Last Updated on March 18, 2025
I see no false representation here
I am not the great white saviour
Or the prophesied red leader
I am always me
A daughter
A sister
A niece
An aunty
A cousin
Egay[2]
Eyénjyál[3]
I see no false representation here
I stand as a visitor to these lands
This stolen Hawai’i nui a kea[4]
A guest on this island
This piko[5]
This water
This wind
I see no false representation here
This is not my ea[6]
This is not my breath
That struggles for sovereignty on this land
But we can share this ea
This co-opted breath
This colonial mess we live in
This long ago warrior state
This north and this south
This sacred piko
I see no false representation here
I know what to do
To build strength
To build fire
To breathe
To rise up
I am always me
On my land
With my people
With my Dän k’í
Thoughts on the poem
I wrote this poem while sitting in the midst of the beauty that is Oahu. I felt a pull to stay, to join in the fight to protect the land and the traditional way of life there, but I realised that it is not my piko to fight for. I can be an ally to the Kanaka Maoli from my home territory; I can respect and honor the warriors that I met there by fighting to protect my home territory as hard as they protect theirs. I believe that we are born into the nations that need us. We are their warriors, their voices, their protectors. Globally we unite to fight the larger battles, as allies, as sisters and as brothers.
[1] Dän k’í – Indigenous way of being, in the Northern Tutchone Language
[2] Egay – A Wolf, in the Northern Tutchone Language
[3] Eyénjyál – A Woman, in the Northern Tutchone Language
[4] Hawai’i nui a kea – Kanaka Maoli original name of the Hawaiian Islands
[5] Piko – place in Kanaka Maoli
[6] Ea – to breathe, to rise up in Kanaka Maoli
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
