An NDN* in TRANS*ition: The Academic-ish Journal of a Trans/Non-Binary Non-Status Mixed-Nation Urban-Nish

by

Sarah Conroy

A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts The Department of Geography and Planning University of

© Copyright by Sarah Conroy, 2017 ii

An NDN* in TRANS*ition: The Academic-ish Journal of a Trans/ Non-Binary Non-Status Mixed-Nation Urban-Nish

Sarah Conroy

Master of Arts in Human Geography

The Department of Geography and Planning University of Toronto

2017

Abstract

An archive of my journey in coming to understand the metamorphosis of oral traditions and ceremonies in the urban context and its relation to my own mixed-nation, non- status, and non-binary identities. I tentatively apply the practical knowledge from my undergraduate degree in Aboriginal Studies (now known as Indigenous Studies), where the focus of my work was rooted in Anishinaabemowin ( language),

Aatisoohkaanan (Algonquin legends), Aatisoohkaanak (Algonquin legendary characters), as they applied to my personal experiences and journey as a mixed urban

Indigenous gender-queerdo. Of particular interest are topics such as mixedness, kin/ citizen/member/ship, gender, and where and how they intersect with land, the city, and urban Indigenous experiences. Through this I weave together a foundation for a discussion which centers a queer mixed urban Indigenous experience, a foundation of rich soil from which I intend to take root in and grow. iii

Acknowledgements

To all the beautiful two-leggeds in my life: Jamaias DaCosta, Kaya linky, Joan and Chris, and young Neil yous are the most kind and loving family and I feel so blessed to have you in my life each and everyday. All of my love to Nimaamaa Pion and papa Veilleux, Dad and Patti, my sweet young brother Liam. So much love, gratitude and respect to all of my ABS/CAI/FNH/Ciimaan relations who raised me up from a young mixed up mixed kid; Kihci miikwec to my mentor, teacher, and good friend Alex McKay as well as his wiiciwaakan Virginia Loescher and their whole clan for welcoming and supporting me. Alex McKay was not only an incredible speaker of many community variations of Anishinaabemowin, but a generous mentor who taught me the large majority of what I know - so none of this would be possible without him. Jennifer Murrin who not only held up ABS/CAI during rocky times but who also happens to be my best friend-sibling, Eileen Antone who will always be my role model in life, Grafton Antone with his smile that fills my heart with joy even when I just think of it, Dawn Antone, Jocelyn Antone, and Sakoieta Widrick yous will always be family, Vern Ross who is such a kind, supportive, and brilliant leader in the Two Spirit and academic communities, Jill Carter whose creative spirit and passion for language continues to inspire me, Daniel Heath Justice for all his guidance and for sharing LOTR high tea with me, Erica Neegan for being so kind and always supportive, Lee Maracle for sharing your wisdom with me in the smokers corner, Tyler Pennock who will always be like a big brother to me, Michael White, Nicole Pennak and Kaakaaki for your unwavering love and for sharing in ceremony with me, Shannon Simpson who is literally a life saver/ hero/the most amazing student support worker, Rochelle Allen whose dedication to and skills in Anishinaabemowin are pure fire, and finally a kihci miikwec to Deborah McGregor for believing in me and getting me into grad school and supporting all my breakdowns. Alan Corbiere for giving me the coolest nickname of life, oh, and for being such a generous and insightful nish-hero, the whole NLC family - all my badass language students who showed up for early morning grammar lessons, Bingo, and the occasional rant, Jesse the Youth With The Truth aka Shiihshiipehns - for being such a dope younger relative. Marie Gaudet and Jimmy Dick for being such badass knowledge iv keepers and Elders, and Nokomis Rosepan Logan for being such a beautiful and generous soul and language teacher. Terry Spanish, aanii aanii aanii - hope you have lots of bologna! Pat Ningewance for being a true language warrior! Doug Williams and Christine Smilie who are two really magical beings, Deb Pine and Bun for taking me in and out onto the ice for the best fishing of my life, Christine Smith MacFarland for being so kind and also such a source of inspiration, Ma-Nee Chacaby for teaching me how to cruise for women in Anishinaabemowin and all the mentorship you’ve provided me with over the years. Nicole Tanguay for being such a fantastic auntie/uncle hybrid. Mel Carroll for hiring me at TASSC and getting some seriously amazing work done. Elwood Jimmy for always being so sweet and also writing the best posts on social media. The BI fasting camp crew; Lillianpan Pitawanakwat & Pogo, Gloria Oshkabewisens- McGregor, Amy Desjarlais, my Thursday night NCCT Social crew Denise Booth, Karina, and the CIT boys for always staying solid, Tannis Nielsen for not only being one of my role models and biggest badasses I’ve ever met but also for spamming me with links to super gorgeous and affordable apartments when I got evicted, Sam Mukwa Naveau for being the slickest kid in the big city - may your network and ego continue to flourish and Tash Naveau, thank you for bringing Sam to the big smoke moreover for being such a gentle soul with a brilliant artistic eye. Much love to my brother Markus, you will forever be my chesty bestie. To my all Indigenous and QTPOC role models and sources of great inspiration, love, and pride; Melody McKiver & Erin Marie Konsmo, Ange Loft & alaska b, Billy-Ray Belcourt, Fallon Simard, Jeremy Dutcher, Teddy Syrette, Jeffery McNeil, Monica Forrester, Elizabeth LaPensee, Erika Iserhoff, Wanda Nanibush, Shane Camastro, Krysta Williams and the whole NYSHN crew. Many thanks to the beautiful souls in the Geography planning, my original wolf pack Sonia and Gwen who were a large part of what kept me grounded in such a new and scary universe, David Seitz for taking me under his wing and always sharing in hilarious and insightful conversations about BAMFs, so many thanks to Deb Cowen for all that you’ve done, and for working so hard to keep me in school and not just giving up on me years ago after slowly backing away from the department, Emily Gilbert for always being so open and understanding of my struggle in academia, and Don Boyes for being a seriously cool guy who managed to get me to do math again and make cool GIS maps. v

To all the beautiful more-than-humans in my life: robins, red squirrels and grey birds, geese, the sage grouse, all the wood peckers, Thunderbirds, and winged-creatures of all kinds, my cats Coyote and Taco Mimzy KweKwe, Zepperton who will always be in my heart, Tkaronto ahki, Anishinaabewahki, Skaniyatari:o, the bits of remaining forest around Tkaronto, the islands, the spit and the minks who dwell there, the beavers and red-winged blackbirds in High Park, the unloved city pigeons, green bin raccoons, and the subway rats.

ᑭᐦᒋ ᒦᑵᐨ ᓃᐊᐍᐣ ᑭᓇᓈᐢᑯᒥᑎᐣ ᐍᓬᐊᓬᐃᐣ ᒪᕒᓰ ᒦᑵᐨ

KIHCI MIIKWEC. NIA:WEN. KINANAASKOMITIN. WELALIN. MARSI. MEEGWETCH. vi

Table of Contents

Abstract ii Acknowledgments iii-v Table of Contents vi Glossary vii-xi Words Before All Else xii-xiv Chapter 1: Introductions p.1 1.1 Thanksgiving p.1 1.2 Land Acknowledgement p.1-2 1.3 My Introduction p.2-3 1.3.1 My Thesis Introduction p.4-9 1.4 The Stories We Tell p.9-13 1.5 Mixed Up Mixedness p.13-17 1.5.1 Journal Entry 1: Who Am I? p.17-20 1.5.2 Journal Entry 2: Where Am I From? p.20-21 Chapter 2: Language and Legends p.21 2.1 Anishinaabemowin p.21-22 2.1.1 Journal Entry 3: What is Ciimaan? p.22-23 2.1.2 Journal Entry 4: Tell Me About Anishinaabemowin p.23-26 2.2 Aatisoohkaanan p.26 2.2.1 The Five Moons of Winter p.26-27 2.2.2 On Legends p.27-28 2.2.3 What I’ve Learned from Alex p.28-31 2.2.4 Journal Entry 5: Learning How to Think p.31-37 2.3 Changes and Transformations p.37-38 2.3.1 Journal Entry 6: Significance of Change p.38-42 Chapter 3: Who is My Kin? p.42 3.1 Journal Entry 7: Citizenship p.42-48 3.2 Journal Entry 8: The Good Life p.48-51 3.3 Journal Entry 9: Relationship to Land p.51-59 Chapter 4: Transforming Spaces p.59 4.1 Journey to Grad School in Three Parts p.59 4.1.1 Journal Entry 10: What is Geography? p.59-61 4.1.2 Journal Entry 11: Maps and Things p.61-67 4.1.3 Journal Entry 12: Grad School (dis)Honour Song p.67-70 Chapter 5: Transitions and Ceremonies p.71 5.1 Journal Entry 13: Ceremony as Education p.71-75 5.2 Journal Entry 14: Honouring My Dreams p.75-80 5.3 Two Spirit and His/Her/Their Heart p.80 5.3.1 Niizh Manidoowag p.81 5.3.2 Working from ODE‘ p.81-83 5.4 Journal Entry 15: Aabitoose p.84-89 Chapter 6: Where Do I Go From Here? p.89 6.1 Concluding Questions p.89-92 6.2 Concluding Art p.92-103 References p.104-111 vii

Glossary

1.1 Anishinaabemowin

ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᐠ Anishinaabek - The “First people” or “Good people” referred to by non-Anishinaabek as Ojibwe/Ojibwa/Ojibway person, Anishinaabek is the plural form of Anishinaabe meaning Ojibwe person. Within the context of the language Anishinaabek can also be in reference to Indigenous people that are not from an Anishinaabe nation specifically

ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᒧᐏᐣ Anishinaabemowin: Language of the Anishinaabek

ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᒧ Anishinaabemo: s/t/h/e/y speak Anishinaabemowin/Indigenous language

ᑎᐹᒋᒧᐏᓇᐣ Tipaacimowinan: stories of history, personal narratives, experiences, and other “truths” that one has experienced first hand. These can be contemporary or traditional but have to do with lived-experience and practical “truths”.

ᐋᑎᓲᐦᑳᓇᐣ Aatisoohkaanan: Anishinaabe legends/myths which record the chronicles of Aatisoohkaanak. They are the base or foundation from which Anishinaabe derive values, principles, responsibilities, cultural philosophies and protocol. They are to Anishinaabe what shakespeare is to english, what E=mc2 is physics, and what mozart is to music. They are like an encyclopedia of the Anishinaabe universe and incorporate absolutely every subject you could learn about in school...and a whole bunch of other knowledge that you don’t learn in school. The legends are constantly changing, and evolving so that they may better be applied to contemporary life. They are not fixed anywhere - in fact - the act of writing them down (in a book for instance) makes them viii feel trapped and limits their abilities as a dynamic teacher. Legends are continuously shifting and molding with time so that they can carry knowledge from the past into the present and future.

ᐋᑎᓲᐦᑳᓇᐠ Aatisoohkaanak: These are the “main” characters in aatisoohkaanan. Unlike the legends, their characters do not change very much - their setting might as well as their shenanigans but their “character” is constant. They embody traditional teachings - but they are not perfect. Aatissohkaanak are meant to help Anishinaabek by showing them the consequences of various life decisions or actions. Many of them are troublemakers (tricksters), such as Nanabush/Nanaboozhoo, and demonstrate the consequences of being a troublemaker.

ᒥᓄᐱᒫᑎᓯᐏᐣ Minopimaatisiwin: not a definable term but basic concept is living “the good life” (in adherence to and the practical application of Anishinaabe language, worldview, teachings, culture , etc.)

ᑎᐯᓂᒥᓱᐏᐣ Tipenimisowin: Governing him/herself freely; not under contract/treaty (governance of the self/self-governance)

ᑎᐯᐣᑕᒧᐏᐣ Tipentamowin: Inheritance or Responsibility

ᓂᑇᑲᐏᐣ 1. Nibwaakaawin1, Wisdom: To cherish knowledge is to know Wisdom. Wisdom is given by the Creator to be used for the good of the people. In Anishinaabemowin, this word

1 Words numbered 1-7 are part of the Seven Grandfather (or as I refer to them, the Seven Grandparent) Teachings as explained on Wikipediaʼs Seven Gradfather Teachings retrieved from https:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teachings_of_the_Seven_Grandfathers on August 10, 2017. ix expresses not only "wisdom," but also means "prudence," or "intelligence." In some communities, Gikendaasowin is used; in addition to "wisdom," this word can also mean "intelligence" or "knowledge."

ᓵᑭᐦᐃᑎᐏᐣ 2. Zaagi'idiwin, Love: To know peace is to know Love. Love must be unconditional. When people are weak they need love the most. In the Anishinaabe language, this word with the reciprocal theme /idi/ indicates that this form of love is mutual. In some communities, Gizhaawenidiwin is used, which in most context means "jealousy" but in this context is translated as either "love" or "zeal". Again, the reciprocal theme /idi/ indicates that this form of love is mutual.

ᓂᓈᑌᐣᑕᒧᐏᐣ 3. Minaadendamowin, Respect: To honor all creation is to have Respect. All of creation should be treated with respect. You must give respect if you wish to be respected. Some communities instead use Ozhibwaadenindiwin or Manazoonidiwin.

ᐋᑯᑌᐦᐁᐏᐣ 4. Aakode'ewin, Bravery: Bravery is to face the foe with integrity. In the Anishinaabe language, this word literally means "state of having a fearless heart." To do what is right even when the consequences are unpleasant. Some communities instead use either Zoongadikiwin ("state of having a strong casing") or Zoongide'ewin ("state of having a strong heart").

ᑿᔭᑳᑎᓯᐏᐣ 5. Gwayakwaadiziwin, Honesty: Honesty in facing a situation is to be brave. Always be honest in word and action. Be honest first with yourself, and you will more easily be able to be honest with others. In the Anishinaabe language, this word can also mean "righteousness." x

ᑕᐹᑌᐣᑎᓯᐏᐣ 6. Dabaadendiziwin, Humility: Humility is to know yourself as a sacred part of Creation. In the Anishinaabe language, this word can also mean "compassion." You are equal to others, but you are not better. Some communities instead express this with Bekaadiziwin, which in addition to "humility" can also be translated as "calmness," "meekness," "gentility" or "patience." Debwewin—Truth: Truth is to know all of these things. Speak the truth. Do not deceive yourself or others.

ᑌᐻᐏᐣ 7. Debwewin, Truth: Truth is to know all of these things. Speak the truth. Do not deceive yourself or others.

1.2 english

Creeness: A word to describe my Indigeneity or Indigenous identity in relation to my nation or the state of being (Atikamekw).

Mixedness: A word to describe my mixed-nation or mixed-race identity or the state of being mixed.

Gender Queerdo: How I like to describe my gender identity in english. It is similar to being gender-queer which just describes someone who doesn’t subscribe to or identify with conventional gender distinctions or the gender binary, but with a twist. Queerdo does get used pejoratively by some, but for me I embrace being a queer weirdo, especially since I identify as awkward in many capacities (such as socially).

Non-Binary: Those of us who do not relate to or identify with the gender binary which is the classification of sex and gender into two distinctive categories; male and female. It xi describes a gender identity that is outside of or beyond male/female. A spectrum of genders with infinite possibilities.

Citizenship: A complicated and problematic term describing the position or status of belonging to a particular country or nation. Although not my favourite word, I do use it but more as a placeholder for my own understandings of some of the related Anishinaabemowin words described in the section above.

Burden-privilege: A word that I made up that describes the complex hybridity of some experiences for mixed people that are both oppressive or painful but riddled with dimensions of advantage or benefit that is access by presenting or passing as white.

The Seven Grand[parent] Teachings: How I refer to the Seven Grandfather Teachings that are described by many Anishinaabek but written by Edward Benton-Banai in "The Mishomis Book". I chose to replace father with parent in order to gender-queer the set of teachings. I have heard a few other young people and some Elders do this in passing, or some that chose to describe them as Grandmother Teachings. These days many more ceremonial people and spaces are moving towards speaking in more gender-neutral ways (reflecting back the Anishinaabe language in english). xii

Words Before All Else

ᐚᒋᔦ ᑵ ᐋᓃ ᐴᔔ ᑕᐣᓯ ᓭᐦᑯ ᓭᐦᑯᓬᐄ᙮ ᑳᓇᕒ ᐲᐅᐣ ᓂᐣᑎᔑᓂᐦᑳᐢ᙮ ᓂᐣᑕᐢᑭᓇᐣ ᓂᐣᑑᐣᒋ᙮ ᑫᐯᐠ ᐁᔑᓂᐦᑳᑌᐠ ᓅᐣᑯᒼ᙮ ᑳᐏᐣ ᒪᐦᔑ ᓂᐣᑭᑫᓂᒫᐦᓰᐣ ᓂᐣᑑᑌᒼ᙮ ᓂᐣᑕᐱᐦᑕᐏᐢᐃᒥᐣ, ᓂᒫᒫ ᑲᔦ ᓃᐣ᙮ ᓂᐦᐃᔭᐤ/ ᐊᑎᑲᒣᐠ ᐅᐣᐆᑯᒥᓯᐸᐣ ᑲᔦ ᐅᒨᔓᒥᓴᐣ ᐊᐱᑖᐏᐢᐃᐘᐣ᙮ ᓂᐣᑌᑌ ᔕᑲᓂᐦᔒ ᐁᐣᐠᓬᐊᐣᐟ ᑕᐦᐡ ᐊᐄᕒᓬᐊᐣᐟ ᐆᐣᒌ᙮ ᓄᐣᑯᒼ ᓂᑲᑵᓂᑖ ᐊᓂᔑᓈᓊᒼ ᑲᔦ ᑕᐦᐡ ᑭᐦᒋᓇᒣᑰᓯᑊ ᐃᓂᓂᐘᐠ ᐅᐣᒌ ᓂᐣᑭᐦᑭᓄᐦᐊᒫᑫᓂᓂ᙮ ᑭᐦᒋ ᒦᑵᐨ ᐊᓬᐁᐠᐢ ᒼᑲᐊᐄ ᑲᔦ ᓂᐣᑎᐯᐣᒋᑲᓇᐠ ᑕᐦᐡ ᓂᐣᑕᔒᑫᐏᐣ᙮

ᑭᓇᓈᐦᑯᒥᐦᑯᓈᐚ ᔔᒥᓯᓈᓇᐠ ᑲᔦ ᓅᐦᑯᒥᓯᓈᓇᐠ ᑳᑮ ᒦᓂᔑᔭᐠ ᒥᓄᐱᒫᑎᓯᐑᐣ ᐑᐦᒋᔑᓈᑊ ᑭ ᑲᓄᐦᑫᐣᑕᒪᐠ ᑭᑕ ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᐏᑭᐦᑭᓄᐦᐊᒪᑫᐏᓇᐘ ᑲᔦ ᑲᐯ ᒋ ᐑᒋᐦᐃᑯᔦᐠ ᐁᑿ ᒦᓇ ᑕᔑᓀ ᒋ ᑕᔑᒥᑯᔦᐠ ᔓᒥᓯᓈᓇᐠ ᐚᒋᔦ ᐚᒋᔦ ᒦᑵᐨ᙮

ᐁ ᐑᐣᑕᒫᑫᒼᑯᐠ, ᐘᐣᑕ ᓇᓂᐳᐡ ᑮ ᒫᒪᐏᐲᐦᐃᑫ ᑕᐦᐡ ᐡᐃᕒᐣᐄ ᐏᓬᐄᐊᒼᐢ ᑲᔦ ᐃᓴᑐᕒ ᑑᓬᐆᐢ ᑮᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᒧᐲᐦᐃᑫᐘᐠ᙮ ᐁ ᔑ ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᒼᐅᐣᐠ᙮ ᒫᐣᑕ ᑕᐡ ᑭᐦᒋᐡᑰᓅᑲᒥᐠ “ᔫᓂᐯᕒᓯᑏ ᐅᑊ ᑐᕒᐅᐣᐟᐅ” ᐁᔑᓂᐦᑳᑌᐠ ᐣᒋ ᓄᑮᒼᑿᐟ ᐊᑮᐣᐠ ᑳ ᒼᑖᓹᓈᓂᐣᐠ ᒼᑖᔁᐠ ᐱᐴᐣ᙮ ᒫᐣᑕ ᐊᑭ ᑮ ᑌᐯᐣᑖᓈᐚ ᑭᐤ ᐦᐄᐅᕒᐊᐣ ᐍᐣᑕᐟ ᒦᓎ ᐯᑕᐣ ᓂᑕᒼ ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᐠ ᓭᓀᑲ ᒦᓎ ᑕᐡ ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᐠ᙮ ᑌᐢᓈᐣᐠ ᑌᐠ ᐯᔑᐠ ᐁᒥᒁᐣ ᐘᒼᐸᒼ ᑭᐦᒋ ᐱᓱᐏᐣ ᓀᐣᑎᒨᐏᐣ ᐋᐘᐣ ᒫᒧᐏ ᓴ ᐣᒌ ᑯᐣᑕ ᓈᑌᐠ ᐁᔑ ᒫᒧᐏᓯᐘᐟ ᒦᓇᐘ ᑕᐡ ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯ ᐣᓹ ᐃᐡᑰᑌᐣ ᑌᐯᐣᑎᑭᐠ ᒋᒥᓇᒫᒧᐏ ᓇᑲᓱᐣ ᒦᓇᐘ ᑷᒫᒧᐏ ᐠᓄᐍᐣᒋᑳᑌᐠ ᑭᓇ ᑫᑰ ᐁᑌᐠ ᑳᑖᔨᐣᐠ ᐠᒋ ᑲᒦᐣᐠ᙮ ᑭᒋᐆᑌᓈᐣᐠ ᑫᐑ ᔑᓈᑭᓂᑳᑌ ᐣᒋᓴ ᒫᐣᑕ ᑭᒋ ᑹᐣᐏᐣ ᐁᔑᓂᐦᑳᑌᐠ ᐣᒋᓴ ᑭᐦᒋᑭᒫᓈᐣᐠ ᐆᑎ ᑲᓇᑕ ᒥᓎ ᑕᐡ ᑫᐑ ᒥᓯᓴᐅᑲᐢ ᐆᑎ ᓀᐤ ᐠᕒᐁᑎᐟ ᐁᔑᑫᐣᒋᑳᑌᐠ ᐑᓴ ᑭᒋ ᐆᑌᓇᐣᐠ ᑮᐡᐱᓇᒋᑫᐏᐣ ᑭᐦᒋ ᐆᑌᓈᐣᐠ ᐸᓀ ᑮ ᐋᐘᐣ ᑳᐣᒋ ᐊᐡᑑᐣᑫᐣᐠ ᐣᒋᓴ ᓂᐣᑕᒼ ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᐠ᙮ xiii

