A Native American Goddess

My name is Jennifer Angvariationu Toke and one source of frustration for me in this life is the fact that I get confused for a lot of things I'm not. It gets really annoying sometimes. I'm not Mexican or Middle-Eastern, not that there's anything wrong with that. I am a member of the Sioux People. That's a Native American Nation for those of you with your heads up your ignorant asses. My name literally means "Another Day" and it suits me just fine. I was born on February 7, 1987 in the City of Winnipeg, Canadian Province of Manitoba. These days, I live in the City of Toronto, Province of Ontario.

The life of a Native American chick in North America seems to be a source of fascination for a lot of people. And I personally could care less. I just live my life, man. I hold a Bachelor's degree in Criminology from the University of Winnipeg. I'm currently in Law School at the University of Toronto. I live in the suburb of Brampton with my husband Jacques Saint-Denis, a burly Haitian-American guy I met a little over a year ago. I work as a Security Manager at the local Shopping Mall to pay some bills. I make my own money and I'm self-sufficient. So much for the Canadian stereotype of the Native or Aboriginal person as dependant on Government assistance to make ends meet.

There are quite a few other Natives living in the City of Toronto. We've carved a niche for ourselves in Canada's largest City. Among the growing population of Africans, Chinese, Hispanics and Arabs. Toronto is the only place where I felt like home. I think it's the best City in all of Canada. People seem more relaxed here, and they're less full of themselves. A far cry from Winnipeg, the uptight and bigoted western Canadian town where I grew up. I got called a squaw and a "Red Woman" at school. I endured the teasing until I learned to defend myself. Being six-foot-one and quite heavyset helped. I used to play Football back in High School. I simply loved contact sports. I joined the Women's Wrestling Club at the University of Winnipeg and I quickly became its captain. Yeah, I'm a very physical gal. A lot of men found that intimidating about me. Tall and strongly built Native women are seen as intimidating by White guys in Canada. And we're supposed to be all peaceful and subservient. Like hell.

The crap I endured growing up made me a misanthrope before I reached my twenties. The Canadian government continues to screw over Native people, and that bastard Stephen Harper calls himself a progressive. Same old story, I guess. My fellow Natives piss me off most of all. It seems that every Native chick in the prairies has a White boyfriend. Yep, they're eager to date the same redneck bastards who call us "Redskin" to our faces. I don't get down like that. The Native men in the prairies didn't like me either. They found me too bold, outspoken and aggressive. I can't help it. I'm passionate about Women's rights and Native American/Aboriginal Rights issues.

I tried joining the Women's Rights Group at the University of Winnipeg but like mainstream Feminism, it's basically a group for White women. Disgusted, I kept to myself and focused on my schoolwork. After graduating from the University of Winnipeg, I moved to Metropolitan Toronto. And Toronto simply blew me away. The City really didn't feel like the rest of Canada. Toronto people are lively, cool, friendly and open-minded. The rest of Canada is uptight, narrow-minded and boring. I made more friends during my first twelve months in Toronto than I did in four years at the University of Winnipeg. One of those friends was Sarah Saint-Denis, a tall and skinny Haitian chick originally from the town of Miami, Florida.

Sarah and I had some of the same classes at the University of Toronto School of Law. As luck would have it, Sarah and I clicked right away. She was thirty years old, living with her husband Ibrahim Mustafa, a Somalian accountant, and their son Mohammed, while attending Law School. Sarah came to Toronto from her hometown of Miami a couple of years ago for school and fell in love both with the vibrant town and a certain handsome Somalian businessman. They got hitched, and the rest was history. Sarah and I became BFFs, best friends forever. She introduced me to her circle of friends, a group of lovely, educated women from places like Mexico, the Republic of Haiti and Somaliland. I felt more accepted and loved among these immigrant women than I did among my own people back in Winnipeg. Thanks to these amazing ladies, Toronto began to feel like home to me rather than a pit stop.

