Leadership is often associated with authority, formal positions, or political office. Yet many leaders shape their communities in quieter but equally powerful ways. Through teaching, mentoring, and storytelling, they create spaces where others can learn, question, and grow. During periods of political polarization and ongoing colonial legacies, these forms of leadership become especially important. Education becomes more than the transfer of knowledge — it becomes an act of Indigenous resurgence.
Frances Elizabeth Moore embodies this understanding of leadership. An Anishinaabe educator, storyteller, and community leader, Moore sees education as a way of strengthening relationships, preserving Indigenous knowledge, and preparing future generations to carry that knowledge forward. Throughout our conversation, she reflected on the importance of creating safe learning environments, mentoring young people through storytelling, and understanding resurgence not as returning to the past but as carrying Indigenous knowledge into the future.
Storytelling Begins with Who You Are
For Moore, storytelling is inseparable from identity.
When asked how she incorporates Indigenous ways of knowing into her teaching, she admitted that it is something she rarely thinks about consciously because it is simply part of who she is.
Being Anishinaabe myself, it really does inform the knowledge that I seek out, but it also informs how I storytell and what stories I tell and how I go about educating others because I'm doing it from that Anishinaabe point of view. It goes hand in hand with anything that I do. So, it's just ingrained in that approach, I don't think I've ever really thought about it to be honest with you.
Rather than treating Indigenous knowledge as something added onto education, Moore understands it as the foundation from which she teaches. Her identity shapes not only the stories she tells but also how she listens, responds, and creates relationships with learners.
She also described how her own understanding has continued to evolve. Reflecting on the experiences of Two-Spirit, transgender, and non-binary relatives and friends, Moore explained that some assumptions she once accepted were rooted less in Indigenous traditions than in colonial understandings of gender.
I have thought about it when it comes to gender diverse folks. … We've seen a shift in more folks feeling comfortable to self-identify and with that making sure that those folks feel safe in spaces. So, there are certain things in the community that I've had to unlearn because it wasn't so much rooted in tradition, as much as, that colonial binary of male and female. There have been shifts in my language, in my approach, in my understanding, and just making sure that I'm providing that inclusive and safe space. … As a matriarch in the community, it's been my duty… to make sure that the way that I am doing my work is not causing them harm.
Her reflections remind us that leadership is not simply about teaching others. It also requires a willingness to continue learning, unlearning, and adapting one's own practices. Scholars increasingly describe this as reflective leadership — a process in which leaders remain open to growth while remaining grounded in their values.
Moore's reflections also challenge conventional assumptions that expertise requires certainty. Instead, she presents leadership as an ongoing process of learning alongside others. Her willingness to revisit earlier assumptions about gender and to acknowledge the influence of colonialism on community practices demonstrates that effective leaders are not defined by having all the answers. Rather, they are distinguished by their willingness to remain accountable to the communities they serve and responsive to new understandings. This openness to continual learning reflects Indigenous approaches to knowledge that emphasize relationships, reciprocity, and lifelong learning rather than fixed authority.
Creating Spaces for Learning
Throughout the interview, Moore repeatedly returned to one idea: people learn best when they feel safe enough to ask questions.
I think whenever anyone is doing any learning, I want to be a safe space for them so they can ask those questions that [they think] are stupid questions. No, no, the only stupid question is the one that you don't ask because you're not getting the answers that you need to form your opinions or shape whatever it is that you're doing.
Moore recognizes that meaningful learning often takes time. People may not immediately understand new ideas or challenge long-held assumptions. Sometimes they need opportunities to reflect before returning with new questions or perspectives.
Sometimes folks have to hear things a couple times. Everyone has different learning styles, so sometimes they have to take it away, do some processing and then come back. I think maintaining that approach where people can come back and have that conversation, that follow-up, and feel safe enough to say, ‘hey, what you said really changed my mind on ABC,’ or alternatively, ‘I don't agree with that, here's what I think.’ Fostering that space where you can have challenging conversations.
Rather than measuring success through immediate agreement, Moore values ongoing dialogue and relationships.
Her approach reflects relational theories of leadership, which emphasize trust, listening, and collaboration rather than authority alone. Leadership, in this sense, involves creating conditions where people feel respected enough to learn, question, and change.
Moore's emphasis on psychological safety also challenges educational models that privilege certainty over curiosity. By encouraging learners to ask difficult questions without fear of embarrassment or judgment, she creates the conditions for genuine transformation. Leadership, in this sense, is measured less by how much information is delivered than by whether people leave feeling more capable of engaging critically with unfamiliar ideas.
Teaching as Mentorship
For Moore, storytelling is also a form of mentorship. She measures success not by her own accomplishments but by watching others grow.
