Indigenous Women’s Reproductive Rights and Justice: Intersections of Gender and Race in North America’s Regimes of Assimilation and Cultural Genocide by Elise Boisvert

Indigenous peoples have long been excluded, assimilated, and discriminated against since colonialist settlers arrived on Turtle Island (now known as Canada). Indigenous women were viewed as the backbone of society, but when Western ideologies began to dominate, this quickly changed. Regimes began to assimilate Indigenous peoples into the Canadian state and Indigenous women’s agency began to dissipate, along with their reproductive rights and justice. As we will see through the course of this paper, many factors facilitated the subordination of Indigenous women in Western colonial society. Indigenous women’s lack of reproductive rights and justice is a clear and blatant example of the continued attempts of assimilation and cultural genocide of Indigenous peoples in North America.

Colonialism

Indigenous Society Before Colonialism. Indigenous society prior to (and after) colonial contact were vastly different from Europeans in terms of ideologies, ways of knowledge, and societal norms. Unlike settler colonial society, gender roles in Indigenous communities were equal and mutual. Women were informed and respected members of Indigenous society, and played vital and viable roles in many different areas. Unlike European women, Indigenous women had a strong sense of autonomy. Women were respected and have always been the backbone and keepers of life in Indigenous communities (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). White settler colonial societies took the form of patriarchal structure, with women viewed as lesser and subordinate. When European settlers began colonizing Turtle Island, they were perplexed by the autonomy and freedom of Indigenous women, deeming it as promiscuity (Juschka, 2017) – given how vastly different these gender roles were from their own. 

Indigenous Society After Colonialism. Western ideologies of gender were represented as normative and were imposed on Indigenous peoples (Juschka, 2017). Subsequently, the status of Indigenous women as powerful, viable, and informed members of society began a downward spiral (Juschka, 2017). This was a successful tool in colonization for European settlers. Their ideologies were being enforced and adopted into Indigenous societies; gender fluidity and equivalent gender relations among Indigenous peoples were being dismantled and their culture was being divided – a strategic means to conquer a society (Juschka, 2017). Indigenous women not only became subordinate to white men, but eventually subordinate to white women, and subsequently to Indigenous men. Indigenous women were a threat to colonizers due to their traditional significance in the continuation of Native cultures (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005); European colonizers targeting Indigenous women was and is strategic and cognisant.  

“Unlike settler colonial society, gender roles in Indigenous communities were equal and mutual.”

Legislation

The Indian Act. The Indian Act, created in 1876 strived to assimilate Indigenous peoples into the Canadian state and European culture. With this, all self-governing aspects of Indigenous cultures and societies were eliminated (The Native Women’s Association, 2018). In 1885 spiritual ceremonies were banned and Indigenous peoples could leave reserves without permission, in 1914 Indigenous peoples had to require special permission to wear their “costumes” to public events, in 1925 dancing was outlawed entirely, and in 1927 Indigenous peoples were banned from hiring legal representation regarding claims against the federal government without the government’s approval (The Native Women’s Association, 2018). The Indian Act stripped Indigenous peoples of their culture, power, and agency, giving settlers the upper hand in all forms of political, economic, and social environments. 

The Gendered Aspects of the Indian Act. Not only did the Indian Act strip all Indigenous peoples of culture, but Indigenous women were hit hardest by this legislation. The Indian Act was a sexist tool that was used to deprive Indigenous women and their children of status if they married out of their culture and race. The Indian Act defined an Indian person as “any male person of Indian blood” and their children (The Native Women’s Association, 2018). Status women who married non-status men lost status, non-status women who married men gained status, and anyone with status who earned a degree or became a doctor, lawyer or clergyman became enfranchised but lost status (The Native Women’s Association, 2018). With these rules, women lost their culture and essence of Indigeneity if they married a white man. But an Indigenous man’s status would not be affected if he married a white woman. In fact, she would gain status. This patriarchal notion put Indigenous women at the lowest economic and political standing. In 1951 an amendment was made which would enact the “double mother rule,” which removes the status of a person whose mother and grandmother were given status through marriage. In 1985 the marrying out rule in the Indian Act is removed, but further distinctions in status are created with many more issues stemming from this (The Native Woman’s Association, 2018). Before colonial powers invaded Turtle Island, there was no question of Indigenous status or blood-quantum. The Indian Act posed many threats to Indigenous ways of knowledge, culture, and overall being. Indigenous women were at the hands of brutal patriarchal colonial ideologies that belittled their very existence – and even with the first wave of feminism beginning to take flight in the late nineteenth century, Indigenous women were left to fight their own battle against assimilation and reproductive injustice. 

“Indigenous women were at the hands of brutal patriarchal colonial ideologies that belittled their very existence…”

Feminist movements

The majority of first-wave feminists were middle-class white women that, in simple terms, fought for the right to vote and the choice of when to have children. These women paved the way for many of the events that have taken place and the rights we have today; but first-wave feminist movements have been condemned for being too focused on suffrage, indifferent about gender roles, and too accepting of race and class divisions (LeGates, 2001). Indigenous women (and other women of colour) were left out of first-wave feminism movements due to the fact that many of their movements involved rights that were centered around white settler ideologies. White settler first-wave feminists in the United States drew inspiration from Indigenous women’s social, political, economic, and sexual autonomy, yet still viewed them as less capable in light of being Indigenous (Juschka, 2017). Eugenics dominated Western white settler societies and Christianity was seen as the only spiritual truth, therefore, Indigenous systems of belief and practice were seen as heathen and Indigenous women were seen as inferior (Juschka, 2017). The first wave resulted in women’s right to vote in 1918. White women gained the right to vote, that is. Indigenous women did not get the right to vote until 1960 – 42 years later (The Native American Women’s Association, 2018). The second wave of feminism (1960s-80s) focused more on women’s reproductive rights such as, abortion. Feminists fought for their right to choose when to have a child, whereas Indigenous women were struggling to ensure they could still have children. White second-wave feminists during the 1970s chose to ignore issues of sterilization abuse (which will be discussed in more detail later in this paper), and focused on a woman’s right to abortion – given that most victims of sterilization abuses were women of colour (Ralstin-Lewis, 2015). As Crenshaw (1991) states, although racism and sexism often intersect in the lives of real people, they rarely do in feminist and antiracist practices. Early feminist movements rarely focused on racism as an intersectional part of sexism – this unfortunately resulted in Indigenous women’s voices and stories being unheard during the times violence and assimilation was being brought upon them in systematic attacks by colonial powers. 