Trouble came into my picture-perfect world. I had it all planned out, you see. I wanted to graduate from the University of Toronto Faculty of Law and become a top-notch attorney specializing in Native American/Aboriginal issues. The way I see it, Aboriginal issues are Human Rights Issues. The Canadian Government's habit of boldly going into our Reservations and taking our resources without paying us is nothing short of theft. They're really big on doing us in like that in places like Quebec and Alberta. Sarah encouraged me to pursue my dream. My feisty Haitian-American sister drew parallels between the Civil Rights Movement which Black folks started in America decades ago and the fledgling Aboriginal Rights Movement of Canada. Sometimes, I envy Black folks for their resilience. Seriously. In America, they were once slaves. Now, one of their own is the President of the United States of America. A Black man in America wields more power than any White guy on the planet. I wish I could take whatever fire drives Black folks and insert it in my fellow Aboriginals. We're complacent, content to take scraps from the Canadian Government. Black folks in North America aren't like that. I've met Black lawyers, Black journalists and Black politicians in the City of Toronto, Province of Ontario, and the town of Montreal, Province of Quebec. Black folks in North America don't play around. That's why a Black woman was once Governor-General of the Confederation of Canada, and a Black man is Mayor of Amos City in Quebec. Would a Native guy or Aboriginal woman ever become Mayor or Chief of Police in a Canadian City? I doubt it. Not if my people continue with their laziness. Yeah, I was all fired up with my intense desire to right the wrongs done to my people.

I so didn't have time for other things, like love. A lot of guys walk up to me in Toronto. It's not their fault. I'm tall and curvy, with big tits, wide hips and a big round butt. Sarah jokingly tells me that I'm the first Native chick she's seen with a "ghetto booty". I take that as a compliment. A lot of White guys in Toronto keep trying to get with me. I've never had sex with a White guy and I never will. They disgust me. Too-faced, all of them. They run around banging minority women, whether Black, Chinese, Arabic or Native, and yet they continue to treat minority communities like shit. I'm not giving my sweet Aboriginal pussy to the White man. He'll have to get his "red loving" somewhere else. Minority guys in Toronto seem drawn to me too, especially Mexican guys and Chinese guys. I don't like either. They keep mistaking me for a Hispanic broad. I'm one hundred percent Sioux. My eyes are Black, my skin is dark bronze, and my long Black hair runs all the way to my waist. What do I have to do, put a feather in my hair? I'm a Native woman, and nothing else. Got it?

One day, I accompanied Sarah to the airport to get her younger brother Jacques. Sarah is always talking about the "knucklehead from Dade County". According to Sarah, Jacques does little more than smoke and chase White chicks in the City of Miami. He graduated from Miami-Dade College and doesn't seem interested in doing anything else with his life. His exasperated parents sent him to stay with his much older sister Sarah in the City of Toronto, hoping her good example would rub off on him. When I went to the airport to pick up Jacques with Sarah, I had an idea what kind of person he was. Merely from listening to her rants. I had no idea the Knucklehead from Dade County was a six-foot-three, big and sexy Black guy with dreadlocks and a thousand-watt smile. One look at him, and I felt hot in funny places. Hot damn. The dude was fine. Twenty three years old, with heartbreaker and skirt chaser written all over him. He walked up to his sister and gave her a bear hug. Then he looked me up and down, smiled and introduced himself as Jacques "the Main Man" Saint-Denis. I smiled as he crushed my hand in his huge palm.

Jacques was very different from his quiet, friendly sister. The young man was brash and outspoken. And he kept referring to me as Pocahontas, even after I threatened to smack the living daylights out of him. Sarah laughed and told her brother to knock it off. That got Jacques's attention. He held up his hands, telling me he was just joking. I asked him how he'd feel if I referred to him as Thug-A-Licious. He got the message and seemed to understand, apologizing profusely. I told him everything was okay. He insisted that I join him and his sister for dinner that night. As far as first meetings went, this one left a lot to be desired.

As I sat down with Jacques and Sarah inside Le Chateau, a Haitian restaurant in North Toronto, I learned a bit more about him. Jacques told us about a really tough semester he had at Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University, where he used to play Football. He transferred there a year and a half after graduating from Miami-Dade College. With a sad look on his face, he told us the reason why he washed out. It had something to do with a White chick named Karen Monroe, who apparently had a thing for Black athletes. Long story short, Karen's wealthy parents didn't take kindly to her dating Jacques. And they took their frustrations out on him by using their power to get him thrown off the football team. He basically lost everything because of that White slut. I listened to him talk, shaking my head. Why do minority guys like White women so much? It doesn't matter if they're Black, Hispanic, Arabic, Asian or Native, they all want White women. Why? The look on Sarah's face seemed to echo my own thoughts. A young Native guy named Scott got in trouble over a slutty White chick back in Winnipeg. Although the charges against him were eventually dropped, he became a pariah in the City.

