LucyHach – FNIS 401M

Decolonizing The Queer Native Body in Alethea Arnaquq-Bari’s film, Aviliaq (Entwined): The Embargo Project @ Reel Reservations

Aviliaq

On Feb 25, 2016 I attended The Embargo Project At the Talking Stick Festival: Reel Reservations Event at the VIFF.

Before going any further, I highly recommend viewing the trailer here.

The Embargo project is a collection of short films by Indigenous Women Filmmakers. In this post I will focus on Alethea Arnaquq-Bari’s film, Aviliaq (Entwined). But for a detailed description of the project, bios of the filmmakers, and descriptions of their films go here.

Around the same time as seeing this film, I read the article, “Decolonizing the Queer Native Body,” by Queer Indigenous Feminist,Chris Finley. I have found it really helpful to engage with in my analysis of the film.

Colonization relies on gender violence and control of sexuality in its assertion of control over the settler state. While the role of gender violence in colonization has become a focus point in First Nations and Indigenous studies and communities, sexuality has not. Finley calls for “more open, sex-positive, and queer-friendly discussions of sexuality in both Native communities and Native Studies” (p. 32). She pursues this by 1) examining queered colonial discourses, which define Aboriginal people; 2) critiquing the state’s role in portraying Indigenous people as non-heteronormative because they do not conform to heteropatriarchy; and 3) critiquing Indigenous nation building that uses the settler-state as a model (p. 32).

Heteropatriarchy is perpetuated through media and film, especially through Hollywood films. The mainstream film industry is dominated by male directors and producers. However, the Indigenous film industry in Canada is made up of approximately 50% women (L. Jackson, personal communication, February 25, 2016). It should come as no surprise, then, that these Indigenous women filmmakers are creating space for the decolonization of the queer native body.

Alethea Arnaquq-Baril’s Aviliaq: Entwined is a short romance film set in the arctic during the 1950s. In the film two Inuit women, Ulluriaq and Viivi, try to stay together as lovers even after Viivi gets married. The two women convince Pitsiulaaq, Viivi’s husband to take Ulluriaq as a second wife so they may stay together as lovers, arguing that before colonization Inuit could have polygamous relationships. Pitsiulaaq agrees so that the women may remain together but he asserts that they must keep it a secret so they will not be arrested. Meanwhile, Ulluriaq’s family has decided to leave their territories and move to town. They arrange a marriage between her and Johnny, an Inuk man who lives in town and has a job. When Johnny sees Ulluriaq with Viivi and Pitsiulaaq he calls the police. In the end of the film, Johnny and the police carry Ulluriaq to town in a boat and Pitsiulaaq is arrested. They are all forced apart (Arnaquq-Baril, 2014).

Finley argues that heteropatriarchy is required by colonialism in order for it to “naturalize hierarchies and unequal gender relations” (Finley, 2011. p. 34). In the film we see that heteropatriarchy has been normalized for Johnny and Ulluriaq’s family, so much so that Johnny involves the police in disrupting the polygamous relationship. Ulluriaq, Viivi and Pitsiulaaq also are aware that their relationship is not “normal,” because they try to keep it a secret.

Rayna Green’s concept of the “Pocahontas Perplex,” is the image of Indigenous women represented by colonial discourses as sexually available for white men’s pleasure. Finley argues that the children of Indigenous women and white men become the white inheritors of the land because through white supremacy and patriarchy, inheritance is passed through the father. Therefore, Indigeneity is erased and since colonizing logic requires Indigenous people to disappear for the settler state to inherit the land, when the Indigenous mother gives birth, her Indigeneity must disappear to allow her offspring to inherit the land. In order for this story to work, the Indigenous woman must be heterosexual. Her body and the land must become owned and managed by the settler state (p. 35-36). Ulluriaq’s and Viivi’s love for one another is forbidden because it disrupts the Colonial narrative which allows for the conquest of Indigenous land.

