Today, March 31, is International Transgender Day of Visibility (#TDOV) an annual event dedicated to celebrating the lived and experiential reality of our trans and gender fluid relatives – a celebration of all our trans and gender fluid relatives gifts, medicines and contributions making our world and society a better place to live. The day was founded by US-based transgender activist Rachel Crandall of Michigan in 2009 as a reaction to the lack of LGBT recognition of transgender people, citing the frustration that the only well-known transgender-centered day was the Transgender Day of Remembrance which mourned the murders of transgender people, but did not acknowledge and celebrate and uplift living members of the transgender community.
Today, #Two-Spirit Journal acknowledges TDOV in the fifth installment of “In Our Own Voices: Two-Spirit People Responding to Covid-19” with three personal reflections from our trans and gender fluid relatives who are all leaders and all work for a better tomorrow for all of us!
This installment features Bear Smith, Teddy Syrette and Sandra “Sandy” Laframboise. Bear is an accomplished public speaker and upcoming leader, where Teddy is a fierce Two-Spirit advocate and community organizer, and Sandy is a respected elder within our movement – when viewed all together, the tour de force of social justice warriors!
The Two-Spirit Journal again encourages and welcomes submissions from any reader who wants to partake in this series, send your responses or questions to [email protected]. Two-Spirit Journal thanks everyone who has already answered this call and has sent in their responses – the Two-Spirit Journal loves the video submission. Keep the responses coming in!
Remember keep safe! As Gayle Pruden stated so beautifully in second installment of this series, “Praying, singing, dancing and laughing are my medicine and washing my hands, not touching my face, practicing physical distancing and finally staying home if I’m sick or if I possibly came in contact with Covid-19!”
Image provided by Bear Smith
Bear Smith is a proud member of the Tsimshian and Haisla Nations and is honored to live, work and play on the traditional, ancestral and unceded territory of the of the Coast Salish people, specifically, the Sḵwx̱wú7mesh, Tsleil-Waututh and xwməθkwəy̓əm First Nations peoples lands. Bear was born female, but now lives and identify as a man and use he/him/his pronouns. Bear guesses that would make him ‘transgender’; however, he has never really have identified as trans – he looks at it more as him ‘walking his truth.’ As a direct result of this truth, today he walks in this world proudly and fiercely as a Two-Spirit person.
I want to begin with thanking all the frontline workers. They are doing an amazing job, and everyone is thinking about them and uplifting them. However, I would like to bring into light those in my profession.
I am a rebar placer, and it seems that the construction companies aren’t taking the Covid-19 outbreak seriously. I want to say that I believe my company is like one big family, but in my opinion, it seems they weren’t taking the proper precautions. I went back to work on March 18 and 19, after I had finished self-isolating, when I got back to Vancouver from Winnipeg. My co-workers were constantly joking about the pandemic. What I witnessed was the measures of the company isn’t doing enough to keep the workers safe. They asked us to use our work gloves. That’s it, use gloves! I would have liked him to tell me that work gloves are mandatory and not to touch our faces or phones with gloves. To only touch tools and rebar, that way it limits any possibility of spreading the virus. I saw multiple guys touching their face and blowing “snot rockets” with work gloves on, and proceeding to touch their phones, tools and the rebar that everyone else has to touch too. So the gloves became ineffective and useless…. germs were being spread, and potentially Covid-19.
There was also a lack of effort for physical distancing. Particularly in prefab; prefab is building rebar columns on the ground and having them flown up to the tower by a crane. My foreman was telling us to practice physical distancing, but in reality, it’s harder to do that when your work depends on close collaboration. In building rebar columns you basically have to be shoulder to shoulder with co-workers, and also less than 4ft from the person across on the other side. In my opinion, the construction industry should be taking this more seriously, with many more precautions to be put in place to keep the workers and their families safe.
Since going to work for those two days, even though my company has still been working as an essential service, I’ve decided to stay home for the safety of my family. I am staying at my mom’s place at the moment, until I can move on April 3rd, and there are three young children here. My mom also has a compromised immune system and that’s the sole reason I’ve decided to stay home from work, away from people who are not taking this pandemic seriously. Since I haven’t been around many risks, I’ve been able to take my nieces and nephew out to a field to play and keep them active, while maintaining physical distances from other people not in our household.
