Dancing on Our Turtle's Back
Page 3
What follows in this book is the beginning of an exploration of the theoretical foundations of resurgence and regeneration from within Nishnaabeg political and intellectual traditions. I have been careful throughout this chapter and the book to not define “resurgence.” It is my hope that readers will take the concepts and ideas presented in this book, return to their own communities, teachings, languages and Elders or Knowledge Holders and to engage in a process where they figure out what “resurgence” means to them, and to their collective communities. This book is what resurgence means to me, at this point in my life. And while this is a personal process, I believe it is also important to collectivize these discussions and processes. In sharing my thoughts on this, my hope is that readers will take what is useful to them and illuminate it in their lives and their work, while leaving the parts that they disagree with to die within the pages of the book. I know my thinking on this will change, because the process I am engaged with is transformative. As my language skills increase, so will my thinking. As I move through different stages in my life, so will my thinking.
In our ceremonies, we have a beautiful and sacred Nishnaabeg song, commonly referred to as our Prophecy Song. My understanding is that the Prophecy Song is very, very ancient.[37] The grammatical structure is such that it is the voices and words of our Ancestors as the beginning of the Seven Fires Prophecy, singing encouragement to the coming generations who are responsible for building a Nishnaabeg resurgence in the Seventh Fire. The song is an incredible gift from my Ancestors. It is a song of resistance and resurgence; and when we sing it, its haunting melody fills our hearts with hope, with love, with beauty and thanksgiving. It is a single song that has the power to liberate us from shame. Aambe Maajaadaa![38]
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Nishnaabeg is translated as “the people” and refers to Ojibwe, Odawa (Ottawa), Potawatomi, Michi Saagiig (Mississauga), Saulteaux, Chippewa and Omámíwinini (Algonquin) people. Nishnaabeg people are also known as Nishinaabeg, Anishinaabeg, Anishinaabek, and Anishinabek, reflecting different spelling systems and differing dialects. I have used many Nishnaabemowin (Ojibwe language) words throughout this book, and I have used the dialects of the people who taught me the words. The words I learned from Doug Williams are in the Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg or eastern Ontario dialect. Shirley Williams and Isadore Toulouse speak Odawa or the central/Manitoulin dialect. There are also a few words in the northwestern dialect. I am a language learner, not a fluent speaker, and any mistakes are my own. I have, however, tried to check each word that is unfamiliar to me with an Elder who is a fluent language speaker to ensure that I am using the word correctly, even if the word is coming from a reputable dictionary. In Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg contexts, I have tried to use our spelling—Nishnaabe or Nishnaabeg (plural), when referring to the work of other writers from the northwest parts of our territory. I have used the spelling they use in their work. Because there are too many examples of academics who are not fluent speakers using Nishnaabemowin words incorrectly, I have referenced all but the most common Nishnaabemowin words in the text. ←
Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg means the Nishnaabeg people who live or dwell at the mouth of a large river. Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg Elder Doug Williams explained to me that this is the way his Elders referred to themselves. Peterborough, ON, October 26, 2010. This is similar to Basil Johnston’s Mizhi-zaugeek, Anishinaubae Thesaurus, Michigan State University Press, East Lansing, MI, 2006, 14. Michi Saagiig or “Mizhi-zaugeek” people live at the eastern doorway of the Nishnaabeg nation, located in what is now known as eastern Ontario. According to Doug Williams, the word “Mississauga” is an anglicized version of Michi Saagiig or Mizhi-zaugeek. ←
Nogojiwanong is the Michi Saagiig name for Peterborough, Ontario, and means “the place at the end of the rapids.” It is commonly used amongst Nishnaabeg people in Peterborough. ←
Turtle. ←
Birds. ←
Grandmother. ←
