Carrying the Gift
Beads of Promise, Threads of Responsibility
There are gifts that are given and then there are gifts that are entrusted to us — gifts that do not belong to any one person but instead carry the weight of history, the memory of land, and the responsibility of those who came before us and those who will come after.
Years ago, I was given such a gift — a pouch, crafted from the same deer hide as was gifted to Neil Young and Winona LaDuke who were there land defending with us, adorned with glass beads from Czechoslovakia. These beads had been melted down from original glass beads that had been gifted during the signing of the early treaties and had been given by the same Czechoslovakian family who had made the beads during that time to grandmothers, grandfathers, and knowledge keepers throughout Turtle Island. These pouches were given to us in recognition of our support and contributions to community and the future generations, a quiet acknowledgement that solidarity is not just about bearing witness but about standing, learning, and being accountable to the land, the promise of Treaty, and the people who have stewarded the land since time immemorial. Neil Young wore his when he was asked to be in the Supreme advertising campaign — I showed the grandmother who gifted us these pouches and she laughed with glee at the sight of the pouch being projected into Times Square and postered around New York when Neil Young’s campaign was launched years ago. You can still see this picture if you search “Neil Young, Supreme poster” as he wears his pouch proudly and often. Whenever I see it, I remember nights of hearing him play “Harvest Moon” under the stars by the fire and the memories come rushing back, even all these years later.
When I hold and wear this pouch, I know that it is not just mine to hold. It is part of a larger story — one that predates me and will continue long after I am gone. The leather, once the hide of a living being, carries the land and teachings of the land within it. The beads, once traded during negotiations that determined futures, hold the echoes of agreements made, upheld, and broken. These materials have existed through time, through hands that bartered, hands that signed, hands that fought, hands that embraced…and now they rest within my own.
The Weight of What We Carry
It is easy to speak of history as if it is behind us. It is harder to recognize that we are still living inside it. Mark Twain said that “history does not repeat, it rhymes.” All treaties were meant to last “as long as the sun shines, the grass grows, and the rivers flow.” Treaties are not a transaction, they are a promise — a commitment that, in theory, should have ensured mutual survival, protection, dignity, and respect.
The history of the treaties is not one of promises kept, it is one of land taken, resources extracted, livelihoods and lands disrupted, extracted, destroyed, and exploited. The same glass that once laid on the tables as part of the exchange now rest on a fragile thread of sinew holding together this pouch, a reminder that what was traded was more than material — it was trust, sovereignty, the shape of generations to come.
To carry a piece of that history is to carry a responsibility — the weight is not in the object itself but in what it represents.
A Shared Thread of Reconciliation
Neil Young, Winona LaDuke, and I each arrived at our moment of being gifted our pouches from different roads, drawn by different histories, but bound by a shared truth: the land is not a commodity. It is not property. It is not something that can be bought, sold, or signed away without consequence. The fight for land is a fight for the future, and to stand with all Indigenous peoples both here on Turtle Island and throughout the world is a sacred responsibility. To receive these pouches was not to be honoured; it was to be reminded. Reminded that this work is not about moments of performative protest or statements of support. It is about continuity. About standing firm even when the spotlight fades. About understanding that resistance is not always loud — it is often quiet, persistent, woven into the everyday choices we make.
This pouch is not a symbol of recognition, it is a charge: to remember, to remain, to resist so that all our relations can exist in fullness, beauty, peace, respect, and dignity.
What It Means To Carry This Forward
Receiving such a sacred gift is about responsibility and relationship and understanding that our commitment is not a singular event but ongoing. Justice is not a moment but a practice and history does not sit behind us but is here beneath our feet, in the land we walk on, in the treaties written in ink but meant to be upheld in action.
It means understanding that the beads in this pouch are more than decoration. They are remnants of promises held in trust and a belief that the agreements made will one day be honoured as intended. They are fragments of a past that still demands accountability, truth, and reconciliation.
They are a question: What will you do with what you have been given?
Held in Our Hands, Carried in Our Hearts
“I do not believe that time is linear. Instead, I have come to believe that time is in cycles, and that the future is part of our past and the past is a part of our future. Always, however, we are in new cycles. The cycles omit some pieces and collect other pieces of our stories and our lives.
That is why we keep the names, and that is why we keep the words. To understand our relationship to the whole and our role in the path of life.”
- Winona LaDuke, Last Standing Woman
This pouch is more than an object — it is a thread woven through time, carrying the weight of history and the quiet persistence of those who have never stopped fighting for the land, for dignity, for truth. It is a reminder that solidarity is not measured in words but in action, in showing up, in refusing to turn away.
I carry it knowing that it is a part of something much larger than one person. The hands that shaped it, the hide that holds it, the beads formed from the glass that threads it — all of it speaks to a history that is still unfolding.
What we carry matters. Not just the stories we tell, but the commitments we make. Not just the past we inherit, but the future we shape.
This pouch, stitched with love, care, and responsibility, reminds me that we do not walk this path alone. We are tethered to those who came before us, to those who stand beside us, and to those who will one day pick up where we leave off. The weight of it in my hands is grounded in the presence of struggle, of resistance, of love. It is a quiet but unwavering testament to the power of standing firm for what is right, of offering our gifts to the world (after all, if it isn’t free, it isn’t a gift), and of knowing that the work we do — whether seen or unseen — ripples outward in ways we may never fully grasp.
Some things are not meant for spectacle; they are meant to be carried, to be honoured, and to remind us that justice, like tradition, is not a moment but a continuum.
May we carry our commitments with the same care as we carry our stories, knowing that the work we do today is woven into the fabric of tomorrow. Let us move forward with intention, guided by the wisdom of those who came before and the responsibilities we hold to those yet to come.
With roots deep and vision steady,
Ms. K
