Hello, my name is Samantha Beynon, but I like to go by Sam. I was born and raised on La̱x Kxeen, colonially known as Prince Rupert, BC, on my ancestral Ts'msyen lands. I am Nisg̱a'a, Ts'msyen, and Irish. I am matrilineally Nisg̱a'a from the G̱anada (Frog/Raven) Clan and belong to Wilps Ax̱dii Wil Luug̱ooda, The House That Is Always Full, in Ging̱olx, and I am a registered citizen under the Ging̱olx Village Government. My dad's side connects me to Gitlax̱t'aamiks and Lax Kw'alaams, and through my grandfather's Fitzgerald family, I carry Irish ancestry from County Cork. My family history also includes Łingít, Welsh, and Swedish ancestry.
Over time, I learned the difference between ancestry and lived identity. I honour those parts of my history, but my lived responsibilities are Nisg̱a'a and Ts'msyen. I didn't get here on my own. I'm here because of my ancestors, my family, and my community. My Nisg̱a'a Nation, the Ging̱olx Village Government, and the Education Department supported me through post-secondary, and I am grateful. I also want to thank all the community members and workers who show up every day to move our Nation forward. The work behind the scenes, the paperwork, the policies, the meetings, is far more complex than I will ever fully understand, and it does not go unnoticed. None of this happens without all of those relationships.
Outside of writing and work, I am a mom of three and a wife, and life is full and a little chaotic in the best way. I am obsessed with animals, especially German Shepherds, and somehow we have a house full of them despite the fact that I am allergic. I love the water, and being near it has always felt grounding to me. I try to stay active, and exercising helps me reset. I love trying new foods and exploring cafes. I am a little hyper by nature, so I have had to make peace with decaf iced coffees, which I fully stand behind. I love fashion, collecting little things that make me happy, and finding beauty in small everyday moments.
I do not yet carry a Nisg̱a'a name, but I have always been called Asgaabax̱, meaning chatterbox, because I have loved talking and storytelling for as long as I can remember. Sm'algya̱x is the language of the Ts'msyen people, and Sim'algax̱, meaning the real language, is the language of the Nisg̱a'a Nation. I grew up hearing both, and you will see that reflected in the stories I write. Like many families, ours was affected by colonial policies that interrupted language learning. For a long time, I felt insecure about that. I have had to remind myself that we are not starting from nowhere; we are continuing something that was disrupted.
I want to recognize the Nisg̱a'a Language and Culture department for the work they do to keep Sim'algax̱ and our Nisg̱a'a culture alive and growing. When I reached out, Esther Adams, Director of Language and Culture, welcomed me with kindness and patience and has continued to guide me in approaching our language and culture with care. She has been a real support in this work, and I am grateful for everything she and her department do for our Nation. I also want to recognize researcher and writer Nita Morven and the Nisg̱a'a Lisims Government for putting together an incredible book for our members, current and future generations. Anhluut'ukwsim Sawinskhi Nisga'a, Nisg̱a'a Feast Procedures and Protocols, is a valuable and generous gift to our people. It has been gifted to me, and I am using it currently in my work.
I grew up in La̱x Kxeen, a small fishing town about four hours by road from Ging̱olx. There used to be a ferry that connected us, and I took it many times growing up. Like most Nisg̱a'a citizens today, I am urban, and that is true for a lot of Indigenous communities. People leave for school, for work, for opportunities that were not always available close to home. That does not make anyone less connected to who they are.
My stories come from that experience. They are contemporary, with pieces of history and the ways I grew up woven in. They are also the stories I wished I had as a child. You will see language threaded throughout, and I am still learning my language myself. I want to name that honestly. I also want to hold up the Nisg̱a'a members living in community who carry language, ceremony, protocols, and feasts as part of their everyday lives. That is something special and I have so much respect for it. And equally I want to recognize the urban Nisg̱a'a families doing their best to stay connected, raise their kids with culture, and keep those ties strong from a distance. The Nisg̱a'a Ts'amiks Vancouver Society exists as a resource for urban members, and connecting with your Nation wherever you are matters. We are all doing what we can with what we have.
Indigenous literature is growing, and that is something worth celebrating. But we are still a small number on the shelves, and there is so much more room. The publishing world can be competitive, and that can feel discouraging, especially when you are just starting out. But representation does not work against you. It works for all of us. To any Nisg̱a'a writer reading this, please write your story. Who cares if there is already a book about oolichans. Yours is not that book. You have your own teachings, your own memories, your own relationship to that story, and it will never be the same as anyone else's. Every book from our community is a gift, and we need more of them.
