So, it's 2:01 AM. I am still awake, the night before the big "Candle Light Vigil". I always get nervous whenever I do a big doo, and this is no exception.

I really tried to be calm and collected about this event. There are thoughts going through my mind right now, which make it very hard not to be frazzled. First, the questions to which there are no answers. Like, who will show up? Will this reach to a great audience - for that is what the idea of raising awareness is to accomplish. I would hate to think that 10 people will show up, or worse - no one.

Second, will the speakers show up? If the speakers did not show up but the audience did - then that would be somewhat easier.

Ahhh, my life has been very busy with this project, as with my other projects. I believe in what I do and trying to get others on board, you just never know. I sometimes do question my involvement - for it has been asked of me already - what right do I have?

Again - I will answer this question, with one simple fact, that being born an (obvious) Aboriginal women - a First Nations Cree women from Sturgeon Lake, Alberta - I was born into an oppressed position. I did not know this growing up, and it was so easy to not see it. I was not privileged, and yet I am very privileged.

I only have to think of my sister. She is dying, of colon cancer. She is suffereing horribly. And on Monday she called me with a heart wrenching plea for help. I hated to hear her talk like that, and for the life of me - there was little I could do.

Is this what "others" think of Aboriginal women when they are confronted with the pleas of Aboriginal women? The problems are so big and so huge, that when you hear the plea for life, for dignity, for respect, how can you solve this problem?

I will never forgive those who treated my sister poorly, for she has not received respect, nor given dignity. I hate that she is viewed as less than those who were treating her, and if this is her last chance at life, it breaks my heart to think there was nothing I could do.

What I wanted to do, was to get to Alberta, and I wanted to tape her on my video camera. Why? Because (when) she does die, I want her to tell her own story, to be able to voice her pain and anguish to those who did not listen to her. I want to expose those in society who saw her as a "druggie" or a "street person", and only remember her identity with contempt.

If they only considered what she went through. The burden she was given was never a fair trade for her participation in society, when she did not ask for this, and she did not deserve this, and she is being unfairly judged by this.

For my sister, my lovely, beautifuly sister Cynthia, I love you. Everything I do in this struggle is for everything you gave me, which at this point, seems more than what I am able to give you in return.

To all the baby Aboriginal girls being born, privileged or not, who are automatically given this burden by their identity, is what I want to change. I carry in my heart the love I have for my sister who is loved, and with the life she has and the life she didn't have, I put foward a vengence
for some retribution for a better memory, more understanding, more empathy.

Gloria