All of that changed a few years ago when The Supreme Court of Canada decided that, thanks to a long-dead grandmother’s Mohawk ancestry, I was an Indian.
It hasn’t been easy, but over time I’ve come to understand the need to stand in solidarity with my Indian brothers and sisters. As long as they are denied the privilege of paying taxes, my humanity demands that I make that sacrifice as well.
If they’re forced to accept free university tuition, I’ll just have to grit my teeth, bite the bullet, and send the bill for any dental work to the Department of Aboriginal Affairs.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow—all the more so because the government insists on paying for my medication…