“Feminists fought for their right to choose when to have a child, whereas Indigenous women were struggling to ensure they could still have children.”

Systematic dislocation of children and sterilization

Residential Schools. It is impossible to speak about Indigenous peoples’ suffering at the hands of colonial powers without acknowledging the horrors that were enacted upon children and their families that attended residential schools. Residential schools were built to incorporate Western ideologies and practices into the everyday lives of Indigenous children – to “kill the Indian in the child”. Attendance became mandatory in 1884, children were forcibly removed from their homes and were not permitted to speak their own language to practice their own religious rituals (The Native Women’s Association, 2018). This is an important part of history to acknowledge when speaking about reproductive justice due to the fact that culture is reproduced by passing it down from elder or parent to the next generation. By ripping children away from their families and stopping them from practicing their own culture, the Canadian state enacted a cultural genocide on Indigenous communities. As Juschka (2017) states, Indigenous mothering was directly challenged by the introduction of residential schools in Canada and industrial schools in the United States. Children became detached from their cultural roots and assimilated into Western culture, yet not accepted by white people. These children became alienated and Indigenous mothers and fathers lost their connection to their kin. Not only did these schools separate children from their parents, but they prevented siblings from interacting with one another to ensure that children would leave behind their Indigenous ways of being (Juschka, 2017). Family separation, sibling separation, and gender separation were mechanisms that white settler school systems used to control and assimilate Indigenous peoples (Juschka, 2017). The residential school system spread Western ideology and thought, promoted patriarchal structures and instituted the model of family formation which put Indigenous women in a role of obedience and support of the husband (Juschka, 2017). As residential school attendance began to deplete, other forms of assimilation and cultural genocide began to take its place.

Sixties and Millennial Scoops and the Child Welfare System. The Sixties and Millennial Scoops, and the Child Welfare System were and continue to be the systems that continue the legacy of the residential schools. The Sixties Scoop began in the 1960s and continued to the mid-1980s, the Millennial Scoop began in the 1980s and continues to the present day, and the Child Welfare System began in 1935 and also continues to the present day. Each of these systems were and are a system perpetuated by the Canadian state in an act to separate Indigenous children from their families and place them in white households – assimilation and cultural genocide cloaked in the act of heroic salvation. These systems are based on colonialist, racist as misguided views on Indigenous peoples of Canada (Juschka, 2017) – viewing them as incapable of being suitable parents to their children. The protection of Indigenous children by white settlers were carried out by ripping children away from their homes and families into new and foreign cultures. False advertisement of protection that these systems gave allowed for the rapid removal of Indigenous children from their homes. Children were often removed forcibly from their homes for “protection” or for their “own good,” when in reality the Canadian government and white settler community wanted to assimilate Indigenous peoples even further. The sustained involvement of white settlers in Indigenous communities takes away the agency of Indigenous mothers in their right to their own reproduction of culture and ideologies. Indigenous children were removed from their mothers, fathers, and families for reasons such as poverty, a situation imposed on them by the same government removing them (Juschka, 2017). Indigenous women’s autonomy, specifically their sexual autonomy, as well as Indigenous culture and language continued to be problematic to the Canadian state, and as a result many infants and toddlers were taken away from their mothers (Juschka, 2017). Across Canada, an estimated seventy to ninety percent of Indigenous children were taken from their homes and put into non-Indigenous homes between 1960 and 1990 (Vowel, 2016). During these systematic regimes of displacement, violence against women was being enacted upon Indigenous women’s bodies.

