Teddy Syrette (Ozhawa Anaung Kwe/Yellow Star Woman) is a 2-Spirit Anishnabek person from Rankin Reserve of Batchewana First Nation. They write poetry, short stories, and works of non-fiction. The non-fiction pieces of work include Facebook Statuses, tweets and their income taxes of 2014 and 2008, respectively. They are currently published in a couple of anthologies, but because of their disdain for power structures and their inability to accept critical feedback, they remain unpublished. Today, they enjoy writing while riding transit and hosting random open mics at Glad Day Bookshop. Teddy enjoys pugs, poetry and polyamory. 
Bios.

I hate writing bios. But that’s all I’m writing about these days. I’m not writing about the process of how I got to this moment of writing about myself and of my endeavors. I’m only doing it in 200 words or less. Enough words to make an impact. Picking apart aspects of your person to piece together a puzzle that portrays you in the best of light. So that maybe it takes you one more step into the direction of opportunity. You wanted this! Every last bit of it. A home/room of your own, living in Toronto, listening to CBC radio of folks discussing responsible gun laws. What laws do you break to get to where you are going? Who do you step over? Or who are the ones who’ve got you where you are now, and are the same ones you glance over. Those are the folks who should be writing my bios. They will probably use very colourful words to describe me. In 200 words or less. But those words are also a part of my truth. Because even though they might be words that I don’t use to describe myself, it was myself that created that character description that is now in their life script. Their live script. Live! From your bedroom! It’s Monday Morning!

Family Day.

As I think back on the biographies of other horrible people who talk about their families in their biographies: I hate them. I don’t, but I do, but I don’t. Because it isn’t their fault. It is my live script that sucks, when it comes to supportive roles. The spotlight isn’t a general wash in my show. It is focused only on the centre stage. It leaves others in the wings, waiting for their scene to play out. Their moment to shine. To get closer to the centre. But the light can be too bright. That marquee doesn’t have enough room for everyone. And your name should always be at the top. That’s what mainstream notices. That’s why your biography doesn’t talk about family.

I try to be funny.

To start with a fluffy opening with a chuckle or grin at the end. Keep them wanting a little more. In 200 words or less. A giggle. A smirk. A snort. Snorts are the best. Can you hear it? Can you hear yourself snorting? No? Anyways, I love laughing. When I meet another funny person I lose my wits, because not everyone is funny. And that’s sad. Folks should talk about how come we can’t laugh anymore. I think of funny stories or jokes while I’m riding the transit, and I’ll giggle to myself. But I censor my laughter, because it isn’t appropriate. It can be rude. To be loud is to be rude. It is 200 words, plus more. So I take out my notebook or my phone, and write down those funny stories or jokes. Before I lose them. Before I meet someone else, who introduces me to their live script, in 200 words or less, and maybe offer a card, that I’ll go use for filters later, and I’ll try and remember that funny story that transpired while riding on transit, because those moments of being by myself is holistic for someone who hates being around people. And who would rather be eating. Or scrolling through memes. Or thinking of funny stories or scenes that I create in my mind. Instead, I’m here. Talking with you. Trying to be engaged. Trying not to forget my funny thoughts. Trying to think of a joke to put into a bio that relates to the audience and the topic matter that has been agreed to. An agreement made without tobacco being given.

I’ll probably not remember you.

I don’t remember a lot of things. And that is why I write. So I can write those people and stories and jokes into my live script. It is well over 200 words. But which ones do I include for this bio. Humour has gotten me to where I am today. My mouth and mind are both open. My heart is too big. So now I try and keep it closed. I close it off to others because even though my mind is open, it is also loose. I drop information and forget people. Their names. Their faces. The places that we’ve met. And it happens too frequently for me to feel comfortable about it. It happens to a lot of us who put ourselves out their. The folks who write their bios and send it to others so that the audience can know who you are.

Who am I? In 200 words or less.