Q. Could you tell me about the programming that you are involved with for DBIWP?

Absolutely. So, I’ll be on the panel “Indigeneity, Gender, Sexuality and Decolonization.” I think this is a crucial conversation because many Indigenous peoples across the globe had (and still have) their ancestral ways of understanding gender and sexuality that do not align with Western binaries. For example, many Indigenous peoples recognize third, fourth, or fifth genders, each with distinct social or spiritual roles. Sexuality within Indigenous communities is just as diverse.

But there’s a lot of silence and fear in recognizing this because of the trauma of colonization. These colonial systems, through law, religion, education, etc sought to erase these inherent ways of being to impose rigid binary gender roles and heteronormativity. The imposition of patriarchy and Christianity has led to Indigenous women, Two-Spirit, and LGBTQIA+ folks being disproportionately affected by violence, marginalization, and erasure that has created a global crisis of murdered and missing Indigenous women, Two-Spirit, and LGBTQIA+ folks around the world.

We need to break the silence because we can’t afford to be afraid, especially in this political landscape, when who we are as Indigenous people, as Two-Spirit and LGBTQIA+, and our resistance are the direct target of this administration.

Q. What made you want to participate in DBIWP programming?

So much of my journey has been about navigating the intersections of my identity in spaces not always ready or safe for me. I wanted to be a part of DBIWP because there’s power in sharing the truth of our identities, experiences, histories, and futures. Now, more than ever, it is critical to speak truth to power when our identities are vilified, our histories erased, and our futures threatened by the current administration.

But more than anything, I also wanted to be part of the joy. There’s something sacred about celebrating ourselves in public, out loud, on our terms, and completely defying a world that wants us invisible, silent, gone.

Q. What is important to you about an event like DBIWP?

It centers Indigiqueer and Two-Spirit joy, truth, and resilience in a world that has tried to erase us at every turn. For generations, colonial systems have told us that who we are, how we love, how we express gender, and how we live in relation to community and spirit is wrong, unnatural, or doesn’t exist. Yet, here we are, proving otherwise.

Events like DBIWP are vital because they are rooted in our cultures, stories, bodies, and futures. They provide space where we don’t have to shrink or translate ourselves, where being Indigenous and queer isn’t something we have to explain or defend, but it just is.

Q. Can you share a bit about your artwork and the work that you do?

As a journalist and artist, my work exists at the intersection of storytelling, survivance, and systems disruption, grounded in Indigenous values and futurisms.

Most of my work is about making space for Indigenous people to see ourselves reflected in the world not as stereotypes or side notes but as the innovators, culture-shapers, and badass creators we’ve always been. Whether through digital media, art, or podcasts, I use my platforms to celebrate the diversity of our Indigeneity and challenge the narratives that marginalize or erase our contributions.

At the end of the day, my work is about truth, visibility, and challenging the notion of there being a singular, homogenized way of being as Indigenous people.

Q. Would you share your reflections on the significance of DBIWP’s events through the lens of your artistic work?

DBIWP is an embodiment of everything I try to express through my art. It’s about truth-telling, joy, disruption, and liberation. DBIWP creates a space where our full selves, as Indigenous, queer, trans, Two-Spirit, disabled, etc., aren’t just seen but celebrated. That’s the space my work dreams of, grieves for, and helps build.

As an artist and journalist, my work often confronts the silence and those places where we’ve been erased, shamed, or told we’re too much. DBIWP fills those silences with sound, story, movement, and color. It’s radical in that it refuses invisibility and dares to center us in our beauty and complexity. That kind of visibility is medicine.

Q. I’m wondering if you could speak on the ways that your position as an Indigenous person has impacted your music and creation of art?

Being Indigenous isn’t a perspective I bring into my art; it’s the root system from which everything grows. So, it doesn’t matter if I’m doodling Pikachu or beading a Thunderbird; it’s Indigenous art. It’s Otoe-Missouria and Choctaw art because that is who I am. It’s that perspective that I’m hoping more people adopt when it comes to engaging with Indigenous art because our creativity is not limited to a preconceived notion of what is and isn’t Native art; what it is we should and shouldn’t be creating as Indigenous artists to be considered “Indigenous” artists.

Q. What types of supports have you experienced for your art from community?

I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have support from the various communities I am a part of. Whether it’s aunties sharing words of encouragement, fellow artists offering collaborations and sharing opportunities, or folks buying my art or telling me what my work means to them.

There’s a tenderness, shared resilience, and refusal to let each other disappear or give up on ourselves or each other, especially within our Two-Spirit, LGBTQIA+, and disabled communities. It’s helped me see there’s no separation between art and community. That, just like art, belonging is a practice, and community is the canvas that holds us all.

Q. If you have one take home message for 2SLGBTQIA+ Indigenous folks attending DBIWP, what would it be?

There is no part of you, your identity, your gender, your sexuality, your disability, your softness, your rage, that needs to be made smaller or explained away. You are whole. You are medicine. You belong exactly as you are.

Q. If you have one take home message for allies attending DBIWP, what would it be?

DBIWP exists because of centuries of resistance because 2SLGBTQIA+ Indigenous people have had to fight to be seen, heard, and kept alive. Being an ally isn’t about showing up for the celebration. It’s about committing to the work after the music fades.

So listen more than you speak. Reflect before you react. Ask yourself what you’re willing to risk or give up to help build a world where our people don’t have to fight so hard to exist. Most importantly, it means seeing 2SLGBTQIA+ Indigenous people not just as symbols of resilience but as whole, thriving human beings deserving of love, safety, joy, and rest. Let this space change you. Then, go home and help change everything else.

Q. Any upcoming projects you are working on that you’d like to share (and signal boost in the article)?

Yes! I’m excited and honored to be working on a couple of meaningful projects reflecting the heart of my creative and community work.

One is Walking in the Footsteps of Our Ancestors, a powerful, collaborative effort to reconnect the Otoe-Missouria people with our ancestral homelands in southeast Nebraska. Through this project, we’re not just mapping history. We’re restoring relationships, raising awareness, and creating space for truth, healing, and presence. I serve on the Coordinating Council &
Co-Lead the Sharing The Story Committee, where I host the Talking in the Footsteps of Our Ancestors podcast to discuss the work and impact we are having through our work.

Another project I’m incredibly proud to be part of is Portraits and Portals. As one of the six disabled artists for Portraits and Portals, I’m part of a powerful year-long project that pairs six disabled artists and creatives of color with six disaster survivors of color. Together, we are exploring the raw realities of crisis while celebrating the resilience, creativity, and humanity that emerge in its aftermath. This collaboration allows me to create through an Indigenous, disabled lens—where survivance, memory, and imagination meet. My work becomes a portal: a space for reflection, healing, and dreaming our way forward.

These projects mean so much to me because they allow me to merge art, advocacy, and community in ways that honor where we come from while being able to dream forward together.