What’s in Bloom

Last week, I had the honour of speaking at Moose Hide Campaign Day—a powerful gathering rooted in love, accountability, and the collective commitment to end violence. I’m so grateful to everyone who supported me, encouraged me, and showed up for my session with open hearts.

A big thank you to the incredible folks at the Moose Hide Campaign for inviting me to lend my voice to such an important day. You created something truly beautiful—lifting up voices and stories that deserve to be heard. Congratulations on an amazing event.

And… to those of you who attended Session One—thank you for sticking with me through the full emotional experience (aka, the great flood). I swear I don’t usually cry THAT much. But sometimes the emotion of this work and the depth of our shared commitment really affects me. So, from the bottom of my weepy heart—thank you for your patience, your kindness, and for giving me grace when I needed to deal with my sniffly nose. I appreciate your support very, very much.

During my talk, I shared a reflection on allyship—that each of us brings our own unique gift to this work. Some of us show up with data, others with stories, art, song, or laughter. It’s not about being everything to everyone—it’s about showing up with what you have, and trusting that our collective efforts are what move this work forward.

Since then, I’ve been thinking about what’s blooming all around us—and noticing teams of people working together to clear out something that doesn’t belong. Which brings us to this week’s Teachings Tuesday, and a story shared by George. It begins with Scotch broom… and unfolds into a lesson about how we walk alongside community—with respect, humility, and a willingness to learn.

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"In our traditional territories, there's a powerful lesson to be learned from an invasive plant known as Scotch broom. On a recent visit to Tla'amin, while on the road, I observed vast stretches of this plant covering the landscape - a stark reminder of well-intentioned but misguided colonial interventions. When settlers arrived on our lands, they brought this plant with them, believing it would serve their need for making brooms to clean their homes. Little did they know the far-reaching consequences of introducing this species, which would eventually spread across our territories, disrupting the natural balance. This situation serves as a metaphor for what happens when newcomers impose their solutions without first observing and understanding the existing wisdom of the land and its people.

Had these early settlers taken the time to observe and learn from our people's ways of being, they would have discovered that we already had established, sustainable practices that worked in harmony with our environment. This principle - the importance of learning from those who possess deep knowledge of a place - continues to be relevant today in all aspects of community work and service.

Previously I experienced a telling example of this lesson while working with a well-intentioned service provider in our community. This individual had planned to complete four home visits in one day, allocating thirty minutes for each visit. With good intentions but limited cultural understanding, they had created a schedule that prioritized efficiency over our community's traditional ways of being.

I gently explained that our first visit would be with a te' (Grandmother), known for her traditional values and hospitality. I knew that this visit would involve more than just completing paperwork or checking boxes. True to our ways, when we arrived, te' welcomed us with the warmth and ceremony that defines our culture - offering tea/coffee, sharing food, and engaging in the essential practice of sharing who we are and where we come from. What was planned as a thirty-minute visit naturally evolved into an hour of meaningful connection and relationship building.

By day's end, we had completed only two of the four planned visits, each taking about an hour. While the service provider initially saw this as a reduction in productivity, it presented an opportunity to share a fundamental teaching: effective service to our communities requires understanding and respecting our cultural protocols and ways of being. I explained that by attempting to impose their timeline without consulting those who understood the community's rhythms, we had to reschedule visits, potentially causing unnecessary disruption to our relatives' lives.

This experience illuminates a broader truth: genuine service to Indigenous communities cannot be achieved through external agendas alone. Success comes through collaboration, through asking rather than assuming, and through respecting the wisdom embedded in our traditional ways. Those seeking to work with our communities must be willing to set aside their preconceptions and learn from the people they wish to serve.

Just as the story of the Scotch broom teaches us about the unintended consequences of imposing foreign solutions, these daily interactions remind us that true partnership begins with humility, respect, and a willingness to learn from those who hold generations of knowledge about their own communities."

~ George Harris Jr.

Just like Scotch broom, systems and habits rooted in colonization can take hold quickly and be difficult to remove. But people are coming together—on the land and in community—to clear space for what’s meant to thrive.

George’s teaching is a reminder that meaningful service doesn’t begin with a plan, a checklist, or a timeline. It begins with humility. It begins with relationship. It begins with listening.

In the wake of Moose Hide Campaign Day, I’m holding close the belief that we each carry something valuable into this work. Whether it's advocacy, art, education, or quiet encouragement—we all have a role. We all have a gift. And when we bring those gifts forward with care, in service of one another and with respect for those whose lands we’re on, we begin to clear a path for real change.

And so, I will continue trying to show up in the ways I uniquely can. I will keep noticing what’s in bloom—and asking what belongs there.

🧡 Kim