This is the name for Little Lake and it means “little lake.” I learned this word from Doug Williams. Waawshkigaamagki (Curve Lake First Nation), July 15, 2010. Shirley Williams showed me how to spell it. Peterborough, ON, September 20, 2010. ←
To me this word means that in order to have a Nishnaabeg identity, one must live that identity in all of its many and beautiful diverse forms. The spelling and full meaning of this word was taught to me by Shirley Williams. Peterborough, ON, September 19, 2010. ←
The art of living the good life. Winona LaDuke also translates mino bimaadiziwin to mean “continuous rebirth.” Scott Lyons writes that we should use the bimadizi form of the word to keep with the verb-based traditions of the language. Language expert Shirley Williams translates bimadizi to mean he/she is living, and bimaadiziwin as an abstract noun meaning “the art of living life.” Peterborough, ON, September 12, 2010. As a concept, mino bimaadiziwin is commonly used in Nishnaabeg teachings. I worry though that it is becoming almost an overused and over simplified concept in Nishnaabeg scholarship particularly amongst non-speakers and cultural beginners (Christine Sy also brought up this point in previous drafts). While I still find mino bimaadiziwin to be an important concept, I use it while keeping these observations in mind. ←
Chi’Nbiish, literally “big water,” is the Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg name for Lake Ontario, according to Doug Williams. Peterborough, ON, November 30, 2010. ←
Doug Williams. Peterborough, ON, November 30, 2010. I specifically asked Doug if there was a term our ancestors used to refer to their “nation,” and this was his response. My interest in this came out of a conversation with Niigonwedom James Sinclair that took place in November 2010. ←
Doug Williams, Keynote Speaker. Peterborough Race Relations Committee, Dreams of Beans Coffee House, Peterborough, ON, November 18, 2010. ←
Brian Osborne and Michael Ripmeester, “The Mississaugas Between Two Worlds: Strategic Adjustments to Changing Landscapes of Power,” Canadian Journal of Native Studies, 1997, xvii(2): 259–291. ←
Kiera L. Ladner, “Aysaka’paykinit: Contesting the Rope Around the Nations’ Neck,” in Miriam Smith, ed., Group Politics and Social Movements in Canada, Broadview Press, Peterborough, ON, 2008, 244. ←
Kiera L. Ladner, “Aysaka’paykinit: Contesting the Rope Around the Nations’ Neck,” in Miriam Smith, ed., Group Politics and Social Movements in Canada, Broadview Press, Peterborough, ON, 2008, 228. ←
Rima Wilkes, “The Protest Actions of Indigenous Peoples: A Canadian-U.S. Comparison of Social Movement Emergence,” American Behavioral Scientist, 2007, 50(4): 510–525. ←
Jim Dumont, Nishnaabeg Elder. Explained in a workshop as part of his presentation at the Elders’ Conference, Trent University, Peterborough, ON, February 20, 2010. ←
Mino bimaadiziwin is a phrase that is used to denote “living the good life” or “the art of living the good life.” Winona LaDuke translates the term as “continuous rebirth,” (Winona LaDuke, Our Relations: Struggles for Land and Life, South End Press, Cambridge, MA, 1994, 4, 132), so it means living life in a way that promotes rebirth, renewal, reciprocity and respect. It is my understanding that although there are many ways to live the good life and that within Nishnaabeg contexts, there is no dichotomy between the “good life” and the “bad life,” rather living in a good way is an ongoing process. This will become clear later in the book. ←
By here I mean Elders, Faith-Keepers, Clan-Mothers, traditional leaders, Grandmothers, Grandfathers, language-keepers and Knowledge-Holders, not western-trained academics, and I specifically mean those Elders, Faith-Keepers, Clan-Mothers, traditional leaders, Grandmothers, Grandfathers, language-keepers and Knowledge Holders that are able to interpret our teachings through the language in a way that embodies their Nishnaabeg essence, rather than in a way that locks us into a fundamentalist preservation framework. ←
For a written version of this story, see Lise Lunge-Larsen and Margi Preus, The Legend of the Lady Slipper, Houghton Mifflin, 1999. ←
One versio
n of this story exists in “The First Butterflies” in Tales the Elders Told: Ojibway Legends by Basil Johnston, Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto ON, 1983, 12–17; another exists in John Borrows’ Drawing Out Law: A Spirit’s Guide, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, ON, 2010, 14–16. ←