Kanukelatuksla - Ohutu Kalihwatakwᐱ Tahetwanahelatu Shukwayatisᐱ

Shukwayatisᐱ wahatᐱ‘ nikuhlisane’ tsi ne tyotkut tahetwanuhelatu ni’ kᐱke

ᐱtwatyatakoluk’ ahti onikalihotu. Ne ᐱtwatloli ohutsyake tyotyelᐱhtᐱ, ukwa:nulha tsi

teyᐱki’sniheh. Ne:e:sᐱ tyukiyahwihe ne takutihᐱs oneklasuha kale kaska:wayᐱtu

tsyᐱkiyawi’he honukwat okuha. Ne s tsi kayu wahyunthe’he kwah ok thiku:ne:se’ aw hite” kale tsyohtahkwaka:yu. Ne sᐱ tsi kalhayᐱ‘toh, nen wahta nikalutohtu’ tyukiyawi’he

nen oshes. Tᐱyetunuwelatu kutilyo’shu tsi ne laotiwahlu yakwate’kunihe, khale sᐱ

laotinehoh yakwatslunya:tuni, ne oskanu:tu: ohᐱtᐱsku’. Otsi’tᐱ1ha’shu

teyetinuwelatuhe ne he:neke’ latitye’hse tehotiliwahkwᐱ nᐱ skᐱnᐱko Ayukwanikuhlunihe. Ne kanyatala:kes, kahyuhatatis, kale tsi’ kana:tsli’su tsi tu’kiyawi’he ohne:kanus u:tu sk n ko ukwayahta Ne tyetinᐱwelatuhe ahsᐱ tekutanutele, yuki’kwahel

- o:nᐱste, ohsaheta, kale yonu’slake:tote’ ne tsi’ nitwakho’tᐱhse’. Ska:li’wat ᐱtwatste

nuh tᐱhetwatenehelatu akweku ohutsyake yotuni. Ne tho nuh yaw ukwanik la. Onᐱ

ᐱtwatloli lu’wayatakenhahs Shukwayatisᐱ kaluyake nu’kwa. Yukwanute tsi ne sᐱkᐱ lotiyote tsi nahte sakunhau. Yu’kisotne’ha, la tisakayuntise, tsi’ tetwatshᐱthos nithanes

latihawi:yukonoles aosakanane’ kanyatala:kes kale kahna’tsli’su, kale tsi sakotiwᐱhu

ohᐱtysoku’ kutnayelhokowats. Etwatsiha, kwu’teke wᐱhni:tale’, nen yowelatalihatu tsi

nuh sahawi kukwi:tene ahse tsyotu:nihati. Yukisotha nᐱ yohkalasne wahni:tal’, ne tyakonuhtu:ni ka kawi ᐱhunakelate latiksasu, Yu’kisotenehokuha nᐱ otsistohkwa’ha ne latiyataslᐱnihe Kaluhyake nᐱ yukwalohlike ohutu kaliwatakwaᐱ. Nᐱ kati ᐱyetiyatalohke akweku luwayatakᐱhas skali’wat ᐱtwaste nᐱ onᐱ teyakwatanahelatu tiek. Ne tonayawᐱ

ukwanihuk. Nᐱ kati ᐱtsitwatlohi’n ne Skanyadali:o tsi nahi ohutsya:ke tehotawuli ne

Shukwayatisᐱ wahᐱhane ahatlihwanotu Kaliwi:yo. Tahnu tᐱyetinuwelatᐱ kaye

niyukwetake tsi’ yᐱkiniku’lale, Tyukyehnawase. Ne tyetinehelatu tsi sᐱkᐱ lᐱtiyote tsi

nahte sakolihute. Ne tonayawᐱ ukwanikuh. Ta nᐱ kati tᐱhetwanahelatu Shukwayatisᐱ

nen kaluhyake Thotaskwaheh ne: Onyata’a:ka ukwawᐱna a’yakwayᐱtehtane nu uwa.

Ta ne:to nu yaᐱ. xiv

Waaciye, Kwei, Aanii, Boozhoo, Tansi, She:ko, She:koli. Connor Pion nintishinihkaas. Nintaskinan nintooncii. Quebec eshinihkaatek noonkom. Kaawin mahshi ninkikenimaahsiin nintootem. Nintapihtawizimin, nimaamaa kaye niin. Nehiyaw/ Atikamekw onookomisipan, kaye omooshomisan apitaawiziwan. Nintete shaaganahshi, england tahsh ireland ooncii. Noonkom nikakwenitaa Anishinaabem kaye tahsh Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug oncii ninkikinohamaakenini. Kihci miikwec Alex McKay kaye nintipencikanak tahsh nintashiikewin.

E wiindamaagemgok Wanda Nanibush kii maamawipiihike tahsh Shirley Williams kaye Isadore Toulouse kii Anishinaabemopiihikewak.

E-Zhi-Anishinaabe-mong. Maanda dash gchi-shkoonoo-gamig "University of Toronto" eshinihkaatek Nji- nokiimgawd akiing Gaa Mdaaswi-naaning mdaaswak biboon. Maanda aki gii deben- daa-naa-waa Giw Huron Wendat minwaa Petun Nitam Anishinaabeg, Seneca minwa dash Anishinaabeg.

"Desnaang-teg Beshig Emihkwaan" wampum gichi-pizowin nendi-moowin aawan maamowin sa nji gonda "Naadek Eshi-maamowiziwad" miinawa dash "Anishinaabe Nswi Ishkooden Debendigik" ji-mina-maamowi nakazong miinawa ji-maamowi Gno- wen-ji-gaa-deg kina gegoo Eteg gaa-taa-ying Gchi-gamiing.

Gchi-oodenaang ge-wii zhi-naa-kini-gaade nji-sa maanda gchi-kwiin-win eshinihkaadeg nji-sa gihci-gimaa-naang oodi minwaa dash gewii oodi New Credit, ezhi-kenji-gaadek "Wiisa Gchi-Oodenang Giishpina-jigewin" Gchi-oodenaang pane gii aawon Gaa nji-ashtoon-geng nji-sa Nintam Anishinaabeg. 1

Chapter 1 Introductions 1.1 Thanksgiving Address

The Thanksgiving Address - Kanuhelatuksla, Ohutu Kalihwatakwa, Tahetwanahelatu Shukawatisᐱ, Grafton Antone from his “Introduction to an Iroquoian Language: Oneida 2005-2006”

The Creator gave his thoughts to us to always give thanks whenever we gather for any purpose. We speak first of Mother Earth, Our Mother provides for us. She gives us all things. The different grasses and bushes that give us medicines. Especially the hanging fruit we use like the Strawberry and the Raspberry. For the forests, and especially the Maple tree that gives us its’ sweet juice. All the animals that give themselves for our food and for our clothing, with their leader the Deer. Thanks to the birds that fly above us and for their songs that bring peace to our minds. Thanks for all the lakes, rivers and smaller streams that provide us water for healthy bodies. Thanks to the Three Sisters who furnish Our Tables - Corn, Beans and Squash, the foods we live on. We agree this is true and give thanks for all that he has made for us. Let it be so in our minds. We direct our words to He who made us and the spirit sky helpers. We understand each are carrying out their responsibility: Grandfather Thunders still come from the west carrying rain to fill the lakes and streams and drive the monsters he did not make underground. Our Elder brother Sun heats the air/wind that brings springtime and new growth. Our Grandmother Moon, who regulates time and the coming of children, our Grandparents the Stars whose designs tell our ancestors the words that come before all else. Now we gather all his helpers and combine our minds into one and thank them for all their work. Let it be so in our minds. Now we speak of Handsome Lake during his life time walked on Mother Earth and Creator chose him to bring the Good Message. And we mention also the Four Beings, Our Guardians, who protect us. We thank them because they sill carry out their responsibilities. Let it be so in our minds. And now we send our thanks to Creator for giving us this place to learn this Oneida language today. Surely, let it be so.

1.2 Land Acknowledgement

The Land Acknowledgement provided by Wanda Nanibush in her 2017 exhibit at the Art Gallery of entitled “Toronto Tributes and Tributaries 1971-1989” translated from English into Anishinaabemowin by Shirley Williams and Isadore Toulouse.

This [university] known as [University of Toronto] operates on land that has been the site of human activity for over 15,000 years. This land was the territory of the Huron- Wendat and Petun , the Seneca, and the Anishinaabek. The wampum belt covenant is an agreement between the Confederacy 2 and the Anishinaabek of the Three Fires Confederacy to peaceably share and care for the resources around the . Toronto is also governed by a treaty between the Federal Government of Canada and the Mississaugas of the New Credit, known as the Toronto Purchase. Toronto has always been a trading centre for First Nations peoples.

1.3 My Introduction

The english1 name that I go by is Connor Pion. I am originally from Nintaskinan, quebec and am of mixed Indigenous ancestry. Nimaamaa, Sylvie Pion, is Nehiyaw/Atikamekw and métis2, although I do not know where from exactly as our connection to ancestral land/territory/community has been interrupted by intergenerational trauma. My uncle and I speculate that with our connection to the family name Boivin, that we likely have ties to Wemotaci First Nation, but have not connected with anyone there yet. I was raised largely unaware of my Indigeneity by my mother on Haudenosaunee and Abenaki territory in and around Ioniatarakwà:ronte - it has a bulge in the lake/river - chambly, quebec and A’nenharihthà:ke - place where the grapes grow - st. eustache, quebec. Nookomisipan, my late maternal grandmother, Lise Fournel, whom I have never met in human form, was Nehiyaw/Atikamekw and nimooshom, my grandfather, Denis Pion, was mixed with ties to significant Métis families from the 1900s (Gauthier dit Landreville, St. Germaine, Jacques, Lussier , etc.) but as far as I know his family does not have any remaining ties to any Métis nation or community.

1 I have made the deliberate decision to deny the capitalization of many “proper” nouns in response to the word Indigenous still largely not being included in the category by many institutions and particularly in mainstream media. This choice was inspired by Métis (Cree, Sohto, Dene and Danish) artist, activist, and philosopher Tannis Nielsenʼs thesis titled “Not forgotten!” (2006). Tannis described her thesis on the website back in 2015 as having “deconstructed/decolonized the structures of an english literacy by applying an anti-colonial “first-voice” Indigenous perspective; which was further emphasized through [her] repudiating the need to employ punctuation and capitalization.”

2 Métis is written as lower-case (métis) in relationship to my identity. My understanding is the capitalized version is specific to constitutionally recognized or registered mixed-race individuals who have demonstrated ties to the Red River Métis families. The lower case métis to me signals a mixed-race identity that originated from the union of french men and Native women. Although my maternal grandfatherʼs family does have ties to significant M/métis familes in the 1900ʼs, I am not recognized by any community, nation or governing body so I make purposely do not capitalize it in relation to myself. 3

My father is a first generation canadian, his mother from england and his father from ireland, he was born in ontario a few years after they immigrated. I was lucky enough to spend a great deal of time as a child with my paternal grandparents, and even had the privilege of traveling to england and ireland to connect with my extended family. Because my european identity is one that is quite accessible, encouraged, and well established, at this time in my life it sits on the back burner. While I do acknowledge that part of my identity, mostly as a way to acknowledge my white-passing privilege, I prioritize, nurture, and continue to build a relationship with my Indigenous identity as has and continues to be the subject of violence, erasure, and trauma.

Most days I identify as mixed-race, as Nehiyaw/Atikamekw/métis/british/irish, and self- identify as a non-status member of Tkaronto’s Indigenous community. Sometimes I name my british and irish parts for what they really are and replace them with (second generation) european or colonial settler depending on my mood and the context. Although I’m not Anishinaabe (as in, belonging/registered to an Anishinaabe/Ojibwe Nation) I am a linguistic relative through the Central family, and have been learning Anishinaabemowin () through my traditional teacher, Alex McKay at the university of toronto’s Centre for Indigenous Initiatives. As a member of Dish With One Spoon Treaty territory, I have picked up little bits of Onᐱyota

ᕈa:ka (Oneida language) and Kanien’kéha () through Dawn Antone and Sakoieta Widrick, the fantastic teachers at the Native Canadian Centre, and also through my wonderful partner, Jamaias DaCosta, who is also mixed with familial ties to Kahnawá:ke and was one of Grafton Antone’s teaching assistants. I also identify as ᐋᐱᑖᐏᓯ aabitaawizi/ᐋᐱᑖᓭ aabitoose/ᑮ ᐋᐣᒋᓈᑯᐑᐦᐃᑎᓱ kii-aandjinaagowiihidizo/ᐑᐣ wiin (mixed/in-between/trans/gender-neutral). The easy way to self-identify here would be to say that I am ᓃᐡᒪᓂᑑᐘᐠ Niizh Manidoowag or Two Spirit, and although it was an important history and politic at the time of its creation, and continues to be for some, I struggle to identify with it so I have picked words from language resources that resonate with me as a way to identify a culturally based Queer, Gender-Complex, and Non- Binary identities. 4

1.3.1 My Thesis’ Introduction

Colonization created a fragmentary worldview among Aboriginal peoples. By force, terror, and educational policy, it attempted to destroy the Aboriginal worldview - but failed. Instead, colonization left a heritage of jagged worldviews among Indigenous peoples. They no longer had an Aboriginal worldview, nor did they adopt a Eurocentric worldview. Their consciousness became a random puzzle, a jigsaw puzzle that each person has to attempt to understand. Many collective views of the world competed for control of their behaviour, and since none was dominant modern Aboriginal people had to make guesses or choices about everything. Aboriginal consciousness became a site of overlapping, contentious, fragmented, competing desires and values. - Leroy Little Bear (2000), Jagged Worldviews Colliding from “Reclaiming Indigenous Voice and Vision” by Marie Battiste.

Monture-Angus’ writing provides a “roadmap” of survivance by explaining how to negotiate the emotional conflicts that arise as a product of working within what Cajete calls the “split-mind: ping geh heh” of the academy. Monture Angus says as, “I have felt either confused or uncomfortable.... This feeling is rooted in my difference either as a woman or as an “Indian” or some combination of the above” (54). Monture-Angus named these uncomfortable and confusing experiences “contradictions,” which was for her the “state of being that I often slam into headfirst and the experience leaves me overwhelmed and motionless” (54). Having the ability to identify and name what she was experiencing in the “push and pull” of academia allowed Monture-Angus to “understand my relationship with the university as a process of negotiating those contradictions” which she says was “no good solution” but “the solution I can hope to secure” (54). The pain and frustration of living the “split-mind” for many Aboriginal writers, researchers, and scholars has developed in us an urgent need to create from that contradictory space so that those coming after us can better understand it and have solutions for themselves. - Emerance Baker (2008), Locating Ourselves in the Place of Creation: The Academy as Kitsu’lt melkiko’tin.

I chose to open with not only my personal introduction, but also a version of the Thanksgiving Address written by Grafton Antone as well as an acknowledgement of Tkaronto’s precolonial caretakers, treaties, and colonization/purchase. This is in accordance with the cultural protocols that I have been taught in ceremony and as a visitor to this now urban part of Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee territory. I find it especially necessary to make these acknowledgements as a way to open my own 5 ceremony - the ceremony needed for me to write this thesis in a good way. Before going through the strange and strenuous task of digitally transliterating Anishinaabemowin in roman and syllabic orthographies as well as Haudenosaunee characters and accents, I start every writing session with a smudge and either a vocalized introduction to my ancestors, a song, or a prayer that was taught to me by my language and culture teacher and mentor Alex McKay. Often this is followed by putting some ᓭᒫ, semaa (tobacco) and/or food down as an offering for my prayers. I am not someone who enjoys writing anything other than poems or creative non-fiction when inspired, and as I’m sure it will be reflected in various parts of my thesis, I find this particular process to be very painful and draining, so prayers are generally needed.

I started slowly integrating ceremony into my writing process when I began to receive complex essay assignments from my mentor Alex specifically engaging with aatisoohkaanan (legends). That’s when I finally established my own link between writing and ceremony and writing as ceremony. To me, engaging with Aatisoohkaanak (characters in legends) even by way of an undergraduate course paper, called for more than just firing up my computer and sipping on a caffeinated beverage. Then, after a few semesters of concentrated study of Anishinaabemowin and aatisoohkaanak/an I just got into the habit and found that if I’m writing about things I care about very deeply, starting my writing process with ceremony is both helpful and necessary.

One of the greatest barriers to writing this thesis, and reasons why so many prayers were needed, is my complex relationship to and understanding of where I come from in relation to my Indigeneity. My connection to land and my human and more-than-human relatives of that territory were severed by the violence of settler colonialism. ᓂᒫᒫ, nimaamaa (my mom) and her siblings were removed from their Indigenous relatives by the child welfare system, and as such, we’ve all struggled to come to understand ourselves as Indigenous people while also navigating concurrent mental health issues and addictions caused by trauma experienced both at personal and intergenerational levels. 6

My approach to what still seems like an impossible task for me to accomplish is to compile an archival collection of significant pieces of my own writing and art developed over the last eight years of my time at u of t and thoughtfully braid them together as a means to reflect on and account for the trials and tribulations of my experiences in academia and in the wider urban Indigenous communities in Tkaronto. By doing so I hope to be able to trace my transitions, transformations, and evolving relationship to my Indigeneity, to my gender, and the particular complexities of my claiming space within academia and the urban Indigenous communities as a white-passing, mixed-nation, non-status, and non-binary Nehiyaw/Atikamekw/métis/european-settler gender- queerdo.

The fragments of my past written work will be marked by subtitles labeled as journal entries, and the text will be unedited, uncensored, and italicized. Some of the pieces of writing may seem a little out of place, and certainly there are many noticeable differences in how they are written, in my tone, and in my lens, depending on the context and at what particular point I was or am in my journey. Many of them are not in agreement with each other or with myself in the present moment. I will try my best to elaborate or interject where I can to shine light on their meaning, but all the pieces included in this thesis are meaningful snippets of my battles with what Leroy Little Bear calls “jagged worldviews colliding” and what Patricia Monture-Angus calls, “contradictions.”

The pieces I have shared hold significance and consequence in relation to my mixedness and location as a mixed Indigenous student in the academy and how I have come to understand my place within it, the larger Indigenous community, and within creation. While looking back, more closely in the present, and into the future, I also thought it would be a useful endeavor to log some of my most treasured teachings as a way to share-back not only my personal journey but also some of the foundational types of knowledge that have shaped me. To me, this is a means to partially addressing my responsibility to community by being accountable to myself and my relations in 7 accordance with my own understandings of the complex urban Indigenous cultural protocols (largely influenced by the Anishinaabek) that converge on this territory and intersect with the academy.

What is important to note here, is that in ᐅᔑᐲᐦᐃᑫᐏᐣ, ozhibii’igewin (writing) these words on this virtual interface my acknowledgement, prayers, and other protocols are meaningless unless or until they are put into action in reality. With the climax of a decade old trend of land acknowledgements resulting in big institutions reading out a few empty sentences written by someone else while often also mispronouncing Indigenous nations, my own responsibility to these words is to strive to live them out. I try to overtly thank and acknowledge the land in action by struggling to listen, feel, think, speak with and care for it in ways that often contradict my urbanized, colonized, and capitalized dependencies.

Also noteworthy is the fact that as I type and read and edit and continue to type these words, though fluid now, will harden and become fixed as they themselves journey through the bureaucratic hoops of this process of academic mastery. This has also been an obstacle that has felt insurmountable at times. Committing my thoughts and understandings or lack thereof to something so stagnant where it cannot flex and fold, breath or shrink, nor playfully dance at the tip of my tongue often feels next to impossible. Thoughts become cut off from their life supply, their source, their circumstance, their condition and relationship to me and through me to each other. They are no longer able to adjust to how I move in the word nor how I am shaped by everyday occurrences such as conversations with my loved ones and friends, dreams and visions, teachings from an Elder, a conversation I read on twitter, a piece of art I liked on instagram, family or personal crisis, or ceremonies. By the time you have finished reading this my experiences and views shared in this paper will have already expired.

So why invest my time and energy and that of those so generously supporting me if I am so hesitant/resistant to the form and forum? I am not sure that I can 8 comprehensively answer that question yet, but certainly there is some motivation on my part to push back on the form in hopes that I may contribute in some minute way to the incremental shifts in the forum, following the moccasin-prints of those that carefully cleared a trail before me. The significance of this work for me is to try to use the archive to trace, sketch, paint, and carve a portrait of my journey along with my transitions, transformation, and frustrations throughout my time in academia and challenge the form by mostly remaining in dialogue with my past, present and future selves. I signal a range of different conversations around identity, particularly mixed and Two Spirit identities without directly engaging them. Instead, I have deliberately chosen to engage myself at different moments in time and space and in a variety of traditions, both textual and visual.

My very favourite word/concept that was shared with me by ᓂᐣᑭᐦᑭᓄᐦᐊᒫᑫᐏᓂᓂᒼ, ninkihkinohamaakewininim (my teacher) Alex McKay is ᐲᑖᐸᐣ, piitaapan (the coming of the dawn). There is so much beauty and depth to this description of the action involved in the first appearance of light in the sky and rising of grandfather sun, but one particularly relevant piece of the concept that was shared with me is in relation to time and space. ᐲ “Pii” in Anishinaabemowin can be described as indicating the future, ᑖ “taa” the present, and ᐸᐣ “pan” refers to what has passed. Together, ᐲᑖᐸᐣ describes that space in time or time in space where there is overlap or an opening of dimensions. It is a time where past, present, and future generations of ancestors can converge and share space. It can also be used as a time/space for reflection of one’s past, present, and future selves. One associated teaching that has always stuck with me is that one should always strive to be able to pray/reflect/do work from this place of intersecting time and that if or when you are able to navigate these channels you, as Alex would say, “have your shit together.”

Throughout this process, I am striving to challenge the form of the thesis and explore its limits and to some extent, its ability to mimic ᐲᑖᐸᐣ, piitaapan (the coming of the dawn). Thinking about my thesis in this way shifted my relationship to it, adding another 9 dimension of value and practicality that supported me throughout the journey of its conception and completion. Although I still fear the consequences of critiques that may come with this particular choice of form, this strain of fear is far less stifling than the dread I experienced while trying to explore any other question, theme, or topic of interest (of which I had numerous), without doing this foundational work first. Over the past five years of pursuing my masters degree on a part-time basis I’ve explored research topics such as Anishinaabemowin place-names and maps, the appropriation of Indigenous knowledge in conversations of the more-than-human, the significance of more-than-humans (and birds in particular) in second language learning, and Two Spirit access to ceremony in the city, just to name a few. Although all of these points of interest in relationship to writing a thesis felt like false-starts as most of them didn’t make it far past the proposal and research stage, they were significant parts of my journey I can see them woven into the time/space fragmented dissertation that follows.

