This afternoon, I had the privilege of being part of a deeply moving gathering hosted by Richmond Multicultural Community Services (RMCS) at Kwantlen Polytechnic University. Indigeneity and Intercultural Connection brought together a vibrant circle of voices—Indigenous elders, second-generation immigrants, newcomers, artists, and community leaders. It was a space where we didn’t just talk about connection—we practiced it.

As a Chinese-Canadian priest and panelist with 360 Community, I came into this space with gratitude and humility. At 360, we’re committed to welcoming people of all gender identities, cultures, ages, and life stages. We believe in creating spaces of compassion, service, and dignity—spaces where deep listening and meaningful conversation can thrive.

I was especially moved by the Indigenous leaders and scholars who shared their wisdom with courage and grace:

• Rhiannon Bennett, a Musqueam leader and co-founder of Hummingbirds Rising Consulting, invited us to reflect boldly on the work of decolonization and meaningful reconciliation.
• Sandra Fossella, a member of the Musqueam Nation, inspired us with her commitment to cultural stewardship and intergenerational empowerment.
• Norm Leech, from the T’it’q’et community of the St’át’imc Nation, shared powerful teachings on Indigenous Tools for Living and how healing begins with presence.
• Jónína Kirton, a Red River Métis/Icelandic poet, offered reflections on identity, ancestry, and the healing that lives in honest storytelling.

In sharing my own reflections, I spoke about the barriers that often exist between Indigenous and immigrant communities—barriers rooted in misunderstanding and colonial division. Many immigrants arrive with little awareness of the histories, rights, and ongoing realities of Indigenous peoples. Some are encouraged to assimilate quietly into systems that have marginalized others for generations. At the same time, Indigenous peoples may witness newcomers who seem disconnected from the land and unaware of the injustices Indigenous communities still face. These mutual misperceptions can breed distance—but they don’t have to.

Because beneath the surface, many of our stories overlap. We know what it means to be displaced. We know what it feels like to long for belonging. We know what it means to carry cultural loss—and to fight for its renewal. When we speak of home, land, ancestors, and healing, we begin to recognize that solidarity is not about sameness—it’s about understanding.

But understanding alone is not enough. We must move from ideas to action.

I offered three pillars for practicing solidarity:

1. Acknowledgment: Honouring the land and its Indigenous stewards not just with words, but with learning and accountability.
2. Learning: Engaging in reciprocal cultural exchange, education, and community building that centers Indigenous knowledge and voices.
3. Support: Uplifting Indigenous-led initiatives, joining in shared advocacy, and building long-term, reciprocal relationships rooted in respect and trust.

These practices are not quick fixes. They require humility, patience, and grace. But the work is sacred. When we walk together—not to fix one another, but to witness, support, and uplift—we begin to heal. We begin to belong more fully to one another and to this land we now share.

To RMCS and everyone who made this gathering possible: thank you. And to those reading, may we each carry the conversations of today forward—with open hearts, steady feet, and a commitment to keep showing up.