“Each student should select a section of Green Grass Running Water approximately 10 pages. The task at hand is to first discover as many allusions as you can to historical references (people and events), literary references (characters and authors), mythical references (symbols and metaphors). While I am suggesting a method to help organize your task — you should quickly discover that there is no method for making neat categories out of King’s numerous (and humorous) allusions and references. Instead of categories, what you will discover are connections, and inter-connections and cycles.”

Selection: Green Grass Running Water (1993) by Thomas King, pages 149-159

The passage I selected spans four scenes, exemplary of many of the themes King explores throughout GGRW: the harmful narratives told through Western films; white society’s attachment to Indian tropes including the mythic and stoic Indians; popular culture and literary portrayals of Indigeneity since colonization; the means through which white folks claim superiority over North America, as well as the ways Indigenous women use their voices to challenge white, patriarchal power and dominant narratives of conquest.

The storyline is cyclical and non-linear. Throughout the passage, stories are interwoven with one another. To simplify my analysis, I have divided the stories by scene of which there are four, just as there are four sections in the book, four seasons, and four Indians- First Woman, Changing Woman, Thought Woman and Old Woman.

Charlie Looking Bear goes to Blossom, Alberta

The passage begins with Charlie’s arrival to Blossom, Alberta where he is renting a car. The name of the fictional Blossom, Alberta, according to Jane Flick, “suggests natural beauty and regeneration.” (Flick 147).

The car rental clerk tells Charlie that “There were old Indian ruins and the remains of dinosaurs just to the north of town and a real Indian reserve to the West.” (King 149), equating Indigenous people with dinosaurs (the dead Indian trope), while also mystifying the Indigenous community to the West by affirming their “real”ness and emphasizing that their place is “over there” rather than inclusive of the territories beneath their own feet.

In Charlie’s narration he refers to the tourism materials the clerk offers Charlie as a “Welcome-to-Blossom litter bag” (King 149), perhaps alluding to the wastefulness or the sham that is and has been settler place-making on Indigenous lands.

Bear’s Heart, “Cheyennes Among the Buffalo” (1875), paper, graphite, crayon. Drawing titled in pencil by Lt. Richard Henry Pratt. (photo by Carmelo Guadagno, NMAI)

When Charlie goes to collect his rental car, all he finds is an old rusted, red vehicle- the Pinto. The name is a play on Christopher Columbus’s ship, the Pinta, as well as a “Ford automobile. Plains horse. A piebald or “painted” pony associated with Indians of the Plains.” (Flick 146). Flick also notes that Pinto horses are prominent in the drawings Alberta describes in her lecture about the Cheyenne who were imprisoned at Fort Marion (Flick 146).

Charlie drives in the rain, symbolic of his glum mood, to the Blossom Lodge where he checks in with N. Bates, Assistant Manager. Norman Bates is the protagonist in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960’s thriller Psycho, about a disturbed motel owner who murders his mother Norma and then begins to impersonate her in his denial of her death.

Charlie foreshadows the fate of the Pinto as he gazes out the window at the car. “The Pinto was sitting in a low depression that was fast becoming a puddle. He’d call in the morning and see about an exchange. In the meantime, maybe it would just float away.” (King 154).

This is also one of many references to the creation story which begins with only water. The many references to the beginning of creation symbolize the cycles of time, concurrent possibilities of new beginnings, and the centering of Indigenous ways of knowing.

Portland goes to Hollywood

Interwoven with the story of Charlie arriving to Blossom, Alberta are stories about his father, Portland, who was once an actor in Western films.

Iron Eyes Cody. Pollution: Keep America Beauty, Ad Council. 1971.

According to Charlie’s mother Lillian, Portland also went by the name Iron Eyes Screeching Eagle – “A ‘really Indian’ name,” (Flick 153). In Flick’s guide, she says the name is based off Iron Eyes Cody, who she says is a Cherokee actor famous for his roles in Westerns. However, Flick is mistaken about Iron Eyes Cody’s heritage. It was clear after Iron Eyes Cody’s death in 1999, that he, in fact, was not Native American, but an Italian-American born by the name Espera Oscar de Corti.

Note the size of his nose.

Appropriating Indigenous identity, unfortunately, is not uncommon- see Grey Owl (also known as Archie Belaney), Canadian author Joseph Boyden, or US Presidential Candidate Elizabeth Warren. In this podcast, Cherokee scholar Daniel Heath Justice unpacks some of the nuances regarding Cherokee identity and the ways family folktales become “truth” overtime.

C.B. Cologne, the novel’s fictional Italian whose name is based off of Christopher Colombus’s (1451-1506) Spanish name, Cristofor Colombo, appropriated Indigeneity to play Native leads in Westerns much like Iron Eyes Cody.

Cologne’s wife, Isabella, is named after Queen Isabella I of Spain, who sent Christopher Columbus to find India. When Columbus arrived to North America, he believed himself to be in India, thus the Indigenous people became “Indians.” From the perspective of Cologne’s character in GGRW, one can become Indian.

It was Cologne that suggested the name Iron Eyes Screeching Eagle for Portland, implying that the more Indian one seems according to a predominantly white Hollywood crowd, the more likely they are to get roles. The name, of course, refers to the other Italian who became Indian.

And, for Portland, it worked. His roles increased.

“Before the year was out, Portland was playing chiefs. He played Quick Fox in Duel at Sioux Crossing, Chief Jumping Otter in They Rode for Glory, and Chief Lazy Dog in Cheyenne Sunrise. He was a Sioux eighteen times, a Cheyenne ten times, a Kiowa six times, an Apache five times, and a Navaho once.” (King 151)

Flick’s analysis tells us that the “chiefs’ names are based on ‘The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog,’ a popular phrase for practising hand-writing and forming letters of the alphabet. The movie titles are good ‘western-sounding’ titles patterned on such movies as Duel at Diablo (1966), They Died with Their Boots On (1942) and Cheyenne Autumn (1964)”. (Flick 153).

Portland played Indigenous people from several different nations, spurring a reflection on pan-Indigeneity and also the harm that displacement and assimilation have caused on some Indigenous people’s connection to their specific culture, making some settlers believe Indigeneity is a singular culture.

When Portland auditions for The Sand Creek Massacre, based on the horrific US Army massacre of over 200 people in a Cheyenne and Arapaho village in 1864, he doesn’t get the role because of the shape of his nose.

The film is to star John Wayne, Richard Widmark and John Chivington. John Wayne and Richard Widmark, of course, are white Western cowboy actors. “Film historian Newman observes, Wayne came ‘to epitomize the Injun-hating screen cowboy,” (Flick 147). John Chivington, however, is not an actor but the name of the Colonel who led the Sand Creek Massacre (Flick 154).

—

Charlie thinks back to asking his mother some questions:

“Did he ever play the lead? You know, the hero.”
“He could have,” Charlie’s mother told him. “But that was back before they had any Indian heroes.”
“I mean, did her ever play a lawyer or a policeman or a cowboy?”
“A cowboy.” And his mother had laughed. “Charlie, your father made a very good Indian.” (King 150 – 151)

Charlie’s question about Portland playing “the hero” refers to the way Indigenous characters are most-often positioned in Western films- to be dominated. In Flick’s notes, she says that there was a “shift in the presentation of Indians in some Hollywood films, starting in the 1950s and becoming pronounced in the 1960’s and then again in the 1990s with such films as Dances with Wolves (1990).” (Flick 152-153). That being said, Dances with Wolves, though it had more positive, dynamic portrayals of Indigenous characters, was yet another problematic white saviour film.

Today, Indigenous-made films that centre Indigenous languages and ways of knowing, such as the first Haida-language film Sgaawaay K’uuna: Edge of the Knife (2018), are being met with excellent reception from Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities alike.

Next, Charlie asks Lillian whether Portland played “a lawyer or a policeman or a cowboy?” (King 151), a jab at the hateful settler-imaginary rife with denial that Indigenous folks can play important roles in society and be anything but “the Indian.” Thomas King’s I’m Not the Indian You Had in Mind is a further response to harmful settler-imaginaries.

Lillian’s answer, “your father made a very good Indian,” (King 151) points to policies of assimilation which have sought to produce “good Indians,” an idea based on Whiteness. Assimilative policies to create “good Indians” have included the residential school system, the day school system and the 60s Scoop, which all sought to assimilate children into white society through violent means, which included removing them from their families and cultures and beating them for speaking their languages.

A young Charlie carries on by asking Lillian why Portland left Hollywood. She ignored the questions until, laying on her death bed, she finally told Charlie: “It was your father’s nose that brought us home.” (King 151).

Alas, despite his efforts to change his name and wear a fake nose to please the settler-gaze, Portland never managed to fit Hollywood’s perception of what an Indigenous person is.

He wasn’t the Indian they had in mind.

Dinner at the Dead Dog Cafe

Latisha is anticipating diners at the Dead Dog Cafe, where she works as a waitress.

The cafe’s name alludes to ignorant tourist’s misconceptions “about traditional Blackfoot cooking,” (Flick 149). Historically, including in my own family, there are stories of Indigenous and northern folks eating dogs in times of starvation or emergency (I once heard of my grandpa, who was Ukrainian and married to a Cree woman, being stranded out with his dog sled team in the harsh northern Manitoba winter and having to eat one of his dogs). We also know that in GGRW the character Dog’s name is GOD backwards, so the name also refers to the death of a Judeo-Christian God in a place (the restaurant, the Blackfoot community) where Blackfoot ways of knowing and being can rise.

King later used the name for a CBC spinoff series- Dead Dog Cafe Comedy Hour.

