This isn’t helpful at all; surely there is some definition you can explain?
Sure, but you might not like it.
You should be asking yourself why it even matters that there is a definition for us. As pointed out in this editorial:
The questions of who is Métis, how do you become one, and where are their ancestral lands are not idle historical problems. If the Métis can claim resources and the right to hunt, fish and gather food all year without a license, then they might also have a right to negotiate with the private sector and governments on how those resources are used.11
The idea that the Métis have some (as yet ill-defined, amorphous) rights is a big motivator for wanting to pigeonhole Métis into a knowable category, even as it encourages some to try creating new categories of Métis in order to gain benefits.
It wasn’t until 2003 that the question, “Who really is Métis?” got some serious attention.12 The Supreme Court of Canada heard a case involving a father and son who shot a moose out of season and without a licence. Exciting stuff, no? No?! Well, it turned out to be exciting. It got a lot of people talking about a legal definition for the Métis besides “half-Indian, half-European.”
The Powley Test, as it is known, set out basic criteria for determining who is accepted as Métis by the Canadian state. Here, I am using the Métis Nation of Alberta’s summary of those criteria, which is pretty similar to what other regional Métis organizations have adopted and use to determine regional membership: “Métis means a person who self-identifies as a Métis, is distinct from other aboriginal peoples, is of historic Métis Nation ancestry, and is accepted by the Métis Nation.”13
Egads! There is so much in there to unpack and debate! So many more questions than answers! A little bit of “calling yourself Métis is good enough,” with some “have to have at least some First Nations blood,” and a whole lot of “other people have to agree that you’re Métis.”
Then, there is that whole “distinct from other aboriginal peoples” part that so baffles the many Cree-Métis and other First Nations-Métis mixtures out there. You can legally be Métis or First Nations, but not both! That would be double-dipping… or something.14
The Powley definition is still fairly vague, though, and the issue of Métis identity continues to be hotly contested.
Okay, so where do you stand?
For many years, I was comfortable with a pretty expansive definition of Métis, particularly little m categories because, whether or not I believed everyone identifying was actually Métis, I didn’t see how it affected me or my community in any way. I felt if people were misidentifying, it was usually as a way to assert their legitimate indigeneity in one of the three ways “familiar” to Canada: as First Nations, as Inuit, or (when those categories were unavailable) as Métis. Most of these people were non-status Indians, so it wasn’t a situation of non-Indigenous peoples claiming to be Indigenous. More important, this was happening at the individual level. I did not see organizations claiming to represent “Métis” communities that did not exist.
I saw a few instances in Alberta of non-Indigenous peoples claiming to be Métis, right around the time Premier Ralph Klein signed an Interim Métis Harvesting Agreement with the Métis Nation of Alberta (MNA) in 2004. That did bother me. I actually heard people discussing how to get a “Métis card,” and how it was going to get them cheap smokes and tax breaks. Of course, Métis cards don’t allow any of those things; but there is a huge lack of awareness about this in Canada, so I wasn’t surprised.
However, when the Harvesting Agreement expired two years later, and when there was no longer much “benefit” to being Métis, most of these claims evaporated. Many of those folks had been unsuccessful in getting MNA membership anyway, because they had no ties to actual Métis communities in the first place (the Harvesting Agreement required valid MNA identification). The MNA had revamped its entire membership process after Powley, re-vetting all current MNA members to ensure genealogical documentation existed. This is not to say the only legitimate way to identify as Métis is by obtaining membership in a provincial organization; however, in this case, the Agreement was made with that organization, so its membership policies mattered to the exercise of hunting rights in Alberta at the time.15
When the furor died down, I thought this was a one-off and that non-Indigenous peoples identifying as Métis was not a problem worth worrying about. As it turns out, that was only the beginning.
Rejecting the myth of Métissage
So, my own views on this have been influenced by the way in which many people attempt to claim a Métis identity, and by the sheer volume of these claims over the past decade. I also think our relative silence on the issue of Métis identity has allowed some very strange ideas to bubble into the minds of settler intellectuals.