Ulluriaq’s love for Viivi is tied to her love of the land. Her refusal to leave is tied to her refusal to be disconnected from the land. Moreover, staying on the land with Viivi and Pitsiulaaq allows for her to have more control over her own life, whereas life in town is subject to more control by the colonial state. Finley draws on the work of Taiaiake Alfred in her assertion that decolonization relies on sovereignty and connection to land. Finley writes:

“Native people and Native studies need to understand how discourses of colonial power operate within our communities and within our selves through sexuality, so that we may work toward alternative forms of native nationhood and sovereignty that do not rely on heteronormativity for membership.” (Finley, 2011, p. 39-40)

Aviliaq: Entwined, directed by Inuk filmmaker, Alethea Arnaquq-Baril has played a decolonizing role through the uncovering of the control asserted over Indigenous people through heteropatriarchy and control of Indigenous sexualities. Moreover, it demonstrates the ties between sexuality and sovereignty and connection to land. Finley asserts:

“Sexuality discourses have to be considered as methods of colonization that require deconstruction to further decolonize Native studies and Native communities. Part of the decolonizing project is recovering the relationship to a land base and reimagining the queer Native body.” (p. 41)

Alethea Arnaquq-Baril’s work and the work of other Indigenous women filmmakers and artists have a role to play within the decolonizing work of First nations and Indigenous studies, and within the Indigenous communities.

You can find Rebecca’s post on Skyworld, by Zoe Hopkins here

And find Melissa’s review of Bihttoš by Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers here.

Check out the Reel Reservations Embargo Project Prezi here.

References

Finley, C. (2011). Decolonizing the Queer Native Body (and Recovering the Native Bull-Dyke). In Driskill, Q. (Ed.). Queer indigenous studies: Critical interventions in theory, politics, and literature (pp. 32-42). Tucson: University of Arizona Press.

Alethea Arnaquq-Baril (Producer & Director). (2014). Aviliaq: Entwined [Motion picture]. (Available from ImagineNATIVE Film, 349-401 Richmond Street W, Toronto, ON, M5V 3A8)

Mainstream Medicine? : Huff @ The Push Festival

Medicine

Source

Before reading my post, I recommend reading Eliana’s beautiful and wellwritten post on the Huff here. We did our presentation together, so I will write about the aspects of the play she didn’t cover.

On February 6^th I attended Huff at the Firehall Theatre as part of the Push Festival.

As was mentioned by the others who attended this play, it was in many ways difficult to watch. This was made more difficult for me, having grown up on a reserve, and been affected (in one way or another) by much of the “poison” that was exposed by the play.

Yet, despite being a very dark and difficult play, Huff has had very good reviews.

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Prism Magazine:

“Huff is vital theatre. It’s messy and wrenching, daring the audience to go to almost unbearable places. It begs us to see what we’d rather turn away from, making us laugh one moment and sucker punching us in the gut the next.”-Sasha Singer-Wilson

Vancouverplays:

“It is unpredictable, mischievous and energetic. Huff finds joyful moments in a reality that has too often been ignored or silenced.” -Lindsay Lachance

SAD MAG:

“Haunting and authentic, Huff is a truly outstanding achievement.” -Hannah Thomson

Yvette Nolan discusses the importance of reviews as being either an opportunity or an obstruction to entering into a dialogue with the audience. Negative reviews negate the progress and objectives of Indigenous theatre.

“A theatre practitioner I know in Toronto once referred to “the dark cloud of Native theatre” as a reason for why audiences stayed away. Why would a person pay to go into a theatre and be made to feel guilty?” (Nolan Pg. 208)

*Note: Check out Ermen’s really interesting post on ‘positive’ reviews serving as bad medicine here.

“Yet the success of Where the Blood Mixes, FareWel and Dry Lips Oughta Move to Kapuskasing suggest that mainstream audiences were willing to look at the poison exposed if it were framed a certain way (Nolan Pg. 221).

Nolan suggest that this is due to the ability of producer and production team to “mediate between the audience and actor.” Judging by the reviews and attention this Huff is getting I would say that it is mainstream.

The Artistic producer was Donna Spencer, the Artistic Producer of the Firehall Arts Centre. Yet, it didn’t feel like any mediation was happening. Other than giving the background story of Wind’s mom and dad’s meeting and descent into alcoholism and abuse, Cardinal doesn’t situate the audience within the colonial context, it is almost presumed that we know the situation, or too bad for us.