Sterilization. One of the most cognisant and controlled efforts of violence against Indigenous women was the use of sterilization. Indigenous women lost their reproductive rights even further during this period of intense population control and the eugenics movement by the Canadian and American government. Permanent sterilization by tubal ligation or hysterectomy was used forcibly, coercively, or unwittingly on between 3,400 and 70,000 Indigenous women from the 1960s up to 1976 (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). From 1970 to 1980, the birthrate for Indigenous women fell at a rate 7 times greater than that of their white counterparts (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). Governments targeted Indigenous women and girls because of their direct link to cultural reproduction. White settler colonial society believed that Indigenous societies were not as advanced as them, and therefor inferior. As the eugenics movement swept the Western nations, Indigenous communities, specifically women, were even more vulnerable to reproductive injustices. Many eugenicists, felt that whites were more advanced than other races, and viewed the higher rates of birthrates among Indigenous peoples and other people of colour with alarm – and with the long history of racism in North America, they had little trouble influencing many whites that people of colour were inferior (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). Medical practitioners viewed Indigenous women as incapable and incompetent enough to effectively use birth control, and favoured sterilizing Indigenous women (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). In the early 1970s, the Department of Health, Education and Welfare escalated funding programs and paid for 90% of the costs to sterilize poor Indigenous women, they circulated pamphlets among Indigenous communities praising the benefits of sterilization, and the federal government was using propaganda to suggest sterilization to Indigenous women (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). Facilities continually violated Indigenous women’s right to informed consent. For instance, women were not informed that they possessed the right to refuse sterilization; other reports show that teenaged girls had their ovaries removed after they were told they would undergo a tonsillectomy; and coercive measures were often taken to make women sign consent forms (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). There have been cases of Indigenous girls receiving hysterectomies as young as age 11 (Volscho, 2010). These blatant violations of human and reproductive rights show the lack of respect and dehumanization of Indigenous peoples in the eyes of Western colonial ideology and practice. These irreversible surgeries took away the ability to have children, and therefor reproduce culture. In Canada, the provinces of Alberta and British Columbia established a sexual sterilization act that operated between 1928 and 1972, and 1933 and 1973 (Juschka, 2017). While other provinces in Canada did not have sterilization acts, they equally engaged in the practice of sterilization within the eugenics movement (Juschka, 2017). The government was quick to realize that they did not want to be implicated of racial genocide, so the act was amended so that consent prior to sterilization was only necessary if the patient was not deemed “mentally defective” (Juschka, 2017). Unsurprisingly, the government took advantage of this and abused the power of being able to deem Indigenous women mentally defective or not and consequently deemed numerous women mentally defective in order to perform sterilizations without consent. As a result, more than 77% of women were defined as mentally defective (Juschka, 2017). The criteria of mental defectiveness included the following: sexual activity outside the boundary of marriage, promiscuity, and an unwillingness to be subordinate to white settlers, particularly men; these decisive factors signified the individual to be mentally defective (Juschka, 2017). An estimated 40% of all Indigenous women were sterilized during the eugenics movement (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). This is a clear measure these governments have taken to enact a cultural genocide and assimilation. When sterilization could not be achieved, other measures were taken to ensure women could not reproduce.

Birth Control. Drugs such as DepoProvera and Norplant were used to solve the perceived “Indian problem.” Most women were not given the information about the drugs’ possible side effects, one of which is the cessation of the menstrual cycle – and for some women after discontinuing their use of DepoProvera, had to wait up to 2 years before returning to a normal menstrual cycle, while others were rendered totally infertile (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). Menstruation is deeply important in the religious lives of both men and women in traditional Native cultures, it allows women to go through a cleanse and spiritual transformation; with the loss of their menstrual cycle, it situates them at the same spiritual level as men (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). Significant problems with these drugs also include excessive bleeding, which is drastically problematic for Indigenous women because participation in religious activities is limited for Indigenous women whom are mensurating (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). This removes women from their culture for prolonged periods of time and as a result, disconnects them from their family members including the children they may have had previously. A woman cannot start or stop using Norplant whenever she chooses, which places her at the hands of her healthcare provider. She loses complete autonomy and control over her reproductive health, over a drug that she most-likely did not fully consent to starting in the first place. If her doctor refuses to remove the Norplant inserts, a scenario that frequently occurs, a woman has zero control and agency of her fertility and reproduction (Ralstin-Lewis, 2005). As Ralstin-Lewis (2005) states, by attacking the traditional status of women in Indigenous nations, sterilization and the abuse of these drugs strikes at the very core value and uniqueness of women. For too long, Indigenous women’s bodies have been the battleground of colonial powers’ attempts to assimilate and control Indigenous communities. 

“Governments targeted Indigenous women and girls because of their direct link to cultural reproduction.”

The Environmental Factors in Reproductive Justice

Not only have Indigenous women dealt with internal forces hindering them from bearing children, external forces have also been barriers in their reproductive rights and justice. Indigenous communities facing environmental injustices resulting from circumstances such as poverty and inadequate healthcare have consequences. Mortality rates for Indigenous populations are 60% higher than those of the U.S. white population; and Indigenous peoples have the lowest cancer survival rates among any racial group in the United States (Hoover et al., 2012). Indigenous communities are disproportionately exposed to environmental contaminants due to location and the cultural activities that put them in close contact with the environment (Hoover et al., 2012). Reproductive justice is defined as the following:

“The right to have children, not have children, and parent the children we have in safe and healthy environments – [and] is based on the human right to make personal decisions about one’s life, and the obligation of government and society to ensure that the conditions are suitable for implementing one’s decisions” (Hoover et al., 2012)

 In simpler terms, reproductive justice is the right to the ability to choose when and if to have children in an environment that is safe and healthy, and does not hinder the decision. An Indigenous community in a place named Aamjiwnaang is also known as “Chemical Valley” due to being surrounded by 62 major industrial facilities within a 25km radius and manufacturers of plastics polymers and agricultural products, is one of the most contaminated reserves – located in Sarnia, Ontario, Canada (Hoover et al., 2012). This community is 12km2 and is home to about 850 Anishinaabe First Nations people, 40% of which require the use of an inhaler (Hoover et al., 2012). In 1996, hospital admissions for women were 3.11 times the expected rates for women and 2.83 times for men based on the other rates for Ontario (Hoover et al., 2012). Oral traditions in this community are passed down from grandfathers during fishing or grandmothers during berry picking and medicine gathering, but these are being lost because these activities are no longer practiced because of concerns about these foods being contaminated. Akwesasne, located at the juncture of New York, Ontario, and Quebec, the community has been impacted by 3 aluminum foundries upstream that used PCBs as hydraulic fluids; these PCBs leaked and contaminated the rivers, fish and consequently, the people (Hoover et al., 2012). PCB levels in breast milk and serum from members in the Akwesasne community have been analyzed and compared to the general public, and are elevated even after cessation of eating local fish (Hoover et al., 2012). Higher PCB concentrations are associated with decrements in cognitive and thyroid function and elevated risk of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, and hypertension, girls are more likely to have reached puberty at age 12 and men were associated with lower testosterone levels (Hoover et al., 2012). These are just a few examples of the ways Indigenous communities are at higher risks of environmental damages resulting in poor health and subsequently, dangers to their unborn children’s’ health. In Akwesasne, a midwife pushed for more health studies because of concerns of local mothers about the number of miscarriages in the communities and the possibility of the link between the contaminated breast milk (Hoover et al., 2012). Studies resulted in the confirmation that Mohawk women who ate local fish had higher levels of contaminants in their breastmilk than a control group – so it should not come as a surprise than breastfeeding rates for Indigenous women in the U.S. are well below the national average (Hoover et al., 2012). This is a testament that many Indigenous communities do not have reproductive justice. Indigenous women should feel confident that their breastmilk is safe for their children to consume, and not worry that they will have miscarriages because of the food they are eating. As Kuokkanes states, environmental pollution and the destruction of ecosystems are examples of the violations of human and reproductive rights, they undermine Indigenous peoples control of and access to their lands and resources and often compromise women’s ability to take care of their children and families due to health problems, contamination, and displacement (232). Not only are Indigenous peoples concerned about the physical reproduction of community members, but there is concern over how environmental contamination impact the reproduction of cultural knowledge (Hoover et al., 2012). Not being able to participate in activities such as fishing or picking berries and passing on knowledge to their kin, language and culture is being lost in communities affected by environmental contaminants. Indigenous communities need a clean and safe environment to enact their reproductive rights and justice. 