What Shaped Me
I grew up around fishing boats, grease camps, basketball tournaments, dance practices, and long days on the land and water. As a kid, I danced with the Gitmaxmak'ay Nisg̱a'a Dancers in La̱x Kxeen, and that is where I learned what belonging felt like. School was harder. There were times I drifted from parts of my identity and carried shame I didn't yet have words for. It was my Nation that supported me through scholarships and encouragement. Coming home later as a teacher was healing. I began to understand that many of my struggles were not about ability, but about systems that were never built for us. That understanding changed how I teach and how I write.
How I Found Writing
School was hard for me. I struggled in most subjects and had a speech delay as a child. Psychoeducational assessments were hard to come by growing up in northern BC, and at the time, there was just so much we did not know yet. Eventually, things started to make more sense. I was later identified with learning differences that explained a lot of my early struggles with reading, writing, and speech. The intervention helped, and it was not impossible, even when it felt that way. Even so, I always loved stories. When I was twelve, I wrote a story called Eye-Spy and illustrated it myself. A kind Indigenous teacher told me it was good enough to be published one day, and I never forgot that. My Nation supported me with tutoring in Grade 12, which helped me get into college, and one program led to another. In 2019, I wrote to Robert Munsch asking how to become a writer. He wrote back and told me to write more, so I did.
It was not a clean path. I worked away quietly, collaborated with family, and we started by self-publishing, figuring things out as we went. Honestly, the publishing world is still something I am working to understand, and some days it is a lot. But knowing we need more Indigenous literature on shelves keeps me going. That is what led me to our first traditionally published picture book with Harbour Publishing in 2022.
Why I Write Picture Books
Because I struggled with reading and writing, I read through illustrations. I became obsessed with the quality of books, the pictures, the details, and at the time, I didn't fully understand why. Picture books carried something sentimental for me. Like so many of us, there is that one book we remember that stays with us into adulthood. We read picture books before bed. Some of us hold onto them for years, or they get passed down through families. I still have a picture book gifted to me by my Grade 1 teacher, and it is in perfect condition. Picture books are so much more than a story in a classroom. They can carry life lessons that stay with us for the rest of our lives. That is why I love creating books that highlight the beauty of Indigenous cultures and peoples. I am not always sure what my title is these days, but I know I love what I do. Creating picture books is a passion. It is love. And I love the collaboration and everything that comes from it.
Learning to Be a Good Visitor
I am currently a visitor on the territories of the lək̓ʷəŋən Peoples, including Songhees and Xʷsepsəm, and the W̱SÁNEĆ Peoples, colonially known as Victoria BC, where I do some of my work. I was never invited here, and for that reason, I locate myself as a visitor, not a guest. Over the years, I have moved through a lot of life on these territories, student, teacher, wife, and mother, and that has shaped how I think about what it means to be here. Being a good visitor matters to me, and honestly, it is something I am still figuring out. Some of my early land acknowledgements were well intentioned, but looking back, they were not backed by enough action.
Words without responsibility do not mean much. These are Douglas Treaty lands, and the history behind those treaties is complicated and still being reckoned with. I feel a responsibility to understand that history and to raise my children knowing the real story of this place, not a watered down version. For me, that means building real relationships, showing up, and giving back in the ways I can or in the ways I have been asked to. It means actually learning about the priorities of Songhees, Xʷsepsəm, W̱SÍḴEM, SȾÁ¸UTW̱, W̱JOȽEȽP, BOḰEĆEN, MÁLEXEȽ, SC'IȺNEW̱, and the neighbouring T'Sou-ke and Pacheedaht Nations and not just putting their names on a website. I cannot fully answer what all of that looks like in a small section on a page. But I am still learning, still showing up, and I want my kids to grow up knowing that visiting comes with real accountability.
I was a young mom throughout my studies and worked the whole way through, picking up contracts and working in community wherever I could. Most of what I know came from doing the work. I did most of my student teaching in grades 4 to 6, eventually landed my own classroom teaching grades 4 and 5 in my community, and life has taken me in different directions since then.
I am currently a PhD student at the University of Victoria, and I hold a Bachelor of Education and a Master's in Educational Leadership. Right now, I am in a season of figuring things out. I am collaborating on projects with Indigenous nations, including my own, working on books and resources, and my interests sit somewhere across Indigenous studies, gender, education, and literature. Honestly, it all connects for me. The writing, the research, the teaching, they are not separate things. Learning is fun for me now, and I think that is part of why I keep going, which still surprises me sometimes.
Some guilt comes with stepping back from K-12, especially knowing how much we need Indigenous teachers in classrooms right now. I carry that. But I have had to remind myself that there is no one way to contribute to Indigenous education. It looks different at every stage of life, and every path adds something. Mine just looks a little different right now. My goal, if I am being honest with myself, has always been to work in post-secondary education. That is where I am headed, and I am excited about it. You can find some of what I am currently working on in the books and resources section.
This is a living page. It will grow as I do. I'm glad you're here. T’ooyaḵsiy̓ n̓iin,(Thank you)