still doesn’t. I’m from northern Ontario, surrounded by bush. But urban? Well, maybe so, if someone needs to find a label so I fit nicely into his or her worldview.

In the end, though, it doesn’t matter to me. I know who I am, where I come from and where I'm going.