“…reproductive justice is the right to the ability to choose when and if to have children in an environment that is safe and healthy…”

Conclusion

Indigenous women have been the location of violence in regards to reproductive health and justice since first contact with settler colonialists. Residential schools and other systems that removed children from their homes and families took away Indigenous mother’s agency and ability to reproduce their culture. Colonialism was perpetuated with these regimes of assimilation and cultural genocide – and Indigenous women and girls suffered at the hands of healthcare practitioners for decades. Feminist movements, while in many ways paved the way and made great changes for white women, left Indigenous women’s sufferings untouched and unacknowledged, allowing for the sustained development of the eugenics movement to enact their forced and coerced sterilizations of Indigenous women. While white women were praising their new-found freedom over reproductive rights during the 1960s and 1970s, Indigenous women were being targeted by medical practitioners with sterilization and birth control. While a battle was being waged on Indigenous women’s’ bodies from the inside, another battle was being forced upon them from the outside. Environmental factors have been a constant issue in reproductive justice for Indigenous peoples. Contaminants in the environment has affected women and their unborn children, resulting in lack of confidence in their breastmilk, health issues in adults and children, and loss of culture. Yet with all of this in mind, it is very important to acknowledge the strength and resiliency of Indigenous peoples and culture. Through the centuries of colonization, assimilation and genocide they have been subjected to, Indigenous communities continue to thrive and flourish in spite. But this does not mean the fight is over. Indigenous women are still at risk of reproductive injustice and Indigenous communities are facing inequalities that will and do result in cultural genocide. Indigenous women’s lack of reproductive rights and justice is a clear example of the continued attempts of assimilation and cultural genocide of Indigenous peoples in North America. 

References

Crenshaw, K. (1991). Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color. Stanford Law Review, 43(6), 1241-1299. https://doi.org/10.2307/1229039. 

Hoover, E., Cook, K., Plain, R., Sanchez, K., Waghiyi, V., Miller, P., Dufault, R., Sislin, C., & Carpenter, D. O. (2012). Indigenous peoples of North America: Environmental exposures and reproductive justice. Environmental Health Perspectives, 120(12), 1645-1649. https://www.jstor.org/stable/23323091. 

Juschka, D. (2017). Indigenous women, reproductive justice, and Indigenous feminisms: A narrative. In, Listening to the beat of our drum (pp. 13-45). Demeter Press. https://jstor.org/stable/j.ctt1rrd9q9.7. 

Kuokkanen, R. (2012). Self-determination and Indigenous women’s rights are the intersection of international human rights. Human Rights Quarterly, 34(1), 225-250. https://www.jstor.org/stable/41345477. 

LeGates, M. (2001). Chapter eight: Issues in first-wave feminism. In, In their time: A history of feminism in western society (1st ed., pp. 237-280). Routledge. https://doi.org./10.4324/9780203824399. 

Ralstin-Lewis, M. (2005). The continuing struggle against genocide: Indigenous women’s reproductive rights. Wicazo Sa Review, 20(1), 71-95. https://www.jstor.org/stable/4140251.  

The Native Women’s Association. (2018). The Indian Act said what? https://www.nwac.ca/browse/ 

Volscho, T. W. (2010). Sterilization and pan-ethnic disparities of the past decade: The continued encroachment on reproductive rights. Wicazo Sa Review, 25(1), 17-31. https://www.jstor.org/stable/40891307. 

Vowel, C. (2016). Indigenous writes: A guide to First Nations, Métis & Inuit issues in Canada. Highwater Press.

Photo by Guillaume Jaillet on Unsplash

About the author Elise Boisvert

“I was born and raised in Lake Country, BC, Canada. I have always enjoyed education on topics that move towards a broader understanding of the complex relationships of the world around me; and attending UBCO has allowed me to explore and research a variety of topics that enable this. I am a 4th year Arts student with a major in Cultural Studies and a minor in Sociology. I am taking 5 years for my degree as I am unsure what path I want to take after post-secondary. My research interests include feminism, Indigenous matters, and disability studies while using an intersectional lens. I believe this topic is important in the facilitation of inclusivity and equity as it addresses the inequalities and discrimination Indigenous peoples of Canada face in the continuation of settler colonialism. On the University of British Columbia’s Okanagan campus, we study, work, and live on the unceded territory of the Syilx Nation. It is imperative to acknowledge the ways in which settlers have enacted an assimilation and genocide of Indigenous culture by ignoring Indigenous women’s reproductive rights and justice through an intersectional lens. The information provided in my work is essential in the movement towards decolonization: education, acknowledgement, responsibility and in time, reconciliation.”