For example, in 2009, John Ralston Saul tried to whip together a cohesive Canadian identity in A Fair Country: Telling Truths about Canada, using the Métis as a synecdoche for “a unique people” (i.e., Canadians). He argued Canadian culture was less a result of English and French Enlightenment values, and more a result of interactions between English and French newcomers and First Nations.16 To call this a rosy reading of history is an understatement as vast as the Prairie sky. The goal of this approach is to encourage Canadians to “learn who they truly are” via reconnecting with their Indigenous roots – real or very much imagined.
Saul’s choice to discuss Canada as a “Métis Nation” was even more perplexing to those of us who actually are Métis.17 Why us? Why the Métis, as opposed to the Cree, or the Mohawk, or the Inuit? Why is our nation so attractive to those seeking an Indigenous identity? I think it basically boils down to the fact that, for many people, Métis = mixed. After all, that’s what the French word means, and that is almost exclusively how we are discussed in the mainstream: as a hybrid people formed from the unions between European men and First Nations women. Apparently, we’re the only ones who married out, interbred, mixed. According to this logic, anyone with a single Indigenous ancestor 300 years ago is mixed, and, therefore, Métis.
I hope it is obvious that this claim is ridiculous.18 It also needs to be said that we are not the only post-contact Indigenous people. The Lumbee, Oji-Cree, Comanche, and Seminole are other examples of Indigenous peoples who formed a unique identity after contact with European settlers.
Extending Métis to mean “anyone with even the most tenuous claim to a First Nations ancestor” is precisely the kind of mythology discussed by E. Tuck and K.W. Yang as a “move to innocence.”
In this move to innocence, settlers locate or invent a long-lost ancestor who is rumored to have had “Indian blood,” and they use this claim to mark themselves as blameless in the attempted eradications of Indigenous peoples….
[It] is a settler move to innocence because it is an attempt to deflect a settler identity, while continuing to enjoy settler privilege and occupying stolen land.19
While there are certainly people claiming a First Nations identity based on blood myths (long-lost or imagined ancestors), it tends to be a less common phenomenon in Canada than in the United States. Part of that, at least where I come from, is a deep-rooted racism against Indigenous peoples that makes being Indigenous in no way an enviable or sought-out identity.
Since moving to eastern Canada, however, I have seen that deep-rooted racism expressed in forms that encourage stereotypes of noble savagery; claiming Indigenous identity here is much more hip and edgy. In any case, it is still difficult to claim one is Mohawk, or Mi’kmaq, or Cree without a person from one of those First Nations asking pointed questions about relatives and community. It is much easier to avoid a fuss and simply claim that any tiny scrap of Indigenous blood (again real or imagined) makes one Métis. In this way, our nation becomes a bin for all those who are not otherwise defined.
Of course, the problem with this is the fact that many of the people claiming us are not claimed by us. Self-identification is not enough. As an Indigenous people,
the Métis have the right to define our own kinships rather than having anyone who wishes come along and claim kinship with us. Again, if this seems extreme, consider whether it would make sense to lecture the Mohawk on why they should allow anyone with an Indigenous ancestor to claim to be Mohawk.
Recently, the mythology of Métissage has reared its head in a very aggressive way in Quebec. While the flavour is different from Saul’s claims (more maple syrup, obviously), the story is roughly the same. Some people, merely by feeling more Indigenous than French, want to identify as Métis. Unique; not French (European), not even Québécois. Something else. Something that belongs here, does not engender guilt, and washes away Quebec’s history of colonialism while reinforcing Quebec’s own experiences as a colonized people.
In fact, Roy Dupuis, Carole Poliquin, and Yvan Dubuc have an entire film about the Québécois-as-Métis called L’Empreinte.20 In interviews, Dupuis has stressed that the French did not come to Quebec as conquerors and that they were charmed by the “sexual liberation of les sauvagesses” (Indigenous women).21 Much like Ralston Saul, Dubuc and Poliquin claim Quebec’s tolerance for differences (Islamophobia and a penchant for continuing to champion the use of blackface aside), consensus-seeking, and love of nature all come from the mixture of European and First Nations cultures.22 Folks, this is some hardcore myth-making.