Latisha sees a tourist bus arriving which she deciphers is from Canada based on the way the tourists file out, wait, and walk into the restaurant in pairs – a commentary on the stereotype of the nice, good and docile Canadian. Though these traits could be perceived as positive, they often act as settler-Canada’s mask for covert racism and violence. Justin Trudeau is an astute model of this Canadian trope (think of the ways he’s actually (not) addressing reconciliation– by approving the Trans Mountain pipeline (a decision reversed by the Supreme Court), demoting Jody Wilson-Raybould, Canada’s first Indigenous Justice Minister, failing to adequately address critical water, education and child care crises in Indigenous communities, and that doesn’t even get at the biggest question: land).

Four guests arrive to Latisha’s table. They introduce themselves as Polly Johnson, Sue Moodie, Archie Belaney and John Richardson. Their names are all based off historical figures who contributed to the CanLit canon by writing about Indigeneity – E. Pauline Johnson/ Tekahionwake, Susanna Moodie, Archie Belaney/ Grey Owl, and John Richardson.

Let me introduce them to you:

Polly Johnson was based on E. Pauline Johnson/ Tekahionwake (1861-1913) a poet and performer. Her father, who was Mohawk, died in Johnson’s 20s, and her mother, who was white, contributed significantly to Johnson’s literary education. As Flick mentions, Johnson was famous for her performances wherein she would appear in “buckskins,” however, Flick fails to mention the latter part of Johnson’s performances where she would change into Victorian garb. For Johnson, it was a demonstration of her versatility in both worlds, whereas white audience members perceived the shift as representing the seamless flow of an Indigenous woman into assimilation. Perhaps the same could be said of white perceptions of King’s photograph project with the Lone Ranger masks.

I wonder whether Johnson is included in a group with characters such as Archie Belaney because of the way she performed Indigeneity, however, we must generously consider Johnson’s complex position in society as a racialized, unmarried woman facing poverty. It is said that her performances “drew heavily on the tropes of the ‘Indian Princess’ and ‘noble savage,’” (Robinson), but she did so with a level of intention and was committed to speaking up for her people. For example, at a Young Men’s Liberal Association gathering in 1892, attended by Duncan Campbell Scott among others, Johnson recited her poem “A Cry From an Indian Wife” which ends with the lines:

Go forth, nor bend to greed of white men’s hands,
By right, by birth we Indians own these lands,
Though starved, crushed, plundered, lies our nation low…
Perhaps the white man’s God has willed it so.”

Sue Moodie, based on Susanna Moodie (1803-1885) came from England to Canada in the early 1800’s, part of the colonial force the pled innocence. Moodie wrote about her experience in Roughing it in the Bush (1852), wherein she portrays “Indians as noble savages,” (Flick 154).

Archie Belaney (1889-1938) was an Englishman and conservationist. “In the 1930’s, Archie Bellamy, assumed the Native American identity of Grey Owl, to carry on a conservation message. It is said that his work saved the Canadian beaver from extinction. His British origins, his subsequent migration to Canada and his career move from trapper to conservationist were discovered upon his death.” (Ennis).

Every time someone “becomes” Indian, it mocks the legitimacy of Indigenous claims to nationhood and sovereignty.

Lastly, there sat John Richardson (1796-1852), a settler-Canadian author, who wrote Wacousta (1832), a novel about an Englishman who “becomes” the “savage” Wacousta (Flick 155). The novel’s importance has been hailed in the CanLit canon.

The guests are polite and order the special- Old Agency Puppy Stew. Flick says this is “A joke about ‘local dishes.’ Old Agency is a Blackfoot settlement on the Blood Reserve six miles from Lethbridge.” (Flick 150).

The characters go on to make subtle references to the real-life historical figures they’re based off.

Moodie begins- “With the exception of Archie,” said Sue, “we’re all Canadians. Most of us are from Toronto. Archie is from England, but he’s been here for so long, he thinks he’s Canadian, too.” (King 158). This is a jab at how Archie “became” Grey Owl. Funny enough, Moodie also erases her own roots and history of colonial settlement when she alludes to having been there long enough to think one is Canadian, as she doesn’t admit to her own European birthplace.

Then, Johnson makes an interesting comment- “None of us,” said Polly, looking pleased, “is American.” (King 158). Johnson was known to be a proud Canadian writer, but interestingly, several Mohawk territories were split by the Canadian-US border, making over 13,000 Mohawk people Mohawk, Canadian and American citizens.

Next, referring to their road trip, Archie says “We’re roughing it,” (King 158), alluding to Moodie’s book Roughing it in the Bush.

Lastly, Sue says:

“Polly here is part Indian. She’s a writer, too. Maybe you’ve read one of her books?”
Latisha shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know them.”
“It’s all right, dear,” said Polly. “Not many people do.” (King 158).

These comments refer to the lack of platform for Indigenous women writers at the time. However, E. Pauline Johnson did receive notable attention, even touring Canada, the US and England.

When the guests leave, they leave a book for Latisha, The Shagganappi by E. Pauline Johnson which wasn’t published til after Johnson’s death, with a $20 tip underneath. Flick suggests the $20 is offered in attempt to get somebody to read Johnson’s work.

George’s thoughts on Canadians v. Americans

This scene is a flashback to memories of Latisha’s marriage to to George Morningstar.

George’s character represents George Armstrong Custer, a white settler-American from Michigan. “At 23 he was the youngest general in the Union Army; he was given command of the Brigade.” (Flick 151). The last name, Morningstar, is based on a name, ‘Son of the Morning Star,’ given to Custer by the Arikaras in Dakota territory (Flick 146).

Morningstar’s comments to Latisha, based on stereotypes, about American supremacy are rooted in patriotism from his time in the US Army.

Morningstar goes on to say: “Americans are independent,[…] Canadians are dependent.” (King 156). Americans, according to George, are also adventurous, and he uses the example of western expansion and the frontier experience as well as Lewis and Clark. Flick adds that “Clark was later superintendent of Indian Affairs,” (Flick 155).

Canadians, meanwhile, are conservative according to George. Latisha offers Samuel de Champlain (1567-1635) and Jacques Cartier (1491-1559) as Canadian examples of “adventure” and expansion, but George brushes them off as European- proving his misunderstanding of settler-colonial occupation in the US and the histories of settlement and erasure in all of the Americas.

“Latisha told him she didn’t think that he could make such a sweeping statement, that those kinds of generalizations were almost always false.” (King 156).

As an Indigenous woman, Latisha is well aware of the harm done by generalizations and stereotypes. Additionally, George’s version of history is the type that has validated domination and slavery in the eyes of white Americans. Ideas of superiority are always based on myth, false histories, and perceptions- on generalizations.

George goes on to list the “great military men in North America” (King 157) who, according to George, were all American, “most associated with anti-Indian activity,” (Flick 155).

Latisha becomes angry.

“What about Louis Riel? What about Red River and Batoche?”
“Didn’t they hang him?”
“Billy Bishop!” Latisha almost shouted the name.
George put his arms around her and kissed her forehead.
“You’re right, Country,” he said. “There’s always the exception.” (King 157)

Louis Riel, a Red River Metis, led the Metis rising and the Red River Rebellion and was eventually hanged for his bravery.

When George says, “there’s always the exception,” (King 157), he, perhaps unintentionally, takes a jab at Latisha – his partner, and the supposed “exception” to his racism, white-superiority complex and belief in colonialism.

Latisha’s ability to speak up, and eventually leave, reminded me of a story I read during my research by E. Pauline Johnson, A Red Girl’s Reasoning (1893). A Blackfoot and Sami filmmaker made a powerful film by the same name, A Red Girl’s Reasoning (2012), about an Indigenous woman who becomes a vigilante as a response to her brutal sexual assault.

In response to George’s racism and babbling, Latisha begins to avoid him, nursing her baby Christian in the bedroom where she would whisper, “You are a Canadian. You are a Canadian. You are a Canadian.” (King 159).

Works Cited

Andrew-Gee, Eric. “The making of Joseph Boyden: Indigenous identity and a complicated history.” The Globe and Mail: Profile. November 12, 2017. Accessed at: https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/books-and-media/joseph-boyden/article35881215/

Barrera, Jorge. “Cabinet shuffle shows reconciliation dropping in priority for Trudeau, say Indigenous advocates.” CBC News. January 15, 2019. Accessed at: https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/cabinet-shuffle-indigenous-reaction-1.4977946

Canlit Guides. “E. Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake).” Canlit Guides. August 19, 2016. Accessed at: http://canlitguides.ca/canlit-guides-editorial-team/e-pauline-johnson-tekahionwake/

Caryl, Sue. “November 29, 1864 CE: Sand Creek Massacre.” Resource Library: This Day in Geographic History. October 27, 2014. Accessed at: https://www.nationalgeographic.org/thisday/nov29/sand-creek-massacre/

Catlin, George. “Sioux Dog Feast, 1832-1837.” Art & Artists: Smithsonian American Art Museum. Accessed at: https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/sioux-dog-feast-4366

Charity, Tom. “Sgaawaay K’uuna (Edge of the Knife).” Canada’s Top Ten: Tiff. 2018. Accessed at: https://www.tiff.net/events/edge-of-the-knife

Cinema Politica. “A Red Girl’s Reasoning.” Films. 2012. Accessed at: https://www.cinemapolitica.org/film/red-girls-reasoning

DeSouza, Mike & Meyer, Carl. “Court quashes Trudeau’s approval of Trans Mountain pipeline.” National Observer. August 30th, 2018. Accessed at: https://www.nationalobserver.com/2018/08/30/news/court-quashes-trudeaus-approval-trans-mountain-pipeline

Ennis, Donna. “Beware of Ethnic Imposters.” Indian Country Today. September 15, 2014. Accessed at: https://newsmaven.io/indiancountrytoday/archive/beware-of-ethnic-imposters-8RMP43Q_WEWNqmF3etRUYQ/

Flick, Jane. “Reading Notes for Thomas King’s Green Grass, Running Water.” PDF.