1.4 The Stories We Tell

Stories, you see, are not just entertainment. Stories are power. They reflect the deepest, the most intimate perceptions, relationships and attitudes of a people. Stories show how a people, a culture, thinks. - Lenore Keeshig-Tobias (1990) from “Stop Stealing Native Stories,” an article that was originally published by the globe and mail.

A big part of my story is found nested in my mother’s and for that reason, I do feel it pertinent to share my version of hers. I identify it as my version because this story is my own recollection of the puzzle pieces she has dropped or carefully placed with me to hold. My family is still on its healing journey, and often parts of my mother’s upbringing are too triggering for her to share at great lengths about. This particular telling of how we became so disconnected from our Nehiyaw/Atikamekw relations has taken many years and painful exchanges, mostly over the phone as my mom still lives in quebec (and I don’t visit her nearly enough), and I didn’t really start digging things until I moved to Tkaronto. I do have to warn readers here, her story isn’t an easy one so if you need to skip these next few paragraphs (I will mark them) or if you can plan for a way to support yourself (physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally) before, during and after reading this, that may be helpful. 10

When she must have been only about seven or eight years old my mother had become the primary caretaker for her three younger brothers. Two were only a handful of years younger, Yvon and Alain and the third was an infant still, his name is unknown. Her father, Denis, worked long shifts in a factory that was only separated by a field behind their home in a small suburban town in southern quebec. He would leave my mother, Sylvie, in charge or her siblings sometimes for full days, and often also full nights. At this point her mother had left, so her father was working more to try to support their family. I don’t think it was the first time ᓅᐦᑯᒥᐢ nookomis my grandmother left, but at this particular time, it was definitely was the last. Throughout my mother’s childhood her mother struggled with alcoholism. She must have been binge drinking so intensely that she would disconnect from her family and disappear entirely from their home for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and lived on the street. While her mother was away, and my mother was left to care for the young ones, she would sometimes be visited by some of the male factory workers when her father was still at work. My understanding is that sometimes those visits were to make sure everyone was safe and to see if she needed anything, and sometimes they were not for the right reasons. Although foggy, my mother knows she was sexually assaulted during that time, and sometimes wonders whether her father was also implicated in the abuse either by participating or condoning. For this reason I am to this day not allowed to make contact with my grandfather as she is unable to trust him with me, even as an adult.

On one of those days, when my mom’s mom had been gone again for the last time, a seven or eight year old Sylvie must have heard the door bell ring or a knock at the door. When she opened the door she must have been greeted by the sight of her extremely intoxicated and possibly drugged up mother and her mother’s boyfriend or drinking or drug buddy who was in a similar state. Her own mother asked my mother (in a slurred french) “Are you Denis Pion’s kid?” to which she must have nodded her head in agreement or replied with a confused/hurt/resentful yes. Here I am unsure whether her mother entered the house to use their phone or left their home to find a phone elsewhere but the next thing that happened was her own (drunk/drugged) mother called 11 child welfare and reported that their father had left her children alone in the house and that he was unfit to care for them. I am not sure what the policies were like at this time, but I do know that my grandmother did not pass as white and if anyone from the child welfare followed up the call with a meeting, it would have just expedited the process that ensued.

My mom and her three brothers were immediately removed from their homes and put into care. Within a few weeks their youngest brother, whose name is unknown, was adopted by a family (in ontario?) and his name was changed, never to be seen again. My mother and her two other brothers were put into a series of foster homes and families where they experienced more sexual abuse, physical abuse, and emotional abuse. Although she felt a great deal of responsibility to her brothers my mother was not as able to physically defend herself, and so she plotted her escape by signing up to join the armed forces. As soon as she was accepted at the age of 18, she dropped out of school and began her first career in the military as a communications specialist.

While in the army she met an english guy named Colin Conroy, got pregnant and birthed me. My parents only lasted a short time together before that relationship dissolved and my mom left him and the province and returned to the only other place she knew. She left my dad with the house and most of her possessions and only took off with a gold toyota tercel and me in the backseat. She had no money, had left behind her post-military job prospect as a dispatcher for the cobourg police and had no where to go. Either she hadn’t spent much time unpacking her trauma or just had no other option, but she ended up finding her father and the two of us moved in with him and his second wife. We didn’t last very long there before my mom had a huge falling-out with my grandfather and we moved out on our own to a series of tiny bachelor basements.

After that, it was just my mom and I and her own battle with mental health and addictions. By the time I was seven or eight my mom had started to do some healing work and our lives became much more stable but to this day she continues to hold on to so much pain deep within her body. It wasn’t until I was 16 or 17 that while intoxicated 12 she dropped the fact that her mother was (and therefore by extension we were) Cree. For years she would comment on how I look like an Inuk (except she would use the racist version) in all my baby pictures, and when I spent time in mostly white rural ontario visiting my dad, other kids would ask where I came from and whether I was Asian. Both of those experiences took on a whole other dimension after that moment and I’ve spent every year since trying to unpack, unlearn, relearn, and figure out what that even meant.

My grandmother was Cree. My grandmother is Cree? Nope, she passed from cancer around the time when I moved back to quebec for the first time. I know this because my youngest uncle known to me (not the one I lost by adoption) who remembered the least and was less affected by all the traumatic experiences associated with their mother reconnected with her right before she passed. I also just found out that her sisters had reached out to my mother when we first moved back, and had asked whether she could take her own mother in to care for her while she was passing. My mother couldn’t believe the request as at the time she not only had a fairly new me to care for, but I think was also still filled with rage as she blames her mother for all of her trauma. She blames everything on her mother. My grandmother who was Cree. ᓅᑯᒥᓯᐸᐣ, nookomisipan (my late grandmother) who was a drunken Indian.

Our Indigeneity, or rather our Creeness, continues to be a significant trigger for my mother. Although she is starting to come around to recognizing parts of her worldview, spirituality, and cultural practices as very much Cree or métis, she still says things like “the Cree genes skipped a generation” and were all passed on to me. I suppose that it is easier for her to talk about everyone else’s Creeness, keeping some distance or a buffer for her trauma, between how she has put herself back together and her ᓀᐦᐃᔭᐤ, Nehiyaw (Cree) mother. Although fairly quick to accept and explore the new found piece of my mixed heritage, and later the consequences moreover the responsibilities of self- identifying as such, my own struggle is in its negotiation with and relationship to my disconnection from land and blood relations combined with my white-passing privilege. 13

For years I struggled with whether I had the right to self-identify at all, and if I did identify, what or who could or should I identify as or with or without. A confusing and convoluted exercise in accountability, self-reflection, self-doubt, and self-deprecation that continues to this day and will quite possibly never end.

1.5 Mixed up Mixedness

I want to tell you what it is like to be a Half-Breed woman in Canada, about the joys and sorrows, the oppressing poverty, the frustrations and dreams. I am not bitter, I have passed that stage. I only want to say: this is what it was like, this is what it is still like. - Maria Campbell (1973), Half-Breed. (p. 2)

The first novel I ever read by an Indigenous author was Half-Breed and it shook me to my core. I saw so much of my mother in her story it completely changed the way I related to her. For the first time, I caught a glimpse of what I imagine my mother’s struggle with her trauma and identity must have been like. I also caught a glimpses of my grandmother, and her and my mother’s relationship. For the first time, I felt like there was some tangibility to my Indigeneity and my own mixedness. Echoes of my mother’s own morals, protocols and worldviews - traces of her culture left behind despite herself that shaped the way she raised me. My understanding of what it meant for me to be to Cree got a little bit deeper, a little less rigid, a little more concrete. It was incredibly validating. The fact that there were others whose stories were also complicated by precarious dualities - deep wounds treated with rich cultures. It was the first time I really met with and digested a mixed narrative or even acknowledge mixedness and my connection to it. I think this book is largely responsible for me ever feeling comfortable self-identifying as a mixed Cree person out loud because I knew that it was something important, something political, but also something of great personal value. Campbell also taught me that it was okay for that relationship and understanding to be complicated, and that it would likely shift and grow if I kept nurturing it.

Part of my growing pains were archived through my essays over the years, as at a certain point I recognized the importance of trying to articulate my claim to mixedness/ Creeness. I feel as though each time I sat down to write my introduction, and define the 14 who, what, when, where and how I am Indigenous there were distinct changes in my language, tone or story. Part of that was that the details changed as I received more and more bread crumbs of information from my mother. It was also the learning curve in my own education around the politics of certain terms. To top it all off, I was also highly influenced by those around me. Some of my closest peers and mentors had contradicting views on mixedness and the value or consequences of identifying or not identifying as such. At a few times in my life I chose to acknowledge my mixedness but identify as Cree, and others I centered my mixedness.

One particularly confusing part of my grappling with my identity/ies comes from the french language - what my mother (painfully) chooses to call my “mother-tongue”. Métis is a word that has a whole lot of different meanings and misuses. My first real encounter with it was during my first day of a course on Indigenous oral traditions with the super nerdy, fabulous, and talented Daniel Heath-Justice. We weren’t in a circle that year but rows of desks and in more of a serpent-like fashion we went about introducing ourselves to one-another. At that point, I wasn’t too sure about my maternal grandfather’s heritage so I identified as Cree, french-canadian, british and irish. After the introductions, an older white cis-gendered man who was in the class mis-gendered me as female and told me (didn’t ask, told) that I was in fact Métis since the term means “mixed” in French. After whiteman-splaning how I should be identifying he followed with an amusing follow up question - didn’t I already know that? At this point I was still fairly naive and generous and hadn’t reached my capacity to deal with the overwhelming sense of entitlement non-Indigenous students had to Indigenous courses and the knowledge of their Indigenous peers. I kind of thought the guy had a point and asked myself why I hadn’t thought of myself as Métis. I immediately thought of Half-Breed and the particular context, histories, and cultures of those mixed relations of noteworthy Métis like Louis Riel and Gabriel Dumont out west. I knew people who used the term in Quebec but because my mother had described Nookomis as Cree, that’s what I felt most comfortable with then. 15

But after the encounter with the white man who told me I was Métis I think I was embarrassed and felt like maybe he was right. For a while I stopped saying that I was both Cree and french-canadian but that I was Cree-Métis. I heard and read others identifying that way, and thought that I should follow suit. Although I know better, and acknowledge that many scholars have written extensively on the nuances of internalized racism and/or the ways in which colonialism operates on the self for Indigenous, Black and all people of colour more broadly, it still feels absurd to think that I was so easily influenced back then - that my being corrected by a white settler would be something that caused me humiliation as opposed to fury and rage. But after years of being surrounded by brilliant Indigenous knowledge keepers and scholars I now know that that particular interjection by a random white guy is a perfect archetype of a colonial settler, and that the number of times I will have to navigate moments such as this will never cease to amaze me.

It wasn’t until I started spending more time with a few older status Anishinaabek that I questioned that piece of my identity again. Old-school status card-holding treaty Indians who believed it was an “all or nothing” scenario. Either you are (Cree/Indigenous) or you’re zhaagaash/wemitigoshii/white, and that your whiteness did enough harm, so you should stop feeding it by acknowledging it. I totally appreciated that sentiment, and subscribed myself to the philosophy briefly, but quickly realized how problematic it was for me to only identify solely as Cree when I was not raised being identified as such due to my fair skin and white-passing privilege. It would be problematic for me to move in the world and deny or omit my whiteness while continuing to benefit from it due to the powers of systemic racism and white supremacy. I understand the importance of and feel proud of my Creeness, but I haven’t spent my whole lifetime being Cree and most of the world doesn’t read me as such, therefore I don’t feel that I have an innate entitlement to claim being Cree as my sole identity. There are a slew of responsibilities I’ve come to understand and pick up as a light/white skinned Cree, or like Drew Hayden Taylor titled his book series back in 1996, a “Funny, You Don’t Look Like One” Cree. 16

There is a need to be very clear and overt about ones identity and relations if entering the field of Indigenous scholarship or any other public forum where Indigenous thought and knowledge claims space. A tangible self-identification (such as a First or Nation name, a family name with concrete ties to a nation or community, and/or registration with a Métis Nation governing body) is an expected protocol within these communities, and if not offered up front, a lack thereof can affect the reception or acceptance of one’s contribution (and self) quite severely. Creator knows how intimidating Indigenous academia can already be with high standards, harsh critiques, and instances of lateral violence fueled by the racist backdrop of the university. Not to mention all the witty memes, thoughtful insights, blatant rejections, and other forms of hype on Indigenous social media these days involving a certain white-settler-loved author’s controversial/claimed/appropriated identity. Indigenous academics, social media celebrities, and broader community members involved in these conversations must keep their pens, keyboards, and tongues as sharp as bear claws. Settler colonial violence is always lurking around the corner, and can take on so many familia(l/r) disguises.

For these reasons and many others that I have yet to articulate, I have always felt hesitant to join in on these conversations within Indigenous academia, especially in a form that may be recognized by a colonial institution as validating expertise or mastery. Those who have been, and have yet to be identified as abusing or appropriating Indigenous culture, thought, knowledge, and intellectual property often hide behind these more nebulous mixed identities and make me what to retract any thoughts or contributions of my own. My insecurities around my mixedness and convoluted Creeness combined with my awareness of and engagement with my white-passing privilege are so easy to trigger that I often find myself doubting my own story. Sometimes it takes been seen by a community member, or a conversation with my mother to reaffirm and reconcile my own Indigeneity which certainly demonstrates the importance of relationality. But I often think about how easy it is to fall into these traps of self-rejection and self-harm and how so many of us, status and non-status, struggle to simply trust and love ourselves. In the context of the ever-evolving systemic racism and 17 oppression of Indigenous peoples, and the violence of white supremacy and settler colonialism on Indigenous peoples and land from the to canada 150, Indigenous self-love is something radical, revolutionary, but often hard to act out on a daily basis. Part of my own exercise in self-love is accepting that my story has and will continue to change and that makes my Indigeneity no less valid so long as I self-identify responsibly and speak my ᑕᐻᐏᐣ Debwewin (truth) with ᑿᔭᒁᑎᓯᐏᐣ Gwayakwaadiziwin (honesty) and ᑕᐹᑌᐣᑎᓯᐏᐣ Dabaadendiziwin (humility). Sometimes this act of Zaagi’hidizowin (self-love) takes Nibwaakaawin (wisdom), Aakode’ewin (bravery), and Minaadendamowin (respect), as described by the Seven Grand[parent] Teachings.

What follows is the first two excerpts from a collection of my writing from 2009 to the present. These two particular entries serve as interesting and relevant records of previous versions of my story and relationship to my mixedness/Creeness. Although I was at one point rather reluctant to include these, and still embarrassed by many of the things I wrote and thought at those times, I do find it rather liberating. Including these outdated passages still feels like the only feasible way for me to enter into the Indigenous academic arena in a good way in humility and honesty about who I am, might be, and thought I was this far into my journey.

1.5.1 Journal Entry #1: Who Am I?

“[There] are alternative citizenships to the state that are structured in the present space of intracommunity recognition, affection, and care outside of the logistics of colonial and imperial rule (i.e. the Indian Act or blood quantum).” - Audra Simpson (2014), Mohawk Interruptus (p.109)

One of the earlier evolutions of my relationship to my mixed Cree and urban identities, dated December 14, 2010:

Having been raised in a variety of co-op buildings by a single mother on the affordable fringes around Montreal, I spent the majority of my child and teen-hood being identified as white in a neighbourhood where white people were the minority. I grew up with about 18 as much knowledge and understanding of racial constructs as any other light-skinned kid on my block - we knew we stuck out like sore thumbs, but had accepted that our neighbourhood made us all relatives in some way or another. It all made so much more sense when we were little.

After years of being interrogated about my (bi)racial identity I was finally informed that I was Cree. My mother who to this day refuses to speak about it, had slipped up and let the cat out of the bag. The only problem was that I had no idea what the cat was. I remember asking myself what “a” Cree was, as if it was some sort of dreadful alien object. I think it wasn’t until a Canadian History class months later that I finally associated Cree with Indian. At that point I had welcomed the newfound recognition as it explained the mysteries of my “Asian” eyes and my supernatural ability to tan (but wait...did this mean I had to wear feathers on my head?).

When I moved to Toronto and began exploring my cultural identity through the lens and medium of my academic career I was met with unexpected trials as well as pleasant surprises. After grappling with my own acceptance, I became included in a tight-knit community of biracial Indigenous students with similar experiences (and it turned out that those feathers weren’t a necessary accessory after all).

Coming to terms with cultural identity within the confines of a city in which one can be foreign yet native of is undoubtedly challenging. With the incessant coercion and unavoidable dictation of society’s ideological and destructive construct, the contemporary fictitiously extinct urban Indian is often left with little more than a Thursday night big drum social or an unaffordable institutionalized education in Aboriginal Studies on an “academic reserve” (J. Carter, personal communication, September 21, 2011). Through my own experiences with both the Native Canadian Centre (NCCT) and the Aboriginal Studies department (ABS), I have come to recognize and grasp the importance of the stories that are housed within the cultural spaces. 19

Perhaps the most monumental lesson I have come to fathom is that “Nativeness” is not something that can or should be limited to an understanding of the individual or community of human beings, but also what surrounds them. The word itself is indicative of location, but often times when analyzing and evaluating the construction and deconstruction through scholarship the emphasis is placed upon its reflection of the colonial view as opposed to an Indigenous understandings of Indigeneity in correspondence with a relationship to and with Creation.

So how could the mythical headdress clad Native possibly survive in the big city? It must be awfully difficult to set up a teepee in this concrete jungle. And what strings must they pull to attain year-long permits for open fires in order to gather into neatly organized circles and impart onto their young their wisdom of disciplines such as transforming into fabled animal spirits and being one with nature? Though ill-humoured in nature, it would not astonish me if these questions and postulations exemplified the (un)spoken inquiries of the ill-informed yet media-savvy minds of a certain percentage of the city’s residents. Thankfully for myself, and the majority of those I am associated with, the ability to kick in half a dozen grand to one of North America’s leading academies enables some to such privy scholastic insights as I have composed in this paper.

But the indoctrination procured through media representation and the studious investigation and rejection of its repression is in my view, by no means the sole method of the urban Aboriginal educational experience. In First Nations House Magazine’s Premiere Issue, Heather Howard-Bobiwash (2008) speaks to Toronto’s Native History and begins by emphasizing that, “[f]or Aboriginal people living in the Toronto area there is a long history of Native occupation which Toronto’s modern towers of concrete and steel may obscure but cannot eradicate” (p. 6). There is far more knowledge out in the world than exists within the rigid boundaries of acceptable media or university curriculum. As a self-identified urban Cree I am struggling to ween myself off of the seductiveness of mainstream media, and non-Indigenous depictions of “Nativeness” and attempting to learn and live as an Indigenous person rather than replicate what I’ve 20 been brainwashed to recognize as such. It would be much easier to utilize some beads and feathers to serve as crutches to support the weight of my struggle to firmly establish my cultural identity, but I would much rather look to the knowledge that surrounds me and learn through the stories of my relations here, the humans, the land, waters and the animals.

1.5.2 Journal Entry #2: Where Am I From?

An introduction from one year later dated March 1, 2011:

Pooshoo. Tânisi. Connor nitishinikaas. Quebec nitoncii. Nimaamaa St. Hyacinthe onci ekwa tahsh nitaataa England kaye Ireland onci. Kaawin ninkihkentaansiin aanti e wencic noohkomipan. Nimohsoom Wemistikoshii kaye Noohkomipan Omashkiikoo kemaa Eniihinawe kemaa Niihinaa Pwaan. Kaawin mahshi mayaam nikihkentansiin. Kaawin mahshi niwaapamaahsiin. Wiipac ninkakihkentamaan. Siyaaken maawin. Kaawin mahshi nikekenimaasiin nitootem. Ciimaanink nitashiyanohkii. Noonkom nikakwenitaa Anishinaabem. Namôya mistahi ê-kiskêyihtamân.

Connor is my veil or the name that I hide behind. I am Cree-Métis on my mother’s side and second generation British-Irish on my father’s. I spent most of my childhood surrounding Montreal and was raised by my mother’s family. Despite proximity to both Kahnawá:ke and Kanehsatà:ke Mohawk Reserves and frequently hiking around Oka’s trails, my family cautiously avoided identifying with or as part of the Aboriginal community. As a result of a highly dysfunctional family history, potentially surrounding issues of identity, I was not told of my ancestry until quite recently. As such I am only just beginning to explore and develop my own understanding of my identity as a Cree- Métis mix. I am also in the process of learning Anishinaabemowin to which my family’s language is most likely related.

In writing about aatisoohkaanan I feel as though it is crucial to introduce myself. My cultural knowledge and linguistic proficiency are at very early stages of development thus limiting my comprehension of the plethora of knowledge living within 21 aatisoohkaanan. It is difficult for me to know what the Anishinaabe world is. Being mixed, I am having to walk in both worlds without ever completely belonging to either. I do not know very much, but I will attempt to explain the way in which I understand aatisoohkaan in relation to my own experience.

Chapter 2 Language and Legends

2. 1 Anishinaabemowin

How I ended up studying Anishinaabemowin back in 2009 is not a romantic tale. At the time I was only really starting out in my journey and did not yet realize the significance and power of learning an Indigenous language nor my own. I was trying to put together my timetable before my first year as an Aboriginal (now Indigenous) Studies student and from what I recall, Anishinaabemowin’s time-slot (5-8 on Tuesdays) was far more conducive to my nocturnal tendencies at the time than say the Oneida course (which I think was in the morning) or Inuktitut (which if I remember correctly clashed with another course I wanted to take). At that point, I wasn’t really familiar with any of the languages offered, nor how I would or could apply them. All I knew was that I was thoroughly disappointed that they did not offer Cree. North America’s leading University and there’s no Cree language? So I went with Anishinaabemowin.