All of that would be lovely to acknowledge, true or false, if it weren’t for the way in which such claims are used to identify the Québécois as Indigenous. Please stop viewing Indigenous peoples as “the other,” but do not replace that with “we are all Indigenous” (I’m looking at you, too, John Ralston Saul).
“Si les Français sont nos cousins, les Amérindiens sont nos frères,” says Dupuis. (“If the French are our cousins, the Indians are our brothers.”)
“Quels seraient les avantages de cette redéfinition? Énormes, croient-ils. Comme le dit Denys Delâge dans le film, reconnaître cet héritage voudrait dire que notre histoire n’a pas commencé avec l’arrivée de Champlain, mais il y a 12 000 ans,” dit Roy Dupuis. (“What would advantages of such a redefinition be? They believe them to be enormous. As Denys Delâge said in the film, recognizing this heritage means our history did not begin with the arrival of Champlain, but rather is 12,000 years old!” says Roy Dupuis.)23
Others are not so quick to jump on the bandwagon of imagined Québécois indigeneity. Gérard Bouchard points out the obvious: Indigenous communities in Quebec are in general far removed from where the Québécois live(d), the Roman Catholic Church always discouraged mixed unions with First Nations, and First Nations genes represent a mere one percent of the Quebec genetic makeup.24
And yet, the myth of Métissage holds a powerful sway. As Dupuis says in this trailer:
When I arrived in America, I was French, but before long, I no longer lived nor thought like a Frenchman. I was Canadian from the Iroquois name Kanata. My tribe has given itself other names since: French Canadian, then Québécois….25
In another interview, Dupuis was asked, “Are you more French or Indian?” To which he replied, “Indian.”26
Don’t get me wrong; Dupuis is just another manifestation of a burning desire to claim indigeneity and is hardly the only person involved in furthering such claims. He does not even explicitly claim to be Métis, except in the sense that métis means “mixed.” Others are identifying themselves as being Métis, however, via genealogical links to communities that ceased to exist hundreds of years ago and which were arguably never Métis communities to begin with. These claims are not harmless; they are being actively used to gain recognition from the Canadian state (a process already fraught with contradictions) in order to claim Constitutional rights. Their lack of success so far shouldn’t detract from the racist logics through which these attempts are made.
A great deal of time, effort, and research is being put into claiming indigeneity via very strained genealogical ties. (Another example is claiming a Mi’kmaq Métis ancestor from 1684 as the sole basis for identifying as Métis.) That effort could much better be extended in developing healthy relationships with existing Indigenous communities, both in Quebec and throughout Canada. Sometimes I want to shake people and say, “Being non-Indigenous is okay.”
“Becoming the Native” furthers colonial erasure of Indigenous peoples; the fact that this is being done more and more through the lens of métissage is of particular concern to Métis people. We are being used as a wedge to undermine Indigenous rights and existence (including our own!). This is no longer the action of isolated individuals. There are now organizations that claim to represent historic Métis communities of dubious existence – in other words, communities with absolutely no connection to the historical core of the Red River region. Many of these small m communities, characterized by at least some mixed unions between First Nations women and European men, ceased to exist hundreds of years ago or were not truly cohesive communities in the first place.27 Furthermore, some argue that any participation in the fur trade is de facto proof of individuals or communities being properly identified today as Métis. (Since when does a profession grant indigeneity?)