Image provided by Teddy Syrette
Teddy Syrette-Ozhawa Anung Kwe/Yellow Star Woman is a Two-Spirit Anishnabek storyteller, artist and educator of Rankin Reserve of Batchewana First Nation. Teddy has a diploma in Social Service Work – Indigenous Specialization from Sault College, a background in community theatre and a customer service background in retail, kitchens and bingo. Teddy sits with the Wolf clan if you’re interested. They currently work as the Indigenous Liaison for the Enchanté Network and lives in Sault Ste. Marie (across the tracks from Rankin Reserve) with their many plant roomies.
Apocalypse Conditioning By My Grandma
Living in the great white north of Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, on the southern tip of Lake Superior, you would think that a Two-Spirit, brown, Anishnawbe person would be used to isolation: I am. Sometimes people come out of closets to gain freedom. Others stay inside their closets, because of safety. My closet has no doors, but it is accessible to walk-in and walk-out of. My room today has no Indigenous themed blanket hanging from my closet door. It used to as a kid. Though there is a feather fleece throw improvising as a window curtain. My home is already my solitude. The thought of forcible isolation doesn’t frighten me, it makes me think of how ‘isolation’ has been a part of Indigenous and Queer/Trans culture for centuries. How I can cope through Covid-19. And how I’m more worried about how others will not be able to cope through this global crisis.
Indigenous people historically have had the recurrences of the introduction of viruses and diseases spread amongst our nations since contact. During SARS, Health Canada sent different First Nation communities body bags, when they had requested for more support to assist their people. Spanish flu and tuberculosis ravaged Indigenous children who were sent to residential school. Many First Nation communities who faced the onslaught of different earlier diseases after contact, were many times prioritized last when it came to providing treatment or vaccinations. Many parts of Indigenous history were taught to me by my grandmother and my aunt.
My grandmother and Two-Spirit aunty would tell me these stories. They would say that I could handle hearing those tough teachings of death, loss, and genocide, even as a small child. They both took me to see the film Schindler’s List by Steven Spielberg, thinking that I had the mental and emotional capacity to understand the holocaust that slaughtered millions of other human beings across Europe. It messed me up as a small child is what it did. But I am thankful for those teachings, because it taught me that life and death are natural. That my being was natural. And that the world changes itself when it needs to change itself. That can mean hard times. A part of me thought she was mean, because after those teachings of the end of the world, she’d look at my little face and say, “at least I won’t be around for any of that.” Like what an asshole thing to say to your grandchild after traumatizing them about the apocalypse. My grandmother liked history and films and had an imagination, so she was feeding me different scenarios on how the world MIGHT end. And there were many ways the world could end with her and some did include great diseases and viruses. Again, I am grateful for those memories. I ended up liking horror movies, because those weren’t real compared to crap reality my grandmother would paint for me as a kid. But those films and her stories have prepared me for the end, which is looking like tomorrow.
The Little NHL
The spread of Covid-19, has begun to impact the lives of many Indigenous people in different ways across Turtle Island. Which is changing by the day. The Little NHL, a First Nation province wide pee wee hockey tournament in Ontario, for the first time cancelled their event, shortly after the World Health Organization declared Covid-19 a global pandemic. First Nation leadership made their announcement in support of the 2020 Little NHL cancellation to eliminate the chance of spreading Covid-19 at annual event. This also diminished any chance of someone being infected with the virus and then travelling back to their home communities afterwards. Many players, coaches and their families live in First Nation communities, some with whom experience a lack of healthcare infrastructure. A viral outbreak in rural/ First Nation communities, with little to no healthcare supports would be devastating to a smaller population. To end this paragraph on a positive note, I am proud to announce that I won Batchewana First Nation’s Little NHL team’s 50/50 draw. I will be donating some of the winnings back to my community. $1000.00 for the 2021 Little NHL team, but also $1500.00 to develop 2SLGBTQ+ supports for all three reserves of Batchewana First Nation. Why am I talking about a hockey tournament? I’ll explain why in a minute.
Pandemic, Probation Period and Grief
Working from home already puts me in self-quarantine. My work is 50% working from my kitchen table, and 50% travelling across Turtle Island. I’m a storyteller, with a background in social work, theatre and bingo. I teach others how to be supportive to folks who are Two-Spirit/Indigi-queer LGBTQ+, and Indigenous. I remind people to be kind for a living. It is exhausting. However, under the crisis of Covid-19, my life and those around me have been hugely impacted. As a Two-Spirit (queer, gender-fluid, Indigenous person), I am maneuvering through the rapids we each currently are facing personally and professionally.
