When I was in high school, my friend at a different school told me about a cute new guy who was just my type. I was intrigued until I found out New Guy didn’t play sports and hung out with the stoners. I quickly forgot about him… until there was a drug bust at her school. As it turned out, New Guy was an undercover officer, a real-life 21 Jump Street. I immediately thought, what if New Guy had gone to my school instead? What if we had liked each other? Or, rather, what if it wasn’t that New Guy liked me but that he needed my help? That spark of an idea, based on a momentary teenage crush on a boy who didn’t really exist, grew into my debut novel .
In my novel, I wanted to capture authentic teen relationships, both the good and the bad, including the danger of falling for the fantasy or idea of someone. Strong relationships are a vital part of living Anishinaabe minobimaadiziwin, our “good way of life,” and we have many versions of the word for love in our language: love for family, romantic love, friendship, love for one’s community, and love of self. Love is the first of the Ojibwe teachings we receive—even before we are born—when carried inside our mother’s womb.
My main character Daunis Fontaine inherits a complicated view of love from her mother, Grace. Nineteen years later, Grace is still mourning the end of her relationship with Daunis’ father, even after he left her for another woman and died in an accident. Daunis sees her fragile mom as a cautionary tale, and is similarly wary of her best friend Lily’s relationship with her troubled ex, Travis. She dubs their on-again, off-again relationship the Lily and Travis Saga, comparing it to a reality show that keeps getting renewed even though the storyline never changes. After her first heartbreak, Daunis vows never to fall again for what she calls Guy-Lies, things guys say in the heat of the moment that fade with time and proximity. So when Daunis meets Jamie, her brother’s newest hockey teammate, she views him through the smudged lenses of mistrust and the fear of giving away power to a man.
It was important to me to show a realistic depiction of how Daunis comes to a new understanding of love, one that affirms her identity rather than erases it. Daunis’ journey mirrors my own as a young Nish kwe (Ojibwe woman), turning to the strong women in her life for wisdom. Daunis’ Aunt Teddie is a community leader and legendary badass, and she offers guidance to Daunis. In one scene, Aunt Teddie tells to Daunis about how she first deemed her husband Art “not her type,” preferring hellraisers. Even after they began to date, Teddie would lash out at Art, then brace herself for a slap that never came. “That’s not love,” Art tells her. “Love means honoring your spirit and mine.”
As an Ojibwe author, I treasured showing an Indigenous couple demonstrating respectful love that nurtures one another. Teddie remains fully herself in her marriage, and she gives Daunis courage to share with Jamie only that which she is comfortable. What I hope readers will take away from Daunis’ journey is how we can feed our appetite for love, nourishing it with healthy choices and walking away from the toxic words and actions that often bombard us. As Teddie tells Daunis, “Love doesn’t need to be an emotional roller coaster. It can be a gentle walk in the woods.”