Many of these “communities” rely on the narrative of having “hidden in plain sight” for generations, rather than being part of wider Métis kinship systems. The idea is that entire communities “hid” mixed unions between First Nations and Europeans (by passing as White) out of fear of colonial repression, and have only now, in the 21st century, been able to claim their indigeneity. This narrative requires acceptance of the notion that cultural knowledge is passed through the generations via blood, a problematic metaphor at best.28
Ironically, while these organizations rail against “Red River fundamentalism”29 and argue Métis communities could and did arise outside of any connection to the Red River, they consistently use our symbols and history as proof of their Métisness. Beware “Métis” organizations that offer “status cards” for Métis, or that offer membership based on having one Indigenous ancestor as far back as 200 years.
At first, these organizations may have just been a way to connect people who share genealogical interests. Now, it is becoming more common for these groups to advance claims to rights based on section 35 of the Constitution, and to insist on a right to be included in things like resource extraction negotiations. Rarely, if ever, do these organizations acknowledge the territories of First Nations in the area.
The stakes are high. If enough people attain “Métishood” in these ways, the state-recognized category of Métis could contain a population that outnumbers First Nations and Inuit combined, making Métis the driving political force when it comes to Indigenous issues. As Indigenous Métis become outnumbered by those who self-identify as Métis (without any real connection to the Métis homeland), the agenda would be driven by settler, rather than Indigenous, needs.
Further, the claiming of indigeneity by settler populations means circumventing any need to engage in decolonization. Once we are all Métis (and Indigenous), none of us are. The categories of “settler” and “Indigenous” collapse into each other, allowing settlers to claim an unearned legitimacy in perhaps the most bizarre of ways. Rather than denying Indigenous peoples’ right to the land and resources, this move to innocence affirms that right and then strips it of all meaning by “Indigenizing” the settler.
The pressure of settlers claiming indigeneity through the Métis identity triggers an obligation, on the part of Métis, to ensure we maintain our treaty relationships with First Nations by not avoiding unpleasant discussions about identity or about who claim us.30
Expect this issue to keep coming up as time goes by, because one thing is clear: Canadian (or Quebec) myth-making is far from over.31
For all of these reasons, I agree with the following definition provided by Chris Andersen:
I use Métis to refer to the history, events, leaders, territories, language, and culture associated with the growth of the buffalo hunting and trading Métis of the northern Plains, in
particular during the period between the beginning of the Métis buffalo brigades in the early nineteenth century and the 1885 North West Uprising.32
This is the big M definition, with the further requirement that the people and community in question have a connection to the historic Red River region.
Sounds confusing; doesn’t this exclude a lot of people?
It does, yeah, but what identity issues are simple? To reiterate, this is not a universally accepted definition, but I don’t want to be coy about where I stand.
Chris Andersen addresses some of the concerns about a narrower definition of Métis:
When I argue for the drawing of boundaries around Métis identity to reflect a commitment to recognizing our nationhood, however, colleagues often object, as many of you might, in one of two ways. The first objection usually takes the form of a challenge rooted firmly in racialization: “If someone wants to self-identify as Métis, who are you to suggest they can’t? Why do you think you own the term Métis?” I ask them to imagine raising a similar challenge to, say, a Blackfoot person about the right of someone born and raised, and with ancestors born and raised, in Nova Scotia or Labrador, to declare a Blackfoot identity because they could not gain recognition as Mi’kmaq or Inuit. Second, I am sometimes asked, “What of those Indigenous people who have, due to their mixed ancestry and the discriminatory provisions of the Indian Act, been dispossessed from their First Nations community? What happens to them if we prevent the possibility of their declaring a Métis identity (some of whom, due to complex historical kinship relations, might legitimately claim one)?” Such disquiet is often buoyed by a broader question of fundamental justice: What obligation, do any of us – Métis included – owe dispossessed Indigenous individuals, and even communities, who forward claims using a Métis identity based not on a connection to Métis national roots but because it seems like the only possible option? Whatever we imagine a fair response to look like, it must account for the fact that “Métis” refers to a nation with membership codes that deserve to be respected. We are not a soup kitchen for those disenfranchised by past and present Canadian Indian policy and, as such, although we should sympathize with those who bear the brunt of this particular form of dispossession, we cannot do so at expense of eviscerating our identity.33
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