Gray, Charlotte. “The true story of Pauline Johnson: poet, provocateur, and champion of Indigenous rights.” Canadian Geographic. March 8, 2017. Accessed at: https://www.canadiangeographic.ca/article/true-story-pauline-johnson-poet-provocateur-and-champion-indigenous-rights

Hanson, Erin. “Reserves.” Indigenous Foundations: UBC Arts. Year Unknown. Accessed at: https://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/reserves/

Herndon, Astead W.”Elizabeth Warren Apologizes to Cherokee Nation for DNA Test.” The New York Times: Politics. February 1, 2019. Accessed at: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/02/01/us/politics/elizabeth-warren-cherokee-dna.html

Johnson, E. Pauline. “A Red Girl’s Reasoning.” Dominion Illustrated. Accessed at: http://canlit.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/red_girls_reasoning.pdf

Keating, Joshua. “The Nation That Sits Astride the U.S.-Canada Border.”Politico Magazine. July 1, 2018. Accessed at: https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2018/07/01/akwesasne-american-indian-community-218936 

King, Thomas. “Green Grass, Running Water.” 1993. Print.

King, Thomas. “I’m not the Indian you had in mind.” National Screen Institute. 2012. Accessed at: https://vimeo.com/39451956

Manitoba Historical Society. “Red River Resistance.” Manitoba History. Spring 1995. Accessed at: http://www.mhs.mb.ca/docs/mb_history/29/redriverresistance.shtml

Medicine for the Resistance. “Elizabeth Warren and the enduring myth of Cherokee identity with Daniel Heath Justice.” Podcast. February, 2019. Accessed at: https://player.fm/series/medicine-for-the-resistance-2436734/elizabeth-warren-and-the-enduring-myth-of-cherokee-identity-with-daniel-heath-justice

Meier, Allison. “A 19th-century Cheyenne warrior’s drawings of his life as a POV.” Articles: Hyperallergic. February 26, 2016. Accessed at: https://hyperallergic.com/273434/a-19th-century-cheyenne-warriors-drawings-of-his-life-as-a-pow/

Robinson, Amanda. “Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake).” Canadian Encyclopedia. July 8, 2016. Accessed at: https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/pauline-johnson

Waldman, Amy. “Iron Eyes Cody, 94, an Actor and Tearful Anti-Littering Icon.” The New York Times. January 5th, 1999. Accessed at: https://www.nytimes.com/1999/01/05/arts/iron-eyes-cody-94-an-actor-and-tearful-anti-littering-icon.html

Identify and discuss two of King’s “acts of narrative decolonization.”

Please read the following quote to assist you with your answer.

“The lives of King’s characters are entangled in and informed by both the colonial legacy in the Americas and the narratives that enact and enable colonial domination. King begins to extricate his characters’ lives from the domination of the invader’s discourses by weaving their stories into both Native American oral traditions and into revisions of some of the most damaging narratives of domination and conquest: European American origin stories and national myths, canonical literary texts, and popular culture texts such as John Wayne films. These revisions are acts of narrative decolonization.”

James Cox. “All This Water Imagery Must Mean Something.” Canadian Literature 161-162 (1999). Web April 04/2013.

———

Narrative decolonization, as I define it based on lessons from Decolonization is not a metaphor (which might actually suggest that narrative decolonization is not, in fact, very meaningful), is the return of land, power and privilege to Indigenous people, communities and nations through literature and story. It is also the reformation of Eurocentric, Western narratives to centre Indigenous lives, lands and perspectives and to assert a diversity of Indigenous experiences, which have often been left out or only side marked in the West’s understanding of story and of history.

Thomas King’s novel Green Grass Running Water (GGRW) is abundant with acts of narrative decolonization, particularly in the way that the novel seeks to disrupt Judeo-Christian narratives predominant in Western understanding of the world by inserting and centering Indigenous presence, agency and worldview. GGRW also works to highlight, mock and dismantle the power that Indigenous tropes have had on Western imaginations, particularly tropes represented in Western films- such as that of the Stoic Indian, the Indian Princess, the Savage Indian, and the Dead Indian.

The first act of narrative decolonization I’ll highlight is the way the four Indians and Coyote, rework, or “fix,” the Western starring John Wayne, Richard Widmark and Charlie Looking Bear’s dad, Portland, that Bill Bursum is showing to the group in the video store. The old Indians literally colour and alter the actions of the film just when the Indians in the film were expected to die.

The narrative is altered to show capable, strong and determined Indigenous warriors who manage to rise, kill John Wayne and ride away safely on their horses.

The settler TV shop owner, Bill (who questionably claims to be an ally to Indigenous people), is deeply bothered by this act of narrative decolonization muttering “What the hell,” (King 321) and later, still troubled and confused, asking “Who would want to kill John Wayne?” (King 359).

The Native viewers, however, are empowered and the four Indians are satisfied. Charlie is filled with excitement and shouts “Get ‘em, Dad,” (King 322).

This act of narrative decolonization disrupts the anticipated ending to the film by reempowering the Native subjects, including Charlie’s father Portland, and affirming Indigenous resilience in the face of colonial violence.

They resisted.

They continue to resist.

The Four Indians continue with their decolonial magic, their “fixing, throughout the novel eventually igniting an earthquake which ruins the dam that was to be imposed unconsentually on Indigenous lands and waters, particularly threatening the home of Eli Stands Alone which was built with love and labour by his and Norma’s mother.

This act of narrative decolonization changes the anticipated future of the story so that “Below, in the valley, the water rolled on as it had for eternity.” (King 415).

The presence and agency of Indigenous people, such as Eli, and their land rights are re-empowered, whereas the settlers and their wishes of land modification and settler colonialism (building cabins via private property ownership on a lake that was to be created by the dam’s flooding) are disempowered.

This act of narrative decolonization hits close to home for me.

My kokum’s cousin, William Dysart, who shared his story of being displaced from South Indian Lake

My maternal Cree kin, including by Grandma’s cousin William Dysart who shares his stories of South Indian Lake here, were displaced from their homelands at South Indian Lake when Manitoba Hydro flooded their lands by installing the Churchill River Diversion to generate hydro power via the Nelson River dams in the 1970s. The community was forced to move across the channel. Today, future generations, like myself, are disconnected from our ancestral homelands which have been irrevocably altered and damaged due to colonial acts of displacement and energy extraction. My Cree relations and others in what’s now known as northern Manitoba continue to fight Manitoba Hydro today.

King’s act of narrative decolonization, thus, is powerful because it reimagines the all-too-common story of the displacement of Indigenous communities for the sake of settler-profitable extractive projects into a story of ongoing Indigenous presence rooted in belonging, inherent rights and justice for people and the land.

But it is just that. A story.

We must take acts of narrative decolonization to heart as teachings for how to effectively contribute to decolonization on Turtle Island.

Works Cited

K., Adrienne. “Smiling Indians and Edward S. Curtis,” Native Appropriations Blog. February 22, 2011. Accessed at: https://nativeappropriations.com/2011/02/smiling-indians-and-edward-s-curtis.html

King, Thomas. “Green Grass Running Water,” Harper Perennial. 2010. Print.

Mansky, Jackie. “The true history of Pocahontas,” The Smithsonian. March 23, 2017. Accessed at: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/true-story-pocahontas-180962649/

Tuck, Eve & Yang, K. Wayne. “Decolonization is not a metaphor,” Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society. 2012. Accessed at: https://jps.library.utoronto.ca/index.php/des/article/view/18630/15554

Waniskatan. “William Dysart’s Story,” Hydro Impacted. 2015. Accessed at: http://hydroimpacted.ca/william-dysarts-story-south-indian-lake/

Wilt, James. “How Green Energy Has Hurt First Nations in the North,” Vice News. October 19, 2016. Accessed at: https://www.vice.com/en_ca/article/4w58mq/how-green-energy-has-hurt-first-nations-in-the-north

Question: “In this lesson I say that it should be clear that the discourse on nationalism is also about ethnicity and ideologies of “race.” If you trace the historical overview of nationalism in Canada in the CanLit guide, you will find many examples of state legislation and policies that excluded and discriminated against certain peoples based on ideas about racial inferiority and capacities to assimilate. – and in turn, state legislation and policies that worked to try to rectify early policies of exclusion and racial discrimination. As the guide points out, the nation is an imagined community, whereas the state is a “governed group of people.” For this blog assignment, I would like you to research and summarize one of the state or governing activities, such as The Royal Proclamation 1763, the Indian Act 1876, Immigration Act 1910, or the Multiculturalism Act 1989 – you choose the legislation or policy or commission you find most interesting. Write a blog about your findings and in your conclusion comment on whether or not your findings support Coleman’s argument about the project of white civility.”

“The Indian Act is purposely designed to assimilate us. It is meant to sever the generations. The Act is working its purpose, through provisions concerning land, elections, membership, commerce and education. It cuts us from those future relationships. We can not take account of the seventh generation if the Indian Act continues to remove them from us. […] I also look for guidance in the other direction, seven generations back. My grandmothers and grandfathers also have something to teach me about eliminating the Indian Act.”

             — John Burrows,
Seven Generations, Seven Teachings – Ending the Indian Act (3)

For thousands of years, Indigenous people lived on the lands now known as Canada without the legislation of the Indian Act. ”As First Nations we lived free from its constraints. We observed laws that encouraged us to be wise, humble, respectful, truthful, brave, loving, and honest in our dealings with others. Other people did not define our citizenship. We held our land in accordance with our own traditions.” (Burrows 1).

