Conquered Lands

When I was growing up on a farm in southeast Manitoba, there was a common saying I often heard: “If you want control of what happens on the land next door, you’d better own it.”

That phrase has been echoing in my mind lately, especially after the recent court victory involving the Cowichan Tribes — represented by Stz’uminus, Penelakut, Lyackson, and Cowichan.

On August 7, 2025, the British Columbia Supreme Court released its decision in Cowichan Tribes v. Canada (Attorney General), a ruling that carries significant implications for the recognition of Aboriginal title across the country.

After the decision, I came across a TikTok by a mortgage broker influencer calling the case “problematic” for private landowners — an “intrusion on property rights.” I commented that “B.C. is 90% unceded land. Stolen land. All wealth accumulated here has been displaced from First Nations who have faced attempted genocide. It is rightfully theirs.”

His reply? “Degenerate empathy and woke mind viruses.”

His dismissal of my comment and the position of his TikTok reveal a theme I often see in the comments sections of social media — that racism and colonial dominance are alive and well in Canada. The belief that the Canadian government has a right to Crown land, and that Indigenous land rights are dangerous. These conversations often stir up Indigenous-specific racism while clouding the truth about what Canada is built upon.

Another justification I hear frequently repeated is that, “Canada is conquered land. Indigenous people need to get over it.”It’s a phrase that lands heavy — not because it isn't new, but because it reflects a story crafted to make colonization seem justified, inevitable, and complete.

But here’s the truth: Canada was not conquered.

Unlike other parts of the world, there was no great war of conquest here — no decisive battle that ended with Indigenous Nations surrendering, no document declaring that land had been “won.”

Instead, what unfolded was far more complex — and for many, far more painful.

After the war between Britain and France, King George III issued the Royal Proclamation of 1763, which recognized that Indigenous Peoples were the rightful owners of their lands. It stated that these lands could only be given up through treaty — never through force or settlement. Those words still matter. They remain part of Canada’s constitutional foundation today.

Many Indigenous Nations entered into treaties under the belief they were forming relationships — agreements to share land and live in peace, not to surrender or disappear. But the Crown often broke those promises, turning treaties into instruments of control rather than respect.

The lands I grew up on, in southeastern Manitoba, are adjacent to Treaty 1 territory — the first of the numbered treaties signed in 1871 between the Anishinaabe and Swampy Cree Peoples and the Crown. The Treaty was meant to ensure mutual benefit: settlers would be allowed to farm, while First Nations would receive reserve lands, education, and ongoing annuities. But those promises were never fully honoured. Reserve sizes were reduced, annual payments never kept pace with inflation, and lands promised for community use were taken up by settlers and railways.

The following thought I share with care, recognizing the hard work, sacrifice, and persistence of my parents, grandparents, and ancestors who risked everything to build a life for us in Canada:

When I think back to that saying about “owning the land next door,” I do wonder now — did we really own the land we farmed? Or were we simply benefiting from broken promises and a system that claimed ownership over land that was never truly the Crown’s to give?

And in much of what is now called British Columbia, no treaties were ever signed. These lands were neither conquered nor ceded. They remain unceded Indigenous territory — meaning the original title to the land has never been lawfully extinguished.

When people say “get over it,” they’re not just dismissing the past — they’re dismissing the present. Colonialism didn’t end when treaties were signed or when residential schools closed. It continues today, in laws, systems, and assumptions that shape who has access to land, health, justice, and opportunity.

To say “get over it” is to ignore that colonisation isn’t an event — it’s an ongoing structure.

For me, this isn’t about guilt or blame. It’s about truth — about recognising that the stories we were taught about Canada being “founded” or “won” are only one side of the story: the side written by those who benefitted from the taking.

So, was Canada conquered? No.

But it has always been — and continues to be — contested: through truth-telling, resilience, and the enduring sovereignty of Indigenous Peoples who have never stopped asserting their rights to land, language, and life.

As I reflect on this, I’m thinking about what it means to walk softly — lalama’thut — on the lands I live and work upon. To listen more than I speak. To keep unlearning. To honour the Nations who have carried their teachings, governance, and laws through centuries of attempted erasure.

And to keep asking myself: What stories am I still carrying that were never mine to believe?

🧡 Kim