Success for me has been seeing other young women, non-binary, gender diverse folks, feeling uplifted, feeling empowered… Taking what I've done and improving on it, going farther or doing something slightly different. I think that is definitely a success. … Making sure that you're setting those examples and clearing the way for the younger ones. I see that as success.
She described mentoring her nieces as they developed confidence in public speaking and community leadership. “Giving tips and pointers and being like, you could do it,” and explaining her own nervousness, “I find the nerves are a good thing because it shows that I care.”
Rather than presenting herself as fearless or flawless, Moore shares her own mistakes and vulnerabilities.
When it comes to storytelling and sharing your experience, especially with those in the community, it's finding those common bonds and those common threads. A lot of times as adults we, especially in Western society, don't want the youth to know our missteps. I've consistently not taken that approach as an adult with my nieces, my son, my nephews. I'm very open with the stuff that I did that I'm not proud of and the positions that I put myself in, and situations that I've been in and how I got out of them. You know, being open and honest with them. I think that has influenced them to make different choices. Because when we say, ‘Oh, don't do this, it's bad,’ but then don't give any additional context as to why you know, personalizing that experience, it's just one of those sayings, ‘Do what I say, not what I do.’ With me, there are lots of times where I'm, ‘I can't tell you what to do, but I will tell you when something similar happened to me.’ Taking that approach, where mentorship is different from parenting. Mentorship is a different type of relationship. And it's a relationship that's not necessarily formed of blood. It's formed out of reciprocal sharing of various different values.
This philosophy challenges traditional understandings of expertise. Moore believes good mentors do not protect young people from uncomfortable stories. Instead, they share their own experiences honestly so future generations can make more informed choices.
Leadership scholars increasingly describe this as authentic leadership, where vulnerability becomes a source of trust rather than a sign of weakness. Authentic leadership is often associated with honesty, transparency, and consistency between personal values and public actions. Moore's willingness to share her own mistakes illustrates how vulnerability can become a teaching strategy rather than a weakness. By refusing to present herself as infallible, she models the very openness and humility that she hopes to cultivate in future leaders.
Community as Protection
One of the most powerful ideas in the interview concerns community.
Moore repeatedly emphasized that resilience is never an individual achievement.
Speaking about mentorship, she reflected on the Anishinaabe teaching that every decision should consider its impact on the next seven generations.
I mean storytelling is an avenue that I think a good mentor should use both in the formal sense of being a mentor, but also like just the informal sense of being someone like an auntie in someone's life. Something that I've always grown up with is that the decisions that we make are going to impact the next seven generations. The decisions that were made seven generations ago are impacting me. So, I always tend to obviously look at things and look at how they'll impact myself, but also my son, my nieces and my nephews, their children, their children's children. Reflecting on it, if they were to look back, how would they feel about the decisions that I've made? So, there's a slightly different take on mentorship. It’s very much a formal way, but also they may never have known that I've had to make this decision.
She later explained why storytelling matters.
Storytelling and mentorship go hand in hand, and being able to have that time and space to strengthen those bonds and make those relations across different communities is what's needed because we have a lot of it if we sit down and look at things and look at things objectively. We're all harmed by colonial systems, by white supremacy, and the tactics thus far have been to divide and conquer. Whereas if we see humanity and see the connections, see the common bonds, and our common issues, we could and should stand together.
This understanding reflects Indigenous conceptions of leadership that prioritize collective well-being over individual achievement. Leadership emerges through relationships, reciprocity, and shared responsibility rather than personal authority.
Moore's understanding of leadership also reflects Indigenous conceptions of relationality, in which individuals are embedded within networks of kinship, community, ancestors, and future generations. Rather than viewing leadership as an individual achievement, she understands it as a responsibility exercised within relationships. The Anishinaabe teaching of considering the next seven generations reinforces this long-term ethical orientation, reminding leaders that decisions are evaluated not only by their immediate outcomes but also by their effects on those who come after us.
"I Hate Resilience"
“I no longer want to be commended on my resiliency. I want to see the systems redesigned so that there’s not a need for me to be resilient.”—Frances Elizabeth Moore (viral tweet March 13, 2021).
Perhaps the most memorable moment in the interview came when Moore laughed and admitted:
"I had a famous tweet that kind of went viral that essentially said, 'I hate resilience.'"
Her frustration was not directed at resilience itself but at the circumstances that continually require Indigenous communities to endure hardship.