Most Canadians are vaguely familiar with the Indian Act, whether they know it or not. Canadians know that many Indigenous people live on reserves (which are legislated through the Indian Act). Canadians know that many Indigenous people pay different taxes (because of their Indian Status, which is legislated through the Indian Act). Canadians know that Indigenous people face injustice and inequality (much of which is a product of violence inflicted through the removal of Indigenous people from their homelands, restrictions on their rights to move freely, and misrepresentation or lack of representation in government- a result, in large part, of the Indian Act).

To begin, see this meme project on the Indian Act for a straightforward summary with dates of some of the harmful policy enacted on Indigenous people through the Act, much of which is still in effect today.

The Indian Act, 1876

Indigenous literature, by Tanya Talaga, Thomas King and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, to support decolonial learning. All texts referenced in this blog post.

The primary concern of the Indian Act, first enacted by the Crown in 1876, is “Indians and land reserved for Indians” (Coulthard). To be clear, this legislation was imposed on Indigenous people and lands for the benefit of the colonizers- the benefit of Canada.

In her book As We Have Always Done, Anishnaabe scholar Leanne Simpson explains: “colonizers wanted the land. Everything else, whether it is legal or policy or economic or social, whether it was the Indian Act or residential schools or gender violence, was part of the machinery that was designed to create a perfect crime – a crime where the victims [Indigenous people, as well as colonizers/ settlers] are unable to see or name the crime as a crime,” (Simpson, 15).

The Indian Act came as a result of the Gradual Civilization Act, 1857, and the Gradual Enfranchisement Act, 1869, both with the goal of taking away Indigenous rights and enfranchising or assimilating Indigenous people into the Canadian body politic (but only those deemed adequate – read: male, able to read and write in English or French, deemed “civil” according to non-Indigenous Indian Agents).

The Indian Act, a product of the aforementioned acts, had and has the ultimate goal of assimilation “by eliminating all aspects of Indian difference: spiritual, economic, political, gender and land relations,” (Coulthard). As Tanya Talaga writes, it is “a federal statute that governs every aspect of an Indigenous person’s life, from land management to education to cultural ceremony and even status and identity. It is a registry of all First Nations people in Canada. Those who have proven status – based on the Government of Canada’s strict criteria – are given a ten-digit number signifying that they have been sanctioned as official Indians and are kept on a roll. The policy also kept First Nations on reserves allocated on Crown land and sanctioned the cruel removal of children from their families, their communities, to be sent to one of the 139 Indian Residential Schools across the country. The Indian Act has been described as a form of apartheid, controlling Indigenous people’s lives to this very day,” (Talaga 64).

The Indian Act was created to exercise colonial control on Indigenous people, and domination over lands and governance. “The Indian Act makes it easier to control us: where we live, how we choose leaders, how we live under those leaders, how we learn, how we trade, and what happens to our possessions and relations when we die,” (Burrows, 5).

In addition to imposing the reserve system which confined Indigenous people to small tracts of land, the Act also imposed Status which is a federally-mandated determination of who and who is not Indigenous. Until 1985 when Bill C-31 came into effect, Indigenous women who married non-Status men (including Metis or Inuit), lost their status, their children’s status and rights to live with their communities. The effects of this legislation are still deeply felt by women and their children who were pushed out of their communities. Additionally, women were excluded from political participation under the Indian Act from 1876-1951 (Simpson 105), with detrimental effects to their Indigenous governance models, many of which were matriarchal pre-Indian Act. I can barely begin to summarize the violence imposed on women, queer and Two-Spirit people through the Indian Act here or its lingering effects on Indigenous women, queer and Two-Spirit people today. Leanne Betasamosake Simpson offers a powerful summary in her book As We Have Always Done, in the chapter titled The Sovereignty of Indigenous Peoples’ Bodies. Her decolonial work needs to be upheld all across the lands we know as Canada. Please take time with her words.

Back to the Indian Act…

For those who remained on reserve, governance shifted dramatically under the Act which imposed a Band and Council system. Shin Imai elaborates: “in order to ‘assimilate’ Indians, the Indian Act gave the government the power to override traditional methods of governance. In the case of Six Nations in Ontario, for example, the government used its power to overthrow the traditional Haudenosaunee Council in 1924 and replace it with a Chief and Council elected under the Indian Act. This was against the wishes of the majority of the members of Six Nations. Even, today, the vast majority of the residents of Six Nations refuse to participate in Indian Act elections,” (Imai 4).

Additionally, the Minister of Indian Affairs had the power to overrule Band Council legislation without reason, and in some cases, still can today. In 1995, the government of Canada affirmed the inherent right for self-government of First Nations, done on a case by case basis, which is often costly and rarely favourable for First Nations. This came at the time of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal People, calling for new relationships between Indigenous people and Canada, in part, a result of the Meech Lake Accord and the Oka Crisis. RCAP recognized nearly 90 provisions where the Minister of Indian Affairs has powers over the Band and Band Council (Imai).

Self-governance is too often defined or restricted by colonial terms and comes after  a costly, lengthly court procedure where Indigenous nations need to prove their land base and traditional governance under colonial definitions, but it is what Indigenous communities need and many have reached or are working towards. “Negotiated self-government agreements remove much of the power of the Department of Indian Affairs and require more accountability by Chief and Council to community members. Even Bands under the Indian Act are moving in that direction […] [by] creating their own custom election codes,” (Imai 10).

Under the Criminal Code of Canada and United Nations definitions, some Indian Act policy is considered genocidal. For example the forced attempts to kill a culture by removing women (repealed in 1985 under Bill C-31) and banning potlaches, sundances, and other cultural ceremony (ending in 1951).

We must recognize Indigenous resilience in the face of ongoing settler-colonial violence and genocidal practices. Simpson reminds us that, even when outlawed, cultural practices persisted. She says, “our cultural practices were hidden from the surveillance of Indian Act authorities because they embodied our political practices, because they were powerful, and regenerating language, ceremony, and land based practices is always political,” (Simpson, 50).

Dismantling the Indian Act

Decolonization: “transforming the colonial outside into a flourishment of the Indigenous inside.”

                                                                                                                           — Leanne Simpson
                                                                                                             Dancing on Our Turtle’s Back

“If the Indian Act is going to be eliminated in a way that benefits First Nations people, goodness must lie at the root of such change.”

                                                                                                                             — John Burrows
                                                 Seven Generations, Seven Teachings – Ending the Indian Act (8)

“As a father of two daughters, he [Alvin Fiddler, Nishnaabe Aski Nation Grand Chief] wants to live to see the day when their existence is no longer legitimized by assigned numbers or dictated by the federal government, effectively making them wards of the state.
Alvin believes it is not up to the government to determine who is Indigenous and who is not.
Belonging is not theirs to give.”

— Tanya Talaga
                                                                                                             All Our Relations (198)

Trudeau’s White Paper, 1969

At first glance, the White Paper may have appeared productive. It promised to eliminate the Indian Act, recognize First Nations contributions to Canada, offer services to Indigenous people equal to those of all Canadians, and transfer control of Indigenous lands to Indigenous people as private property. However, the proposed “solution” failed, as it did not guarantee specific rights (specifically collective title to the land) nor unique (sui generis) status to Indigenous people and communities and was not created collaboratively with Indigenous people- rather, it was yet another effort at assimilation.

Comprehensive Treaty Process, 1973

Established to address Indigenous land rights, bands who complete the Comprehensive Treaty Process are no longer under the jurisdiction of the Indian Act (such as the Nisga’a whose territories I’m writing from today). The ultimate goal, however, was to open up clarity for Canada to pursue economic development mainly through extraction on Indigenous lands through the process of extinguishment of Indigenous people from their lands. To make this process very difficult, Canada’s expectation of proving Aboriginal title (maps, written documentation) do not always align with Indigenous ways of knowing (oral histories, toponyms). It is through lengthly court battles, such as the Calder Case, that nations such as the Nisga’a have had their oral histories recognized as legitimate and been able to sign modern treaties.

Truth and Reconciliation Commission, 2007

Included in this commission, with a focus on bringing light and justice to the harms of the Canadian residential school system, were 94 calls to action, many of which are being worked towards nation-wide today. However, there appears to be a selectiveness with the calls to action; a preference for reconciliation, too-often defined by non-Indigenous institutions, and a forgetting of the importance of truth; a preference for the uplifting of cultures, rather than the return of land and rights, such as what would be possible through a legally-binding UNDRIP (the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People).

 The current government refers correctly to the Indian Act as a patriarchal piece of legislation, yet it hasn’t been dismantled. Today, Justin Trudeau’s Liberal government has moved away from explicit domination, to more subtle acts of selected recognition of Indigenous self-determination and self-governance. Under Trudeau, the country’s first Indigenous Justice Minister, Jody Wilson-Raybould, was demoted in her attempt to uphold justice.

In so-called Canada, where the violence of imposed white civility through the nation-building project is alive and well, we can learn from Nelson Mandela who said, “To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” This includes the surrender of settler-Canadian land, power, and privilege to Indigenous people, which includes the dismantling of the Indian Act. This work involves deep listening, patience, and a willingness to let go of power so Indigenous people can take what is rightfully theirs – their land, their bodies, their fullest sense of agency. Settler-Canada must trust that justice will work out better for us all- and Indigenous people must know and feel the justice they’ve always deserved.

(note: Listen to MediaIndigena Ep. 124 & 125 to learn about Trudeau’s “solution” to the Indian Act – the Indigenous Rights, Recognition and Implementation Framework – a set of laws and policies that would indefinitely change Indigenous rights in the country. Hayden King and Shiri Pasternak offer a strong primer and critique of the policy which was drafted in collaboration with Jody Wilson-Raybould.)