It was very clear that the audience would understand the play differently, or have a different experience depending on their background. For example, as I mentioned above, I grew up on a reserve and so I was very familiar with many of the inside jokes.

but I also understood the darker elements of the play that would have seemed alien to the mainly white upper middle-class members of the audience ( huffing gas, solvent abuse, playing the “blacking out” game). In fact, during a scene where the boy’s stepmom gives them a bottle of Lysol to make them go to bed, an older woman in front of me turned to her husband and said “what do they use Lysol for?” Yet, for me, I thought it was common knowledge that Lysol is used as non-beverage alcohol by those who cannot afford (or access) beverage alcohol.

The audience is pulled into this world in a really visceral way. The play started with the loud sound of tearing ductape with complete darkness except for vacancy sign, which changes to “No Vacancy.” Later in the play Cardinal splashed canned tomatoes onto the audience (representing the shame these boys carry). The smell of the tomatoes was really overwhelming, even though we were four rows back.

“Mainstream audiences are only ready to examine poison exposed from a distance, looking in the window to First Nations communities where we act out our damage on eachother, and especially on our women.” Nolan pg. 234

Yet, the audience definitely is not a safe distance from this play: and is implicated in many ways. The play opened with Wind trying to commit suicide with a plastic bag on his head, he asks an audience member to take it off, who in this case does so. He asks them to not give it back, no matter what. In the end of the play he tries to commit suicide again, and asks for the bag back, but the audience member refuses. He also refers to the audience as his “imaginary friends,” It felt like this represented our inability or lack of desire to intervene.

I think the success of this play is largely due to Cardinal’s ability to depict a really difficult yet important story in both an unsettling yet humorous way.

Google Slide Presentation: Huff presentation

Also, check out Danielle’s review of Huff here.

Source: Nolan, Yvette. Medicine shows: Indigenous Performance Culture. Toronto: Playwrights Canada Press, 2015.

Stories Carried Within Us: Lee Maracle Lecture @ The Ogema: I Am Woman Exhibit

“Memory serves. Once we understood order, natural order. First comes the crying, and then comes the laughter. Babies cry for months after birth. Babies’ tears are their first language. This language was understood by grandmothers who were proud of their grandchildren’s capacity to create a language of the original voice creation gave us– crying.” – Lee Maracle, Memory Serves

MeAnLee — I had a fan-girl moment and got my photo with Lee 🙂

On March 25^th I attended an author lecture by Lee Maracle at the Ogema: I Am Woman exhibit in the Windsor Gallery. Lee is a member of the Sto:lo nation, but has ties to Squamish, Tslelwatuth, and is also Cree Métis. She is a scholar, poet, and author of many books including, I Am Woman, Celia’s Song, Memory Serves, Talking to The Diaspora.

Attending this lecture was a last minute decision for me because I didn’t know about it until the evening before it was happening. I had hoped to see Lee Maracle speak at UBC the day before, but missed due to deadlines for another class. So, I woke up early on my weekend to see her speak at the Windsor gallery, and was very glad I did.

Everyone situated themselves in the back couples rows, so we sat in the front row. Lee arrived a bit late, and took time to view the pieces in the exhibit before starting the talk. It was a funny moment, the audience sitting in the middle of the gallery in anticipation, while she quietly looked at each of the pieces. It did something to the atmosphere that I really appreciated. It seemed less like an author lecture in a fancy gallery, and more like a visit.

This “visiting atmosphere” was added to even more when Lee began to speak. She stood very close to the front row. When she spoke she made eye contact with us, she told jokes, and she laughed a lot. She has a completely different lecturing style than most. She moves through stories, teachings, and concepts in a way that is counter to what I think many are used to. It is more circular than linear. I was reminded of the way my Kwakwaka’wakw Grandma used to talk/tell stories/ give teachings. Actually I felt so moved by the whole talk, and I was very present for every word because she reminded me so much of my Grandmother. I felt like it was important that I really listen to her.

Lee spoke about her books and her background for a while before focusing on I Am Woman. After that she took questions from the audience and gave us more important teachings.

A woman in the audience asked what Lee thought would happen if more scholars thought and taught the way she did. Lee said the “filing system” in her head is different than most. Rather than having everything compartmentalized in her brain like we are taught to do in western society, her mind consists of “wheels of understanding.” She also said, “when I’m talking to someone I’m not thinking about how to constantly argue with them.”

