When I was little, I heard Cree in the background: in the kitchen with my kokum, whispered in prayers at funerals, or in the laughter of aunties teasing each other. I didn’t realize then that I was hearing something sacred. Something stolen, silenced, and now being revived. As a medical student from a small Indigenous community in Northern Alberta, I’ve spent years learning Latin-based medical terms. But now, I’m making space in my brain and heart for Cree words. Because our