On my way to my first language class, I stopped to talk to a circle of smokers whom I recognized from a course I had earlier that day. After a round of introductions and some small talk they asked if I was joining them for language. I nodded and we all headed upstairs to the third floor also known as First Nations House. After three of some of the most embarrassing, hilarious, and challenging hours of my whole University career I was approached by one of the members of a resident Anishinaabemowin program to see if I was interested in dropping by to volunteer some of my time while getting some extra exposure to the language. That week I stopped by the ᒌᒫᐣ Ciimaan () office and helped cut out laminated words and parts of speech to use in a language lesson. At the end of that cutting session I was then asked if I was interested in joining the 22

Ciimaan group, along with Alex McKay the Anishinaabemowin instructor in teaching a beginner’s Anishinaabemowin workshop at the Ministry of Aboriginal Affairs. They assured me that since I had taken Alex’s first class (just a few days before) that I would be fine, and that it would just help to reinforce what I had just learned. I agreed. The rest is history really, so much happened between that first workshop in the fall of 2009 and the spring of 2015 when I finally jumped off the canoe so that another youth could take over and gain the incredible experiences that I had while spending my time in Ciimaan.

2.1.1 Journal Entry #3: What is Ciimaan?

A brief description of Ciimaan that was written for the new Centre for Aboriginal Initiatives/Aboriginal Studies website, 2015.

About Ciimaan/Kahuwe’yá/Qajaq

Ciimaan/Kahuwe’yá/Qajaq is an Indigenous language initiative that supports the University of Toronto community in the study and everyday use of Indigenous languages. Ciimaan/Kahuwe’yá/Qajaq provides space, programming, and support to the community of language learners and speakers at the Centre for Indigenous Studies, University of Toronto, and the broader community. It assists in the creation, facilitation, and delivery of Indigenous language and cultural programming for Indigenous and non- Indigenous students, language speakers, and learners at all levels via language workshops, conferences, and social and cultural activities. The Indigenous Language Initiative presents students and community members with numerous opportunities to gain insight about the importance of language and culture, as well as sustainable and vibrant ways of both learning and teaching Indigenous languages.

Ciimaan’s Vision

To contribute to the overall development of a sustainable and vibrant Indigenous language community at the University of Toronto and the broader community through the creation of projects and resources that promote language use in everyday life by: 23

-Building a long-term language learning community through social activities, partnerships, and collaborative initiatives -Providing experiential opportunities beyond the classroom that are rooted in Indigenous worldview, cultures, values, traditions, and languages -Supporting Indigenous students and non-Indigenous students involved or interested in the language activities within the Aboriginal Studies Program and/or the broader community

I can’t even begin to explain the variety and depth of knowledge and skills that I developed while working in this program. It was absolutely life changing. Over the years, Alex McKay who was the spark that started the whole project (and keeps the fire burning to this day) became not only one of my most cherished mentors, but also became family. I worked closely with him to develop new language resources, materials, workshops, games, and was his Teaching Assistant for both the introductory and intermediate language courses. Eventually I was also doing reporting and grant writing, organizing overnight language camps at nearby reserves, teaching my own introductory class at the Native Learning Centre, and facilitating weekly study sessions and monthly public language events. For years I did nothing but language related activities, what a dream! All that time though and I never became fluent. On my best days I was proficient. I could understand certain fluent speakers (whose dialects were closest to Alex’s), and if I wasn’t stifled by anxiety I could usually converse for a bit with them as well. I was always a written grammar wizard and had some natural talent for making it more approachable and easier to learn. I had never been more passionate about anything in my whole life. And all this due to a preference in my timetable!

2.1.2 Journey Entry #4: Tell Me About Anishinaabemowin

Interview transcript from a conversation this past spring 2017 with Metro News (MN) who was doing a piece on the Anishinaabemowin jenga aka “Baapaase” that I co- created with Ciimaan/Kahuweya/Qayaq (CKQ) coordinator Jenny Blackbird. 24

MN: Give me 5 examples of words used in the game: CP: Below are 5 popular action words (known to linguists or language nerds as VAI verbs) from ᐹᐹᓭ Baapaase (pronounced: Baa-paa-say), the Jenga-inspired Indigenous language game, also the Anishinaabemowin word for Woodpecker.

ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᒧ Anishinaabemo (a-ni-shi-naa-bay-mo) s/t/h/e/y speak Anishinaabemowin/ Indigenous language ᐴᑕᐍ Pootawe (po-ta-way) s/t/h/e/y build a fire ᐋᓇᐦᑯᓈᐦᐃᑫ Aanahkonaahike (aa-nah-go-naa-he-gay) s/t/h/e/y make bannock ᓃᒥ Niimi (nee-meh) s/t/h/e/y dance ᓇᐣᑕᐍᐣᒋᑫ Nantawencike (nanta-when-jee-gay) s/t/h/e/y hunt “verbs” in Anishinaabemowin as they can be found in a dictionary come with someone* performing the action (known to linguists or language nerds as the “third person singular”)

The action words are in Syllabics, roman orthography, (phonetics to help new learners), alongside their english translation. As you can see from the list, “verbs” in Anishinaabemowin as they can be found in a dictionary come with someone performing the action known to linguists or language nerds as the “third person singular”. Unlike english and many other settler-colonial languages, no gender-specific pronouns are used when describing beings in action. The only “gender” in the language is one that non-Indigenous linguists impose to describe the difference between the two ways that beings can move in relation to creation which are inaccurately described as “Animate” and “Inanimate.” One of the many brilliant and beautiful things about Anishinaabemowin is that it creates an inclusive space for an unlimited spectrum of gender expressions and identities. So if everyone spoke Anishinaabemowin, no one would ever be mis- pronouned! This is one of my favourite understandings of the language as a Two-Spirit/ Trans/Non-binary person! 25

MN: What are some of the games you've been able to apply into Indigenous languages?

CP: C/K/Q is an evolution of Ciimaan (Canoe in Anishinaabemowin), a project that was first founded almost a decade ago by U of T’s Indigenous Studies professor Alex McKay and a group of his students. Over the last ten years many games were created including a speed-dating game known as the “Anishinaabemowin Social,” a verb-based BINGO game, Anishinaabemowin pictionary and scrabble, as well as a few ultra-nerdy conjugation-based board games. Games are great tools for engaging people of all ages in language learning!

MN: How do you actually do it? Is it about having descriptive words in Indigenous languages rather than English, or is it fundamentally about creation of the games? Just describe to me the picture of the games in this style.

CP: Games are essential! They’re all about keeping language learners laughing and engaged. For many Indigenous language learners, the process of language reclamation can be very challenging. Learning a second language is a difficult thing to do for most people, but when you consider the impact of canada’s violent assimilation policies and practices, such as Residential Schools where speaking Indigenous languages was actively prohibited, the challenge is far more complex than grammar. Games create a fun space for language learning where learners have the support of community and mistakes are welcomed and silliness is encouraged!

MN:You had the first meeting last week. How was the turnout? Was it what you expected?

CP: Last week was not the first meeting, but one event in a series of community language events that Ciimaan, now CKQ has been hosting for nearly a decade. The turnout was great! A mix of students, staff and community from Tkaronto. There was a 26 mix of Indigenous community from a variety of Nations and language families and we even had a fluent language speaker show up to support!

MN: Tell me why you wanted to do this? What did you see in society that you wanted to change/ impact through these games?

CP: Indigenous languages are beautiful, brilliant, and important. We did this because we are all dedicated to supporting and promoting the life and use of Indigenous languages. We want to contribute to sustaining and flourishing the Indigenous language communities in Tkaronto. “This land has a long history of Indigenous languages and we mean to keep our responsibility to the land and those that gather here by speaking them.”

MN: Why is it important to you that people know these Indigenous languages? Why does it matter?

CP: Our Indigenous languages are derived from the land and our other-than-human relations. Our Indigenous languages hold such a breadth and depth of complex knowledges and understandings of these lands. Knowledges and understandings that are critical to our survival as Indigenous people, but also as settlers on this land. Knowledges and understandings that are at risk of being misunderstood or forgotten if we do not maintain our connection to our Indigenous languages.

2.2 Aatisoohkaanan

2.2.1 The Five Moons of Winter

Niyaanan kiisihsook kaa-pipoonk, The five moons of winter by Cecilia Sugarhead and John O’Meara (1996), ᓂᓄᑕᐣ/Ninoontaan/I Can Hear It (p. 38-41).

“How many [kiisihsook] moons will there be this [pipoon] winter?” he asked those animals that had been created. [Kihci-Moos] Big Moose with the big spread of antlers answered, “There should be many [kiisihsook] this coming [pipoon], as many as I have 27 hairs on my body,” he said. Right away those other animals were very upset. Some of them called him “The Stupid One,” and others just shook their heads because they didn’t believe what they had heard. Wiihsahkecaahk [a common spirit/character in legends] then answered, “It’s true indeed that it will snow and will be cold for a long time if we accept what you think should be accepted.”

[Amihk] Beaver then took his turn to answer, “There should be as many [kiisihsook] in the [pipoon] as I have scaled on my tail,” he said. Wiihsahkecaahk then said, “This is too much to have in the [pipoon], [pipoon] will be long and those other animals would find it very difficult to survive.”

[Aniikihsh] The Frog, who was down low to the ground, was heard to say, “There will be as many [kiisihsook] as I have toes on my feet.”

All of the animals told him to not make so much noise because he was too small. Nonetheless Wiihsahkecaahk decided that it would be good to have that many moons this coming winter, and so he decided that there would be [niyaanan] five [kiisihsook] during this coming [pipoon], which was the number of toes that [Aniikihsh] had on his feet.

So maybe during this [pipoon] we will see that [Anishinaabek] can survive during these [Niyaanan kiisihsook kaa-pipoonk].”

2.2.2 On Legends

In his classic novel on the subject of contemporary oral tradition, Thomas King (2003) calls much needed attention to the importance of narrative, stating “[t]he truth about stories is that’s all we are” (p. 2). All knowledge whether it be ancestral, traditional, societal, personal, experiential, spiritual or any and every other “al” suffixed adjective is conveyed through story and can be communicated in immeasurably limitless ways. Textbooks, newspapers, sitcoms, classrooms, ceremonies and smoke-break gossip gatherings are all vehicles for the transference of story. King stresses our need to be conscious of the stories we hear and tell in all of their mediums and to be cognizant of their innate ability to shape our personal and communal realities, our worldview, philosophies and most importantly, our way of life. A further correlating and critical consideration is that of the hierarchy of stories. There is inarguably a weighted validation on those written as opposed to those transmitted by word of mouth. The oppositional pigeonholing further extends to “casual” versus “controlled” accounts as well as that of the “mainstream” versus “other”. 28

Hand in hand with the language is the use of aatisoohkaanan, traditional legends, which are the mechanisms to cultivate, nurture, and strengthen identity while simultaneously instructing behaviour (Doefler, 2007). These living and breathing narratives possess the power to transform individual and collective lives and their application, as described by White Earth Anishinaabe scholar Jill May Doefler (2007), “allows for the same change- within-continuity pattern that has been a great strength of the Anishinaabe polity since time immemorial” (p. 27).

The Anishinaabe world is reflected through the communication of ancestral knowledge and teaching methods imbedded in aatisoohkaanan and tipaacimowinan. More specifically, the ceremonial and educational practices as well as the means to understanding and engaging with the self and surrounding environment. What aatisoohkaanan both reveal and conceal is an intergenerational fail-safe framework from which Anishinaabe can experience the world in relation to both ᒥᓄᑭ, minoki, healthy self-image and growth, and Minopimaatisiwin, a good life. Aatisoohkaanan are undoubtedly related to Pimaatisiwin, life (McKay, 2009).

In his text on Native American Literary Separatism Red on Red, Craig Womack (1999) asserts that aatisoohkaanan or, in his term, traditional stories “teach the origins not only of the material culture but worldview, values, and religious beliefs of the nation” (p. 53). In Doefler’s (2007) work, she expands on this point and argues further that aatisoohkaanan “are encoded with instructions regarding appropriate behaviour toward other humans, plants, and animals. They set the moral code, give insight into the governmental structure, political stances, and general worldview” (p. 138). Linking traditional legends to the political systems and precolonial forms of Anishinaabe citizenship, Doefler also notes the significance of the sociopolitical organization known as totems, or clan, evident in aatisoohkaanan and the significance of this system to the peaceful relations of all beings within a nation (p. 30).

2.2.3 What I’ve learned from Alex 29

Aatisoohkaanan (traditional legends) hand in hand with tipaacimowinan (stories, such as those shared through passing via friendly conversation) were far more pedagogically influential and transformative than anything I have ever digested from a textbook or mass lecture. Perhaps the most monumental lesson I have come to fathom is that Indigeneity is not something that can or should be limited to an understanding of the individual or community of human beings, but also what surrounds them. The word itself is indicative of location, but often times when analyzing, evaluating the construction and deconstruction through scholarship the emphasis is placed upon its reflection of the colonial view as opposed to the Indigenous understandings of themselves in correspondence with their relationships to and with Creation.

Aatisoohkaanan (aa-ti-sooh-ka-nan) can be defined as traditional Anishinaabe legends or myths. They are distinguished from tipaacimowinan (stories), as they are the chronicles of Aatisoohkaanak, the legend’s prototypical beings that remain constant (McKay, 2010). Unlike the beings found within the legends, aatisoohkaanan are in flux, and continuously shift and mold with time. Perpetual and boundless is their imminent ability to keep, carry, and convey knowledge from the past into the present and future. The dissection of the word provides a more lucid description; ‘aati(s)’ in this form denotes change (McKay, 2010). Breaking it down further, the noun stem ‘tis’ alludes to a navel, signifying birth or life. With ‘soohkan’ indicating bone, the translation conceptualizes myths as the skeletons of life with an innate ability to evolve (McKay, 2010). Aatisoohkaanan provide infinitely adaptable and practical knowledge, as well as the framework both for and of Anishinaabe life. Aatisoohkaanak as archetypes impart the applied knowledge of humanity. Aatisoohkaanan as the maps of life present the practical knowledge of the world in its entirety.

As an individual develops a relationship with Aatisoohkaanan/ak, one can begin to identify and conceptualize the characters as well as the breadth of knowledge found deep within the legends. These notions and understandings then become internalized and put into practice in varying degrees and manifestations in the listener, reader and/or 30 student’s life. Therefor by nature, Aatisoohkaanan have limitless and timeless applications for both individuals and communities. The ways in which they can be applied is dependent upon individual or communal interest.

This elementary semantic understanding of aatisoohkaanan shines some light on what many non-Indigenous scholars continue to grapple with when contrasting and comparing Indigenous and eurocentric knowledges and their systems. Indigenous knowledge and their systems are by no means fixed, frozen, or homogenous, but are characterized by constant activity, progress, and change.

Aatisoohkaanan reflect the contemporary lives of Anishinaabek, and contain unfathomable amounts of resourceful and ingenious knowledge and understandings of the social, spiritual, and scientific world. But the knowledge is only apparent to those who actively seek and engage with it - a foundational philosophy highlighted throughout each story (Angel, 2002; Doefler, 2007; Johnston, 1976; Simpson, 2011). Aatisoohkaan (an/ak) teach the value of awareness and the importance and ways in which we can critically engage with our surrounding. This awareness and active thought and inquiry is of utmost importance. This teaching can be applied to both the stories themselves and to our present everyday lives. Aatisoohkaanan act as guides to self exploration and growth. The more one actively explores, the deeper one can reach into the stories and apply their knowledge and guidance to one’s identity and understanding of life and the world around them.

Aatisoohkaanan provide Anishinaabek with guiding principles of traditional knowledge and education. Deeply rooted in generations of cultural instruction, the narratives are comprised of collective memory that echo the past into the present and future (Doefler, 2007; McKay, 2009; Simpson, 2011). They link grandparents to their grandchildren and grandchildren to their grandparents. Aatisoohkaanan become the blueprints of the Anishinaabe ancestral world, giving future generations the capacity to reshape and mold past events for individual interpretation. As such aatisoohkaanan are constantly changing; translating and transforming pending the shifting of experiences and 31 contexts. With each coming generation of audience, Anishinaabek breathe new life into aatisoohkaanan and the ancient echos of their heritage.

The fluidity of the stories which enables their adaptation into the present and future is embedded in their interactive nature. When analyzing the ways in which aatisoohkaanan function I find myself comparing the stories to a jigsaw puzzle. The stories contain countless puzzle pieces. Dependent upon an individual’s experience and understanding they will take one or perhaps several pieces from aatisoohkaan. Each piece encapsulates a graspable morsel of invaluable knowledge that can then be processed, internalized and ultimately applied to the larger picture. The puzzle however is never fully complete and the imagery formed changes throughout its builder’s life. This is my own interpretation however, and I must emphasize the fact that one’s understanding of each aatisoohkaan is in constant flux.

2.2.4 Journal Entry #5: Learning How To Think

One of the first essays I ever wrote for my mentor Alex McKay in his “Legends and Language” course. I titled this one “Aanti wenci-kihkentamaan? Aanti tahsh kaa ishi nihsitawinamaan?” dating back to december 2009.

Ahpi kaa-noonte-anohkiiyaan ekwa kaa-kakwe-masinahikeyaan, nikii-daatagaadendam ekwa nikii-mikoshkaadendam. Reflecting upon these twelve stories has been a surprisingly difficult journey. My only past experiences “reflecting” have been contained within a Western academic setting, where one is rarely encouraged to think for oneself. My past reflections were often limited to an articulate regurgitation of the professor’s clearly defined perspective. Like well trained parrots, we as students are all encouraged to echo the dominant opinion and enforce Eurocentric knowledge. That very knowledge is responsible for my overwhelming struggle with the stories.

In order to comprehend each narrative I was forced to unlearn the ways in which I acquired knowledge, as well as each and every individual thought and tidbit of information I had come to understand. That being said, it could only be expected that I 32 have yet to fully grasp every meaning found within the stories. My hyper-consciousness of the influences of Eurocentric knowledge did however enable the reshaping of my thought process. Eventually I came to realize that the more I thought I understood, the less I really knew. My most embarrassingly defeating struggles gave way to breakthroughs and brought me closer to the Aatisoohkaanak and deepened my understanding of Aatisoohkaanan.

My first internal battle was in discerning the nature of the stories. Given that this class exists within such an excessively Eurocentric academic setting, it was difficult for me to relate to the stories without bringing in western theories and understandings. Having been a lost and confused first year English student, I subconsciously felt the need to label the stories with a genre. An essential defining element, the literary genre is often the first fact established when studying a narrative. Though I knew that I could not place these stories within western categories of narrative, my mind struggled with the literary binary of fiction and non-fiction. It was the only means to understanding that I possessed. Part of me wanted to stuff the stories into neat little Eurocentric categories while the other was fighting to break apart any and all western constructs.

Firstly, I was ashamed by my automatic comparison of the stories to children’s literature. In my western trained mind, they all seemed to loosely resemble a fairy tale. With elements of humour and fantasy, the stories reflected upon a conventional moral or lesson. Up until Kaa-ishi-kihci-niiminaaniwank, the narratives seemed to mostly adhere to my preconceptions. In Cahkaapehsh kaye tipihki-kiisihs, naughty little boys are taught not to tease for fear of being kidnapped by the moon. With Niyaanan kiisihsook kaa-pipoonk and Animohsh kaye acitamoo, talking animals are used to teach children about the seasons and how one should never be lazy. Finally in Shiikawiihsh and Ekaa kaa-kihkenimaakaniwic shiikawiihsh, evil baby waste-eating witches were used to teach children to always stay close to their parents and to never trust strangers.

I found this comparison most distracting however as I read Animohsh kaye acitamoo and could not help but think of the Spot the Dog series. The images of the yellow and 33 brown cartoon dog subconsciously hindered any additional interpretation of the story I could have had other than the explicit lesson written at the end of the story. My brain was quick to label them as children’s narratives, skim the story for the moral or lesson and leave it at that. With that particular western literary form in mind, I found no need to look further in the text. Having no alternative knowledge to resort to, I found myself simply shutting down. I quickly found that this need to classify the stories as well as any other understanding of western literary theory limited my capacity to comprehend the more complex elements of the narratives. Though I knew that some of these stories could in fact be told to children (and most likely were and still are), I was limited by the traditional Eurocentric construction of a children’s story, were only one conventional and highly conservative moral is reflected upon. I knew that within the stories, deeper meanings could be found, however I did not possess the tools to reach them. Not only were my Eurocentric understandings of narratives hindering my comprehension, but the words themselves proved to be opposing.

Aan tash ishi e-onci ishinikaana kanooc Shiikawiihsh? The most arduous yet unavoidable impediment was reading. Having to read in English, meant absorbing the meanings, connotations, and contexts of each word, which did nothing but strengthen my Eurocentric interpretation. I had made numerous attempts to read and interpret the story solely in Anishinaabemowin. Both languages had their challenges however it was easier to concentrate on the minimal fragments that I could decipher in the language, than to drown out Eurocentric preconceptions. Shiikawiihsh ekwa Ekaa kaa-kii- kihkenimaakaniwic shiikawiihsh were certainly the most difficult for me, being led astray by images of cackling green-faced hags riding around on wooden brooms when indeed Shiikawiihsh was closer to a mid-wife or even a mother figure. At that moment I realized just how much the English clouded my understanding of each reading. The transcriptions were obviously never quite fitting, but it was more than just the words that were lost in translation – I was. The shifting of my thought process was well underway, as I found word upon word that seemed out of place, and itched for their true meanings. 34

Mii himaa kii-ishi-nanaantopicike omatokaanaahkonk e-kii-aapacihtooc kinoosheyaap ke-onci-nanaantohkanaac ini shiikawiihshan aanti kaa-ishaanikwen.

The means by which the woman searched for the witch are still difficult for me to grasp. I cannot seem to understand how the frilly lace band women wear on their bare thighs would help her navigation, unless of course she uses it to lure a man (who happens to be a good witch hunter) with her sex appeal.

The names of characters and the distinction between man and animal was yet another challenge that I came across while having to read the English transcription for the majority of the story. In Kaa-ishi-kihci-niiminaaniwank whether Shinkipihsh is a man or in fact a grebe is never quite clear. In Aayaahsh kaa-tipaatihsoohkaasoc Wemishoohsh is introduced as a stepfather but shares similarities with the water strider that go beyond having the same name. This particular dilemma goes beyond simple meanings lost in translation, but understandings and knowledge far above western thought. It goes without saying however that my attempts to interpret, though humorous at times, are incredibly hindered western meanings and understandings which interfere immensely with my ability to understand the stories. “Mii iicikaa ahawe Shinkipihsh e-kii-aancinaakosihitisoc.” My second monumental road block had to do with my inability to move beyond a Eurocentric understanding of the larger concepts within the narratives. Ignoring the western meanings of individual words was one thing, but tackling the deeper meanings was utterly impossible. They either conflicted with western understandings, or were completely beyond western knowledge and worldview. They very quickly began drifting away from my twenty one years of Eurocentric narratives, knowledge and perceptions. As we progressed through each story I was often sidetracked by a Eurocentric desire to ascertain the reality of the story within western forms validation. In western academics, we are taught to believe that only fact can be valued. For something to be accepted as fact it must adhere to Eurocentric ideas of reality. For those facts to be deemed as real or true they must be verified by generations upon generations of wealthy hetero-normative able-bodied white males of a dominant western organized religion and published in books of varying 35 academic origins. This makes the large part of my dilemma quite clear and explains why concepts such as strings that one could follow into the future and toothed vaginas are ever so difficult for me to interpret and reflect on.