Works Cited

Burrows, John. “Seven Generations, Seven Teachings – Ending the Indian Act,” National Centre for First Nations Governance. May, 2008.

Canada. “Indian Act”. February 14, 2019. Accessed at: https://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/PDF/I-5.pdf

CBC Books. “As We Have Always Done – Leanne Betasamosake Simpson.” August 14, 2017. Accessed at: https://www.cbc.ca/books/as-we-have-always-done-1.4433527

CBC Radio. “Years after Oka, Mohawk activist Ellen Gabriel says Indigenous people still treated as ‘dispensable’.” November 13, 2018. Accessed at: https://www.cbc.ca/radio/asithappens/as-it-happens-50th-anniversary-special-friday-1.4903581/years-after-oka-mohawk-activist-ellen-gabriel-says-indigenous-people-still-treated-as-dispensable-1.4903609

Coulthard, Glen. “FNSP Intro Lecture” (Georgia’s personal notes). 2014.

Galloway, Gloria. “Elijah Harper, First Nations leader who brought down Meech Lake, dies at 64,” The Globe and Mail. May 11, 2018. Accessed at: https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/elijah-harper-first-nations-leader-who-brought-down-meech-lake-dies-at-64/article11988959/

Hamilton, Taryn. “Indian Act Meme Project,” Otahpiaaki. Indigenous Corporate Training Inc. Accessed at: https://www.ictinc.ca/indian-act-art

Harp, Rick. “Is Canada’s newest solution to the Indian Act worse than the problem? (With Hayden King and Shiri Pasternak)” MediaIndigena: Ep. 125. July 26, 2018. Podcast. Accessed at: https://mediaindigena.libsyn.com/ep-125-is-canadas-newest-solution-to-the-indian-act-worse-than-the-problem-part-2

Imai, Shin. “The structure of the Indian Act: accountability in governance.” National Centre for First Nations Governance. July, 2007.

Simpson, Leanne Betasamosake. “As We Have Always Done: Indigenous Freedom Through Radical Resistance.” University of Minnesota Press. 2017. Print.

Talaga, Tanya. “All Our Relations: Finding the Path Forward.” CBC Massey Lectures, Anansi Press. 2018. Print.

Tyee Staff. “On the record: Jody Wilson-Raybould’s Devastating Testimony of the SNC-Lavalin Scandal.” February 27, 2019. Accessed at: https://thetyee.ca/News/2019/02/27/On-the-Record-Jody-Wilson-Rayboulds-Devastating-Testimony-on-the/?utm_source=facebook&fbclid=IwAR0FjEFiu-3_MVSU7geoXzDDycSz-jWw2ZonnPbFfNnIZlZK7Dm4YVHtL3Y

“In his article, “Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial,” King discusses Robinson’s collection of stories. King explains that while the stories are written in English, “the patterns, metaphors, structures as well as the themes and characters come primarily from oral literature.” More than this, Robinson, he says “develops what we might want to call an oral syntax that defeats reader’s efforts to read the stories silently to themselves, a syntax that encourages readers to read aloud” and in so doing, “recreating at once the storyteller and the performance” (186). Read “Coyote Makes a Deal with the King of England”, in Living by Stories. Read it silently, read it out loud, read it to a friend, and have a friend read it to you. See if you can discover how this oral syntax works to shape meaning for the story by shaping your reading and listening of the story. Write a blog about this reading/listening experience that provides references to both King’s article and Robinson’s story.”

View from my reading nook at sunset, Nisga’a Nation Territories

To curb the silence of my days, I gravitated to this question. Unfortunately, I had nobody but my dog to read Harry Robinson’s Coyote Makes a Deal with the King of England to, and there was nobody to read it to me. But, alone, I read it three times, each time uncovering new pieces of information and, I think, hearing Robinson’s voice louder; more clearly.

The first time was before I had read the blog questions. I found myself reading aloud. Having read the introduction of Living by Stories and understanding that each story was orated to Wendy Wickwire, it made sense to me to read aloud; to listen for Robinson’s voice, or at least to develop a voice which I imagine to be like his.

In his article Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial, Thomas King refers to Robinson’s writing as interfusional, his term to describe “that part of Native literature which is a blending of oral literature and written literature,” (King 186). King tells us that often when oral literature is translated to English, the voice of the storyteller and the relationship to the storyteller are lost but, “by forcing the reader to read aloud, Robinson’s prose, to a large extent, avoids this loss, recreating at once the storyteller and the performance,” (King 186).

Robinson accomplishes this in many ways. Like with structure, his use of short, sometimes repetitive sentences, cueing the reader to imagine Robinson pensive; taking time as he offers the story. Sometimes, the structure is circular, returning to a detail several times before moving along, or slowly adding details while also using repetition: “Because whoever made that law, one of ’em was black and the other one was white. See, that’s the king, that was white. And Coyote was black—was an Indian. “Black and White.” They made that law. That’s the reason why they call that book, “Black and White,” the law, they call the law, “Black and White,” (Robinson). The slowed pace allows listeners to absorb details.

Performance is also developed through Robinson’s frequent use of “and” to begin sentences, indicative, to me, of realizing in the moment the importance of adding new details. We are there with him. Absorbed. Waiting for more.

Or Robinson’s direct engagement with the listener, through questions or assertions which, maybe with Wickwire, were responded to with nods or gesture. He asks, “do you know what the Angel was? Do you know? The Angel, God’s Angel, you know,” (Robinson). And, admittedly, I don’t know. This is a loss from reading his story in a book. In person I might’ve furrowed my brow, and Robinson would’ve known to elaborate. Or maybe he would’ve left me to fill the details.

Performance is also developed beyond painting a picture of the Coyote story itself; readers are led to envision the story telling when Robinson inserts himself and his gestures. When describing seeing the “Black and White,” Robinson states: “they was big, about this long and about this wide,” (Robinson) leading the reader to visualize Robinson and the way his hands were able to describe the size of the books.

Robinson shapes meaning through these techniques by reminding readers that storytelling is relational. Our relationship to the teller, to the content, to the place, all influence our understanding and the level of importance we place on the story. “For the non-Native reader, this literature provides a limited and particular access to a Native world, allowing the reader to associate with that world without being encouraged to feel a part of it,” (King 187-188).

An opportunity for settlers to be in relationship without trying to become.

An opportunity for Indigenous people to be reminded of the “continuing values of our cultures,”(King 188).

King would likely refer to this piece of storytelling as associational, as it is Native-centred and “a fiction that de-values heroes and villains in favour of the members of a community, a fiction which eschews judgements and conclusions,” (King 187) and, though it is dynamic, it tends to avoid “ubiquitous climaxes,” which King says non-Native stories adore (King 187).

A question for you: I’ve always read, even in my head, with different voices, rhythms, intonation, pauses. When I read, I hear a voice (either created by my imagination, influenced by people I’ve met, seen or heard, or based on the voice of the writer, from interviews, readings or videos).
Do you hear a voice? Do you create a voice? Or is reading ever flat, monotone? I know that when I read monotone, I am not grasping the words; not offering attention or care, but I’ve heard people read like this (I’m sympathetic to the fact it might have to do with comprehension, or fear), but I also wonder to what level a reader animates a reading and whether we’re able to perceive how we do this, how we voice what we read, in relation to other readers?

___

Thanks for joining me. May we learn to listen deeply.

Works Cited

CBC Radio. ‘Our literatures matter because we do,’ says Indigenous author Daniel Heath Justice. March 16, 2018. Radio/ Online.

King, Thomas. “Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial.” Unhomely States: Theorizing English-Canadian Postcolonialism. Peterbough, ON: Broadview, 2004. 183- 190. Online.

Swiftwolfe, Dakota. Indigenous Ally Toolkit. Montreal Urban Aboriginal Community Strategy Network, 2019. Online.

Robinson, Harry. Living by Stories: a Journey of Landscape and Memory. Ed. Wendy Wickwire. Vancouver: Talonbooks, 2005. E-Book.

Question: “In this lesson I say that our capacity for understanding or making meaningfulness from the first stories is seriously limited for numerous reasons and I briefly offer two reasons why this is so:
1) the social process of the telling is disconnected from the story and this creates obvious problems for ascribing meaningfulness, and
2) the extended time of criminal prohibitions against Indigenous peoples telling stories combined with the act of taking all the children between 5 – 15 away from their families and communities.
In Wickwire’s introduction to Living By Stories, find a third reason why, according to Robinson, our abilities to make meaning from first stories and encounters is so seriously limited.”

Before beginning, I will clarify the parts of the question where I have lingering questions; where I am required to make assumptions.

Who is our? Who is us?

I can safely assume that “our” means the students in this course. “Our” might also refer to Canadians. It might refer to Indigenous people, it might not. I am only part Indigenous. It matters to how I understand the world, but I don’t identify that way because I am not close to a specific community; I never have been (yet- though I intend to spend time in and around South Indian Lake in the next couple years). I haven’t heard “the first stories” from my Cree kin because I’ve lived apart from my grandma and her relatives my whole life but, I wonder, would I lack ability to make meaning of those stories?

What are first stories? Are they creation stories? Are they reminiscent of Franz Boas “fixation on the deep past” (Robinson)? Are they the first stories that were recorded in writing throughout the lands we now know as Canada? Are they the first stories that were told here, or are they stories told now about the beginning of time, or are they both? Are they any and all stories told by First Nations people? Can anybody define what is or isn’t a first story?

Back to the question- why is our capacity for understanding or making meaningfulness from the first stories seriously limited? I will respond in three parts.

