Arts·Where I Write

We needed an open and trusting space to write this sometimes harrowing story

The authors of A Two-Spirit Journey, Ma-Nee Chacaby and Mary Plummer collaborated on their book from opposite sides of the earth

The authors of A Two-Spirit Journey collaborated on their book from opposite sides of the earth

First Nations elder in black hat painting a bear.
Ma-Nee Chacaby working in her creative space at home in Thunder Bay, Ontario, in February 2025. (Betsy Martin)

Leading up to Canada Reads, CBC Arts is bringing you daily essays about where this year's authors write for our series Where I Write. This edition features A Two-Spirit Journey authors Mary Louisa Plummer with Ma-Nee Chacaby.

"What are the spaces within which you write?" It seems like a simple question, but many factors contributed to the unique space in which Ma-Nee Chacaby and I wrote our book, A Two-Spirit Journey. Geographically, technologically, financially, temporally, physically, emotionally, and relationally — fostering a space in which to write our book together involved overcoming substantial barriers and exploring innovative approaches to collaboration. 

In the most simple spatial terms, Ma-Nee and I were on opposite sides of the planet when we wrote A Two-Spirit Journey in 2013 and 2014. She was in Thunder Bay, Ontario, while I was in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Ma-Nee lived in an affordable housing complex for First Nations elders. During our daily Skype calls, she spoke to me from a comfortable chair in her living room, surrounded by paintings, decorated masks, and musical instruments that she had created. Sipping tea or orange juice in the early morning hours, she sometimes saw the sun rise outside of her big picture window as we worked. Meanwhile, I was in the middle of my afternoon in East Africa, typing on a half-broken laptop while my children were at school. I sat at a table squeezed between the mosquito net over my bed and walls that also displayed art, including felt collages and a drum made by Ma-Nee.

A long desk with two chairs. Many papers with writing and drawings are tacked up on boards above.
Mary Plummer’s writing space at home in East Africa in 2013-2014, when she and Ma-Nee Chacaby wrote A Two-Spirit Journey together. Two felt collages and a drum made by Ma-Nee can be seen on the walls and bookshelf. Photo by Mary Plummer. (Mary Plummer)

Perhaps the most important aspect of the space in which Ma-Nee and I wrote A Two-Spirit Journey is the hard-won, open, and vulnerable emotional state that she achieved, which enabled her to tell her sometimes harrowing life story despite the pain it caused her. Ma-Nee experienced tremendous hardship and trauma during the first decades of her life, including violence, substance abuse, poverty, racism, and homophobia. In the decades afterward, she strove to heal from those experiences, grounded in spiritual growth and service to others, and supported by recovery programmes and psychological counselling. 

Before Ma-Nee and I began our work, we discussed practical as well as emotional considerations, like how we would take care of ourselves and support each other during the long writing process, especially after sessions focused on traumatic events. As close friends who had known each other for 25 years, our familiarity and rapport fostered a trusting space in which to write the book. We took a flexible approach, sometimes pausing for breaks or shifting to focus on other, more light-hearted content. Fortunately, Ma-Nee's story also has many moments of levity and we often found ourselves chuckling over experiences that were quite humorous with hindsight. 

Two women in winter clothing smile at the camera.
Mary Plummer and Ma-Nee Chacaby in Kaministiquia, Ontario, 1989. (Gwen O’Reilly)

Creating a collaborative space in which to write Ma-Nee's autobiography together was critical. As a native Ojibwe and Cree speaker, Ma-Nee only really learned English — and reading and writing — in her twenties, and soon afterward she became visually impaired, so independently drafting an extended piece would have been very difficult. In the end, we developed a practical, interactive approach that enabled us to craft a manuscript in a voice that approximates hers. For one to two hours each day, Ma-Nee narrated her story and I asked follow-up questions while roughly transcribing her words. After each session, I spent most of a day incorporating my notes into the working book manuscript. Over time, I read multiple drafts of the manuscript aloud to Ma-Nee, so that she could verbally improve upon them.

When describing logistics and practicalities, we would be remiss not to acknowledge the precious temporal and financial space needed for the nine months it took us to write A Two-Spirit Journey and the subsequent two years involved in publishing it. Ma-Nee's financial support came from small but reliable disability benefits from the Canada Pension Plan. Mine came from a partner who believed in our book enough to support me and our family for an extended period when I did not earn an income.

While writing spaces typically may be quite solitary, Ma-Nee and I are grateful that — when we were drafting A Two-Spirit Journey — it was a collaborative space that we inhabited together.

Two middle aged women taking a selfie on a mountain top.
Ma-Nee Chacaby and Mary Plummer in the Shenandoah mountains, Virginia, in 2025. (Mary Plummer)