One of the western world’s most dominant conventions is time. Time is a rigid linear system that cannot be bent or broken yet is accelerated into the future, paused and then brought back again when Shiikawiihsh turns a baby into a man. The man then acquires much knowledge, including good hunting skills, over an unsaid period of time, and is shortly transformed back into a baby again. In Niyaanan kiisihsook kaa-pipoonk however, the length of time winter will last is decided by Aniikihsh, and depends on the number of toes or fingers Aniikihsh has at any given moment which is quite a stretch from the concept of the tilt of the axis of Earth as it rotates around the sun.

Significant gaps in time are also found in the large majority of the stories which, as a westernized reader, were quite difficult to accept. I found that once noticed, the gaps acted as huge barriers, impeding on my ability to fully grapple with the content of the story. I was often too distracted by what went on during the lapse of time, and how and why it existed within the narrative, than what was written. After the first few stories, I became more aloof to broken timelines however, only due to larger concepts that infringed on my understanding.

In western society dreams are understood to be no more than random thoughts and images spawned by the never resting brain in overdrive. They can be good, bad, strange, or terrifying but it is not generally accepted that they hold any truth or meaning. In some understandings, meaning can be applied to dreams and interpreted as psychological or even psychic evaluations. With these stories however, the dreams take on a far more physical meaning. In Aayaahsh kaa-tipaatihsoohkaasoc, Aayaahsh reminds the seagulls that they had a pleasant meeting in his dream and they immediately recognize him. With He Dreamed the Sioux Were Coming, kwiiwisenhs follows a string-like thing which eventually reveals what was to come and enabled him to protect his family from an attack. 36

The most difficult for me to understand however was the dream scene in He Got Out of the Shaking Tipi. The man dreams that a white man gives him a gun. As he dreams he shoots the revolver and the man that he is with dies. Whether the man who shot the revolver is responsible for the death is not explained, but left for interpretation. Given western understandings of reality there is no possible way that the gun could have materialized from a dream, and therefore he couldn’t have killed the man if he was in fact sleeping. Within a class lecture however, we were taught to understand dreams as an alternative form of perception. This explains all three dreams further, but only to a certain extent. My western notions of reality are still impeding my complete understanding.

The concepts of shape-shifting and the blurring of man and animal however, were undoubtedly the most unrealistic and unfathomable from a Eurocentric perspective. The two had a noticeable connection. Characters often changed from man to animal and back without reason. In the first five stories though they still possessed significant fantastical abilities, the male, female and animal characters did not transform. Beginning with Kaa-ishi-kihci-niiminaaniwank however, male and female characters were sometimes named after animals. Whether they were actual animals within the story was almost impossible to discern. Oftentimes characters changed or were changed from human to animal and sometimes back again. Apart from stylishly appropriated legends of vampires who had the ability to change from bat to the un- dead, I had no prior understandings of shapeshifting. The explanation that made the most sense to me however was discussed in a lecture. It was suggested that the use of animals to describe certain concepts was a way of using it in a narrative without it being understood by certain audiences. That is to say, more or less, that the animals were used to describe certain knowledge or concepts as a guise. It could have been meant to distract white people with images of cartoons so that they were unable interpret their true meanings. This could have been for the preservation of the knowledge as well as for their protection from themselves. This was discussed in relation to He Killed a Moose and Killed Himself and the dichotomy between a Eurocentric understanding and 37 the possible true meanings. With this paper in mind, that particular lecture was a wonderful indication of how far I’ve come, as I was able to interpret far more than any other story.

Overall, I have found that reflecting upon my struggles with Aatisoohkaanan has been an incredible learning tool. Being able to dissect the challenges with which I was faced coming into this class enabled me to come to a better understanding of the texts and of myself. Much like the characters in so many of the stories, I am on a similar journey of coming to myself. I encountered many obstacles, made numerous mistakes and yet have come to realize that they were an important part of my journey and that they were expected. Once this was made clear I could relate to the stories and characters on a far more personal and comprehensible level. I began interacting with the stories in order to develop an understanding. Though I still have so much to learn, this reflection was a necessary step towards my re-education and the reversal of colonial brainwashing. Like the baby nursed by the witch, I must spit out as much Eurocentric knowledge as I possibly can, decolonize my mind and ultimately unlearn how I perceive the world around me. E-ishi-kihkentamaan. Mii we.

2.3 Changes and Transformations

In the 7 years since having been introduced to Aatisoohkaanan I can only now begin to acknowledge the legends as permeating nearly all aspects of my life. They have shifted my awareness, relation to and perception of the world and people around me and taught me alternate methods of seeking knowledge to serve a multitude of purposes or problems. They have also contributed to the ways in which I manage my health and how I tend to the health of my loved ones, friends, family and larger community. They have helped shape not only my identity and developed new dimensions of self knowledge and understanding, but have created new personal goals and underlined the path that I am now choosing to take. I find myself applying the legends to my personal life on an almost daily basis. In doing so, I felt as though it was 38 not only fitting to explore the application of the legends in relation to my university education and work but incredibly satisfying and rewarding. But these shifts did not come easy. There were many growing pains associated with unlearning two decades worth of settler colonialism and white supremacy in order to create space in my mind, body and soul for this old, new, and futurist form of education. Likely this is why I have been so drawn to Afro-futurism and Black science-fiction goddess/writer Octavia Butler and her Parable Series (1993-1998). Here, the main character, Lauren Oya Olamina, creates and fosters a spiritual philosophy and religion named Earthseed, which is based on the concept of god as change and embraces the idea that one must strive to shape change. There was nothing truly new or unique about what I was experiencing, many others around me, those before me and those to come also struggle with this shift, and the key to moving forward is found within Aatisoohkaanan. Change must be embraced, and one must carry forward and not get stuck or become stagnant.

2.3.1 Journal Entry #6: The Significance of Change

This piece is from an essay I wrote for my mentor Alex McKay in 2010 titled “Blueprint.”

There are no contemporary occurrences of catastrophe or celebration that have not previously been endured or rejoiced. Experiences in any and all conceivable forms have constantly been regenerated, recycled and reprocessed throughout history. Many are quick to believe that their devastating predicaments are the first of their kind and turn to higher powers to seek salvation. Yet it can be argued that new or unique happenings simply do not exist. Present day challenges are merely carbon copy of archaic manifestations. Despite this fact, it is quite common that when faced with dilemma we are encouraged to abandon our personal histories in order to move on with life. Guidance and solutions can be uncovered through the rediscovery, analysis and exploration of the past with aatisoohkaanan as such guides. Without a beginning or an end they constantly change and are molded with time and circumstance.

Within aatisoohkaanan it is understood that Aatisoohkaanak remain constant and guide us through all exploits. All flaws and weaknesses exposed, Aatisoohkaanak are 39 practical prototypes of human experience. In referencing their lives we are presented with a breadth and abundance of scenarios and actions. From the diversity of lived experience and evidence one can draw knowledge and understandings that lead to potential options, solutions or resolutions. Either through direct application or solely as an influential exemplar, aatisoohkaanan push us to actively engage with and explore our lives and the world around us. The further we are pushed to question and appraise our surroundings, the deeper we can then reach into the legends and apply them to our knowledge, understanding, identity and life. Aatisoohkaan(an/ak) have the capacity to reveal and exhibit the issues of the community. They guide and council community and familial relationships and responsibilities, as well as provide a culturally oriented framework for methods of understanding. With concrete examples of cause and effect, Aatisoohkaan(an/ak) preceded a passage to processing experience that transcends time.

As the issues and happenings explored in aatisoohkaanan vary greatly and pertain to such a wide range of experiences there are an infinite amount of personal connections and reflections within each legend. One particular facet is that surrounding personal and communal problems and predicaments. Aatisoohkaanak are constantly faced with challenges or products of their own dysfunction, imperfection, confusion or failure. One’s own personal problems and those of their community often resonate within such demonstrations. Intrinsically the legends become a framework for reference to and of dilemma. By nature Aatisoohkaan(an/ak) push us forward and into motion. As demonstrated by the legends, problems must be accepted and faced with logic and reason. Aatisoohkaanak never remain stagnant when placed in problematic situations. It isn’t until they move on with their hardship that the solution or resolution becomes clear. But whether or not their circumstance is resolved, Aatisoohkaanak are never attached to their crisis. It is established that this process of mobility is part of the problem and that problems are nothing more than a process characteristic of and inherent in humanity. 40

A certain old man in He Got Out of the Shaking Tipi (Quill, 8-10) is faced with an anticipated confrontation as he believes his fellow old man intends to kill him. What can be drawn from his experience is that one must not only face problems, but fight to survive. He is brought into the confrontation on his fellow old man’s terms and must find a way out on his own. The old man uses the resources available to him and through a dream state acquires a weapon and kills his fellow man. The alternative to his actions would have presumably resulted in his own death, but the old man actively resisted the precarious encounter and survived through his own exertion. Similarly in Mooshkahan (Quill, 39-47), Wiiskecaahk survives the flood by virtue of his own innovation and his acceptance of his problematic circumstance. There is a practicality exemplified in both Aatisoohkaanak’s use of instruments to survive and overcome their struggles. The instruments used enhance what their senses can’t detect or process. The commonality emphasized by these two legends reflects on the necessity of determinedly persevering and counteracting difficulties.

In The Legend of Aayaahsh (Sugarhead, 70-91) the dysfunctions and imperfections deep-rooted in human nature are demonstrated. It is unclear whether Aayaahsh had in fact raped his second mother, however there are numerous aspects of his family life and actions that can be argued as being problematic. His selfishness for example leads Aayaahsh to lie and deceive his grandfather the Great Serpent resulting in the serpent’s near-death experience. Many of his precarious actions and decisions however stem from his overwhelming confusion. After fasting Aayaahsh has an emotional breakdown as he is initially unable to withstand his crisis. He overcomes this impediment however by actively engaging with his surroundings and relations. His bewilderment pressures Aayaahsh to question and analyze his circumstances and ultimately fosters growth in the young boy. His journey depicts how chaos as a product of confusion, deception and imperfection can ultimately lead to questions and active engagement and exploration. The questions analyzed give way to the fundamental elements that lead to the actualization of solutions or resolutions and its resultant growth. 41

The significance of both the cultural and scientific dimensions of ecological knowledge found within aatisoohkaanan is evidently remarkable. The analysis of their potential application as an Anishinaabe ecological field program has proven to be filled with possible course material and subjects of study. With the support and guidance from traditional ecological knowledge holders (Anishinaabek from “the bush”) in association with a fluent speaker (or master storyteller) students would be taught the practical applications which relate to and broaden their comprehension of their physical surroundings. The generation of the cultural and scientific land based knowledge could then be explored in terms of its application to an urban environment, providing students with a holistic awareness of the world around them.

It is my understanding that language, legends, land, sociopolitical philosophies and kinship systems are the key mechanisms, guidelines, protocols, and jurisprudences used to govern Anishinaabek, the good people, or good Anishinaabe ‘citizen’. At their intersections are deep pockets brimming with philosophy, policy, and versatile knowledges which were established by our Elder kin, all the beings of Creation which lived prior to human beings, and continue to be molded, adapted, and practically applied now, and will continue to be in future generations.

Through my personal narrative and investigation of precolonial Anishinaabe perspectives on place-based relations between the human and other-than-human ‘citizens’ that converge on Anishinaabe territory, I was able to reveal to myself the skeletal foundations of Anishinaabe ‘citizenship’. Exploring the concept of ‘citizenship’ through an Anishinaabek lens through the application of Anishinaabemowin, Anishinaabe aatisoohkaanan (legends), tipaacimowinan (stories), kikentaasowin (knowledge), and pimaatisiwin (worldview) was quite evidently challenging, and I was only able to delicately and respectfully scratch the surface of the complex philosophical and political framework. Although my goal was to move towards, “Anishinaabe Tipentamowin, Topentaakosiwin kaye Tipenimisowin: Ojibwe Governance, Citizenship and Social Contract,” I felt like this journey only cleared an opening to the path of this potential thesis work. In digging up the tools with which to access the ‘rights’ and 42

‘responsibilities’ of precolonial ‘citizenship’ I have been humbled and inspired to practically apply these teachings in my life with far more consideration, and renew my relationships with, and responsibilities to these living knowledges. Below is but a short snippet of an aatisoohkaan, traditional legend, written by Cecilia Sugarhead (1996), Anishinaabe Elder, fluent speaker, and storyteller, and translated into English by John O’Meara entitled Niyaanan kiisihsook kaa-pipoonk or The five moons of winter. This particular aatisoohkaan was first read to me by my traditional teacher, and cultural mentor Alex McKay in relation to the Anishinaabek’s reliance on animals as a source of knowledge, particularly for teachings of consensus and governance. It is Aniikihsh, The Frog who taught me about citizenship and precolonial Anishinaabe governance, what will he teach you?

Chapter 3

Who is my Kin?

From man’s five basic individual and social needs and endeavours, leadership, protection, sustenance, learning and physical well being, emerged the framework and fabric of Ojibway society. It was the fulfillment of these needs for individual and social growth that formed the raison d'être for society. Each function in the Ojibway schemata of society, government, defense, provision of necessities, education, and medical practice, was discharged by a social until whose members were born into the unit and especially trained. Each social unit represented one form or aspect of public duty which was symbolized by an emblem, known as totem. The tootem was probably the most important social unit taking precedence over the tribe, community, and immediate family. - Basil Johnston (1976), Ojibway Heritage (p.59).

A key component of nationhood is a people’s idea of themselves, their imaginings of who they are. The ongoing expression of a tribal voice, through imagination, language, and literature contributes to keeping sovereignty alive in the citizens of the nation and gives sovereignty a meaning that is defined within the tribe rather than by external sources. - Craig Womack as cited in Doefler (2007), Fictions and Fractions: Reconciling Citizenship Regulations with Cultural Values among the White Earth Anishinaabeg, (p. 22).

3.1 Journal Entry #7: My Beginner Level Understanding of Anishinaabe Citizenship 43

The purpose of the following entry is to shine light on my introductory investigation and understandings of precolonial Anishinaabe perspectives on ‘governance’ or rather place-based relations between the numerous ‘citizens’ (beings, nations, and confederacies, both human and other-than-human,) that converge on Anishinaabe territory. In it I explore concepts of ‘citizenship’ through an Anishinaabek lens as well as a personal and theoretical analysis and practical application of Anishinaabemowin, Anishinaabe aatisoohkaanan (legends), tipaacimowinan (stories), kikentaasowin (knowledge), and pimaatisiwin (worldview). Below I included a few excerpts from my own 2013 work including my introduction, and overviews of the clan system, kinship and relations,natural law, and diplomatic relationships and treaties. It was titled “Anishinaabe Tipentamowin, Topentaakosiwin kaye Tipenimisowin: Ojibwe Governance, Citizenship and Social Contract.”

For the past 91 moons I have lived and grown on the traditional territory of the Anishinaabek known as the Mississaugas of the New Credit and as such, my education has been lead by Anishinaabek. As a “mixed-race” and non-status Indigenous person, the concept of citizenship and its sticky entanglement in identity is inherently personal and complex. A preliminary reading of the related literature (by Anishinaabe scholars) suggests a strong correlation between governance at the level of the individual/self and the collective/society, and that the ethics and values foundational to pimaatisiwin are constant, and guide the conduct of the self and all relations - family, clan, nation and other-than-human (Ariss, Cutfeet, 2011; Doefler, 2007; Johnston, 1976; Makokis, 2008; Simpson, 2008; Stark, 2012). In other words, ‘good governance’ (apolitical/political relations) begins with ‘good citizens’ (self-governing individuals) in complete absence of a sovereign power.

The research methodology and presentation of the paper will be rooted in my own understandings of Indigenous scholarship and greatly influenced by the use of story (personal and cultural narratives) by Anishinaabek within academia such as Basil Johnston (Neyaashiinigmiing No. 27), Leanne Betasamosake Simpson 44

(Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg), Harold Johnson (Cree from Northern Saskatchewan) , and Heidi Kiiwetinepinesiik Stark (Turtle Mountain Ojibwe). Using Anishinaabe Pimaatisiwin as the founding philosophy and methodology for this paper is suitable in the theoretical examination of how Anishinaabemowin and Aatisoohkaanan/Tipaacimowinan constitute the idea of precolonial citizenship and the complex entanglement of literature, political philosophy/knowledge and identity.

Tootemak, clans, are described by anthropologists as a non-localized patrilineal kinship network (Peer, Brown, 534). Others such as Ethnohistorian Harold Hickerson argue that there is evidence of a prior form of sociopolitical organization which was matrilineal, illustrating that Anishinaabe political systems were not static pre-colonization (as cited in Doefler, 2007, p. 30). To Anishinaabek, tootemak are understood as foundational to political culture, social system, and identity, connecting human families to animal nations and territories, and establishing particular responsibilities amongst clan members related to governance, and others to the well being of a particular part of the territory and the beings who dwell within (Simpson, 33). Johnston (1976) emphasized the significance of this relationship to the animal nations, along with a deep appreciation for the pre-knowledge and pre-science that these elder kin carried, Anishinaabek recognized the “external manifestation of the elemental nature and quality” of their inner being - their character (53). Awiyaashiihshak, Animal-beings, are recognized as having the unique capacities to sense the changes of the world. Having been placed on the earth prior to Anishinaabek, Awiyaashiihshak possess pre- knowledge and pre-science which was integral to the survival. For example, acitamook, squirrels, worked hard preparing large quantities of food supply and digging deep dens as they sensed the quality of winter’s arrival (Johnston, 53). Anishinaabek look up to these elder kin and learn from them by establishing meaningful relationships, and through methodological and non-intrusive observation. Mikisi tootem, eagle clan for example, signified courage, and pre-knowledge and belonged to a wider family of clans who functioned in a leadership capacity. Mahiinkan tootemak, wolf clan members are known for their perseverance and guardianship, and their roles relate defense whereas 45

Mikinaak tootemak,turtle clan members carry the traits of communication and emissaries and their purpose was of a medicinal nature.

As anthropologist Alfred Irving Hallowell notes in his chapter of The Ojibwa of Berens River: Ethnography into History entitled ‘Ecological Adaptation and Social Organization’, Anishinaabe social organization was, and remains, rooted in the land and the pre- knowledge of other-than-human beings (Hallowell, 43; Johnston, 53). Along with the fluctuations in the physical environment marked by the seasonal and recurrent behaviours and activity of other-than-humans (i.e. bird migration, breaking of the ice, appearance of leaves on deciduous trees), are correlating sociocultural systems (occupations, activities, ceremonies, movements and social groupings). The lunar calendars created by Anishinaabek reflected the cyclicality of other-than-human activity distinguished by each moon and season, as well as the annual orientation of human sociocultural activity. In adhering to these fluctuations in both the physical environment and its other-than-human citizens, Anishinaabek move through territory seasonally and hold no fixed land-specific community year round.

Nihki-piihsim, May, for example, was named ‘Goose Moon’ as these migrant birds not only made their first appearance during this time, but they also signified the arrival of the fishing season with the breaking of the ice at the beginning of the following moon (Beardy, 244; Hallowell, 43). When the ice brakes, small groups of extended family members, who hunted together on winter hunting grounds, are brought together as they move their camps to traditional communal fishing grounds. Siikwan, spring, and the gathering of winter hunting groups, gives way to social activity on a much greater scale where ceremony, dances, and extended familial, kin, and clan reunions carried on into niipin, summer (Beardy, 246; Hallowell, 48).

As takwaakin, fall, moves into pipoon, winter, extended families, kin, and clan form back into smaller hunting groups and journey towards their winter hunting grounds, or trap line (Beardy, 262, 258). Waniihikewinan, trap lines, can be defined as a particular tract of land with which each group holds long-standing relations, its size is dependent upon 46 the number of active hunters, animal-beings, and topography however geographical area was of secondary importance (Hallowell, 45). As Hallowell (45) continues to describe the hunting system particular to the Anishinaabek of Berens River, he records the existence of unmarked boundaries which demarcate the extended families’ territory, and emphasizes that the rights associated with use of the land were recognized upon customary use, and not possession of the land.

In addition to providing a practical framework for navigating obstacles, aatisoohkaanan also serve as a guide to relations and relationships and the responsibilities implicit in kinship. As highly social beings, relations and relationships are eminent in human life and experience. Aatisookaanak exemplify the complexities and intricacies of relations from affiliations and affinities to consanguinity. Though as previously established Aatisookaanak are imperfect and can demonstrate caution parallel to instruction. Kinship roles and responsibilities are also explored thoroughly and provide the bare bones of social interaction and engagement. Along with the establishment of the kinship system, aatisoohkaanan provide knowledge of general protocol and patterns of interpersonal behavior within and outside of direct kinship. Furthermore the exposition of relationships of and amongst kin is also expressed at an intergenerational level.

The Boy that was carried away by a Bear (Jones, 270-279) is exemplary of the social relations between grandparents and grandchildren. As a survivor of abuse the young boy finds shelter and protection in his relationship with his grandfather, the Bear. The Bear’s role is one of security as well guidance and instruction. The boy’s grandfather is presented as nurturing and nourishing his grandson’s physical, emotional, spiritual and intellectual growth. The responsibilities of grandparents are extended not only to their immediate grandchildren but additionally those of their siblings. And just as extended grandchildren are adopted within human structures of social relations of kinship, animals may also adopt outside of their immediate blood-relations. The relationship between animal and human grandparents and their grandchildren is no exception to the structure of social relation and responsibility as mentioned above. Parental and sibling relations are also illustrated in The Legend of Aayaahsh and Blue Garter respectively. 47

Issues and understandings surrounding the commonality of dysfunction, the consequence of dependence, and the influence of support and nourishment are also established. Additionally, the cultural protocols and social expectation of relationships amongst community members and outsiders both separately and in respect to each other are exemplified in The Moons of Winter and He Got Out of the Shaking Tent.