 

What challenges do students face at the university?

References

The new abnormal: Student Mental Health two years into COVID-19. Canadian Alliance of Student Associations and Mental Health Commission of Canada. (2022, September 25). Retrieved December 21, 2022, from https://www.casa-acae.com/the_new_abnormal_report 

News, E. (2022, March 16). International students in Canada faced mental health issues during pandemic, survey reveals. Erudera. Retrieved December 21, 2022, from https://trauma.blog.yorku.ca/2022/10/when-international-students-struggle-with-mental-health/

About the contributors

The video was compiled by Nancy Jiayi Lu who is an undergraduate student majoring in Psychology in the Faculty of Science at UBC Okanagan. The audio-visual recording features students at UBC Okanagan and Ana Feng, a representative of the Mood Psychology Club.

RESPECT’s Logo by Nancy Jiayi Lu

About the author: Nancy Jiayi Lu is an undergraduate student majoring in Psychology in the Faculty of Science at UBC Okanagan.

Food Security on Campus: An Interview by Nancy Jiayi Lu

“The Pantry Food Bank is run by the Student Union Okanagan, which is a separate organization within UBCO. It is mostly volunteers and students who volunteer for short periods or they can volunteer over the whole year. We do a shift system for stocking pantries and we also have one part-time position that works at the pantry,” explained Stephanie Patterson, manager of the Pantry Food Bank. 

Food insecurity is a long-term issue that many postsecondary students are facing before, during and after the lockdown due to COVID-19. “Food security is many different things. It’s not defined by just people who can’t afford to eat at all. There’s sort of a broad misunderstanding of what food security means. So, it could be anything from you know, you just forgot your lunch that day or maybe you can’t afford to buy groceries for that week,” says Patterson. Food insecurity is not only a concern of domestic students but also international students. According to a survey at UBC in 2016, 45% of undergraduate students reported food insecurity on campus. (“Food Security Research at UBC,” n.d.)

A short-term solution that many communities are providing is a food bank. UBCO Student Union took over the pantry in 2019, and they are working to develop a bigger capacity for students and the community. So far, the food bank has a small space that students can access at UNC. They also provide hampers, in which students can request special food and other items that they have an urgent need for. The food bank is also planning a possible food hub, which can come in many different forms such as a pantry. “We’re hoping to expand it in terms of space and who can visit,” says Patterson. 

In terms of student engagement, the Foodbank did a food drive, called “The Taste of Home” with the library on campus. They collected different types of food from the community to include more culturally diverse food. Also, the Pantry Food Bank has been partnering with UBCO student-athletes and teams for food drives; they set up collection bins at each home game. Besides student involvement, the pantry food bank is dependent on other departments on campus and community partnerships. Parking services offer students a choice to donate food instead of paying fines. The University Christian Ministries have “Trick or Eat” events at Halloween where neighborhoods can donate food. In terms of community partnerships, the Pantry Food Bank is partnering with Mamas for Mamas, which is a national charitable organization that provides support for individuals and families to tackle poverty and make a positive impact on communities. 

“Pantry Food Banks provide no barrier opportunities for people to go and get the food they need, whether it be just for the moment or maybe they need a few items to get them through the week. Students can go in and use it. It’s not a big solution but it helps students,” explains Patterson. Nonetheless, food banks are not long-term solutions for food insecurity. The more people and organizations that are involved in fighting food insecurity, the more we can address the problem and directly help people. We all need to be aware of this issue and work together towards a better solution. 

References

Patterson, Stephanie. (March 2022). Interview conducted by Nancy Jiayi Lu.

UBC Wellbeing. (2022). Food security research at UBC. https://wellbeing.ubc.ca/food-security-research-ubc

About the author: Nancy Jiayi Lu is an undergraduate student majoring in Psychology in the Faculty of Science at UBC Okanagan.

 

Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

 

Representing Nature in an Illustrated Khamseh of Nezami Manuscript by Yasaman Lotfizadeh

Interpretations of equity: Nature, spirituality and stories of companionship

On her way to completing a Masters in Interdisciplinary Graduate Studies, Yasaman Lotfizadeh weaves art history, environmental humanities and digital humanities to look back in time at illustrations of a Persian book of poetry from five hundred years ago. This research draws attention to often overlooked Persian illustrated manuscripts that are rich depictions of nature in art. They also highlight inequities of representation, for example, the underrepresentation of women and power negotiation between humans and the natural world. Read an excerpt of this scholarship and two stories from the illustrated Khamseh of Nezami manuscript.

About the research

My research seeks to understand how Islamic art is adjusting to the digital turn. Art history, environmental humanities and the digital humanities generally pay little attention to the arts of the Islamic world. Art history scholars are now using computational and digital tools to analyze historical subjects and with the increase in these tools’ development, reflecting on their limitations is also critical. 

This work recognizes and uncovers less studied Persian illustrated manuscripts yet to be acknowledged in digital humanities scholarship. The usefulness of digital humanities tools and theories in studying Islamic and Persian paintings’ text-image relationships is still limited, although there are researchers who have recently attempted to do so. In Iran, where Persian illustrated manuscripts were produced, they might be overseen or neglected in detail, particularly in relation to new technologies. This suggests why Western scholars have conducted the main corpus of Islamic and Persian art scholarship, while some studies done elsewhere remain old-fashioned. It also further sheds light on how women are underrepresented in the scholarship of Islamic art, particularly in Iran but not necessarily in Euro-American scholarship. Islamic and particularly, Persian art history continues to be articulated by either Western scholars or those trained in the West. The emergence of digital humanities tools and theories in Islamic arts is even less applied in the scholarship around Persian paintings. Therefore, one of my study’s critical contributions is setting the ground for more such scholarship to look at previously studied material through the new lens of digital humanities tools and theories. Although I have highlighted text-image close-looking in my case study, what I have brought to the surface is a great need to further investigate the usefulness of digital humanities tools and theories.

