This N.S. writer says patience is a virtue that helps create progress for change
Kiahna Brennan is a young Dene Cree writer who says imagination is the most important part of her life. Here she talks about hope, storytelling and seeing things that she had not been looking for before.
Kiahna Brennan explores the power in hope and stories
I have always had a story to tell. My mind flowed with the words, the images that I wanted to communicate. It was only a matter of picking up a pencil, opening my mouth, and finding the right words.
Stories are important — for culture, for sustaining history, and just for entertainment.
Imagination is the most important part of my life
It helps me to be hopeful and see things that I had not been looking for before. In that, I can see change.
Six years ago, I heard the story of Chanie Wenjack, an Ojibwa boy who ran away from a residential school in an attempt to reunite with his family but died of starvation and exposure, and the stories of thousands of my people, the Dene Cree, that were so similar.
Kids who were like me, who lost the ability to tell their stories, to tell their parents' and grandparents' stories.
Then I learned of the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, and it was hard not to despair. Seeing all this sadness.
Imagination helped, hope helped.
Growing up in a small and predominantly white town, it meant a lot for me to be able to do anything for my community.
In high school, I did the Red Dress project twice, leading the charge within a group of students in this art installation to represent and draw attention to all of the missing Indigenous women and girls who have been taken and in many cases killed.
We talked to many people about it, getting permission from the town and various places within it, gathering dress donations along the way, before hanging the dresses in busy areas around town.
The project raised a lot of awareness for the horrific tragedy that is still happening to women across the country. It went over really well. I did it once more before graduating.
It helped to know I was teaching people about this tragedy. It gave me hope that I was informing people on what was going on, something that affected me and my people.
The power I find in stories is the same power I find in change. Teaching is progress and progress is waiting.
I learn and teach best through stories
Hearing the stories of others is inspiring. From news coverage to dystopias, they all in some way or another have a shred of hope.
I have learned that hope is there. It is often hidden, but if you work for it, you can find it. I have always had stories to fall back on and to bring me up, to inspire me to change something.
Being all in, for me, is being there for the time it takes for change to happen.
I have learned that progress takes a great deal of patience to see through. It can be frustrating, waiting for it to unfold, for others around you to catch up, but seeing the end result is infinitely worth it.
It takes time, just as it takes time for stories to develop and become something more than words on a page.
My end result, what is just over my horizon, is a better future. My work is for all the kids of the future generations.
Get to know Kiahna
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
This past November, as one of the Afterwords Literary Festival's 2024 Youth Mentorship writers, I was offered a chance to do a reading of my recent work in Millbrook First Nation for the Festival.
Tanya Talaga, journalist and author of Anishinaabe and Polish descent, was there to speak with Trina Roache, journalist, professor and member of the member Glooscap Mi'kmaq community, about Talga's latest work The Knowing. It was an amazing experience and I felt incredibly proud of what I had done to get there.
What is your most marked characteristic?
My loyalty. I tend to stick around. It helps me be patient. Sticking by a plan and seeing it through is in large part my loyalty, to both people, and my vision.
Can you share a recent event or experience that gives you hope for positive change?
When doing the Red Dress project the first time in Amherst, where I live, I had been warned by many people that the installations could be destroyed by people who didn't understand and were angered by what they represented. I went through with it anyway, and was encouraged by the responses which were all positive. The kindness and the impact it had in my community gave me a lot of hope we could still strive for change.
Stories are important — for culture, for sustaining history, and just for entertainment.
Imagination is the most important part of my life
It helps me to be hopeful and see things that I had not been looking for before. In that, I can see change.
Six years ago, I heard the story of Chanie Wenjack, an Ojibwa boy who ran away from a residential school in an attempt to reunite with his family but died of starvation and exposure, and the stories of thousands of my people, the Dene Cree, that were so similar.
Kids who were like me, who lost the ability to tell their stories, to tell their parents' and grandparents' stories.
Then I learned of the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, and it was hard not to despair. Seeing all this sadness.
Imagination helped, hope helped.
Growing up in a small and predominantly white town, it meant a lot for me to be able to do anything for my community.
In high school, I did the Red Dress project twice, leading the charge within a group of students in this art installation to represent and draw attention to all of the missing Indigenous women and girls who have been taken and in many cases killed.
We talked to many people about it, getting permission from the town and various places within it, gathering dress donations along the way, before hanging the dresses in busy areas around town.
The project raised a lot of awareness for the horrific tragedy that is still happening to women across the country. It went over really well. I did it once more before graduating.
It helped to know I was teaching people about this tragedy. It gave me hope that I was informing people on what was going on, something that affected me and my people.
The power I find in stories is the same power I find in change. Teaching is progress and progress is waiting.
I learn and teach best through stories
Hearing the stories of others is inspiring. From news coverage to dystopias, they all in some way or another have a shred of hope.
I have learned that hope is there. It is often hidden, but if you work for it, you can find it. I have always had stories to fall back on and to bring me up, to inspire me to change something.
Being all in, for me, is being there for the time it takes for change to happen.
I have learned that progress takes a great deal of patience to see through. It can be frustrating, waiting for it to unfold, for others around you to catch up, but seeing the end result is infinitely worth it.
It takes time, just as it takes time for stories to develop and become something more than words on a page.
My end result, what is just over my horizon, is a better future. My work is for all the kids of the future generations.
Get to know Kiahna
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
This past November, as one of the Afterwords Literary Festival's 2024 Youth Mentorship writers, I was offered a chance to do a reading of my recent work in Millbrook First Nation for the Festival.
Tanya Talaga, journalist and author of Anishinaabe and Polish descent, was there to speak with Trina Roache, journalist, professor and member of the member Glooscap Mi'kmaq community, about Talga's latest work The Knowing. It was an amazing experience and I felt incredibly proud of what I had done to get there.
What is your most marked characteristic?
My loyalty. I tend to stick around. It helps me be patient. Sticking by a plan and seeing it through is in large part my loyalty, to both people, and my vision.
Can you share a recent event or experience that gives you hope for positive change?
When doing the Red Dress project the first time in Amherst, where I live, I had been warned by many people that the installations could be destroyed by people who didn't understand and were angered by what they represented. I went through with it anyway, and was encouraged by the responses which were all positive. The kindness and the impact it had in my community gave me a lot of hope we could still strive for change.
What advice would you give your future self?
Wait. Even when it's hard, because it is hard, it is important to wait. Everything will happen when it's supposed to happen.