Throughout each story the significance and influence of relationships is demonstrated. Whether it is examined through the connections between lovers, family and communities or by casual interactions between strangers, it is evident that as humans we are deeply moved and shaped by our relations. These relations can impact our lives in both positive and negative ways. Yet regardless of their nature, these relations give way to one’s understanding, knowledge and life experience. The ways in which we are influenced by our relationships in both the directions that they may push us and the wealth of knowledge and experience that is transferred is invaluable. Often times an awareness of the value of these relations fosters a deep appreciation for and connection with the being(s). However hand in hand with the experience of life is also death, and with death comes equally significant relations. As explored in the stories and throughout many lectures over the course of the semester, death is understood as being part of the cycle of life. Birth itself is part of the process of death and one has no choice other than to live through it. In addition to understanding and accepting death as but one stage of the cycle of life, one must actively engage with the experience. Unlike in the western world were wills are prepared as to keep a safe (paper) distance between one’s relatives and death, Aatisoohkaanak are actively involved in both their own death and that of their relatives. The dead themselves are also actively engaged with living relations through ceremony and frequent visitations. Feasts are held and grave visitations with offerings of food and drink are common where the deceased’s relations may say words of respect to or of the individual. This understanding of death and the social protocol surrounding death is reflective of almost all other facets of knowledge depicted by Aatisoohkaan(an/ak). A critical awareness of one’s surroundings and the active engagement of that environment are of utmost importance. 48

There are innumerable ways in which Aatisoohkaanak demonstrate a profound critical awareness. Though no character can be described as being “perfect” or truly “good”, each and every character is (in their own way) remarkably perceptive, inquisitive, analytical and highly intelligent. Through each character’s narrative, aatisoohkaanan embody an extensive compilation of remarkably innovative radically advanced knowledge. Though aatisoohkaanan are not recognized as scientific manuals, the scientific insight and ingenuity illustrated in the stories is undeniably innovative. From basic to revolutionary, natural to social, aatisoohkaanan include the theory and practical application of highly complex knowledges and technologies, that settler science is only beginning to catch up to.

3.2 Journal Entry #8: The Good Life

From my piece in 2013 titled “Anishinaabe Tipentamowin, Topentaakosiwin kaye Tipenimisowin: Ojibwe Governance, Citizenship and Social Contract.” When I still didn’t know that it probably wasn’t my place to be talking about Anishinaabek’s understandings of Minopimaatisiwin as a non-Anishinaabe person.

The Aboriginal view of land rights encompasses both a notion of time as occupation (past, present and future) and a notion of spiritual occupation or connection….The relationship to land is seen not solely as a right but equally as a responsibility. -Patricia Monture-Angus (1999) in Journeying Forward: Dreaming First Nations’ Independence, (p. 57).

The research methodology and presentation of this paper is rooted in my own understandings of Indigenous scholarship and greatly influenced by the use of story (personal and cultural narratives) by Anishinaabek within academia such as Basil Johnston (Neyaashiinigmiing Indian Reserve No. 27), Leanne Betasamosake Simpson (Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg), Harold Johnson (Cree from Northern Saskatchewan) , and Heidi Kiiwetinepinesiik Stark (Turtle Mountain Ojibwe). Using Anishinaabe Pimaatisiwin, the good life, as the founding philosophy and methodology for this paper is suitable in the theoretical examination of how Anishinaabemowin, language, and Aatisoohkanan/ Tipaacimowinan, legends/stories, contribute to discussions around precolonial 49 citizenship and the complex entanglement of literature, political philosophy/knowledge and identity.

A preliminary reading of the related literature (by Anishinaabe scholars) suggests a strong correlation between governance at the level of the individual/self and the collective/society, and that the ethics and values foundational to Minopimaatisiwin, living a good life, are constant, and guide the conduct of the self and all relations - family, clan, nation and other-than-human (Ariss, Cutfeet, 2011; Doefler, 2007; Johnston, 1976; Makokis, 2008; Simpson, 2008; Stark, 2012). In other words, ‘good governance’ (apolitical/political relations) begins with the ‘good citizens’ (self-governing individuals) in complete absence of a sovereign power through Minopimaatisiwin, ‘the good life’.

Minopimaatisiwin can be understood as “living well, having good health, and leading a good life” as defined in Nichols and Nyholm’s (1995) Concise Dictionary of Minnesota Ojibwe. As cited by Doefler (2007), anthropologist Melissa Pflug defines the term as “the good, healthy, and moral collective life,” expanding on this Doefler argues that it is a worldview in which groups are given roles and responsibilities which work collectively to create a rewarding, ethical, and nourishing life (p. 13). D’Arcy Ishpeming’enzaabid Rheault (1998), an Anishinaabe/French Canadian scholar originally from Timmins, Ontario, describes the concept as the ideal path which is set out for Anishinaabek by Kihci Manidoo, Creator, in which an individual moves through life as a unified aspect of Creation and not as a subject separate from other beings in the world (p. 133-141). From his perspective, and under the guidance of a community of well-known Anishinaabe Elders such as Edna Asinii-kwe Manitowabi () and Lillian Biidawe’aandamod oo kwe Osawamick-Bourgeois (Odawa), Ishpeming’enzaabid’s (Rheault, 1998) definition is as follows, “Mino-Bimaadiziwin: The Way of a Good Life. In order to have a good life one must have a goal. This goal is to be free from illness, to live the fullest. Bimaadiziwin is based on a concept of health and good living. One must work on prevention and not only healing. It is a Holy Life. One must eat well, act well, 50 and live physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually well. Emotional well-being is a key to Bimaadiziwin” (p. xxv).

I’ve heavily sourced this particular concept as it is not one which is every explicitly taught. Minopimaatisiwin seems out of place within the context of an academic paper as it is not something which can be easily defined or encapsulated, and the challenge is furthered by the limitations of the English language and associated Western worldviews. My own understanding of Minopimaatisiwin or Anishinaabe-pimaatisiwin, the Anishinaabe way of life, is limited as one can never fully grasp all aspects of the good life without experiencing the philosophy in practice, and I am only at the very beginning of my journey. Anishinaabemowin, aatisoohkaanan kaye Manidookewinan; language, legends, and ceremony are the tools necessary and utilized to discover this philosophy further along with who we are, our role in Creation, and the manner and place from which we govern ourselves in relation to all beings (Makokis, 2008).

From an Anishinaabe perspective, language, land, and beings (human and non-/other- than-human alike) are inseparable. Jacob Ostaman, resident of Kitchenuhmaykoosib (Big Trout Lake First Nation), describes the intersections of language, land and identity as critical to any discussion of IK in relation to geography (Wilkes, 2011). “We are the land. We’re not only part of it, but we are. In our language, we say Niinawiit akeh. It’s so descriptive, because the people and the land are all in one. When you talk about the land, you also hit environmental issues, customary laws, and how people follow the land’s responsibilities. In our language it speaks of that.” (Wilkes, 2011, p.120). Aatisoohkanan such as the Creation story hold the conceptual frameworks and Indigenous languages such as Anishinaabemowin are the means by which these frameworks should be put into practice.

John Cutfeet, Anishinaabe from Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug, and co-author Rachel Ariss (2011) fill this gap in their description of Kanawayandan D’aaki which literally translates to “look after my land”, but signifies the traditional land-based jurisprudence which applies to all Anishinaabe territory (p. 8). Kanawayandan D’aaki is a natural law 51 which governs Anishinaabek and all human beings residing on Anishinaabe territory, and signifies the sacred responsibility of the individual and the collective to keeping and protecting the land that was given to the human beings by Creation. As cited by Ariss and Cutfeet (2011), Patricia Monture-Angus explains that “[t]he Aboriginal view of land rights encompasses both a notion of time as occupation (past, present and future) and a notion of spiritual occupation or connection...The relationship to land is seen not solely as a right but equally as a responsibility” (p. 10). Along with these ethics, Anishinaabek carry full bundles of knowledge of the natural environment, from its physical features, forms, and figure, to the psychology, sociology and polity of animal beings, all to ensure the sustainability of the common and the maintenance of minopimaatisiwin, the good life.

3.3 Journal Entry 9: Relationships to Land

My relationship to/with land shifted immensely after researching the legal battles that were taking place in my mentor Alex’s community of Big Trout Lake First Nation in this case study back in 2012.

From regulatory gaps and the paradox of treaty and land claim title extinguishment to the Government of Canada’s frequent failure to uphold their fiduciary and legal duty to consult, it is quite evident that the land and resource management processes used presently fail to meaningfully address Aboriginal jurisprudences and their associated land ethics and protocols (Borrows 1997; Doyle-Bedwell & Cohen 2001; Moffat & Nahwegahbow 2004; Passelac-Ross 2010; Clarkson et. al,1992). With an ever increasing number of land management disputes over infringing industrial development, it is clear that the right and ability of Indigenous communities to resolve environmental concerns in accordance with the protection and utilization of their traditional lands is defied. Furthermore, while these issues are contested and challenged through lengthy legal processes, resource extraction proceeds and traditional lands are forever changed (Wilkes, J, 2011). Given this context of discordant legal systems, how then do 52

Aboriginal communities without self-government agreements assert, implement and practice their own jurisprudences when their traditional territories are at stake? Through an examination of the literature including legal and case studies surrounding Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug (KI) and the mining exploration company Platinex Inc., this question will be explored.

KI: Community Profile

A community which actively chose to be recognized as “A People,” rather than a First Nation under the Indian Act, KI is home to approximately fifteen hundred people. A large portion of the community, including a significant number of youth, are bilingual and speak both Anishininiimowin (Oji-Cree) and English. Formerly known as Big Trout Lake First Nation, Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug which translates to “the peoples of the big lake where the trout are found” is a fly-in community whose traditional territory spans more than 23,000 square kilometers and is located south of the Hudson Bay coast (Appendix, Map of KI). Approximately 600 kilometers northwest of Thunderbay, Ontario, the community is situated along the northern shores of Big Trout Lake, the largest in northwestern Ontario. Covering over 660 square kilometers, the headwater lake connects with a series of south-flowing streams which drain the height of land between the Severn and Asheweig Rivers (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.; Wilkes 2011). Home to Lake and Brook Trout, Walleye, Northern Pike, White Fish, Ling, Sturgeon, Red and Brown Suckers, and Perch, the people of Big Trout Lake have depended on the land and particularly its fish for survival since time immemorial (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d., Geographical and Weather Data n.d.).

Platinex Inc. v. Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug: Legal Timeline

After formally filing a Treaty Land Entitlement (TLE) claim in 2000 and declaring a moratorium on resource extraction one year later KI entered into a five year legal battle with Toronto’s junior exploration company Platinex Inc. from 2004 to 2009 (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.; Wilkes 2011, Peerla n.d.; Duncan, Hsu, Murphy 2008). This case received a significant amount of mainstream media coverage beginning in February 2006, when the KI blockades began (Peerla n.d.). Shortly thereafter Platinex sued KI for 10 million 53 in general, special and punitive damages, and filed for an interim injunction in May of 2006 which was counter-claimed by KI thirty days later. The interim injunction was granted in favour of KI in July 2006; however, from March 2007, when the TLE claim was denied, to September 2009, the community endured a drawn out public struggle (Wilkes 2011, Duncan, Hsu, Murphy 2008; Mamow Shawaygikaywin 2009).

The majority of the literature surrounding the case begins with the KI blockades and the six community members, known as the KI-6, found guilty of contempt who were sentenced to six months in jail but were released just shy of half of their sentence (Mamow Shawaygikaywin, 2009; Wilkes 2011). Public attention to the case peaks at its closure in the fall of 2009 when Platinex Inc. negotiated with the province of Ontario for a five million dollar payout and a royalty agreement from the Ministry of Northern Development and Mines and Forestry (MNDMF) for the surrender and withdrawal of its claims and litigation concerning KI territory (Peerla n.d.; Treaty 2008). However, what fails to be acknowledged in media, governmental and legal case studies and publications surrounding the case is the history of Platinex Inc.’s claim of KI land as well as the mining company’s predecessors which date back to the early 1960’s. More significantly, the traditional Anishinaabe land and resource jurisprudences which have been upheld and exercised long before Ontario’s Mining Act of 1869 fails to be acknowledged (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.; Peerla n.d.; Wilkes 2011).

Legal Systems Colliding

Though the case is often acknowledged as being a land dispute between two parties (KI vs. Platinex Inc.), with a third party (MNDMF) stepping in for its resolution and settlement, its complexity reaches far beyond those most acknowledged by the public media. The legal systems which converge on KI territory are often overlooked, but they play a crucial role in the development of the case and future land and resource management disputes. The four main contenders that have and continue to intersect, diverge and contradict on KI land (and other FN territory) are the Mining Act, Treaty #9, the Constitution Act, and Kanawayandan D’aaki (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.; Wilkes 2011). The primary function of Ontario’s Mining Act is to address the economic concerns of the 54 province in relation to the mining industry, it is the self proclaimed solitary authoritative actor in land use decisions on KI territory despite Treaty # 9’s historical agreement of “equal” partnership and the Constitution’s clause (s. 35) which promises the reaffirmation of both the federal and provincial governments’ attention to and of (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.; Duncan, Hsu, Murphy 2008; Wilkes 2011). The context of legal dispute associated with this case is plainly demonstrated by these two legal systems as they are recognized by the Crown.The third governing body, Kanawayandan D’aaki, is largely unacknowledged by the media or the courts but is understood as being fundamental in its associated knowledges and application to meaningful resolution beyond the dispute (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.).

Kanawayandan D’aaki is KI’s own land specific jurisprudence which is both a legal and sacred duty to protect and take care of Creator’s gift of land. This practiced reciprocal and respectful relationship with land is carried through the Oral Tradition and founded upon a practiced understanding of land as a provider which plays a vital role in human survival (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.; Wilkes 2011). Though variations in translation are provided, the meaning of the concept reaches far beyond an English understanding of the mandate. As quoted in John Cutfeet and Rachel Ariss’s Legal Systems Converging on Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug Territory, John Youngblood Henderson describes Aboriginal jurisprudences as “best studied in the context of Aboriginal languages, stories, methods of communication, and styles of performance and discourse, all of which encode values and frame understanding...[t]he interwoven method of knowing learned and expressed through the oral and symbolic traditions and teaching provide a distinct consciousness and jurisprudence” (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.) An in-depth examination of Kanawayandan D’aaki, traditional land relations, knowledges and its practices and the importance of culture and language would inarguably shed light on KI’s management of the dispute and how Aboriginal jurisprudences impact land and resource management.

As highlighted by both Wilkes (2011), and Ariss and Cutfeet (n.d.), KI has been well informed and mindful of Euro-Canadian law long before Platinex’s claims and the 55 community’s resultant assertion of their Aboriginal and treaty rights. Upon their signature of Treaty 9 and its legal commitment to the community, KI was firm in maintaining their right to continue to live and maintain relationships with the land and waters as did their ancestors for centuries. Even before the repatriation of The Constitution Act in 1982 KI leaders were actively working with Canada’s legal system to ensure the fulfillment of their right. Lobby acts such as raising money to send community representatives to Britain not only kept KI versed in the country’s legal proceedings but contributed section 35 of the Constitution’s eventual inclusion which reaffirmed the federal and provincial governments’ obligation to Aboriginal and treaty rights. As a result, KI developed its own external and internal consultation and accommodation processes and protocols as they were cognizant of the fact that the provincial government had not established such procedures (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.; Wilkes 2011).

Stressed by Ariss and Cutfeet is KI’s relationship between the people and the land - their firm belief and application of their understanding that the land is a provider and not a tractable resource. They impart the following principle: Big Trout Lake, the smaller streams and rivers that flow into and out of it, the muskeg and wetlands surrounding and often connecting the larger bodies of water, are all one system. KI elders have explained that although these waterways, rock ridges, thickly treed areas and wetlands are different, they are all connected. This interconnection is designed to ensure that the land, as an indivisible whole, remains healthy. (n.d., p. 4)

The clash between the Western view of Environmental and Resource Management (ERM) and concepts such as KI’s Kanawayandan D’aaki is tremendous. Though it can be said that both KI and Western Science understand that without the land humanity would not be able to sustain themselves, the people of Kitchenuhmaykoosib view their land as holistic and animate. Ariss and Cutfeet note that their territory is not “an object to be ‘managed’ by cutting it up into discreet parts: trees, plants, minerals, rocks, water, animals” (n.d. p.5). This is a worldview that KI holds in common with other Indigenous people - that the land and the knowledge its provides for human beings is a precious 56 gift given to them by Creation (Houde, 2007; McGregor, 2004, Wilkes, 2011). Included in the discourse on cosmology is the recognition of language, culture and identity as key aspects in understanding the environment from an Indigenous perspective.

Language and Land

In the interest of exploring KI’s jurisprudences and the concept of Kanawayandan D’aaki it is crucial to acknowledge their fundamental connection to land in terms of their society, way of life and identity as emphasized by Ariss and Cutfeet, Wilkes as well as the larger discourse on Indigenous Traditional Knowledge (TK) and Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK) (McGregor 2004; Salmon 2000). It is generally accepted within TEK/TK discourse that cosmology is integral to understanding the environment from an Indigenous perspective (Houde 2007; Usher 2000). Though all Indigenous communities have unique ways of accounting for this central connection KI’s TEK/TK is stated as being directly related to and found within their language. Ariss and Cutfeet write:

The way the language is spoken centers the land in the people and their culture. Cutfeet describes listening to his mother speak Oji-Cree as being led to a specific place while she speaks. Even for those younger people who may not have been out on the land as their elders were, speaking the language, and especially, listening to the elders speak the language, ingrains the land into their lives and identities. The land, the language and the people are intertwined. (n.d., p. 5)

Furthermore, the authors go on to quote Donny Morris, Chief of KI Band Council who comments on the significance of language, and more particular place-name in ecology. Traditional place-names not only identify the landscape in a more culturally appropriate way, but encoded in the names are also their historical utilization. Mejeewin Aaki for example a protected area encompassing eleven lakes and government “parks” means “the land where you go to hunt, trap and fish” (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.). According to Wilkes’ case study KI has been both historically and recently involved in the process of their own environment and resource management assessments. In his extensive 57 research, community involvement and interviews Wilkes draws particular attention to the perspectives of fluent speakers of the community and the interconnection of land, people and language.

The broader discourse on the role of Indigenous languages and their connection to land also contributes to KI’s belief. Leanne Simpson, an Indigenous scholar of ancestry, likewise calls attention to how the relationship between humans and the land are intrinsically built into Indigenous languages. Simpson goes on to draw the connection between Indigenous worldview, language and jurisdiction believing that though interrelated the latter is the most preeminent obstacle facing Indigenous people (Simpson 2004). This interconnection is undoubtedly pivotal in understanding the breadth of issues related to the case of KI and Platinex and is as Simpson believes on a larger scale, the biggest barrier for the community.

Language and Law

One of the many challenges faced by KI during the case was that rather than presenting the community’s jurisprudences, traditional knowledges, and perspectives in their own language, the ties between language and land had to be swayed, shaped and severed by English translations. In addition they had to be submitted to the court largely in legal written form such as affidavits. The specificities of Anishininiimowin and its relation to the land were firstly translated into English and moreover, translated into its legal form.

Wilkes quotes yet another fluent community member in relation to the significance of language, translation and the court process who reflects on the challenges associated with what is lost in translation in the community’s legal proceedings. “[T]he Elders want to speak to these people who are highly trained, university-trained and political. They have their own language too, which they don’t really understand, how one word can make a difference” explains Evelyn McKay (2011, p. 121). It is evident throughout the literature surrounding the case the language is acknowledged as an incredibly powerful tool, having the ability to destruct but also the create. It becomes further apparent upon 58 a more critical investigation of the literature put forward by KI that language is key to the community’s assertion, implementation and practice of their own jurisprudences when their traditional territory, Aboriginal and treaty rights area are in jeopardy.

The case of KI versus Platinex Inc., is a prime example both of the Crown’s failure to consult, and their (financial) acknowledgement (to Platinex) of their inadequacy to uphold such legal obligations (Treacy 2008). Though most articles acknowledge the significance KI’s settled dispute with Platinex Inc., few refer to the case as a success. The handful of academic literature promoted by KI, both peer-reviewed and unpublished, speak to its use as a point of reference and learning tool, and make use of its publicity as a space to put forward the community’s traditional jurisprudences, Indigenous environmental management paradigms and methodologies (Ariss & Cutfeet n.d.; Peerla n.d.; Wilkes 2011). Although research approved and/or facilitated by the community in regards to Anishinaabe land and resource “management” knowledge is necessary, it is noteworthy that neither KI’s publications, nor the legal in-depth case studies conducted indicate or make reference to the numerous impacts of the legal battle on the community.

Though Platinex Inc. was granted financial compensation in the settlement there is no evidence of such for KI on the part of the Crown, nor is there any (un)published research assessing the repercussions of the dispute on the community. The reports advocated by KI, though largely unpublished, undated and in some cases unsourced, call attention to the large gaps in the historical context of the celebrated case and present only a portion of the knowledge, research, and action that took place prior to, during and following the case. Publishing, however, is of concern. As highlighted by the Centre for Indigenous Environmental Resources, there exists a deficiency in published and academic research surrounding First Nation environmental issues, and is yet another example of the government’s shortcomings (CIER 2005) as well as one of the key factors in the general lack of recognition of Indigenous peoples ability and capacity to make their own informed decisions about their territories. Due to the recognition of the importance and interconnection of language and land, KI was able to abide by their 59 own legal principles and spiritually relational connection - those required of each community member by Kanawayandan D’aaki. Look after my land.

Chapter 4 Transforming Spaces

4.1 My Journey in Grad School in Three Parts

4.1.1 Journal Entry #10: What is Geography?

Back when I wrote my research proposal for grad school and I was still confused about my identity and it’s relationship to Anishinaabek. Also, when I thought being in Geography had to involve maps. This proposal was written in early 2012 with the help of Métis author Cherie Dimaline who at the time provided writing support at First Nations House.

As a Cree and Métis student, my most valued coursework has included several analyses of the practical applications of Anishinaabe aatisoohkaanan (Ojibwe legends). My principal investigations drew on the relationship between Oral Traditions and self- identity/determination as well as their capacity to facilitate the development of an Anishinaabe-centered Ecological Science curriculum. In addition to my academic research within the department, my experience and involvement within the field and community was amplified by my involvement with Ciimaan, an Anishinaabemowin (Ojibwe language) project, in partnership with the University’s Centre for Aboriginal Initiatives.

My studies have been firmly rooted in Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) language and culture and its relevance to the broader discourse on Indigenous Knowledges. I have had the great privilege of apprenticing with a fluent speaker whose guidance has deeply influenced my development as a language facilitator and as an Indigenous student. Both the research and the lived experience that I have attained inspired my pursuit of a graduate 60 program which will enable the incorporation of Anishinaabe language and culture in researching ecology.

