red dress day

Not Another Acronym:  A Poem by Ella Lopes

Ella Lopes, Indigenous Child Ambassador from Algonquins of Pikwakanagan First Nation.

 

At just sixteen years old, Ella is already using her voice to create space, demand safety, and honour the stories carried by her people. A Grade 11 student at Notre Dame High School in Ottawa, Ontario, Ella is half Algonquin and half Portuguese, and a proud member of the Algonquins of Pikwakanagan First Nation. As an Indigenous Ambassador for Voices of Future Generations and a lifelong creative writer, she has dedicated much of her work to exploring Indigenous identity, truth, and resilience.

Awarded Silver in this year’s writing contest, Ella’s powerful poem refuses silence. With unflinching honesty, she speaks to the lived realities and fears that many Indigenous women and girls carry — while fiercely asserting presence, strength, and survival. Her words echo the urgent call behind the red dresses that “swing in the evening wind,” symbols of lives stolen and voices that must never be forgotten.

Through rhythm and repetition, she transforms fear into declaration: “Say my name, I am around.” It is both a reminder and a promise; that Indigenous youth are here, creating, leading, and shaping the future with courage.

We are honoured to share Ella’s poem below.


Not Another Acronym

by Ella Lopes

Radio hums like a sad old prayer
Mom says text me when you’re there
I lace my boots, I check the lock
I learn my fear before I walk

Neon signs and pavement skin
Every shadow feels like sin
I hold my breath, I count my steps
Like safety’s something I could’ve kept

They taught me how to look away
How not to take up space
But I’m tired of shrinking down
Just to make it home okay


I don’t wanna be another name
Sung too late in candle flame
Don’t wanna fade, don’t wanna fall
Don’t wanna be a ghost at all

Say it now, say it loud
Say my name while I’m around
I don’t wanna be remembered
I wanna be protected


Red dresses swing in the evening wind
Like they’re still trying to breathe again
Every one a stolen song
Every one says something’s wrong

They file us away, they talk real slow
Like grief’s a show they already know
They nod their heads, they make it neat
While we bleed truth into the street

I carry stories in my spine
Older than this stolen time
I shouldn’t fear the simple act
Of coming home alive


See me now, I’m standing here
Not a warning, not your fear
I’m a heartbeat, I’m a song
I was never meant to be gone

I don’t wanna be a statistic
A quiet loss they call realistic
I don’t wanna be an abbreviation
Or another loss to my nation

Not another lost creation

Or a meaningless documentation

I don’t want to be another example of colonization

Or another step back in reconciliation

Not another starved of graduation

Or just another red declaration

Radio plays, I’m still here
Still singing through the fear
Still breathing, still loud
Say my name, I am around