Learning to Take Up Space: From Wabasca to White Coat

When I walk into academic settings, I often feel the weight of silence before I even sit down. It’s not the silence of a room waiting for a professor but the silence of being the only one. The only one from a rural reserve. The only visibly Indigenous woman. The only person who grew up knowing what dry meat tastes like and what the cabin smells like on a fall morning.

Growing up in Wabasca, I didn’t see doctors who looked like me and definitely none who spoke Cree or knew the grief of losing community members to systems that were never built to protect us. It’s why I’m here. Because no one should have to face hard moments in their life confused, scared, and alone in a system that doesn’t speak their language.

Now that I’m in medical school, I’ve come to realize that showing up is a form of resistance. It’s also a form of healing. Because taking up space in these systems that have historically pushed us out is about more than surviving. It’s about making space for others to come in, too.

But that doesn't mean it's always easy.

Sometimes I sit in class wondering if the person beside me can tell I don't come from a family of doctors. If they notice the way my hand hesitates before raising it, because for years, I was taught that my voice didn’t belong in academic spaces. Sometimes I wonder if I’m only here because someone needed to check a box. Other times, I feel pride so deep it hums in my chest. That I walk these halls with ancestors behind me and future generations ahead of me.

Taking up space isn’t about being loud. It’s about being present. It’s about telling my stories when they matter. It’s about adding community context to clinical conversations. It’s about advocating for culturally safe care, not just in theory but in practice. And yes, it’s about smudging in the hospital and anywhere I feel like it.

If you’ve ever felt like you don’t belong in the room you’re in, I want you to know: you do.

Sometimes the systems we step into weren’t designed for us, but that doesn’t mean we’re unworthy of being there. It means the system needs to grow.

I’m learning, day by day, that taking up space is not something I need to apologize for. It’s something I’m learning to honour with every breath, every step, and each time I pick up my stethoscope.

With love,

Chyna