I remember the evening, so many years ago, that my mother excitedly gathered us in the living room of our house behind the pool hall in Athabasca to watch a show featuring a “Cree girl,” a talented singer.
I don’t remember what songs she sang or who accompanied her, but I do remember that my family was spellbound. The tears in mother’s eyes prompted tears in my eyes, which prompted tears from my younger sisters, brother and a couple of cousins.
A Cree girl had made the big time. She was beautiful, and the intense tremolo in her voice — almost a trill — made her sound so tribal.
I don’t get those defending her. She knew who she was well enough to fill out her marriage documents correctly.