About the illustrated Khamseh of Nezami manuscript and visualization techniques

Around 500 years ago, a Persian Safavid art-lover king, Shah Tahmasp, commissioned an illustration of a well-known Persian poetry book, Khamseh, by poet Nezami Ganjavi. Hundreds of illustrated copies of this poetry book survive today in collections worldwide. Among them, the Or. 2265 illustrated manuscript is the focus of the current study, which now belongs to the British Library collection, and has been professionally digitized. With a different approach and the help of digital tools, and close-looking methods, I studied the relationship between this manuscript’s illustrations and their corresponding text with a particular focus on the natural world and the ideas that could have influenced painters’ choices of visual elements. For my Masters, I focused on three Khamseh compositions among five, including Makhzan al-Asrar, Khosrow o Shirin and Leyli o Majnoon. Owing in part to the accessibility of Or. 2265’s high-quality illustrations through the British Library website collection, its complex history and the large corpus of scholarship on the manuscript encouraged me to look at it through different disciplinary lenses and in an interdisciplinary way.

I employed digital tools to produce visualizations, and a close-looking methodology, to add to the traditional methods. This approach aided me in developing meaningful relationships and deepening my understanding of text and image relations. I employed data visualizations to better investigate how text and image were and were not related. By capturing more detail across text and image, data visualizations add to the traditional methods. The availability of sophisticated digital tools allows researchers and practitioners alike to explore visual art in new ways. These tools increase the speed and depth of analysis and bring to the foreground the minutia of details that would otherwise be difficult to discern.

The study concluded that along with the importance of the painter’s power over the depicted nature, the philosophy and ideological beliefs of the poet and the illustrator helped form the representations of the natural world in BL Or. 2265. Therefore, people’s relation with the elements of nature is strongly shaped not only by ideas about power and pleasure but by spirituality too.

Story: “Nushirvan and the Owls” and Folio 15v

In Makhzan al-Asrar’s Nushirvan and the Owls (f 15v) (See digital version of Folio 15v), Nezami tells of a king’s reckoning with his oppressive policies through two talking birds who are in conversation with one another. Noticing their sound, Nushirvan asks his vasir (minister) about the subject of their discussion. Worried about how the king would react, the vazir explains that these birds, one a groom and the other the groom’s future father-in-law, are talking about an upcoming wedding and discussing the bride’s dowry. The groom demands one or two ruined villages, and the bride’s father answers that if the king continues to rule as he is ruling, all his subjects would soon be in misery and that he can give the groom not one or two ruined villages but hundreds.

Through assigning verbal and decision-making abilities, in “Nushirvan and the Owls,” the two wise owls are considered equals to humans. As the story suggests, the owls’ conversation guided the king to the right path, and he became a just king afterwards. The story suggests that as readers of Nezami’s words, we are not concerned about animals themselves, rather, they are the allegorical source and vehicle of wisdom.

Story: “Majnoon with the Animals in the Desert” and Folio 166r

The story of “Majnoon with the Animals in the Desert” from Khamseh’s third composition, Leyli o Majnoon, is depicted in f.166r (See digital version of Folio 166r). In the Leyli o Majnoon composition, the young Qays and Leyli initially fall in love at school. Following his unsuccessful marriage proposal, Qays becomes mad, that is majnoon, and subsequently leaves his family and clan. A major event in the story of Leyli o Majnoon is the death of Majnoon’s father. Following his father’s death and his encounter with Leyli, Majnoon joins his empathetic wild animal companions, a group of predators and prey who peacefully coexisted in the desert. When living in the desert, wild beasts rank to become Majnoon’s companion, as well as a gazelle with whom Majnoon kneeled on the ground in f.166r.

In this folio and its corresponding text, the natural world is described as an intermediary through which human beings can seek selflessness and reach the source of beauty: God. Here, both poet and painter suggest human and animals living in harmony and avoidance of violence.

Outside mysticism, humans think they need to tame the one they love, which creates inequality, and mysticism is against that. Taming someone is taking control of or exercising power over another. Similarly, nature is tamed in a garden, and therefore it is not an appropriate setting for Nezami’s story of Majnoon, which is widely about selflessness and becoming care-free. This makes perfect sense for Nezami to place the story of f.166r (Majnoon in the wilderness) in the wilderness where nature is pure and untamed to which mysticism urges. The notion of equality, which is a reflection of mysticism and morality, is also reflected not in the story’s text, but in the mentioned painting, where both Majnoon and the gazelle are depicted equally on their knees.

Concluding thoughts

My study advances the argument that through close-looking and application of data visualization tools, four fundamental ideas– pleasure, power, spirituality, and people — proved to have influenced painters’ decisions when depicting selected stories of Khamseh.

As the scholarship around Persian illustrated manuscripts is relatively small, this research will push the boundaries and bring to the fore new insights that are not easy to observe otherwise. Although my focus has been looking closely at the natural world in one illustrated manuscript from a digital humanities perspective, there is the possibility of larger ideas about providing awareness for humankind to make sense of today’s natural world issues by looking at how nature used to be presented, regarded and treated.

Persian illustrated manuscripts are globally admired by Persian arts enthusiasts and have been extensively studied in academia. However, the language and culture of these works may be beyond the knowledge and competency of the viewer. Non-Persians may also face challenges when looking at these works of art, as texts and images are sometimes culturally coded. Despite many Persian historiographical studies, much remains to be done in a detailed analysis of the cultural context of the ‘Persian arts of the book’ as one Islamic arts branch. Through this study and similar ones, observations can generate a new visual culture of the selected historical period, promote social development and help preserve cultural material through knowledge creation.