I hate the fact that I have to be resilient. I hate the fact that I'm committed to being resilient. However, you're right. It's a necessity, right? If we weren't resilient in some way, shape or form, we would crumble. Maybe we wouldn't be able to function. We'd be in that freeze mode or flight mode all of the time. Indigenous women and non-binary, two-spirited folk, I think it's the resilience of knowing that you're one of many. When you're standing up there, you're not alone, even though you may be alone. I don't think that anything that I say is new. It might just be presented in a different light in a different manner, in a different tone. The concepts and stuff that I speak to are concepts and things that my aunties, elders in the community, have all said. I think one of those pieces is recognizing progress isn't going to come as quickly as we would like.
Moore's reflections challenge the way resilience is often celebrated in public discourse. Rather than treating resilience as an unquestioned virtue, she asks why Indigenous communities are repeatedly expected to endure conditions that continually demand resilience in the first place. Her critique shifts attention from individual coping toward the structural legacies of colonialism that make resilience necessary.
This distinction reflects a growing body of scholarship that questions how resilience has been used within public policy and governance. Celebrating resilience can unintentionally normalize the very conditions that require communities to endure repeated hardship. Moore instead redirects attention toward the systems that produce inequality and asks people to imagine futures where resilience is no longer demanded as a condition of survival.
She also reflected on the remarkable persistence of Indigenous languages, ceremonies, and teachings despite generations of colonial oppression.
The resilience of spirit and not feeling defeated, it’s celebrating those wins, whether they be big or small, ends up being really, really important. I also view resilience as being stubborn. … Our community has been. It’s finding those creative workarounds and creative ways to be yourself. I think about residential schools and how many folks were able to hang on to their language, despite that. Ceremonies, teachings, and traditions that should have been wiped out, but now we're seeing a resurgence of. It’s not just a resurgence, but a desire to walk in those old ways as much as possible, knowing that they connect us to the land, to ancestors, to community.
Her comments challenge readers to think differently about resilience. Rather than celebrating people's ability to endure injustice, Moore asks us to question why communities are continually required to be resilient in the first place.
Teaching for Resurgence
When asked how she understands resurgence, Moore offered one of the most thoughtful reflections in the interview.
I think resurgence is not necessarily picking up traditions and knowledge and practices in the exact way that we would have experienced it long ago, because we have to marry that with the world that we live in now. As much as I wish I could go live off the grid a good portion of the time and be self-sufficient, I live in a world where that's really difficult to do. So, I bring pieces of that to my life and to my spirit that feels good. Again, storytelling is not just an avenue for sharing information. A lot of the stories that we tell are traditional stories, but also in our own journeys. They are sharing information and an avenue to connect with folks.
For Moore, resurgence is neither nostalgia nor simple preservation. It is a living practice that carries Indigenous knowledge into contemporary life while remaining faithful to its enduring values. Teaching, therefore, becomes both a political and cultural act, enabling communities to adapt knowledge without freezing it in time. It is an ongoing process of carrying Indigenous knowledge into contemporary life while remaining faithful to its underlying values.
Storytelling plays an essential role in this process.
In terms of educating, I think everyone's going to get their own thing from it. There are lots of places and spaces that I've been where I've actually told specific Anishinaabe stories, mostly children's stories. And depending on where people are in their life and their journey and whatnot, it's interesting that the same story can yield several different takeaways.
She also emphasized that resurgence cannot happen in isolation.
I think the more that you're connected to culture, the more that you're connected to community. Especially for those who are female-identifying and non-binary folks, two-spirit folks, that sense of community is also protection. Because there's power in numbers, but there's also something freeing about learning and unlearning and relearning. That's maybe why I will probably never stop. Never stop learning because it's something special to have knowledge click, and to have a place and a space to share it and someone to share it with. I think that the other thing is recognizing that all of that resurgence is not possible without community, without others to share it with future generations.
Storytelling as mentorship and leadership, therefore, becomes an intergenerational practice. Teachers, mentors, Elders, and young people all participate in sustaining knowledge, strengthening communities, and imagining new futures together.
Conclusion
Frances Elizabeth Moore's approach to leadership reminds us that teaching is never simply about transferring information. At its best, education creates relationships, strengthens communities, and empowers others to carry knowledge forward.
Her philosophy challenges individualistic models of leadership by emphasizing reciprocity, mentorship, vulnerability, and collective responsibility. Storytelling becomes both a teaching practice and a form of community care, while resurgence becomes an ongoing commitment to adapting Indigenous knowledge for future generations.
Perhaps Moore's greatest lesson is that leadership is not measured by how much knowledge we possess, but by whether we create the conditions for others to learn, belong, and lead. In turbulent times, teaching itself becomes an act of resurgence. She reminds us that some of the most transformative forms of leadership are exercised not through formal authority but through the patient work of teaching, mentoring, and creating communities where others are empowered to learn, belong, and eventually lead themselves.