Why We Still Fight For The Land

They ask us why. Why we still fight. Why we still gather, still grieve, still rise, still insist that this land remembers us.

They ask us “why be so foolish to want this land”. Land where the colonialism system has imposed their needs onto the land. Who stripped the forests and poisoned the waters. The same system that buried its violence beneath concrete and silence.

How could we possibly know what it means to take care of the land.

But they don’t understand-

We don’t want it because it’s untouched, rundown or lush.

We want the land, because it is our sacred responsibility.

We want the land, because we love our mother.

We want the land, because she remembers.

We want the land, because we need to remember.

They tell us the past is the past. That it cannot be changed. That we should move on. That we should be grateful for what we have.

But they forget - our land is not the past. It is our mother.

We do not forget our roots. Our mother. Our responsibility.

We still fight for the land because the bones of our ancestors lay in the soil. Because every tree has heard our songs. Because the rivers still carry our names, even if their mouths have been renamed.

We fight because land is not just territory - it is relationship. A relationship to our homelands – to who we are. It is where our ceremonies begin and end. It is where our children learn who they are. It is where the language of mother earth that speaks louder than the noise of colonization.

We fight because when our land was stolen, so was our breath. And finally we are learning to breathe again.

This fight is not about ownership. Western society and colonialism have brainwashed us to believe that ownership is power. That land must be bought, sold, fenced, and controlled to hold value. But our teachings tell a different story.

You don’t own your mother. You can’t own the Creator – yet so many try to speak her words, justifying their own actions. Trying to make sense of the wrongs they have or had committed. That is not ownership – that is manipulation.

You don’t own the river that raised you or the mountain that holds your ancestors’ bones.

It is about remembrance. It is about our sacred duty to protect what was never meant to be divided, paved over, poisoned, or sold.

You are in relationship with them – the bound of responsibility, gratitude and care.

We still fight because the wounds are not closed.

Because residential schools tried to bury us. Because our grandmothers still cry in their sleep. Because our sons and daughters are still being taken.

Still the abuse continues...

And still - we are here.

Still, we rise. Still, we drum.

Still, we return to the land because it is the only place that has never lied to us.

Every time we gather to burn sweetgrass and speak our truth, every time we walk the old paths and call the spirits home, we are doing more than resisting.

We are remembering.

We fight because the land remembers us, even when the world forgets. Because when we stand on our land, we stand in our power. Because our sovereignty is not a theory—it is a living, breathing force carried by the women, the water, and the wind.

This is not a protest. It is a ceremony.

And so, we will keep fighting. With our songs. With our feet on the ground. With our voices raised in love. Not dwelling on whether we hate what was done to us, because we love too fiercely to let it continue.

This is why we still fight for our land. Because it was never just land.

It is who we are.

And we are not done.

By: Tausha Butler