“Indians and whites derived their power from two completely different sources. For Indians, power was located in their hearts and heads; for whites, it was located on paper.” (Robinson)

1. “The social process of the telling is disconnected from the story and this creates obvious problems for ascribing meaningfulness,” (Paterson).
   

   Relational storytelling among friends and family – informed by time and space

   Story telling is a relational act. When we read stories, especially as a class assignment, we are less likely to be invested in the story and in the relationship to the teller than if we were sharing space. As readers, we are unknown to the storyteller and our own voices, experiences, history and knowledge shadow our reading.
   Lost is the honour of hearing the tone, intonation, the pauses in between; we miss the hand gestures, eye contact, or lack thereof; we miss the moments before, after, and in between; we miss the place where the story is told; we miss shared time.
   As listeners, it is our role to receive stories. As good listeners, we understand the importance of reciprocity. Something is given in return, whether it be presence, tea, a meal, a story in exchange, the ability to carry that story with us lighting, from then on, the way we move through the world (this happens in subtle and radical ways). Reciprocity is better understood through relational storytelling. Through shared moments and shared space.

2. “The extended time of criminal prohibitions against Indigenous peoples telling stories combined with the act of taking all the children between 5 – 15 away from their families and communities,” (Paterson).

   Indigenous families, communities, and nations ability to be together and well has been gravely fractured through the horrors of colonialism and settler colonialism. But, importantly, people, communities and nations have resisted. Strength remains, in abundance, despite the ongoing violences of colonialism and the inter-generational trauma of colonialism, due to dislocation, residential schools, and discriminatory and inhumane government policy which attempted to diminish Indigenous cultures, languages, ways of life, and ability to be together.When we are well, we have time and space for stories – to share and to listen. Fear and internalization – when colonized peoples internalize the message told to them by their oppressor (that their stories and ways of knowing are invalid) – are both barriers to storytelling. Beyond that, the settler state has been attempting, systematically, to diminish Indigenous cultures, pride and connection to lands and life ways for over 150 years.The government of Canada, the provincial governments, municipal governments, the church, and settler-Canadians have committed genocide and violence on Indigenous people, reducing their ability to be together, be well, and to share stories. This has happened in a myriad of ways, including but not at all limited to:

• Potlach ban, Sundance ban – gatherings to reaffirm creation stories, governance, to enact law, to celebrate, to mourn
• banning of Indians gathering in groups
• the Indian Act as a whole
• Reserve system, Pass system – essentially locking people up. Keeping them from being free on their lands, which are inherently connected to their stories and ways of knowing.
• Dislocation of Indigenous people from their lands
• The destruction of Indigenous lands for profit, and also, the imposition of capitalism on Indigenous communities without consent
• Residential schools and boarding schools – where the goal was to “kill the Indian in the child,” as said by Duncan Campbell Scott
• Children STILL having to move away from their homelands for schooling
• 60s scoop- and the fact that EVEN MORE Indigenous children are in care today
• Imposition of Christianity
• Imposition of English and French – stories are embedded in language. Stories lose meaning when translated.
• Population decimations, such as through smallpox, insufficient medical care for disease brought in by settlers
• Disproportionate incarceration rates
• MMIWColonialism continues to interrupt indigenous people’s ability to be together and to be well.
  
  3. Because the West has been attached to a made-up idea of the mythic Indian, rather than an evolving and diverse people. “The ‘mythteller’—the bearer of the single, communal accounts rooted in the deep past.” (Robinson) — and this doesn’t exist!

  Though Harry Robinson doesn’t explicitly say it himself, it is suggested through the introduction to Living By Stories that “our” ability to let first stories resonate deeply is fractured by the West’s attachment to a mythic idea of who/ what an Indigenous person is, and what Indigenous stories should be like (ie, set in the past). This idea has been built upon through film, television, and advertising depicting a variety of Indian tropes (wise, stoic, noble savage, ecological/ one with nature, Indian princess, cowboy vs. Indians, etc) representing “some overarching, static, ideal type of culture, detached from its pragmatic and socially positioned moorings among real people.” (Robinson).

  In The Truth About Stories, Thomas King hypothesizes why so many Indigenous authors write in the present- to respond to the world’s attachment to the dead Indian; to represent the ever-evolving, diverse lives of Indigenous people today. Wendy Wickwire discusses her own influence from Franz Boas and the stories he deemed important thus publishable, mostly pre-contact stories. Initially, Wickwire let this influence her choices in which stories of Robinson’s were worthy of sharing, but she has let go of this attachment.

  Harry Robinson responds to attachments to the mythic Indian by seeing value in telling and sharing a diversity of stories, to represent a variety of experiences of what it means to be Indigenous and what it means to be on this planet. “He wanted to show the cultural importance of maintaining a full range of stories,” (Robinson).

  Does it mean we’ll understand? No- but still- as readers, we can read knowing that stories are told because they are meaningful.

Works Cited

Henderson, William. “Indian Act.” February 7, 2006. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/indian-act

Monkman, Leonard. “Indigenous incarceration rates: why are Canada’s numbers so high and what can be done about it?” June 29, 2018. https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/indigenous-incarceration-justice-system-panel-1.4729192

Robinson, Harry. “Living by Stories: A Journey of Landscape and Memory.” Talonbooks. Kindle Edition.

Sardar, Zia. “Fanon and the epidemiology of oppression.” November 30, 2009. http://www.frantzfanoninternational.org/Fanon-and-the-Epidemiology-of-Oppression

Thank you.

My reading nook. Today, I am reading Tanya Talaga’s Massey Lecture – All Our Relations: Finding The Path Forward, which draws on King’s Massey Lecture

It was a gift and a privilege to read your reflections on home. They spurred big appreciation for all of you and your willingness to share your writing and hearts through this course!

Home happens when we remember we are loved and cared for; when we see ourselves loving and caring, is where I settled after reading your posts and further reflecting on my own.

Here are some lists I wrote about what I feel we share and some quotes I collected from yours posts-
to note: the categories aren’t quite right… many of the points could be in all the categories… and I fear that regarding your heartfelt stories and memories as assumptions is unfair…

Shared assumptions

“There’s a place I call Home, and it moves, it moves within me, behind me, and beyond me.” – There’s a place called home and it moves, Kirsten Boyd

“Home, and the idea of home, is fluid. Your home changes. What you need from a home changes as you go through different periods of your life.” – To home and back, Marianne Brownie

Home is connected to place, but can’t be found in one specific place forever

Home is an uncertainty – it is hard to place, hard to define

Home is a feeling

Home matters – home offers a sense of significance

Shared stories

“Each week [of Shabbat] was distinct and full of its own flavour but the theme that always ran through was the idea of sharing a moment of rest together and an honouring of the week that had passed.” – Home, Laen Hershler

“Home is a place of worship.” – Home is where my heart is, Simran Chalhotra

Home is tradition, ceremony, spiritual practice and growth

Home is a yearning

Shared values

“Home is relationships, the kind where you take a big, deep breath and relax, and don’t stress about what to say or how to act” – I’m not meant to live alone, turn this house into a home, Rachel Teasdale

“All of us immigrants are colonizers to Canada on our own. I found out that assimilating into a culture that is created from immigrants a bit odd, yet I did anyway because I wanted to fit in and belong” – Feels like home, Kynan Pereira

“Mr. Jassar always gave me extra because he knew I loved the apricots so much. It is this connection to the people back home that makes me feel like I belong there.” – This feels like home, Sean Dyer

“My sense of home is constructed by geography, culture, economy and generations of family history living in Canada: as a mixed-race child.” – Home, Alexis Long

Home is belonging, or at least searching for it

Home is safety and security

Home is familiarity

Home is family

Home is relational

Home is embedded in language, culture, land, and sometimes nationhood

Home is connection

Home is a sense of ease

Home is shaped by place, people, politics, socio-economic status, nationhood, borders, diaspora…

Nisga’a lands where I am finding home (my cabin is centre-right).

Home is sacred

To leave, I’d like to share this song, Homeland by Snotty Nose Rez Kids ft. Mob Bounce. The Snotty Nose Rez Kids are a Haisla hip hop duo who make music to uplift Indigenous youth, grow community, and to raise up their own decolonial stories and histories. This particular song was part of an album called The Tiny House Warriors: Our Land is Home which was created to gain support and gather funds to stop Kinder Morgan’s Transmountain pipeline.

Works Cited 

Boyd, Kirsten. “There’s a place called home and it moves.” January 27, 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/kirstenboyd/2019/01/27/theres-a-place-i-call-home-and-it-moves/

Brownie, Marianne. “To home and back.” January 27, 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/marianneengl470/2019/01/27/to-home-and-back/

Chalhotra, Simran. “Home is where my heart is.” January 27, 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/simranchalhotra/2019/01/27/29/

Dyer, Sean. “This feels like home.” January 27, 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/seanlitblog/2019/01/30/this-feels-like-home/

Hershler, Laen. “HOME.” January 27, 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/hershlereng470/2019/01/27/home/

Long, Alexis. “Home.” January 27, 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/alexis470/2019/01/28/blog-2-2-home/

Pereira, Kynan. “Feels like home.” January 28, 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/engl470kynanpereira/2019/01/28/feels-like-home/

Teasdale, Rachel. “I’m not meant to live alone, turn this house into a home.” January 27, 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/rachelteasdale/2019/01/28/im-not-meant-to-live-alone-turn-this-house-into-a-home/

A few years back, I spent 4-months on Haida Gwaii-

I’d stand in the company of eagles on kilometre-long stretches of beach, no person in sight. Under grey skies, I’d watch the waves lap onto rocky shores. Inhaling fresh, salty air, I found peace.

