“I HOPE YOU WILL show up in a good way,” said Ojibwe great-grandmother Mary Lyons.
Resplendent in a brightly colored long skirt, she was flanked by her daughters and granddaughters. Behind them lay a glittering lake, towering trees, and representatives of a half dozen religious traditions bearing signs that read “Stop Line 3.”
Lyons dropped laughs about herself and her family into breaks in her unflinching talk on the living legacy of violence that the land and her people had suffered at the hands of settlers and their descendants, white folks like me. Standing behind her in the robes of a