Over the past three years, I have immersed myself in the Aboriginal Studies Program at the University of Toronto. Throughout this time, the nature of my research gained specificity, organically narrowing down to the field of Indigenous Geography, in particular, examining where Western and Indigenous eco-geographical knowledges intersect.

My current research, backed up by years of engagement in the field, brings me to the Department of Geography where I can further the understanding of mapping as a tool to colonize nations and how the link between indigenous studies and geography could be applied in terms of reclamation. I intend to apply the practical knowledge from my undergraduate degree to inform a cultural mapping of traditional/original place names of the Anishinaabek nations of Ontario through the creation of community-based archives documenting the semantic variations. It is an innovative project intended to further understanding, facilitate informed reclamation through documentation, and to encourage interactions based on both traditional and contemporary understandings as equally relevant to discussion in the discipline of geography.

Of particular interest is cultural mapping of traditional names with both the original and variations of place names of the Aboriginal nations of Ontario, with a particular focus on Anishinaabe nations and their ecological origins. Through the naming we can deduce how their meaning defines and informs us of the landscape and use thereof. Combined with the traditional stories and teachings associated with each traditional name, we can learn how the knowledge derived from the name and story (geomythology) can influence self-determination.

Part of the ongoing conversation I would like to inform is the importance of traditional place names; how names and stories keep history in the present. This work would be of great interest in informing resource management policy with implications for self- 61 governance work. There is also need and applicability in the work being done around Land Use Planning, the government’s Duty to Consult in traditional territories and nation-to-nation dialogue.

It is important that my research have the underlying understanding that there are other ways of knowing the earth, incorporating a worldview that’s origin is rooted in that knowledge. Drawing on traditional story, evolving language and illuminated by geomythological underpinnings I hope to pursue this research through the use of Anishinaabe research methodologies and protocols.

4.1.2 Journal Entry #11: Maps and Things

Back when I still thought being in Geography meant I had to talk about maps I wrote a piece called “Alternative Exchanges: Indigenous Knowledges and Cybercartography” during my first semester in the program (2012).

On 13 September 2007, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, recognizing a desire on the part of Indigenous peoples globally to reassert self-determination over their land, natural, and cultural resources. Indigenous academics and allies from many disciplines have brought their skills to bear on securing land and resource rights. Arguably the greatest impact has come from cartographers and those with cartographic skills, particularly in the effort to legitimize land and resource claims by Indigenous communities. — Louis, Johnson, Pramono, (2012, p.77)

Over the past few decades, the use of geographic information technologies (GIT) such as geographic information systems (GIS) and global positioning systems (GPS) in/by/ for Indigenous communities has been subjected to substantial debate among both Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars, and through a multitude of lenses, varying discourses, and disciplines (Eades, 2010; Eades, Sieber, Wellen, n.d.; Hirt, 2012; Louis, Johnson, Pramono, 2004; McGregor, 2012). In reviewing the recent literature surrounding Indigenous cartographies and geographic information technologies (GIT) a plethora of complex questions and concerns are brought to the surface, clouding accessibility to its potential for practical application. Most of the dialogue between 62

Eurocentric geography and Indigenous knowledge however, has been restrained by the seemingly inescapable need to dichotomize (Eades, 2010; McGregor, 2004; Palmer, 2012). Indigenous knowledge continues to be categorized as rudimentary and fixed to both Eurocentric notions of time and physical space, whereas Eurocentric geographical knowledge is often held in the same regards as/belonging to science - firmly characterized as both dynamic and universal.

This scholarly struggle surrounding its application, along with the misconceptions and misrepresentations of IK, continue to limit the capacity for advancement of both Indigenous and Eurocentric geospatial knowledges, systems, and technologies alike (Eades, 2010; Palmer, 2012). The aim of this paper is therefore rooted in opportunity and not in the futile attempts to segregate either bodies and/or systems of knowledge. In its stead, I have decided to engage with the topic by briefly summarizing the historical context, the practicality of Indigenous GIT, and by addressing the inherent ability of Indigenous knowledges, languages, and oral traditions to adapt and adopt geospatial technologies through my own understandings of Anishinaabemowin (Ojibwe language).

Riveted by violent histories and stark dualisms, the current correspondence between IK and geography continues to be encumbered by the archival abusive relationship which actively empowered colonial resettlement (Eades, 2010; Johnson, Larson, 2012; Palmer, 2012). Although Eurocentric ‘scientific’ knowledge systems such as maps have been and will continue to be criticized for their static properties, the establishment of critical geography and evolution of GIT have enabled the discipline to address, adapt, and assert its dynamism self-assuredly (Harley, 1989; Palmer, 201). It can be argued that geographic technologies such as GIS and GPS have transcended historical cartography through their exhibition of ‘unparalleled’ flexibility and precision. Indigenous knowledge (IK) pertaining to geography and geographic systems on the other hand has been and continues to be categorized by many as inherently primitive (Palmer, 2012). Much like traditional cartography, IK is romanticized and traditional Indigenous mapping is (de)valued as art(ifact) due to its fabricated and assumed stagnant and thereby extraneous nature. 63

This misconception, or rather promoted systematic oppression, is partly due to the fact that the conventional constructs of Indigenous Knowledge are highly problematic. Most critical Indigenous scholars agree that no single succinct definition exists, and often call attention its multitude of detrimental dimensions when engaging in IK research. The common critiques surrounding the construct include the imposition of definitions (by non-Indigenous people), the homogenous nature of the imposed definitions (promoting pan-Indigeneity), and perhaps most significantly, the fact that IK can neither be separated from the people and the land, nor codified or divided into divergent disciplines (Battiste, Henderson, 2009). Furthermore, when the term ‘traditional’ is used or added to the mix (TK/TIK), its methodological and philosophical properties become frozen in time and space (Palmer, 2012; McGregor, 2009). IK as it pertains to geographical knowledge and systems explicitly involves these deeply-rooted and vexed semantic snags which obscure the potential for exchange between and application of Indigenous cybercartography.

Eades’ (2010) dissertation introduced the subject of Indigenous mapping via geospatial technology by asserting the following: People have been making maps from time immemorial. The act of making a map is etched into what it means to be a human being...The making of maps in sand or on bark is coming full circle in our age of online sites producing ephemeral depictions for short term purposes, such as using Google Maps to find a shopping mall in a strange city. (p. 1)

GIT has been put into practice by/for numerous Indigenous nations across the world since the 1990’s (Eades, 2010; Palmer, 2012; Vermeylen, Davies, van der Horst, 2012;). The increased demand for and widespread adoption of GIT by Indigenous nations worldwide as many have theorized its compatibility with Indigenous interests, rooted in its capacity to address and assert countless practical critical endeavors. Practical applications of GIT include, but are not limited to, the following Indigenous research areas: traditional use studies, material/technical support for land claim proceedings, databases/documents supporting self-determination, sustainability, intergenerational knowledge transmission, and the preservation of language and culture 64

(Caquard, Pyne, Igloliorte, Mierins, Hayes, Taylor, 2009; Chapin, Lamb, Threlkeld, 2005; Eades, 2010; Hirt, 2012; Johnson, Louis, Pramono, 2005; McGregor, 2009; Palmer 2012; Vermeylen, Davies, van der Horst, 2012).

A particularly outstanding and dynamic example of such application is the Living Cybercartographic Atlas of the Indigenous Perspectives and Knowledge in the Great Lakes Region which cuts across traditional cartography by enabling a multitude geospatial modes of representation and expression which both reflects the diversity of traditional and contemporary place-based IK, and provides a space for individuals from the Great Lakes Region to engage with the conceptualization and depiction of their identities in relation to spatial, temporal, geographical, cultural and spiritual forces (Caquard, Pyne, Igloliorte, Mierins, Hayes, Taylor, 2009). This case alone reflects GIT’s drastic progression from and advancement over traditional cartography in its ability to provide a dynamic platform which not only caters to change, but presents a space through its multimedia capacity for a far more accurate representation of an abundance of varying Indigenous knowledges and understandings.

Although GIT has presented Indigenous people with ample opportunities, there exist several critical limitations. First is the issue of accessibility: in order for GIT to meaningfully engage and address Indigenous nations holistically, the entire community must be provided with access to power, computers, and the internet (Eades, 2010). McGregor’s (2009) review of the practice of traditional (Indigenous) knowledges within Eurocentric systems notes the often overlooked matter of intellectual property. However, the most crucial barrier from my perspective is highlighted by Eades’ study on the application of GIT for Indigenous geographic knowledges (2010), when he draws attention to language by insisting that Indigenous languages must be pushed to the forefront, and that the maps produced with/through GIT should and could not replace Indigenous relationships and responsibilities to the land and territory. Palmer (2009) asserts that language is in fact the key as orality is the main IK system in which geographic information and knowledge is related. 65

There is a story I know. It’s about the earth and how it floats in space on the back of a turtle. I’ve heard this story many times, and each time someone tells the story, it changes. Sometimes the change is simply in the voice of the storyteller. Sometimes the change is in the details. Sometimes the order of events. Other times it’s the dialogues or the response of the audience. But in all the tellings of all the tellers, the world never leaves the turtle’s back. And the turtle never swims away.— Thomas King (2003, p. 1)

For me, Thomas King’s reflection on (re)telling the Creation story engages the both the problem of semantics as well as the importance of language which rest at the heart of the matter, speaking to both the adaptable nature of Indigenous knowledge and its transmission, as well as the power of oral and written language to both destroy and to create. Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) scholar Deborah McGregor calls also particular attention to the application of the Creation story and the semantics of traditional (Indigenous) knowledge but in regards to the consideration and attempts at the integration of IK in environmental decision-making in Canada (McGregor 2009). In her understanding, it is these legends which offer Indigenous people access to conceptual frameworks, values, and ethics free from Eurocentric impositions as they had been well- developed prior to contact. To further understand the dimensions of language situated within the Indigenous GIT discourse I propose the following Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) knowledge surrounding the function of the oral tradition and the traditional stories known to most as ‘myths’:

Aatisoohkanan (aa-ti-sooh-ka-nan) can be defined as traditional Anishinaabe legends or myths. They are distinguished from tipaacimowinan (stories), as they are the chronicles of Aatisoohkaanak, the legend’s prototypical beings that remain constant (McKay, 2010). Unlike the beings found within the legends, aatisoohkanan are in flux, and continuously shift and mold with time. Perpetual and boundless is their imminent ability to keep, carry, and convey knowledge from the past into the present and future. The dissection of the word provides a more lucid description; ‘aati(s)’ in this form denotes change (McKay, 2010). Breaking it down further, the noun stem ‘tis’ alludes to a navel, signifying birth or life. With ‘soohkan’ indicating bone, the translation 66 conceptualizes myths as the skeletons of life with an innate ability to evolve (McKay, 2010). Aatisoohkanan provide infinitely adaptable and practical knowledge, as well as the framework both for and of Anishinaabe life. Aatisoohkaanak as archetypes impart the applied knowledge of humanity. Aatisoohkanan as the maps of life present the practical knowledge of the world in its entirety.

This elementary semantic understanding of aatisoohkanan shines some light on what many non-Indigenous scholars continue to grapple with when contrasting and comparing Indigenous and Eurocentric knowledges and their systems. Indigenous knowledge and their systems are by no means fixed, frozen, or homogenous, but are characterized by constant activity, progress, and change. From an Anishinaabe perspective, language, land, and beings (human and non-/other-than-human alike) are inseparable. Aatisoohkanan such as the Creation story hold the conceptual frameworks in which Indigenous cybercartography should be founded, and Indigenous languages such as Anishinaabemowin are the means by which these frameworks should be put into practice. As Eades (2010) asserts, “to use GIS is to speak a certain language” (p. 27), therefore it should be quite clear that the key to Indigenous use of GIT should be to speak Indigenous languages and exercise Indigenous language paradigms in cybercartography.

Indigenous and scientific systems are combinable because both are open, dynamic, and ever-changing. For instance, digital technologies such as GIS may serve as technological interfaces for the development of what has been described as ‘‘hybrid science,’’ through convergent processes. — Palmer, 2012

Taking a largely revisionist stance within the dialogue, this review of Indigenous cybercartography and use of geospatial technology pushes the issue of language to the forefront while highlighting the ample opportunity that GIT can offer as a medium for critical Indigenous and geographical dialogue, opportunity, and mutually beneficial advancement and exchange. GIT provides a dynamic tool which can be used by Indigenous researchers, communities, nations and individuals to further their interests whether it be material/technical support for land claim proceedings or intergenerational 67 knowledge transmission. On the other hand, non-Indigenous researchers, communities, nations and individuals involved in the co-production of Indigenous GIT can benefit from Indigenous understandings of space, extending geographical understandings and deepening their senses of place through the Indigenous knowledges of land such as Anishinaabek’s view of land as living, populated by human and non-/other-than-human beings which equally possess agency, evident in their constant change (Johnson, J., Larson S., 2012; Wilkes, 2011).

4.1.3 Journal Entry #12: Grad School disHonour Song

A stream of consciousness poem that I wrote this spring (2017) when I was having difficulty writing anything at all to contribute towards my thesis. I think a big part of my struggle was not only not really feeling like I belonged within the Geography Department but not really understanding why I was in grad school at all. I still feel like an impostor. I still feel like a big part of me rejects and resents this place, this process and the way it makes me feel. How my body, soul, and spirit react to everything involved. i struggle with writing for my thesis i struggle with the idea of claiming to be a master nothing i write is new nothing i write is mine why should i stake claim to something that is neither new nor mine to claim it feels like fraud more than that it triggers sharp pain i am nowhere close to mastery over knowledge of any kind but i know so many who should have earned such a title who aren’t at the table to receive it and its attached privileges whose knowledge and experience are claimed by others what is a master anyhow the word itself a repellant tainted by centuries of violence and oppression let us change the word and then i may consider masters cannot be confused with knowledge keepers unless of course a knowledge keeper shape-shifts their way through to get the master title 68 and in doing so must arm themselves with thick skin oily feathers and fierce talons masters seem to be but budding experts in often only a single dimension knowledge keepers work in many and sometimes in all traveling through time and through multiple dimensions masters are trained to disconnect work from spirit knowledge keepers nourish spirit to guide their work knowledge keepers are recognized by others ive been taught how to recognize them and have had the privilege of sharing nicotine or caffeine with a few knowledge keepers some of which make use of the title of master or doctor who resisted being lulled into dancing to the masters tune others who have yet to be recognized or who purposely resist and reject their baskets brimming with insight, wisdom, practical skills, diverse life experience and complex philosophies their baskets overflowing with the past present and future their baskets saturated in present future past their baskets so full that they offer gifts of knowledge to those who are present and listening their offerings a consequence of their relationship to knowledge they feel the density of responsibility in their bones they feel the power of the generations that follow they sink their knowledge into the skins of the young watching their muscles soak it up watching it set into their bones strengthening their connection to their ancestors offerings given to feed their spirits how can i write something to become a master when the only knowledge i care for is a collection of offerings from the baskets of knowledge keepers gifts that opened many wounds that were not my own wounds that swallowed me whole wounds that had to be opened in order to heal offerings of knowledge that woke my spirit offerings with the power to mend and cure offerings that i dont yet fully understand or arent mean to be understood until the time is right when i need them most and even then they morph to meet my needs they are unique to me 69 they have linked into the tiny spaces between the strands of my dna when i respect those gifts and want to engage with them i evoke them in ceremony i feed them by making an offering sometimes through song tobacco or prayer sometimes with sage sweetgrass or sweetflag they are animate genderless timeless they cannot be contained in a page but at the same time they do not appreciate being neglected they must be engaged art seems to be a safe medium fluid flexible and free enough for the knowledge to move through around in and out to occupy for a moment and then retreat spirit reacts enthusiastically to this act the recreation of creation its own experience becomes captured archived for vicarious exposure to the energy transferred but i cannot be both master and artist as a master is but a budding expert in often only a single dimension and i have chosen the dimension of human geography which basically is anything to do with humans and space which has many dimensions outside of humans and of space but the institution’s measurements are very specific and there is the expectation of length, breadth, depth and height a thesis approximately 100 pages of recycled knowledge represents the result of independent research under the direction of a faculty supervisor 70 please leave your spirit at the door but don’t get me wrong there are most definitely spirits present they move through the walls they move through the water systems that lay beneath they too witness the daily micro-aggressions but masters must fight tooth and talon to keep theirs intact if it survived their undergraduate trials and tribulations because this place is not built on Indigenous land to accommodate Indigenous mastery nor support the spirits of Indigenous students in fact it has mastered the trade through theory and theology the appetite for consuming spirit and though my own shapeshifting skills extend to the colour of my skin fair enough to be misidentified as belonging my spirit struggles weaving through the jagged teeth of this institution dodging the cannibal at every turn but, i suppose i am still here because sometimes i am reminded of the influence and impact of the love of the beauty of the medicine that Indigenous knowledge keepers and Indigenous masters and doctors and knowledge keepers who are also masters and doctors can have while working with these institutions on the spirits of Indigenous students and on the spirits of those Indigenous students who are also mixed-race whose own shapeshifting skills extend to the colour of their skin fair enough to be misidentified as belonging 71

Chapter 5

Transitioning into Ceremony

In “Nehiyaw ikswew kiskinowatasinahikewina-paminisowin namoya timpeyimisowin: Learning Self-Determination Through the Sacred” Wahpimaskwasis (Makoksis, 2008) draws attention to the role of ceremony in self-determination and asserts that participation in ceremony is an act of resistance to colonialism. At its most fundamental level, self determination can be achieved via calling on the collective memory of one’s ancestors. Through this process one can make use of the spiritual blueprints provided by their ancestors which provide those within a clan, community and nation with direction. In actively pursuing and following the path given to us by our ancestors, our individual lives will inevitably contribute to the lives and good of the collective. The significance of Anishinaabemowin, language, is crucial here, for Anishinaabe philosophies cannot be understood or taught outside of the Anishinaabe worldview, which further cannot be understood or taught outside of Anishinaabemowin. As cited by Ishpeming’enzaabid (Rheault, 1998), Anishinaabe teacher Paul Bourgeois describes these interconnected webs in relation to his work on Anishinaabemowin: “I began to see a vertical and horizontal layering of concepts. I found ideas within ideas with parallel Teachings related to the other. Each [Anishinaabe] word and idea is independent and yet simultaneously dependent upon the other idea and teaching for its meaning. In other words, it is within Anishinaabe thought and worldview that we find an interconnectedness that precedes language and behaviour” (p. 14).

5.1 Journal Entry 13: Ceremony as Education This is yet another paper that was written for my mentor Alex from 2011, titled “Kakwetwen: Traditional Knowledge and Education and the Reflection of the Anishinaabe World.”

Aatisoohkaanan are by nature a traditional model of education. Engagement with and an active awareness of the stories is crucial to the translation of the knowledge within. However the ability developed in order to engage thoroughly with aatisoohkaanan is a 72 pivotal quality needed to apply the knowledge of traditional ways of learning explored within the stories. Many of these methods of learning are grounded in traditional ceremony. Powaamowin (fasting dream) is explored as a traditional teaching method and learning environment which takes place in one’s dream world. Unlike inaapatamowin (ordinary dreams), powaamowin are a means to communicating with one’s individual helper or spiritual guide (Pawaakan) and Grandfathers (Shoomisinaanak). In the story of Mahkadähkēwin/He Who Over-Dreamed (Jones, 1917), a young boy describes his powaamowin while on a black/ash face fast; Concerning all sorts of things did I dream, - about what was everywhere on earth did I dream; and about the sea, the suns, and the stars; and about all things in the circle of the heavens from whence blew the winds, did I dream. And about the that was above did I dream; by him was I spoken to, by him was I given the knowledge of what would happen to me (p. 295).

Through powaamowin the boy is able to explore the world in an alternative learning environment as well as receiving direct instruction and knowledge from Shoomisinaanak. Communication between the boy and Shoomisinaanak and/or Pawaakanak is as real and valuable as the knowledge he gains from the teachers in his waking life. As discussed in the lecture however, the boy did not enter his dream without understanding the necessity of active awareness and engagement. In order to learn within powaamowin one must be cognitive of the knowledge they seek to learn. As the boy must have been born and raised around this method of learning, he must also be aware of the caution one must take and the responsibility required within powaamowin. There exist possible tricks and traps as well as the potential of death if the learner is not adequately prepared. Certain fasts require a large degree of maturity, self confidence and self awareness as well as the ability to be “slick”.

Much of the same guiding principles can be applied to learning in Osaapaciken (shaking tent). He Got Out of the Shaking Tipi is an educational exemplar of both the potential risks as well as the applicable knowledge one may be taught within Osaapaciken. 73

He remembered everything at the time his fellow old man made him go into (the shaking tipi). “I thought of everything I could without effect, in order to get out,” he related. “I was really at my wit’s end,” he said.

From what I understand the certain old man was brought into Osaapaciken by his fellow old man while in his powaamowin. This posed an imminent threat to the old man as he was not aware of the way in which he could get out of what his fellow old man brought him into. To the certain old man’s advantage he is instructed by a Shaking Tent Character (in this case a white man) to use a gun and shoot his fellow old man. In the concurrent lecture we were generously given the education that the certain old man should have sought to learn before engaging with powaamowin or Osaapaciken. When one is dreaming (powaamowin), their acaahk (soul) can roam free, presenting the opportunity (to only those who are aware of the way it works) to not only draw it into ceremony, but to read it like an open book. Within the shaking tent all privacy is lost, as the certain parts of one’s own mind that they may be unaware of can be manipulated and apprehended by others. It is safe to say that those educated in such abilities may not always use it for good. That being said however, Osaapaciken should not necessarily provoke fear so much as an exceedingly active awareness and questioning of not only one’s environment but oneself.

In addition aatisoohkaanan educate Anishinaabek about those specific types of understandings one must explore in order to learn and apply the traditional knowledge to their world. Though the stories explicitly reflect traditional ways of learning they also infer the understandings that must go hand in hand with ceremonial (educational) practices. As discussed in the lectures surrounding fasting, one must learn to activate their soul. In activating one’s acaahk one becomes conscious of it and in turn are aware of others that understand the functioning of the soul. Not only does the activation of the soul enable a deeply honest understanding of oneself, but I would imagine also gives the individual a certain amount of control over who can and cannot visit, expose or manipulate one’s acaahk. 74

An understanding of one’s soul is integral to the responsible exploration of such education. In He Who Over-Dreamed the boy fasts almost excessively. This is either a result of the pressure from his father, or his own greed of knowledge. Due to such influence or vain motivation the boy’s acaahk takes the form of a robin, and in my own analysis the boy dies (the soul having left his physical body). This is yet another understanding that aatisoohkaanan illustrates. One must be vigilant and incredibly sharp in their awareness of not only themselves but in the ways in which they can be influenced.