Reference

Niẓāmī Ganjavī. (1539-1543 ). The ‘Khamsah’ of Niẓāmī (Digitized manuscript). https://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/FullDisplay.aspx?ref=Or_2265

About the author: Yasaman Lotfizadeh is a MA candidate in IGS, Digital Arts and Humanities theme, defending her thesis in mid-May, 2022. Yasaman is a multi-disciplinary visual artist, professional graphic designer and art history enthusiast. Her research explores the intersection of art history and digital humanities in connection with Persian illustrated manuscripts. She loves academic environments, outdoor activities and socializing. As a former skating coach, hockey player, and referee, she likes to skate, bike and ski in her free time.

When people ask me why I write, I often tell them about how my stories always start from questions I encounter and that as those stories grow, they give me some semblance of an answer. Fiction being the lie that contains the truth, so to speak. Equity is definitely one of those slippery questions for me that I feel I’ll be chasing for a long time. As a brown queer woman and daughter of immigrants, I learned pretty quick that my position at the starting line was never going to be the same as my peers. Helping hands got me to where I am today but tensions still exist even within our modern solutions. It’s in that tension, that grey area of so-called-good-intentions, that my short story “More Water” exists.

More Water by Manjinder Sidhu

Rajni’s favourite part of interviewing was when the candidates were invited to share something about themselves. Right at the beginning, when they were freshly nervous, like new bunnies twitching in the springtime, backs ramrod straight. And it was a softball question, one that could be answered in any way, with no right answer. 

       But it always amazed her at how it flustered so many – as if some of them had never been asked this question before, as if some of them didn’t know themselves enough to be able to answer it with comfort. Though perhaps, shrinking the understanding your sense of self and your identity into something bite size was something extraordinary to be asking in a thirty-minute interview. But, no one ever truly objected. Who are you? That was the real deal, floating under the iceberg. Guised under the soft, easygoing nature of, tell us who you are.  

       Most people rambled about their dog, their children, their hobbies. Some people would get tears in their eyes, struggle to hold them in, and then talk about their quest to find themselves and the answers they did not have. Today’s candidates seemed to fall into the earlier category and Rajni struggled not to yawn.

Mercedes was the first one. She painted a pretty picture: gleaming black patent heels, a beige power suit with stiff shoulder pads. Her clothes created a highlighter effect against her black skin and Rajni was captivated. The way this candidate’s fingernails were polished and so evenly shaped, the way her toenails matched. Of course, it was a nude tone with a glass sheen. It was classy. The other details were smaller, the interlocking letters on her handbag. GG? CC? She couldn’t quite make it out before it was tucked under the table, but its leather looked expensive, even to her eyes. What was it about people in interviews that made them want to bring expensive items with them? At the heart of it, if one had money, then they wouldn’t be applying for her boring, administrative role, which was only a leave replacement. She rubbed her hand over her bump: only another month, little one.

       When the question was asked, Mercedes talked about her family. She talked about how her parents had immigrated to Canada and had worked hard to raise her and her siblings. How her name was something that they hoped for one day and now she could tease them about who they loved more: their daughter or their car. And, of course, how they were so proud of her graduate degree and her engagement. She flashed her fingers and light bounced around the room in response. A bright cluster the size of a small moon on her finger.
       “When is the wedding?”
       “Next year,” she replied. She grinned a row of perfect, white, square teeth and continued, “We had our heart set on a big venue for all our friends and family. But next year was the earliest we could book anything.” And then, she shifted in her seat.
       Interesting, Rajni thought. Why is she fidgeting at that comment? Rajni made a question mark on her paper. Body language never lies. You could say one thing, but your body always told the truth. One just had to look for it.
       Mercedes sailed through the rest of the questions. A solid interview and everyone was cheerful at its conclusion, which went over the allotted time by at least twenty minutes. 

       “She’s a good one.” Of course, her boss Larry would say that. He was nothing if not predictable.
       “Except for her lack of work experience,” Andrew commented. “How does one go through two decades and never work a single job?”

       Rajni tapped her pen on the paper and blew out a breath. It was true: Mercedes had stumbled on that question too. She had explained about wanting a 4.0 GPA and how that left very little time except for a few extracurricular activities. That her scholarships were what had paid for her schooling all the way through. And that even when her parents had offered to help, she had told them she would do it on her own.
     “Well, some families don’t like their children working,” Mona, the other assistant, said.
       “I don’t buy the too-busy-studying-to-work excuse. It’s called privilege, Mona. She has had it her whole life. Scholarships don’t cover everything anymore. They may cover some tuition. But food? Or clothes? Or movies? Or the type of purse she’s carrying? I think this job is just for spending money. She isn’t serious and is going to quit, just before her wedding.” Andrew fired back.

       There was a silence in the room at that remark, everyone looking down. 

(End Excerpt)

About the author: Manjinder Sidhu is a settler who lives and creates on traditional and unceded Syilx Okanagan Nation territory. As an emerging writer, she has recently completed her studies in Creative Writing at the University of British Columbia. She remains hopeful that one day, she will understand the concept of balance.

 

Photo by Victor Serban on Unsplash

#NOTMOVINGAMUSSEL: Educational Campaign Project by Kaia Nitchie

About the author: Kaia Nitchie is a UBCO student enrolled in the Bachelor of Arts Degree, majoring in Sociology. This submission was originally a project created for CORH 331- Social Writing: Studies in Multimodal Communication.