Tlell, Haida Gwaii – photo by Georgia Wilkins

I’d stand in celebration and remembrance of the power of the Earth. The power of the Ocean.

I felt grounded and humbled.

It is from this Earth that I sprung. And, when I die, my body will turn to soil, to Earth, offering nutrients for lives to come.

Moments of silence and stillness in the face of epic beauty, offer a homecoming of sorts. A remembrance of the interconnectedness of all life and form. My being, in all its complication and simplicity, was and is part of the big play – Life, Earth, Death, Universe, Sun, Moon, everything, nothing.

And I am home.

Yet in this home, on the beaches of Haida Gwaii, my reverence was directed to the people. I was home, but still a visitor on someone else’s homelands.

The Haida people.

They’ve cared for and loved those lands and waters for thousands of years. This relationship is embedded in their culture, their ways of life, and language. They know through their clan system and oral histories and relationships to Land, Water, Spirit and one another, and, I think, in their souls, that they’ve been there for a very, very long time.

Since time Immemorial.

And, because oral histories and knowing the land and seasons and a feeling in their souls aren’t enough to prove the Haida’s home to British Columbia or Canada, who have tried to occupy their territories with their governance structures and who’ve raped their land, uprooting and selling cedar and spruce ancestors for profit, in the national interest of Canada, the Haida also know through western science, through archaeology, and the village sites the Haida Watchmen care for that they have been there for a very, very long time.

And it is home.

Gwaii Haanas, Haida Gwaii – photo by Georgia Wilkins

The Crown tried to name the place in 1778. The Queen Charlotte Islands, the colonizers called it. After decimating the Haida populations with smallpox, banning the potlatch, sending the youth to residential schools, and imposing reserves, Canada wrongly thought they’d claimed it. 

The Haida persisted.

In a moving ceremony in 2010, the Haida regifted the name to British Columbia and The Queen. The Queen Charlotte Islands wrapped in a bentwood box.

For their home, the Haida chose the name Haida Gwaii – islands of the people.

The Haida are the people. The islands, theirs.

I learned that being at home in my own body, in my own knowingness of self and that which is beyond self and identity allowed me to be grounded enough to offer my respect and to show up as a good guest at someone else’s home.

I left Haida Gwaii feeling full but homeless. Uprooted and unfurled, I sought a home on the land.

Was home 108 Prospect or 4484 W 15th? No.

Though they housed me, and were places where I felt loved, cared for, respected, they were on stolen lands or lands (un)settled through dishonoured treaties. When all my relationships were gone from those places, I knew, deep in my soul, that those places were someone else’s home- homes that need to be returned to the Indigenous people to be governed and cared for.

Was home where my ancestors came from? South Indian Lake or in England, Ukraine, Russia? Maybe, but I’ve yet to visit. Perhaps when I do, there will be a sense of knowingness.

Home is not Canada, though it is a nation to which I belong (in an administrative sense and, in the sense that I am warmly welcome as a cisgendered, able-bodied, educated and friendly white lady). The imposition of Thunder Bay and of Canada on already occupied, already loved, Indigenous lands, has, and continues to be, one of violence, dislocation, and fractured relationships. And I know violence is not home.

When we are home, in an embodied sense, there is no harm.

Home is a place of ease. Closed eyes, deep breaths, quiet mind. I meditate, to bring myself home, or I stand on the beach under eagles, or by the cottonwood tree, or with my palms feeling cement, or in the arms of unconditional love. I guide myself home in moments of silence. Home is without thought, without action, without personality, neediness, attachment. Home is without touch, taste, smell, sight (yet, in another sense, home is all these things).

Home, ultimately as I understand it, is a sense of belonging found within and beyond oneself. Beyond reality and imagination; life and death.

Home is awareness. The witness consciousness. That which is aware of thoughts, aware of emotions, yet unmoved. It was not born, and it will not die. Home is deep peace. Simple, yet elusive.

The potential to connect with home rests inside all of our bodies, yet it is beyond the body. Beyond form.

At the same time, home is the body, for without the body, there would be no vessel to carry the awareness of beingness. We nurture and care for the body because it is our home. And, because life is confusing and challenging, we forget, too, that the body is home. We abandon it by failing to offer it care and rest. But it is still home.

And, at the same time, home is the Earth, for without the Earth, there would be nothing to nourish and house the body, there would be no vessel to carry the awareness of beingness. And, because life is confusing and challenging, we forget, too, that the Earth is home. We abandon it by failing to offer it care and rest, by manipulating its cycles through carbon emissions. But it is still home.

And, at the same time, home is the Universe, for without the Universe, there would be no place to hold and heat and revolve the Earth, there would be nothing to nourish and house the body, there would be no vessel to carry the awareness of beingness. And, because life is confusing and challenging, we forget, too, that the Universe is home. We abandon it by ignoring its majesty and grandeur, by forgetting to see the stars, or gaze at the moon. But it is still home.

And, at the same time, home is noplace, for even with the death of the body, the Earth, and the Universe, there is still a sense of awareness, resting somewhere and everywhere.

Home is everyplace and noplace. Home is also very specific places, lands, waters, but not really for me. And also entirely for me.

For I know, that the trees and the waters and all the people are, somehow, my relations. I seek to respect and love it all.

Home depends who you are. Depends where you came from.

Works Cited

Brown, Brene. “Finding Our Way to True Belonging.” Ideas, TED, 11 Sept. 2017, ideas.ted.com/finding-our-way-to-true-belonging/.

Hall, Chris. “Trudeau gives his definition of National Interest.” Analysis, CBC News, 16 April, 2018, https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/pipeline-kinder-morgan-analysis-chris-hall-1.4620823.

Hume, Mark. “Underwater discovery near Haida Gwaii could rewrite human history.” The Globe and Mail, 2014, https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/british-columbia/bc-researchers-may-have-found-earliest-site-of-human-habitation-in-canada/article20737278/.

Mooji. “An invitation to freedom.” Youtube, 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5_sbzSXs0E.

Richard, Graham. “Back from whence it came.” Art, Council of the Haida Nation,  2017, http://www.haidanation.ca/?p=4717.

The following is my rendition of Leslie Silko’s story of how evil came into the world. Originally from Silko’s book Ceremony, I learned this story in Thomas King’s The Truth About Stories.

Here is an audio recording of me, Georgia, reciting the story to my dog, Sita, by the fire:

Here is a transcription of my version of Silko’s story:

I have a great story to tell you.

They were sisters.

Some by blood, some by choice, some, maybe, by habit or proximity or comfort – whatever it is that lands us in imperfect yet deep relationship, where our neediness is apparent, but our love is boundless. Forgiving. Selfless…. Sometimes.

They braided one another’s hair, shaved one another’s heads, cooked rice bowls, abundant with nutrients, and ate spoonfuls of peanut butter before bed. Some smoked cigarettes with their morning coffee as they stretched their legs, others woke to lemon water, the sun, running legs, pissing puppies.

They drew delicate lines, beaded one another jewelry as some of their grandmothers had done long ago, and they chopped wood, hauled water, changed tires, rode quads and snowmobiles.

They were tough and tender. Soft and stubborn. Bush queens.

Independent but in love with the collective- their community of sacred sisters.

Peace princesses prone to mistake-making, expectation-breaking, bread-baking wonder.

They were a living celebration of womanhood. Of the moon.

Sometimes, they howled to get one another’s attention.

Often, they took deep breaths and danced freely.

No fear of judgment.

One evening the women came together around the fireplace in their living room. Sprawled on cushions and one another’s shoulders, Basil asked the girls what frightened them most.

Paradise pointed to a dead mouse by the kindling box. Dusted and rigid, her shoulders tensed and her jaw clenched with the acknowledgment.

Astrid walked to the doorway where she picked up their gun. It had never been used, but all the men in the area carried them for protection so they kept one too to dispel the power dynamic created when strange men came wandering onto their property with big guns and big egos. She lifted it, scanning the dark night with piercing eyes, and then took it apart, set it down, and softly bowed her head in reverence to life and to the power of that machine.

Ember inhaled deeply and acknowledged the alter the women had built for loves lost, through death and distance. Basil passed around a stone from her pocket, each of the sisters thumbing it softly until it made its way to the alter.

Silence.

The women looked to the last sister.

And all Peaches had was a story.

When the telling was done, the room was teary eyed, shaking, repulsed and silent.

Peaches had clouded the room with a darkness that couldn’t be undone.

Stoke the fire!

Shine a light!

Dance like rivers!

Flow like the sea!

Pass like the clouds! the women cried.

But, of course, it was too late. For once a story is told, it cannot be called back. Once told, it is loose in the world. (King 10)

—

Reflection

I would never call myself a storyteller, orally at least.

I love to move. I dance my stories. Other times- silence and presence are my stories. My dad is an author, a storyteller. And, perhaps through some sort of Freudian slip, most of the men I attract into my life are elaborate, detailed storytellers. So I spend much of my time listening to, watching and reading stories. Entertaining other people’s development as storytellers. Noticing the stories people choose to repeat, and the way details, emphasis, and dramatization is added overtime. I can be a babbler, but I don’t feel the stories I tell through my rambling carry much importance… I try to keep myself in check and speak my truth deliberately.

Where I live in the bush on the Nass River, I am alone, aside from a nice fellow, Corwin, who lives a kilometre away. Together, we are in silence. We only speak of necessary matters of the present moment- like whether the generator has run too long, or the wolf tracks are coming close.

The only being I speak to is Sita, the dog, so, I shared this story with her, and with the fire.

Sita- the witness; the listener

As I wrote, I spoke the story aloud, again and again. An exercise I enjoyed. My dad tells me I have a lisp, so I practiced clarity of speech each time I repeated myself.