Jacques looked Sarah and I in the eyes and told us he was done with White women. Sarah scoffed, telling him she'd heard that before. Jacques chuckled, and made a point of buying a couple copies of Black Enterprise and Essence Magazines. And he ogled the pretty Black ladies on the covers. Sarah shook her head and excused herself, she had to go home to her husband and son. Jacques rose and gave his older sister a kiss on the cheek. Sarah touched my shoulder before leaving. And just like that, she left me alone with her lecherous younger brother. I looked at Jacques, shaking my head. I have zero sympathy for minority guys who get in trouble over White women. I think White women are overrated. Seriously. So many beautiful Black women, Hispanic women, Asian women, Arabic women and Native women out there. Why chase those sickly pale Euro-trash sluts? Must be something in the water that minority guys drink. They all suffer from I-crave-White-women syndrome!

Jacques's attitude changed completely once his sister left us. He got all serious and thoughtful, asking me all kinds of questions about the University of Toronto and the City's politics. I smiled at that. I didn't figure him for an academic or political junkie. Jacques told me that his last romance sent his life into a tailspin and he became a member of the Nation of Islam as a result. I found that peculiar, and told him as much. His bullshit didn't fool me for a minute. He got hurt by a woman, so he took refuge in Islam. A patriarchal religion which wasn't exactly known for upholding women's rights. Jacques seemed pissed off. He smiled dangerously and told me that the sacred tenets of Islam held that men and women were created equal. He also told me he didn't agree with Islam on everything. That got my curiosity piqued. Jacques laughed and told me he was uncircumcised and had no desire to change that. How's that for a disagreement with Islam? I gulped down my apple juice. Haitians are really into giving you too much info sometimes. I didn't need to know that about Jacques. I really didn't. The more we talked, the more I found things about him I intensely liked and disliked.

Jacques told me that he strongly believed minorities across America should unite behind Barack Obama to defeat the racist radicals of the Tea Party Movement. He saw the Tea Party Movement's men and women as nothing but a bunch of racist White people afraid to lose their power. I smiled at him. Finally, Jacques and I agreed on something! We really got into it, discussing everything from Obama's meteoric rise in International Politics to America's war against minorities and immigrants, and the rise of xenophobia in Europe. I told Jacques that I feared Canada wasn't far behind. Soon radical Canadians would unite to screw over ethnic minorities, especially Blacks and Aboriginals, the two most hated and mistreated groups in human history. Jacques's eyes narrowed. In a deep voice filled with conviction he told me that we couldn't let that happen. I smiled, and told him I was starting a Coalition at the University of Toronto. A force that would unite minority students in the City of Toronto for positive change, support and political awareness. Jacques eagerly joined.

Man, we must have talked our butts off that first night. Sarah left us together at six in the evening. It was well after nine when we left the restaurant. Jacques and I walked through the City of Toronto together. He marvelled at the magnificent Metropolis I called home. We walked for hours, checking out the sights and sounds. We walked through malls, parks and urban centers. Before we parted ways, we exchanged cell phone numbers and email addresses. That night, I would add Jacques on Facebook. I was all set to shake his hand and wish him goodnight. He pulled me close in the Haitian manner and kissed me on the cheek. I froze, totally stunned by this sudden move. I smiled hesitantly. Jacques grinned and told me he was glad his sister Sarah had a friend like me. Then he shook my hand, and told me he'd see me on campus. I nodded, and watched him go. Hot damn. He was equally good-looking no matter which angle you viewed him front. And the guy had a spectacular ass!

And that's how it began, folks. Jacques and I became fast friends. I became his guide at the University of Toronto, helping him with his class schedule. Canadian Universities differ from American schools. The rules are stricter in Canada. Even in a laid back town like Toronto. Jacques had trouble adjusting to that, so I helped him. In return, he drew me into his world. The guy was full of surprises. He was taking up Criminology at the University of Toronto because he wanted to study Law someday like his adored big sister. Also, he wanted to prove to his parents back in Miami that he wasn't just a screw-up. The guy had big dreams and a lot of ambition. Well, he is American after all. He's a big help with the Coalition, which surprised me. Jacques had the gift of gab. The guy could talk anyone into almost anything. I watched him talk to the Chinese students, the Black students and the Arab students. Three of the main groups at the University of Toronto, and they didn't always get along. Jacques somehow made friends across diverse categories, and brought them together. The guy was a natural born politician, and he didn't even know it. I was amazed.