This made me think about how there is such a privileging of western knowledge systems over Indigenous knowledge systems within the arts and within academia. So much so that Lee is considered an anomaly. This made me incredibly thankful that we have classes such as this, where such a privileging does not exist, and where the multitude of diverse indigenous ways of knowing are held up as being just as important as western ways of knowing.

Lee said that it took her two weeks to write I am Woman. I found this incredible, considering it’s a 142 page book. She said when she was writing this book she felt like she was breathing every word. This made me think of “Stories From the Body” by Monique Mojica. The idea that these stories are a part of us, waiting for the right moment to be made manifest into a story is really important to me because as a writer, I often write stories to help me heal, but usually have no idea where these stories come from. This turned out to be something that I really needed to hear at that time.

On April 1^st I found out that my Grandfather had passed away. A loss felt more keenly because he was the third of my grandparents to pass away in 6 months, and the last of my living grandparents to go. I was always really close with all my grandparents, and I loved to hear their stories. In many ways my grandparents’ stories have shaped my life through the lessons they have taught. My grandfather held many of my Kwakwaka’wakw grandmother’s stories, and he told them to me every time we spent time together. He too had an amazing life on the coast, and his stories always captivated me. The last time I saw him he asked me if I would work with him to write his stories down into a book this summer, and I had agreed.

Last week I was expressing my grief for having lost these stories, and my friend Salia replied: “You didn’t lose your grandpa’s stories, you carry them within you.”

This brought a lot of peace to me. I know one day the moment will be right and my own body will allow these stories to be told.

The in-class presentation can be found: Here

Negotiating Protocols Within vs without Indigenous Communities

The Lalakenis Feast, 15 January 2016

Before the Lalakenis Feast, I had heard some people refer to it as a potlatch. “Potlatch” is a chinook jargon word, which is used to describe a ceremony where gifts are given. Yet it means something very different depending on where you come from. A Kwakwaka’wakw potlatch follows a strict set of protocols. Every person who attends one must be aware of, and respect the protocol and usually the only people who may attend the potlatch are those who are invited, and most are from the Kwakwaka’wakw tribes. Songs and dances can only be sung and danced by the families who have the hereditary right to them, or whom have been granted permission to use them.

The Lalakenis Feast was not a potlatch and was never called one by the hosts. Yet, there were many elements of a potlatch in it. Initially I felt concern that some Kwakwaka’wakw protocols were being broken. For example, in Kwakwaka’wakw culture it is common for someone to pass on their Kwakwaka’wakw name to a baby, but this is done so with much deliberation and consideration, because the name that goes to that child is their responsibility. Yet at the feast many children were given names, without knowing the child. Another example is that on the tentative schedule that we were sent before the feast the “hamatsa dancers” were listed. This concerned me because the hamatsa ceremony happens during the Tseka ( or Cedarbark ceremony) part of the potlatch, this is considered a very spiritually charged part of the potlatch. This dance cannot be performed outside of the potlatch and should stay within the bighouse. However, the Hamatsa dancers were not part of the feast.

The event was in the AMS Student Nest not a bighouse. It was an open invitation event so many in attendance didn’t know Kwakwaka’wakw protocols. Moreover, Beau involved many other indigenous and non-indigenous ceremonies and presenters in the event. My initial concern about protocol is a result of growing up in a Kwakwaka’wakw community, and having these protocols instilled in me from a young age. Yet, when I moved passed my concern, I was very aware of the uplifting and healing nature of the event.

I moved to Vancouver from my small Kwakwaka’wakw community on northern Vancouver Island to study at UBC. In my two years here, It’s become apparent to me that there is a privileging of western knowledge over indigenous knowledge systems within the institution. Beau’s feast made space for our Kwakwaka’wakw knowledge systems as well as other indigenous ways of knowing. These ways of knowing value relationships, between each other and the natural world.

I think perhaps we need to consider that events that happen within our Indigenous communities for our communities specifically, will have a different set of protocols, or will negotiate protocols differently than an event that is for those from outside communities. So how do we negotiate this respectfully and without creating conflict?

For more information about the feast check out the presentation:

Lalakenis Group Presentation Slides

You can also read Eliana’s blog post on Beau Dick and the Lalakenis feast here:

Eliana’s Post