Basil Johnston, “The Woodpecker” in The Bear-Walker and Other Stories, Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, ON, 1983, 49–55. ←
Niimkiig means thunderbirds. For a version of this story see Wendy Makoons Geniusz’s “Nenabozho and the Animkikiig” in Our Knowledge is Not Primitive: Decolonizing Botanical Anishinaabeg Teachings, Syracuse University Press, Syracuse NY, 2009, 136–140. ←
Kiera Ladner, “Women and Blackfoot Nationalism,” Journal of Canadian Studies 2000, 35(2): 35–61; Rupert Ross, Dancing with a Ghost: Exploring Indian Reality, Reed Books Canada, Markham, ON, 1992, 11–38, 116–125; and Emma LaRoque, “Métis and Feminist” in Making Space for Indigenous Feminism, Joyce Green, ed., Fernwood Publishing, Halifax, NS, 2007, 63. ←
For a broader discussion, see Leanne Simpson, “Oshkimaadiziig, the New People,” in Leanne Simpson, ed., Lighting the Eighth Fire: The Liberation, Resurgence, and Protection of Indigenous Nations, Arbeiter Ring Publishing, Winnipeg, MB, 2008, 13–21. ←
This exists in all parts of the territory; this is just how I came to understand it. Compare this section with Taiaiake Alfred, Wasáse: Indigenous Pathways of Action and Freedom, Broadview Press, Peterborough, ON, 2005, 197-8. I have also discussed my observations with Doug Williams, which he felt were consistent with Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg interpretations. Waawshkigaamagki (Curve Lake First Nation), July 15, 2010. ←
Leanne Simpson, “Oshkimaadiziig, the New People,” in Leanne Simpson, ed., Lighting the Eighth Fire: The Liberation, Resurgence, and Protection of Indigenous Nations, Arbeiter Ring Publishing, Winnipeg, MB, 2008, 13–21. Alfred explores these concepts within Haudenosaunee thought in Taiaiake Alfred, Wasáse: Indigenous Pathways of Action and Freedom, Broadview Press, Peterborough, ON, 2005. ←
Taiaiake Alfred, Wasáse: Indigenous Pathways of Action and Freedom, Broadview Press, Peterborough, ON, 2005, 58. ←
Aanji maajitaawin means to start over, the art of starting over, or regeneration. Shirley Williams, Peterborough, ON, September 19, 2010. ←
Haudenosaunee scholar Roronhiakewen Dan Longboat, Peterborough, ON, September 9, 2010. ←
I recognize that this discussion is delicate in that I do not want to offend or disregard the experiences, thoughts and perspectives of residential school survivors, nor is it my intent to criticize my colleagues who are working with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. My intent here is to examine the wider political forces shaping this process of reconciliation. ←
I wrote this while listening to (and was influenced by) Fiona MacDonald’s oral presentation, Democratic Multinationalism: A Political Approach to Indigenous-State Relations in Canada, Canadian Political Science Association Annual Meeting, June 3, Concordia University, Montreal, QC. ←
This idea came out of a discussion with Kiera Ladner on August 15, 2010. ←
A description of Hollow Water First Nation’s Community Holistic Circle Healing is available at www.iirp.org/article_detail.php?article_id=NDc0. I have worked with the community of Hollow Water since 1997 and have witnessed several chch circles. ←
I recognize here that survivors may not want to face their abusers in this fashion. My point here is to bring attention to the shift in power and emphasis in Indigenous restorative processes. ←
Glen S. Coulthard, “Subjects of Empire,” Contemporary Political Theory, 2007 (6): 437–460. ←
My understanding is my own interpretation of the teachings of Edna Manitowabi who initially shared the song with me, and explained its meaning. Stoney Lake, ON, December 14, 2010. ←
The first line of the song is “Aambe Maajaadaa!,” literally “Come On! Let’s get going!” ←
Theorizing Resurgence from within Nishnaabeg Thought
Note on chapter title.[1]
One of the most crucial tasks presently facing Indigenous nations is the continued creation of individuals and assemblages of people who can think in culturally inherent ways. By this I mean ways that reflect the diversity of thought within our broader cosmologies, those very ancient ways that are inherently counter to the influences of colonial hegemony. I believe we need intellectuals who can think within the conceptual meanings of the language, who are intrinsically connected to place and territory, who exist in the world as an embodiment of contemporary expressions of our ancient stories and traditions, and that illuminate mino bimaadiziwin in all aspect of their lives.
