Last Updated on March 18, 2025
Today was the first day in a very long time that I felt genuinely happy. So long that I surprised myself with the heart-warming laughter, smiles, and fun I had with my son and my partner. It felt as though I had been in a deep slumber and finally awoke.
Then I read your email.
You know, that same fucking one you send to me when you feel attacked by my mere presence. The one where you think for certain that you are asserting your boundaries with me – your white feminist, borderland.
Within the first five seconds, I feel the now familiar anger I have toward you. My anger at one time looked like a raging fire. But, after four painstaking years with you, it has become the hot, red embers of a long lasting, tendered, and nurtured fire. My embers burn strong within the next two minutes after reading your email.
When my son and partner talk to me now, five minutes after I read your email, I am no longer the happy Momma, and lighthearted partner. I embody my embers, and sizzle and crackle when they talk to me. I distance myself, come into myself, and wallow in my contempt for you.
The hour passes.
This is when my immense exhaustion sets in. Well, hello, my old familiar companion. I’ve had not even one day to enjoy your absence. I had only the morning and afternoon to delight in my rare happiness
until
I decided to open the white, feminist’s email.
Across the world right now, Indigenous peoples are facing a renewed assault on their lands, rights, and ways of life.
From extractive industries pushing deeper into ancestral territories, to governments rolling back hard-won protections,
the threat is global—and it is growing.
What makes this moment especially dangerous is how little attention it receives.
Stories like this are disappearing in real time. Mainstream media
barely covers it and the coverage is fragmented. The public is left without the context
needed to understand what is truly at stake.
That is exactly why IC Magazine exists..
For more than 20 years, IC has reported on Indigenous struggles worldwide — consistently, independently, and without compromise.
We don’t follow news cycles; we trace patterns. We don’t sensationalize; we provide context.
And when the world looks away, we stay focused.
But this work is increasingly difficult to sustain.
We refuse to lock our reporting behind a paywall. We don’t sell access through subscriptions.
And we don’t answer to advertisers. IC Magazine survives solely because readers like you choose to
support independent Indigenous journalism.
Please donate today if you can. Every contribution helps us to continue this crucial work.
Thank you,
John Ahni Schertow
Founder and Editor in Chief