Equity on Campus by Lakshay Karnwal

I came across the concept of equity for the first time in my ECON 101 class when the professor discussed the difference between equity and equality. I deemed equity to be a fair allocation of resources in economic terms. Later, through my time in multidisciplinary teams, I figured equity is more than just a definition. It is a concept that provides an equal platform for this fair allocation of resources. What does that mean in terms of the student community on campus? To me, equity on campus means giving equal opportunities to students to explore their academic and non-academic interests. 

The quest for knowledge and education brings thousands of international students to our campus each year. Students like me are not only looking for answers but are explorers who are asking better questions. These students deserve an equal opportunity to quench their thirst for knowledge. As an international student from India, I aim to get a quality multidisciplinary education. Over three years, I have had the golden opportunity to work with the Department of Economics, Philosophy and Political Sciences, UBC Engineering Society, the Student Experience Office and many student-led course unions and clubs. Each of these departments or societies has added enormously to my education as I aspire to complete a Bachelor of Science degree in Computer Science.

I am a staunch believer in “new ways open new doors.” From my first day at university, I wanted to use the tremendous resources on campus to keep pursuing and learning about my interests. But one can only tap into new opportunities if there is a comfortable environment to share and express. The community at UBC Okanagan, with hundreds of student leaders and volunteers, has enabled explorers like me to acclimatise to new challenges. Throughout my time in clubs, I have met tomorrow’s torchbearers, entrepreneurs, and intellectuals.  Sharing a creative space with such people from all over the world is an augmenting experience. I have been a student of debate, Director of Competition and winner of the Annual Roger Watt’s Debate Competition during this time. The debate society, a melting pot of ideas, served as an open forum for me to challenge my views and break the epistemic bubble. In the context of global issues, intellectual freedom is a powerful tool and a privilege. As I reflect back on my first three years of university, I am grateful for having access to these opportunities. From the debate society’s mentorship panel to campus employees, the essence of the UBC community lies in its inclusive environment. This is a testament to the University’s work in the areas of equity, diversity and inclusion.

In my opinion, this is the true meaning of equity on campus. UBC Okanagan is a place where students come from across the globe, from different backgrounds and cultures. Each student has the right to influence communities through opportunities on campus. Unfortunately, discrimination based on sex, religion and gender is still prevalent, but there should be no discrimination when a student explores on campus. I believe universities should be a safe haven that allows students to learn from their immediate community to form belief systems that they shall carry with them for life. Embracing unknown territory should be the aim of every international student. At UBC, students we have a global platform to hone our skills. Hence, my one piece of advice to all international students would be to try new interests in these years. You will be surprised at how much you can learn while promoting equity, diversity and inclusion at the same time. 

About the author: Lakshay Karnwal is a third-year Computer Science student from India. He enjoys taking part in leadership experiences and aims to combine them with his technical skills. Apart from his academic interests, Lakshay is a football fanatic who loves to jam on the guitar with his friends.

 

 

Equity as Hospitable Encounter by Brianne Christensen

In my accompanying video, I offer an introduction to the ethical concerns of hospitality studies and migration ethics. These discourses function together to theorize an ethics of encounter at various fronts, such as the nation, the community, the domicile, and the body. In Strange Encounters, Sara Ahmed explores “strange encounters” with aliens not of the extra-terrestrial kind, but strangers who have been alienated, marginalized, and dehumanized by cultural and socio-political norms (1). The politics of difference that mark these strangers as strange are not “found” on the body but, rather, are “determined through encounters” with others (Ahmed 9). In recoiling from the stranger during these encounters––even unconsciously––we refuse to recognize the stranger as human, as equal, and we thereby ignore the fact that we, ourselves, are the stranger to our stranger (Kearney 5). This disgust and abjection of the stranger is what Ahmed calls a “close encounter” (2). To address these close encounters, I suggest a turn to the literature of our contemporary moment, which is tasked with responding to the problem of precarious security and conditional welcome in a time of heightened nationalism and globalization.

In my MA thesis, I expose the dialogue between hospitality studies and migration ethics present in Ali Smith’s recently completed Seasonal Quartet. I suggest that Autumn (2016), Winter (2017), Spring (2019), and Summer (2020)––the four novels of the quartet––exhibit a hospitality beyond the thematic crossing of national borders. The quartet promotes an affective state of security that urges readers to receive the stranger in many forms. Smith’s work thus marks an ethical turn to a socially accountable fiction. Although I am interested in how literature negotiates an ethical response to the inhospitable realities of our contemporary moment, these discourses also contribute to discussions of equity, belonging, and welcome in non-literary worlds. Questions central to hospitality are relevant in considerations of how to promote inclusion in our local communities and on campus. Moreover, migration ethics––and the related concern of who can move in the world, who can move well, and who can be welcomed when they do––is particularly apt as we navigate anxieties of exposure and security, and unequal vulnerability to bodily threats in the ongoing pandemic. Equity, which signals to me a striving for hospitable encounters, encourages reflection of how to take responsibility for our role as individuals in interconnected and interdependent communities. 

References

Ahmed, Sara. (2013). Strange Encounters: Embodied Others in Post-Coloniality. Taylor & Francis.

Balfour, Lindsay Anne. (2018). Hospitality in a Time of Terror: Strangers at the Gate. Bucknell University Press.

Kearney, Richard. (2002). Strangers, Gods and Monsters: Interpreting Otherness. Routledge.

Smith, Ali. (2016). Autumn. Penguin Random House.

–––. (2019). Spring. Penguin Random House.

–––. (2020). Summer. Penguin Random House.

–––. (2017). Winter. Penguin Random House.

About the author: Brianne Christensen is a first year graduate student in the MA in English program. A bookworm by nature, Brianne’s childhood love of literature fuelled her interest in the way that stories connect people across time, space, and other boundaries. Her research interests include hospitality studies, narratology, diaspora, and women’s writing.

 

 

 

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