Western theory, whether based in post-colonial, critical or even liberatory strains of thought, has been exceptional at diagnosing, revealing and even interrogating colonialism; and many would argue that this body of theory holds the greatest promise for shifting the Canadian politic because it speaks to that audience in a language they can understand, if not hear. Yet western theories of liberation have for the most part failed to resonate with the vast majority of Indigenous Peoples, scholars or artists. In particularly, western-based social movement theory has failed to recognize the broader contextualizations of resistance within Indigenous thought, while also ignoring the contestation of colonialism as a starting point. While I believe liberatory theory and politics are always valuable, Indigenous thought has the ability to resonate with Indigenous Peoples of all ages. It not only maps a way out of colonial thinking by confirming Indigenous lifeways or alternative ways of being in the world. Ultimately Indigenous theory seeks to dismantle colonialism while simultaneously building a renaissance of mino bimaadiziwin. What if this was our collective focus?
Part of being Indigenous in the 21st century is that regardless of where or how we have grown up, we’ve all been bathed in a vat of cognitive imperialism, perpetuating the idea that Indigenous Peoples were not, and are not, thinking peoples—an insidious mechanism to promote neo-assimilation and obfuscate the historic atrocities of colonialism.[2] In both subtle and overt ways, the current generation of Indigenous Peoples has been repeatedly told that individually we are stupid, and that collectively our nations were and are void of higher thought. This is reinforced when the academic industrial complex—often propped up by Indian and Northern Affairs Canada (INAC)—promotes colonizing education to our children and youth as the solution to dispossession, poverty, violence and a lack of self-determination over our lives. Cognitive imperialism also rears its ugly head in every discipline every time a student is told that there is no literature or no thinking available on any given topic from within Indigenous intellectual traditions.
Our Elders and Knowledge Holders have always put great emphasis into how things are done. This reinforces the idea that it is our own tools, strategies, values, processes and intellect that are going to build our new house. While theoretically, we have debated whether Audre Lourde’s “the master’s tools can dismantle the master’s house,” I am interested in a different question. I am not so concerned with how we dismantle the master’s house, that is, which sets of theories we use to critique colonialism; but I am very concerned with how we (re)build our own house, or our own houses. I have spent enough time taking down the master’s house, and now I want most of my energy to go into visioning and building our new house.
For me, this discussion begins with our Creation Stories, because these stories set the “theoretical framework,” or give us the ontological context from within which we can interpret other stories, teachings and experiences.[3] These stories and their Nishnaabeg context are extremely important to our way of being; and they are told and retold in our communities throughout one’s life. Our children first start to learn Nishnaabeg thought and theory through these Aandisokaanan[4] very early in their lives. As they travel through the Four Hills of Life,[5] these teachings deepen and resonate in different ways. Benton-Banai writes:
“And so, Anishinaabe can see that if he knows his creation story, if she
knows her creation story, they know also how all of life moves. They can know how life comes to be. All of life is a creative process that began in this original way and continues in the same way in all aspects of our life. In all places and all facets of creation, and creative activity, these seven stages are reflected.”[6]
Our Elders tell us that everything we need to know is encoded in the structure, content and context of these stories and the relationships, ethics and responsibilities required to be our own Creation Story. In my own life, I did not fully understand this story until I became pregnant with my first child. My Elder Edna Manitowabi guided me through my pregnancy, revealing the responsibilities that go along with bringing forth new life, with nurturing that life with my own sacred water, my thoughts, my emotions, my breath, and my own creative power. In doing so, Edna breathed into me a new way of seeing the world and of being in it. So for me, this is the only place to begin.
Gwiinmaagemi Gdi-dbaajimowinaanin, We Tell Stories
Cree scholar, poet and visual artist Neal McLeod has written extensively about the importance of storytelling in his book Cree Narrative Memory: From Treaties to Contemporary Times. Neal writes that the process of storytelling within Cree traditions requires storytellers to remember the ancient stories that made their ancestors “the people they were,” and that this requires a remembering of language. He also emphasizes that storytellers have a responsibility to the future to imagine a social space that is just and where Cree narratives will flourish.[7] Storytelling is at its core decolonizing, because it is a process of remembering, visioning and creating a just reality where Nishnaabeg live as both Nishnaabeg and peoples. Storytelling then becomes a lens through which we can envision our way out of cognitive imperialism, where we can create models and mirrors where none existed, and where we can experience the spaces of freedom and justice. Storytelling becomes a space where we can escape the gaze and the cage of the Empire, even if it is just for a few minutes.