Clearly, in this loneliness, I am longing for my sisterhood. Revelling the strength of the women I love. All the names are pseudonyms; the fears, real as can be.

Though I did take note of King’s storytelling tips, like making the audience wait by building suspense (King 7), or crafting the story as a performance (King 22), or, on King’s wife’s advice, “don’t preach. don’t try to sound profound,” (King 26), I had to surrender to my own flow, my own truths, and my own creativity to finish the assignment.

I can’t say I am proud of this story, or that I’ll go back to it, but I sure did appreciate the exercise of writing from the imaginary.

Thank you for taking your time with it.

Works Cited

CBC Radio. “4 Story Tips with Thomas King,” October 13, 2016. Online.

Hunt, Sarah & Holmes, Cindy. “Everyday Decolonization: Living a Decolonizing Queer Politics,” 2015. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 19:2, 154-172, DOI: 10.1080/10894160.2015.970975. Online.

King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative. Peterbough: Anansi Press. 2003. Print.

“Figuring out this place called home is a problem (87).  Why? Why is it so problematic to figure out this place we call home: Canada?

Consider this question in context with Chamberlin’s discussion on imagination and reality; belief and truth (use the index). Chamberlin says, “the sad fact is, the history of settlement around the world is the history of displacing other people from their lands, of discounting their livelihoods and destroying their languages” (78).  Chamberlin goes on to “put this differently” (Para. 3). Explain that “different way” of looking at this, and discuss what you think of the differences and possible consequences of these “two ways” of understanding the history of settlement in Canada.”

The history of many of the world’s conflicts is a history of dismissing a different belief or different behaviour as unbelief or of misbehaviour, and of discrediting those who believe or behave differently as infidels or savages.
                                                                                                            – J. Edward Chamberlain
                                                                      If this is your land, where are your stories? (p. 78)

I don’t believe in Canada- our home on Native land.

A nation brought together through myth- terra nullius, empty wilderness, the Canadian Pacific Railway, a national government imposed to diminish and disappear already functioning systems of Indigenous governance, a nation imposed to bring civility to those perceived as savage through strategies such as the Indian Act, residential schools, the 60s scoop, the ongoing crises of Indigenous youth in care, away from their communities and cultures (see work by Cindy Blackstock). Indigenous communities and cultures, which, today, are still diminished and discriminated against by the RCMP, the Supreme Court of Canada, provincial education systems, Justin Trudeau, Gerald Stanley, the manager at McDonald’s, Brayden Bushby, and that nice white lady who taught you (a convoluted and flawed) history in second grade.

All this violence, vested by, her majesty, the Queen.

All this violence, upheld by white supremacist, patriarchal, capitalist, colonial bullshit, often in disguise- as nice guy Justin Trudeau, or Debra, the shopkeeper who follows Indigenous youth around the store “just in case” (still – white folks – we must exercise patience and care in educating these people, too, despite their hatred and the stories they tell themselves to feel at home, they are still here, and they have been taught to believe in the great Canadian myth. We all deserve opportunities to unlearn, but do not let this work of unteaching fall unconsentually on Indigenous people, screaming, again and again, see my humanity! Hear my stories! Respect my pain! Respect my culture! Respect this land! Respect me!).

Kent Monkman. 2016.

It is so problematic to figure out our home – Canada – because the nation was formed through genocides and violence and is maintained through the ongoing suppression of rights for Indigenous folks from coast, to coast, to coast. The nation is sustained on the false belief of Indigenous deficiency – that Indigenous ways of knowing, Indigenous governance, Indigenous economies, are not and could not have been enough to sustain and maintain this nation, this population as a whole.

As a society, we must recognize the strength of Indigenous resilience in the face of hundreds of years of colonial violence. Canada’s wealth has come entirely from the theft of land and the sale and degradation of natural resources, enabled by cooping Indigenous people up on small reserve lands, outlawing their spiritual and life-giving practices, taking their children, and languages, and pride away (or trying to – but failing in the face of Indigenous resilience). Capitalism and colonialism are inextricably linked, and both, are inherently harmful to (most) people and the planet (a whole and living being).

When we imagine Canada as a healthy, generous, and safe nation, we are doing just that- imagining. We are believing in the possibilities of a nation, without remembering the truth of settler-colonial violence that founded and maintained the possibility of this country. We are failing to acknowledge our privileges in experiencing health, generosity, safety through the nation state, Canada.

There is hope.

We must reimagine and relearn this country and our own communities and remain open to the possibilities of dismantling Canada. Of supporting the emergence of new governance, legal, and educational structures.

May we acknowledge Indigenous nations. May we allow them to be at home, on the land, in mind and in spirit (Chamberlain 84). May we see their strength. May we hear their stories. May we follow their guidance and offer our support selflessly. May we be humble. May we, settler colonial Canada, surrender our power, our privilege and the land that is not ours, back to the people who’ve known and cared for it for millenia. May we remember the Truth in Truth and Reconciliation. May we make moves towards decolonization- the return of land, power and privilege (Tuck & Yang) in our personal, interpersonal, and institutional engagements.

…and there may still be tension, pain, hatred, violence, but these moves to justice will, inevitably, bring health, generosity and safety to those who’ve been fighting. Those who’ve been waiting- for themselves, their grandmothers, their great-grandchildren.

Works Cited

CBC Archives. The Group of Seven: The myth of the unspoiled wilderness. 1996. Accessed at: https://www.cbc.ca/archives/entry/the-group-of-seven-the-myth-of-the-unspoiled-wilderness.

CBC News. Brayden Bushby to stand trial on 2nd degree murder for death of Barbara Kentner. 2019. Accessed at: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/thunder-bay/bushby-trial-charges-decision-1.4986393.

CBC Radio. The Millenium Scoop: Indigenous youth say care system repeats horrors of the past. 2018. Accessed at: https://www.cbc.ca/radio/thecurrent/a-special-edition-of-the-current-for-january-25-2018-1.4503172/the-millennium-scoop-indigenous-youth-say-care-system-repeats-horrors-of-the-past-1.4503179.

Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This is Your Land, Where are Your Stories? Finding Common Ground. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 2004. Print.

Coulthard, Glen. Urbs Nullius: Gentrification and Decolonization. 2015. Accessed at: http://ecosocialistsvancouver.org/glen-coulthard-%E2%80%93-urbs-nullius-gentrification-and-decolonization.

Francis, Daniel. National Dreams: Myth, memory and Canadian history. 2015. Accessed at: https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/national-dreams-feature.

Friesen, Joe. Gerald Stanley aquitted in the shooting death of Colten Boushie. 2018. Accessed at: https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/gerald-stanley-acquitted-in-death-of-colten-boushie/article37929427/.

Hunter, Joyce. #everydayracism (Facebook post). 2019. Accessed at: https://www.facebook.com/joyce.hunter1/posts/10161443505405066.

Tuck, Eve & Yang, K. Decolonization is not a metaphor. 2014. Accessed at: https://jps.library.utoronto.ca/index.php/des/article/view/18630

Welcome!

My name is Georgia, after Georgia O’Keefe.

Grey Lines with Black, Blue and Yellow – Georgia O’Keefe (1923)

I am of mixed white settler and Cree ancestry. My maternal great-grandmother, Josephine Dysart, is Cree from South Indian Lake. My only living grandparent is her daughter, my kookum, Eva who lives in The Pas, Manitoba. My other ancestors arrived to North America (many through the US) 100-200+ years ago from England, Germany, Ukraine and Scotland.

Kookum, me, Auntie Susan in Winnipeg

I had the privilege of growing up on the north shore of Lake Superior in Thunder Bay, Ontario, part of the Robinson-Superior Treaty territories- an agreement signed between the Ojibwe people and the Crown in the 1800s. To learn about the state of Indigenous relationships and wellness in Thunder Bay, I recommend listening to Canadaland’s new podcast on Thunder Bay and reading Tanya Talaga’s book Seven Fallen Feathers. Both affirm Indigenous strength and resilience, the ongoing violence of settler colonialism, and a deep need for decolonization and the emergence of radical imaginations and actions, like reconfiguring local power and policing structures.

In 2012, I moved to Vancouver where I began a BA in First Nations and Indigenous Studies… Today I land here— the course blog for English 470 99C. This is my final course before completing my BA. Having been out of school last semester, I’ve missed having a community to discuss socio-political issues, ideas and to critically examine texts and media with. The last English course I took at UBC with “Indigenous” content was wildly disappointing (the prof chose to centre Joseph Boyden’s work after his identity scandal was covered by media outlets nationwide and it took convincing for her to share this news with the first year class), but I am hopeful. The themes of home and story are near and dear to my heart. I’m grateful to see Indigenous content included and glad that the prevalence of colonial narratives in Canada are being highlighted and unpacked. I’m curious about why two Thomas King texts were selected and why primarily men’s voices are centred in the syllabus. I’d love to see more Indigenous women, trans, two-spirit, queer voices centred in courses – Lee Maracle, Leanne Simpson, Tanya Talaga, Cherie Dimaline, Alicia Elliot, Gwen Benaway, Billy Ray Belcourt, Tracey Lindberg.

(added note- I see now that we will be reading a piece by Lee Maracle. Thank you.)

I’ve just arrived to an off-grid cabin north of Terrace, BC, on Nisga’a territories. I will be writing, sharing and learning from here for nearly 3 months, alone, in silence. I’m hopeful that the satellite internet will run well enough for me to complete this course successfully, but, because of limited bandwidth my engagement might be limited. Wildly enough, this course is the only thread connecting me to the world beyond the quiet of the mountains, the flow of the river, the noise in my mind.

Thank you for visiting- looking forward to learning and growth.