Jacques continued to amaze me in other ways. That first semester at the University of Toronto, he was steadfast in his academic focus. His sister Sarah was stunned when he began making Dean's List every semester. An honour reserved for the very best students. Sarah and I sat down one afternoon, discussing ( what else) Jacques. She was amazed by the change in him. True to his word, Jacques shunned White women and focused on school. All he did was work as a Librarian's assistant at school, go to class and help me with the Coalition. And he was immensely popular on campus. The guy had chicks fawning over him. Black women. White women. Chinese women. Arab women. They all wanted a piece of the Black American stud who was rocking the campus. And guys across racial lines were envious. Jacques didn't seem to care. He told me he was focusing on what mattered, and I readily accepted that. I kept pestering Sarah with questions about Jacques's private life, or lack thereof. And the sharp-minded Haitian-American gal saw right through me. Sarah smiled at me and asked me if I was in love with her brother. I could have lied and said no, but Sarah is too insightful for that. And I respect her too much. I smiled sheepishly and said yes. I am in love with Jacques. Sarah smiled, and squeezed my hand. Was that her way of giving me her blessing? I think so!

Okay. Now things are a bit clearer. I want Jacques. These days, he doesn't seem to want anyone. How do I get through that? One night, I gathered my courage, put my sexy on, and went after my intended man. I invited Jacques to my apartment for TV and some pizza. Nothing out of the ordinary there. We hang out together fairly often. He was really surprised at the way I greeted him at the door, though. This sexy tomboy traded her masculine Tees and 'butch' pants for a sexy red dress. I think Jacques's jaw dropped when he saw me. Before he could say anything, I kissed him. And you know what? He actually kissed me back!

I don't recall what I said to him, or what he said to me, and I don't think it matters at this point. We kissed passionately, and when our lips parted, we looked into each other's eyes. Jacques looked at me with surprise in his eyes. I told him that I wanted him. He hesitated, and told me that he wanted me too but respected me too much to risk our friendship. What the fuck? My macho Haitian-American sounded like something out of a romantic comedy. If his mind seemed to struggle with the reality that I wanted him, his body seemed all for it. I could feel his erection through his pants. I took Jacques's face in my hands, and told him that a good fuck between friends wasn't such a bad thing. Especially since we cared for each other and respected each other. He grinned mischievously, and kissed me. And next thing I know, we were in my bed.

I tossed off my red dress in a fluid motion and leapt into the bed, making myself comfy. Jacques stood there, hastily unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his pants. Just as I thought, he wasn't wearing underwear. My sexy Haitian-American stud leapt into my bed, naked as a jay bird. I smiled and pulled him to me. We kissed again, and I felt his big and surprisingly gentle hands caress my breasts. He kissed a path from my lips to my neck before suckling on my tits. He flicked his tongue over the areolas, teasing me. I lay there, enduring this sweet torment as my sexy stud began exploring my body. Soon he had my big legs spread, and was sniffing and nibbling at my pussy. He parted my gentle folds, and began licking me in my sweet spot. He slid one finger inside of me, then two. I gasped at the intrusion, and urged him to go on. Jacques laughed and slid three fingers inside my cunt, extracting moans and squeals from me as he explored my pussy. Oh, yeah. Jacques knew his way around the female body. I could tell it had been a while for him. Well, it had been forever for me. Last time I got properly fucked, I think Obama was still running for office and Clinton had a snowball's chance in Hell of beating him. Both my guy and I began making up for lost time.

Jacques played with my wet pussy like a piano virtuoso. I was squealing in delight as he worked his magic on me. Man, I was so ready for more. I looked at his dick. It was big and Black, and uncircumcised just like he told me, so long ago. I couldn't wait to feel him inside of me. First, I had to taste him, though. Jacques lay on the bed, resting not so peacefully as I went to work on him. I took his thick cock in my hand and stroked it. Slowly, I inserted the head into my mouth. The Haitian-American stud licked his lips and urged me to continue. I stopped and smiled. I believe in taking my time. Jacques stopped interrupting me, and I continued sucking him off. I massaged his ball sac as I sucked his dick. Man, he was really feeling what I did to him. Soon he was screaming in pleasure in English, French and Profane. Hmmm. Who knew he was trilingual? When Jacques finally erupted, I drained him. Oh, yeah. I licked up every drop of his masculine essence. He tasted yummy. Saltier and hotter than other guys I'd been with. No two men smell or taste exactly alike, you know.