June is Indigenous History Month. While there’s already a lot of powerful content online—especially on LinkedIn—I wanted to share something more personal. One question I often sense, but people don’t always feel comfortable asking, is: What does it mean to be Métis?
So, I’m sharing what being Métis means to me. I don’t speak for all Métis people—just myself. Every Métis person has their own story. This is mine.
I’m a proud member of the Métis Nation of Alberta. I identify as Métis, Red River Métis, and Indigenous. When I was a kid, my granny told me, “Always be proud of where you come from.” I didn’t understand what she meant at the time, but I do now.
My granny was born on Pinaymootang First Nation (Fairford Reserve) in Manitoba. Her grandmother, a midwife, delivered her and many other babies across the Interlake region. Granny often shared stories about her grandfather, a trapper who travelled with a dog team. He had two rules: don’t touch his dogs, and don’t touch his fiddle! Fiddling, jigging, and square dancing were part of their weekend gatherings—joyful expressions of Métis culture.
Granny didn’t grow up on the reserve, but nearby. She once told me she regretted not learning traditional medicine from her grandmother. That loss of knowledge is something many of us carry with us.
I’m also mixed on my Indigenous side, with Anishinaabe, Cree, and Red River Métis ancestry. That made it hard to know which Indigenous language to learn. When I asked my great-aunt, she said, “The language my mother spoke.” When I asked what that was, she simply said, “Indian.” Eventually, I learned it was Saulteaux. So, if you’re confused about your roots, you’re not alone. I am, too.
I’ve never applied for a status card. I don’t know if I’d qualify, and I don’t fully understand how that system works. My family has always identified as Métis, and that’s where I feel at home.
On my mother’s side, I’m Scottish and English Métis. On my father’s side, I’m Ukrainian. I wasn’t raised with Ukrainian culture, but I’m still proud of it. Like many Canadians, I carry a mix of cultures. But Métis culture is the one that feels closest to my heart.
I think of myself as having dual citizenship: I’m Canadian and a citizen of the Métis Nation of Alberta.
Belonging to the Métis Nation of Alberta means I can live anywhere in Canada and still be part of that Nation. That’s a right we’ve fought for.
Unlike First Nations, most Métis people don’t have land bases. Alberta is unique in having eight Métis settlements, which are somewhat similar to reserves. But most Métis communities were built through not-for-profit organizations that helped us stay connected after we were displaced.
To become a citizen of the Métis Nation of Alberta, you need three things:
There’s no blood quantum requirement. It’s about connection, not percentages.
I used to avoid politics. But I’ve learned that being Indigenous is inherently political. Colonial systems shape our identities, and our rights are often debated by governments, institutions, and even other Indigenous communities.
In Alberta, I’ve always felt a strong sense of belonging. Métis people here are widely recognized as Indigenous and welcomed in Indigenous spaces. But in British Columbia and Ontario, I’ve sometimes been questioned, like I wasn’t “Indigenous enough.”
I’ve had First Nations people in Ontario tell me I am a “real Métis” because I belong to the Métis Nation of Alberta, but they're not sure about members of the Métis Nation of Ontario. A few First Nations people from B.C. have told me that Métis people aren’t Indigenous at all. That tells me they don’t fully understand how Métis membership works.
It reminds me of the term “mudblood” from Harry Potter—being treated as less-than because of mixed heritage. But Métis identity is rooted in history, culture, and community. Every Métis person has First Nations ancestors. That’s part of who we are.
Métis history is complex. We weren’t placed on reserves like First Nations. Instead, the government offered us “scrip,” a system that promised land but often led to dispossession, and much of the land was bought up by banks, churches, and speculators. It was, in many ways, a land grab.
Despite this, Métis communities persisted. We built local organizations to stay connected. Today, some of these organizations, such as the Métis Nation of Alberta, are transitioning into self-governing bodies. It’s a long process, but it’s rooted in self-determination.
As the Métis Nation of Alberta says:
“We, the Métis Nation, are Otipemisiwak—the people who own ourselves. We have an inherent right to self-determination and self-government.”
There are tensions within the broader Métis landscape. For example, the Métis Nation of Alberta and the Métis settlements don’t always see eye to eye. I don’t know all the history, but I’ve felt the divide.
But I try to stay focused on what matters: community, culture, and connection. I’ve met incredible people across all the Métis Nations. I’m especially grateful to those at the Métis Nation of Alberta who’ve supported me, guided me, and helped me grow.
And I hold onto the wisdom my granny gave me. Her lessons still echo in my heart. Be proud of where you come from.
Being Métis is complicated. There are many opinions about what it means, and I’m glad you took the time to read mine.
I believe in the right to self-determination. I get to decide who I am.
I’m proud of my mixed heritage—all of it. Turtle Island is a beautiful place to be Indigenous to. So is Ukraine. So is Scotland. So is England.
And I’m proud to be Métis Canadian.
We live, work, and gather on traditional, unceded, and treaty territories of First Nations, Métis, and Inuit Peoples from coast to coast to coast. We’re committed to our collective responsibility to the original caretakers of this land and to listening, learning, and acting in ways that support reconciliation.
