Critical Race Theory at Canadian Tire

Three days after submitting Chapter Four

I’m still unable to be angry

in Cree. So let me

be angry in English.

Mom, having never before told me

she has bad days, let alone rough weeks,

has had a rough week. She tells me

two stories. Two things happened to her

but she wanted to wait

until I’d finished Chapter Four

before telling me.

I think I’ve had it rough,

accused of appropriation,

misrepresentation,

for writing in Cree

while wearing white,

skin that is.

Mom’s first story, involving

toilet paper, has the potential

for great humour. This first story,

however, is far from funny.

While shopping at Canadian Tire

Mom spies a brand of toilet paper

she likes in someone’s buggy.

“Where did you find that toilet paper?”

she asks the woman with the buggy.

“What!” snaps the woman.

“What aisle did you find

that toilet paper in?”

Mom asks again.

“You’re an Indian,

and I don’t help Indians!”

sneers the woman from another country,

let’s just say a warm country.

The woman probably thinks my mother,

who neither has nor wants

treaty entitlements,

is a freeloader.

The second story is still

too hard to tell.