Two weeks ago, I was doing my weekly check-in with my executive director. I work for a national network of 2SLGBTQ+ centres and organizations from across Canada. Work includes travelling nationwide. I asked what the travel policy was in case of a global pandemic. My executive director mentioned that our health comes first and if the situation worsened, that we would reexamine the situation. Two days later all work travel was grounded. On top of my outreach work, I work privately as an 2SLGBTQ+ motivational speaker and facilitator. My private practice also includes a lot of time living out of a suitcase and being on the road. I always knew that I wanted to be on planes a lot for work, but initially I thought it was because I wanted to become a flight attendant. Maybe when the crisis subsides, I’ll stop advocacy and take to the skies as a stewardess. I just want to wear the hat.
I make light of very serious situations, only because I use humour as a poor coping mechanism. At least for now. We are dealing with a major life change. Many are grieving a world that will not look the same as yesterday. Laughter is a part of healing. My family has always used humour to get us through the hardest times. My family has recently experienced the loss of three major members over the course of 3 years: My father passed away in April 2018. My Two-Spirit aunty, the same one who took me to see Schindler’s List passed in the summer of 2019. Then my mother at the end of January.
I started my job before Christmas. My mother was hospitalized in the beginning of January, and she passed away three weeks later. Transitioning into this position has been tough. Throw on a global pandemic, and all I can do is shrug some days or cry. Other days I can produce good work. Either way, I know my parents are proud of me. Not being able to run away from home, Covid-19 has grounded me.
Preservation of Life
Two days after my check-in with my executive director, I was notified that I wouldn’t be travelling, I realized how unprepared I was. Not for the world ending, but for not being prepared for life in general. Like not having any groceries because of being on the road or just really needing to get my laundry done. Side note: Is anyone really prepared for an apocalypse of any magnitude? Absorbing information on how Covid-19 was especially harmful for the elderly and those with compromised immune systems, made me slightly thankful that my parents, aunty or other previous relatives were no longer in the physical world to experience this global event.
My professional goals have been to save enough money to be able to help out my family. I shared information with my sisters and friends and financially have given money to help them with extra supplies. The day before I was grounded from travelling, I bought groceries, a rare occurrence with my travel schedule, and saw the beginnings of empty shelves and a couple of shoppers hoarding toilet paper. I only bought one package of toilet paper. The pictures of panic buying of essential items on social media and news outlets was now in Sault Ste. Marie. Later that day, I won the Batchewana First Nation Little NHL 50/50 draw and took my sister out to stock up on supplies for her family and for my other sister. This reassurance helped me knowing that they will be okay. They both also told me that I will be okay too.
I have changed my shopping routine a lot. No more random adventures to Walmart or dining in restaurants. No more conferences, airports or being on the road for a while. Online grocery shopping and delivery. Being more vigilant with my toilet paper consumption.
I have stocked up on dry foods, favourite snacks, water, extra cough medicine and other non-perishable items. My junk drawer consists of a new flashlight, batteries, candles and matches. I have also thought of protection and purchased a small baseball bat which I keep beside my door, next to the Ouija board (un)welcome mat. I did a bit of online panic buying and “surprise purchased” myself a new plant stand for my plant roomies, a black steampunk hat, a navy-blue hair fastener and a long black hooded cloak. I am also waiting on a long black mask reminiscent of the dark plague; I think I’m ready for the end.
Final Thought
I usually use sex as a coping mechanism also, but I deleted my Grindr account as a practice of physical distancing. That and no one was interested.
Rather than the Two-Spirit Journal introducing Sandra Laframboise, Sandra would like to introduce themselves.
Image provided by Sandra Laframboise
My government name that I chose in 1981 after my reassignment surgery also know today as Gender affirmation surgery is Sandra Laframboise. My Cree Elder from Sucker Creek, Frank Supernal gave me the name of “Dancing Two Eagle Spirit” in 1993 along with the rites of leading Sweat Lodge ceremonies. In 2012, I received a Coast Salish name of “Butterfly woman” by Damian George Sr. and Taha Amy George of the house chief Dan George of the Tsleil Waututh Nation. Later on, our dearly departed Chief Leonard George took me on as a student/teacher relationship with his wife Susan George and proceeded to help me access land to lead Two Spirit Sweats. I am, also, a member of the Coast Salish Musqueam Two Spirit Collective.
