I Am The Other

I don't ever know anymore how to identify myself. And this morning, I was hit with my inability to identify myself for the purposes of understanding from others.

Gawd, can you tell I'm studying Anthropology currently?

So, this morning in a class, a prof started to make comments about Aboriginal peoples who adopt and practice majority forms of economic development, in particular, the Squamish band's decision to erect billboards on band land bridges, which includes part of the downtown core. Regardless of the issue itself, when he posed the question about why then Natives insist on maintaining their "otherness" (not his term), their separation for the rest of society, since they insist on adopting the popular white ideals of the ideas of property, I think I felt my head spin. Obviously he did not mean to offend, and his point was that he was wanting for some force or polity to create and offer a different, alternative ideal of property (based on collectivity). The discussion continued on, and I could do nothing but sit there and think to myself, "You want 4% of the Canadian population, with a tiny percentage of the physical and financial resources to rise up and change prevailing views of property? Seriously?"

Unfortunately, after class, the prof approached a friend about my reaction to what he was saying (I'm not sure I had revealed my First Nations heritage in this class, to be fair), and the friend explained my issues with what he was saying. Now, I'm embarassed, because without uttering a word aloud, I guess I made it perfectly clear that I was not buying his argument. And now I've alienated myself from this prof. Oh bloody hell. Awkward.

But I am tired of trying to put my identity out there. I am a member of the Cree Nation. On paper, I am First Nations. But the reality is far too complicated. I have white skin. Blonde hair. European facial features. My brown eyes alone are my sole physical claim to proof of my Native heritage. I carry a Treaty card, but even it looks different from my fellow First Nations members. In the place of a paper card laminated in plastic, which is the standard card doled out at Band Offices, mine looks like a credit card, courtesy of the Indian Affairs office in Edmonton. But in order to be taken seriously, I would have to tattoo "NATIVE" on my forehead, or staple the card to my head. My physical appearance gets me into trouble: fully acceptable in the outside world, suspicious on reserves, and among my Native peers. I am The Other. I accept this. But it sure makes things difficult sometimes.

How can I deal with people around me, when I'm still making sense of my identity myself?