I was born Joseph Francois Leo Laframboise in 1959 at the Ottawa Hospital in Ontario while my parents lived in Aylmer Quebec. I there have two Civil birth certificates. Go figure that one out.
My family indigenous Lineage comes from Kitigan Zibi in Quebec on the border of the Ontario and Quebec along side the Ottawa River. My other lineage is English/French/Irish and Cree. Therefore, a good old Metis. My family history takes us from the French Metis Settlement of the Lower St-Lawrence to the St-Boniface and others as workers of the North West Territory company to the James Bay.
COVID 19 FROM AN OLD TRANSWOMAN/TWO SPIRIT
I have lived in Vancouver BC since 1987 and have been a real staunch advocate for the “T’ in transgender and was part of a group who traveled to the states and brought back that model to Vancouver in 1993. At the same time, we, the community of Indigenous folks, from around the country were working on a rallying term “Two Spirit” as an Indigenous queer term of sorts. I say this because our ways predate this term western/colonial terminology. So therefore, I am “Two Spirit/Transgender” and will always have that lens. In this respect, I walk between, in while bridging these two/three spaces effortlessly and seamlessly although not easily.
So what am I doing since Covid-19 aka Coronavirus:
One has been to meditate and pray and decipher all of the information that is coming out of the media.
Early on I knew that this was going to be a global pandemic through my lens of being a retired nurse and a person who leads ceremonies and also a person who spends a lot of time removing the politics out of things and looking and praying beyond what is in front and being said. That ability comes from the lens of surviving multiple traumas and being able to decipher exactly what the abusers want and all.
Rallying our community and finding new ways of doing ceremony and sharing that information and staying focus on the good stuff and advising a community that I have been praying with for a long time.
That meant standing up to the zealot religious folks and dispelling all kinds of myths around Covid-19 and heat and sweats. So I was very happy when Dr. Makosis and Dr. Adams our Indigenous medical leaders came out with their statement. Then our people began to listen.
As a daily strategy, I make sure I listen to the news only once.
I communicate with all of my close friends either by zoom/Facebook messanger/emails and phone.
I limit my exposure to people to every 3 or 4 days to go out and do errands and come back home.
With my partner I have arranged a few times to go out to our Sweat lodge grounds out in the forest on the side of the mountain and spend time there to get grounded on the land and do some smudge and prayers. Being connected to the land as an Indigenous person means the world to me. That is where my spirit flies the most.
As we are learning a new way of being in the world we are also learning how to use technology to manifest ceremonies and move them forward in a ‘non-risky’ way. What this means for me is using facetime, Zoom and FB video messaging and arranging for groups of people to come together, each of us who are C’anupa (sacred pipe carriers) load the pipes we carry and smoke after hearing the prayers of the group while others smudge at their computer. Then we proceed to engage in sharing circle.
Personally, I have also been beading and preparing some give-away stuff and I have also been working on home projects like painting my rooms in my home one wall a day which gave me the ability to paint different colors…. baking more and cooking more home cooked meals – so yummy!
What I see Covid-19 as is a major fast that mother earth has sent us to. A withdrawal of fast food, fast connection, busy schedule, busy socializing and so and a deep time of reflection and learning to be with one’s self without distraction. We are learning new ways of being and ceremonies. Just like the chicken pox, the measle and the Spanish Flu we are reconnecting to the teachers of our old ones before us. Physical distancing and deep reverence for ceremonies. Now is the time to listen, to stay focus and to support each other with love and light.
Today, March 31, is International Transgender Day of Visibility (#TDOV) an annual event dedicated to celebrating the lived and experiential reality of our trans and gender fluid relatives – a celebration of all our trans and gender fluid relatives gifts, medicines and contributions making our world and society a better place to live. The day was founded by US-based transgender activist Rachel Crandall of Michigan in 2009 as a reaction to the lack of LGBT recognition of transgender people, citing the frustration that the only well-known transgender-centered day was the Transgender Day of Remembrance which mourned the murders of transgender people, but did not acknowledge and celebrate and uplift living members of the transgender community.