Throughout almost every lecture the necessity of questioning one’s influences and surrounding environment is emphasized. In experience of the self a name is one’s first identity. Individuals are conditioned to respond to their assigned name and gender and the roles and societal norms that apply to both. As expressed in my introduction, “Connor nitishinikaas” can be translated into something along the lines of “Connor is the veil in which I hide behind”. Part of one’s responsibility in participating in traditional forms of education (ceremony) require the lifting of the veil. One’s name is found through ceremony and it then becomes the responsibility of the individual to carry their given name throughout their entire life.

Furthermore a comprehensive understanding of one’s identity conjointly with the soul is also necessary. It is particularly relevant in regards to the threat of outside influences. A well educated recognition of one’s identity and the responsibilities entailed is imperative to education through ceremony and traditional knowledge. Ceremony and traditional knowledge and ways of learning do not exist to enlighten individuals in order to seek power or personal gain. Nor are they designed to make individuals feel superior or privileged due to their romanticized notions of intelligence gained through traditional ways of learning. The Aatisoohkaanak He Dreamed the Sioux Were Coming (Quill, 1917) is who I can begin to identify as demonstrating both knowledge of the self and soul as well as a commitment to the responsibilities associated. 75

Miinawaa inentam aha kwiiwisehns taka miinawaa nka kakwe-pawaataan kii inentam, wekonon ihi wenci inaapantank. Again the boy thought, “I’ll try to dream about it again,” he thought.The next night he dreamed of another one now stringing towards them, attached right to the place where they stayed. Again he told her about it (p. 4).

The young orphan establishes his understanding of acaahk when he displays his ability to manipulate his powaamowin. He is able to return to a specific location in his dream in order to protect himself and his community. Though he may just be using powaamowin as a tool for his own survival. Assuming that he lives in a community could be deceptive as there is no mention of anyone else living with him other than his grandmother. However as the distinctions between his dream life and waking life are unclear (at least in the translation) it would in fact be possible that his grandmother is in reality a comforting characterization of Shoomisinaanak. The young boy’s application of traditional knowledge and education seems to be an exemplar of the ways in which teachings can be used in experiencing the world.

In conclusion the Anishinaabe world is reflected through the communication of ancestral knowledge and teaching methods imbedded in aatisoohkaanan and tipaacimowinan. More specifically the ceremonial and educational practices as well as the means to understanding and engaging with the self and surrounding environment. What aatisoohkaanan both reveal and conceal is an intergenerational fail-safe framework from which Anishinaabe can experience the world in relation to both minoki (healthy self image and growth) and Minopimaatisiwin (a good life). Aatisoohkaanan are undoubtedly related to Pimaatisiwin (life). Within both words and concepts lies aatis (navel). The nucleus or heat as a metaphor for aatis draws the link between the stories and life - between the past and the present and will continue to exist for those to come.

5.2 Journal Entry #14: Honouring my Dreams

This was inspired from an activity that Lee Maracle encouraged her students to do for a creative-non-fiction class that I took in my last semester of my undergrad back in 2012. The task given was to recount the story of our earliest sense of accomplishment, mine is called “Sleepless in Chambly/Hour of the Wolf.” 76

Sleepless in Chambly Winter 1993: I simply refused to sleep. I loathed it. Not only would I miss out on the mysteriously enthralling hours of the night, but would be forced to trade them in for nightmares. I often wondered who invented those horrible visions and why I was encouraged to be exposed to them. They were certainly more terrifying than the contraband R-Rated horror flicks my grandfather’s new wife would let me watch. Regardless of my mother’s surely self-serving motives, I had decided that enough was enough. I was going to boycott bedtime.

It didn’t seem to bother me that my eyes felt like Sun-Maid raisins or that the only bearably snowy channel on our homemade bunny-eared television played the same infomercial on repeat. A box set of Jane Fonda’s workout videos didn’t really appeal to me but her music was catchy. I watched as my mother tried to mimic Jane’s simple steps after the third or fourth rerun. She thrust her knee into the air, vodka sloshing onto the polka-dotted stained carpet, and paused to wave me over. Far too sensible to follow Jane’s instructions I swayed half-heartedly to the heavy bass and synthesizer. I woke up the next morning on the couch absolutely furious that I had passed out after our aerobics class. Luckily I didn’t have much to complain about except that my ear had fallen asleep from being squished up against the boxy armrest - it could have been much worse. I scanned the stale room for my mother but it was clear that she had already left. The chip bags and empties had been stuffed into an overflowing garbage bag and a cupful of orange juice had been placed on the kitchen table as a peace offering.

Summer 1993: I filled my days by gallivanting around my block. I didn’t have many toys and was an only child so I’d search for any and all available substitutes. Below is an Incomplete List (In No Particular Order) of Satisfying Expeditions:

-Collecting worms from freshly planted sod squares (via yards located in the “rich” part of town) -Running at maximum speed up and down sidewalks without touching the cracks 77

-Counting the number of meals I could consume in one day by visiting all of our neighbours -Spying on the older kids smoking weed in the park without getting caught -Calling toll-free numbers on a pay phone, asking for someone (a movie character), hanging up -Calling toll-free sex hotlines on a pay phone, faking a credit card number, hanging up

By the time five-thirty rolled around, marked by my friends’ parents pulling into their driveways, I’d be heading home belly-filled and absolutely filthy. I would slip into the apartment undetected, slump into the couch and watch television like a well behaved zombie. When my mom was awake I would take a break from the tube and play Crazy- Eight-Countdown until she lost interest. If nothing good was on I’d entertain myself by drawing elaborate cartoon strips on the kitchen floor. One of my babysitters’ husband was a cartoonist and had taught me a few tricks. My mom would proudly stick my completed stories on the fridge but as the summer progressed I stopped drawing out of anger. I knew she caused my babysitter to quit. I knew because she came home drunk and threw up all over our living room floor while the babysitter was still there. I knew because I wasn’t sleeping.

Fall 1993: I had miraculously developed an ear infection. I was convinced this was by far the worst ailment one could be inflicted with as it involved my mom’s most painful remedy. She was always convincing me and herself of new-age solutions to all of life’s problems. They came from this thick blue book with a picture of a man with an eagle feather in his hair. I often blamed him for the torture my mother would put me through. Microwaved vegetable oil was his prescription. One small shot-glass full down the infected ear. I was convinced I could taste it every time, mixed in with some wax of course, and found a new justification for my hatred of bedtime. Worse than the boiling hot syrup funneling through my ear canal were the fever dreams that came with the infection. Nearly every night I would have night terrors involving my mother’s death. I was constantly thrust into situations where I had to either defend her, hide her and/or run away with her (all of which were futile) and then, watch her die. Below is an Incomplete List (In No Particular Order) of Mom-Death Nightmares: 78

-Hit by a car while riding a bike in front of a grocery store (I tried to ram the car with my bike) -Captured by ninja-vampires (jumping out of a window with her and leaving me behind) -Captured by Marg Simpson in an aerobics uniform riding a “Hippity Hop Ball” (?) -Captured by generic “bad guys” and taken away in a white cargo van (despite my hideout) -Trapped in house fire due to malfunctioning door (the frame shrunk and the door was stuck) -Plummeted from a rooftop due to malfunctioning stairs (there were none between landings)

Sometimes I’d wake up but still be caught in the dream. One morning it was so bad that I pushed my mom right off of her feet because I thought she was the bad-guy. After calming me down and throwing a cold wet cloth across my forehead I told her about my nightmares. She informed me of this book she had been reading about how people can learn to change things in their dreams. That they could take control and adjust the elements of the dream that they didn’t like - like swap a scary serpent for a broom. I thought about how much I’d prefer the broom, and that night before bed I thought of all the wonderful tweaks I could make. I could refashion murder scenes into Willy Wonka’s land of candy or a villain into Bugs Bunny. I wondered if it would be difficult or if I could even do it at all.There was only one way to find out...

Hour of the Wolf I stood just a few feet away from a fire lit shelter, hypnotized by its dancing shadows. The crimson glow illuminated the wooded waterside, but my gaze remained fixed upon the rowdy silhouettes. Feeling trapped by my fascination, I groggily forced myself to come to. The night was tranquil. A thin veil of fog drifted ever so slightly above the mounds. I could feel my socks slowly absorbing dampness from the earth. The air was crisp but a thick wool cloak draped across my shoulders, trapping a feverish heat. I listened to the wind gossip with the turning leaves and felt as though I was intruding. With a thunderous crack from the fire, my attention was drawn back to the tent. Amongst the flickering beings was a darker, motionless outline. I moved towards it. My body felt stiff as though it had been idle for hours. As I curtsied into the small opening, my surroundings became more familiar. I was pleased to see my mother sitting cross- 79 legged by the campfire. Her eyes briefly met mine. She smiled out of the corner of her mouth and went back to her needlework.

I carefully examined the enchanted dwelling. It felt much larger from the inside. Colourful blankets painted the ground and string-like decorations hung from its wooden frame. The fabric panels of the tent seemed to match that of my cloak and my mother’s; a deep, almost menacingly, blood red. Dozens of candles of varying shapes and sizes lit the periphery. Among the unsteady flames was a collection of cluttering trinkets. Ornate boxes, pouches and indistinguishable knickknacks lay scattered across the radiant carpeting. An aluminum pot sat near the entrance of the tent, prompting my neglected duty. I was going to make tea. As I carefully exited the tent, pot in hand, I felt a change in my surroundings. The landscape itself had not transformed but I was suddenly suspicious of its stillness.

Hawk-eyed and silent, I made my way to the water. I paid close attention to the hum of the fire while following moon’s lit path. Without warning, the weight of the pail pinched my fingers and I retraced my footsteps. I was preoccupied with my mother’s unguarded contentment, and rightfully so. The wind carried news to the twisted tress of invaders in the distance. As I envisioned her, engrossed in each stitch, I became immobilized by my fear for her safety. I held my breath until the warning was redelivered. Quick strides and vigorous panting. The wolves were approaching.

I burst into the tent and stood where the fire once sat, shaking my mother out of a trance. Guiding her out of the tent without explanation, I quickened our pace. My heart took permanent residency in my ears, its rhythm setting my tempo. I struggled to keep in time but lost nearly all control of my body; chest heaving, limbs flailing and digits swollen beyond use. The wool’s thorn-like fibers scuffed the back of my neck as I shot my head back to survey the trail behind us.

My mother was meters ahead of me, almost completely out of sight. Though I did not know why I was failing to keep up, her distance from our assailants reassured me. I 80 could not catch a glimpse of the pack but I could feel them closing in. A sharp pain shot up from my heels, widening my eyes and altering my footfall. Briefly dropping my head, I realized that the terrain had shifted to stiff asphalt. Following the paved road I began my ascent of an everlasting hill.

At the summit I paused to catch my breath. I bent over and rested quivering hands on wobbling knees, facing the pack’s trajectory. Still gulping for air, I began to make out their dark figures. As they emerged from the veil of the woods, I noticed their sharp profile. They did not conform to the environment surrounding us and as they pushed forward they erased the features of the riverscape behind them. Each wolf had bright yellow eyes painted onto coal-black bodies with perfectly jagged tufts of fur that protruded their bodies like the spikes of a cactus. They clearly did not belong to this world, having no physical detail and hovering above ground. The pack also seemed to be in constant flux. One moment there would be dozens of ghostly beasts and the very next they would fuse into one or two larger creatures. As my response to the imminent hazard hung in the air, I assessed the canines and thought of my mother. She must have had traveled a great distance by now but was still in jeopardy. I could not bear to witness her grisly death - not again.

Planting my feet into the pavement, I harnessed my fear and fabricated my bravery. I waited for them. My range of vision was limited by the steepness of the slope but I knew it would only be a matter of seconds. Minutes passed and they had not yet reached the top. My stomach inverted but I did not hesitate as I moved towards the precipice, sure of my aggressive tactic. The wolves had vanished. They had been waiting for the manifestation of my courage.

5.3 Two-Spirit and ᐅᑌ ODE’ (His/Her/Their Heart)

When we say that we are two-spirit, we are acknowledging that we are spiritually meaningful people. Two-spirit identity may encompass all aspects of who we are, including our culture, sexuality, gender, spirituality, community, and relationship to the land. - Alex Wilson (2008) from N’tacimowin inna nah’ - Our Coming Out Stories (p. 193). 81

5.3.1 Niizh Manidoowag or “Two Spirit"

The term "Two-Spirit" originated in Winnipeg, Canada in 1990 during the third annual intertribal Native American/First Nations gay and lesbian conference...It was originally chosen to distance Native/First Nations people from non-Natives as well as from the words "berdache" and "gay" and also give community members an umbrella term that would claim Indigenous-Specific space in LGBTQ identities. It came from the term “Niish-Manitowag” which was offered by an Anishinaabe Elder, but it is not necessarily the “traditional” or “original” word for all 2s people. Each nation, and at time, each community within a nation had their own depending on the land, language (dialect), time, and context.

5.3.2 Working from ODE’ (his/her/their heart)

In 2013, a buddy of mine, Melissa Carroll, was working for the Toronto Aboriginal Support Services Council, and won the Homelessness Prevention Strategy Grant issued through the City of Toronto. Then she hired me, and together we organized and completed a youth-led research project with 2-Spirit, LGBT*Q and Asexual Aboriginal Youth who are homeless in Toronto.

The project was unique both because of its focus (never before in Canada had there been extensive research done with 2-Spirit Aboriginal youth) its research methodologies (which were unique in that they were extremely grass-roots, community based and Anishinaabe-specific), and the because of the format of the final report (booklet, very visual, and 95% all youth voice (which only a preamble and overview of key terms written by us).

After this project (which was March 31, 2014) ended, what became stalwartly apparent was that above all else, 2-Spirit LGBT*Q and Asexual Aboriginal youth struggling with homelessness need community. 82

At the time, there was no program in Toronto that specifically addressed the needs of or made space for 2-Spirit and LGBTQ and Asexual Indigenous youth. They were left to fit themselves into larger programs that were not meant to include them, and oftentimes erased them.

For instance, the LGBT community has very little experience with the 2-Spirit population, and sees sexuality and gender from a Western perspective, oftentimes mistaking 2-Spirit for another version of transgendered, or transexual identities. Thus, while the LGBT strives to include 2-Spirit in an over growing acronym, unfortunately too often it is merely lip service.

Inclusions of this nature require much work and education, and the LGBT and even Queer communities in Toronto are still negotiating these terrains when it comes to alternative, non-Western sexual and gender histories.

The Indigenous community in Toronto also does not make a lot of room for the 2-Spirit youth population. Years of colonial violence, residential schooling, and the 60s scoop, have left many in the Indigenous community inflected with Christian ideologies and homo/transphobias.

Creating a safe-space for our youth, caring adults and youth-leaders work to enable the youth to trust in their adults, their selves, and the Toronto community, and move toward healing. Every youth deserves community, support and compassion; every youth needs a place to go where they can talk, get culturally sensitive support and access to their histories.

So Mel and I, parked ourselves in our office (which was a tiny coffee shop in kensington) and wrote a Ontario Trillium Youth Opportunities Fund grant for 250,000 and developed Remembered Voices, which later got renamed (during a naming contest for youth) ODE (his/her/their heart) a program designed by Aboriginal youth for Aboriginal youth that adheres to a holistic model of Indigenous kinship and governance 83 to address, enable and sustain the health and wellness of at-risk Aboriginal youth in Toronto.

ODE was originally visioned to advocate for and operate through traditional healing/ kinship practices geared towards addressing the difficult issues the youth face everyday (mental and physical health, drug and alcohol addiction, unemployment, abuse, discrimination and violence), while embracing the many celebratory aspects of their identities.

The goal of the program is for youth to foster their own holistic health and wellness by using resources provided for, or created by, the youth themselves.

Operating under the 7 Grandfather Teachings (love, honesty, respect, truth, courage, wisdom, and humility), using the Traditional Medicine Wheel and its directives as a guide for holistic growth, and the Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) Clan System and Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK) to govern self and community responsibilities to surrounding land, nature, family, community and spirit, ODE has the innate ability to be re-visioned, re-configured, and evolved as those who enter the community (both youth and adult) possess the means to determine the goals of the program in order to best suit the community’s needs at the time.

Deeply rooted in generations of cultural instruction, these traditional governance systems and bodies of knowledge are comprised of collective memory that echo the past into the present and future. Acting as the blueprints of the Anishinaabe ancestral world, these tools give future generations the skills to evaluate, learn from, reshape and adapt the program.

As such the program will be constantly changing; translating and transforming pending the shifting of the community’s experiences and contexts. With each coming generation of youth, adults and Elders, the community will breathe new life into the program while also carrying forward their culture and heritage. 84

5.4 Journal Entry #15: Aabitoose

The speech I gave at CAMH’s pride event, after celebrating the launch of Aboriginal Service’s Sweat Lodge, 2016.

I was raised by my mother on Haudenosaunee/Mohawk territory (Montreal, Laval and surround area), but her mother was Cree/Atikamekw we think from Wemotaci area and her father was mixed/métis French Canadian and Cree from Manitoba. I say “we think” my noohkom is from Wemotaci area because my mother and her two eldest brothers are survivors of the foster care system. Her younger brother, who was still a baby, was adopted by a family in Ontario and our family hasn’t seen him since. (So someone here could very well be my long lost uncle...just kidding).

My father is European - his mother from England and his father from Ireland. So I identify as mixed-race; as Cree/and more recently Atikamekw/métis/British/Irish. I self- identify as a non-status Indigenous person, and member of Toronto’s urban Indigenous community, but I am also very mindful of my white-presenting/passing privilege and that half of my family are colonial settlers.

Part of the complexities of my mixed identity is the weight of my maternal family’s trauma in addition to my own experiences being raised by a single mother who was struggling with PTSD, Depression, Severe Anxiety, and addictions issues, our fractured and nearly lost connection to our culture, language, land, relatives and ancestors, and also that common experience of being mixed - part of two worlds (Indigenous & Colonial Settler) and belonging to neither - especially two worlds that have such a violent history and relationship. That journey of reconnecting with my culture, language, land, relatives and ancestors is ongoing and a challenge – one that becomes a bit complicated by my gender identity.

TRANSITIONS

When I was 18 or so I came out as Trans to my friends, co-workers, chosen family and my mom. I used male pronouns and worked hard day and night to “pass” as male, and 85 got on a (lifelong) wait-list for Trans health care (to begin hormone therapy...as you can see I still haven’t started those yet). During this time I had also begun my journey of figuring out what it meant to be a mixed cree/Atikamekw/métis/british/irish kid in the city. And like a lot of us mixed urban kids – that journey started in school.

I took some Aboriginal Studies courses at the University of Toronto and got scooped up by a group of (also mixed) students who were running an Indigenous language revitalization program which was led by a fluent speaker and traditional teacher from Big Trout Lake. Alongside him and a group of my peers I began co-learning my language and culture and what it meant to be mixed in the city.

One of my favourite things about the process of learning to speak Anishininiimowin was discovering that there are NO PRONOUNS in the verb-based language. That is to say, if I were to describe someone doing something like if Art starts dancing – I would say “Art niimi” which translates to “he/she/they/? Is dancing” or I could say “Art wewepitiyeshii” he/she/they/? Are shaking his/her/their/? butt.

So the language really became a safe space for me. Not only was it healing some of those wounds created by losing connection to my Cree/Atikamekw relatives, but it was creating a safe and affirming space for me and my gender identity – free of mis- pronouning and hurtful assumptions of my gender. So I became a big language nerd...spent a lot of time co-learning with youth in Toronto but also hosting language camps outside of the city. And eventually became more involved in traditional ceremonies (fasting camps, sweat lodges, pipe, sun, moon etc.).

CEREMONY

Now this is when things got a bit more complicated as there are roles, responsibilities, and protocols associated with gender. And these days in most ceremonies around here, not all, **only two genders are recognized - male and female. 86

Women’s teachings and Men’s teachings, Women’s ceremonies, roles, protocols, attire, and Men’s ceremonies, roles, protocols and attire. And then there’s all the gender non- conforming/trans/two-spirit folk scratching their heads - wondering where we fit into all of this.

A lot of us don’t attend ceremony because of this. We either feel forgotten, or rejected (and sometimes some of us are). If we do muster up enough courage to attend some of us get shamed or refused participation for not adhering to gender protocol. And a lot of that is because of colonization/cultural genocide and the resulting collective and intergenerational trauma.

But sometimes we find safe or safer spaces. And I think these spaces are becoming more common around here. And those are the spaces where I started becoming involved in ceremony: when I’ve been welcomed and felt welcome. But just because I’m welcome, doesn’t mean it’s not awkward. Let me give you an example. Often times in a lot of ceremonies around here we all sit in a big circle, if we’re lucky we sit around a sacred fire, and if you’re with a bunch of Anishinaabe you walk clock-wise around that fire, and if you’re with a bunch of Haudenosaunee you walk counter clock- wise around that circle. Also, if you’re a woman you wear a skirt (now, I could spend at least 15min going on about skirt politics here, but I won’t, so I’ll just continue the story). So I go to ceremony, and I’m told to wear a skirt. And I do (most of the time). I wear a skirt because I respect my Elders, and am respectful of the teachings I’ve been given around my moontime, and the power influence that I have - so then I feel like the skirt comes with the territory. So I wear wraps or borrowed skirts or pieces of material or towels...around my pants...because I’m awkward in them. Awkward looking awkward walking awkward sitting. Again here I go with the skirts. I digress.

So anyways, I start to go around that ceremonial circle, I look around, and I see all sorts of Anishinaabe faces staring at me, so I walk around that circle clock-wise, doing the “nish” nod to everyone. And then I notice all of the women are sitting together on one 87 side, and all the men are on the other. I end up at the beginning of the circle again. And I panic. Ummmm....where do I sit?!?

So...I decide now is a good time to make an offering so I pick up some tobacco with my right hand, place it in my left and walk around that full circle once more. I kneel and pray. Mixed into the prayer I wrote in the language and recite in my head, are flashes of panic. Did I mention that I suffer from anxiety disorder as well? So I’m panic-praying, then I pull myself together, clear my head, set my intentions and put my tobacco in the fire. I look up, and sit next to whoever invites me with their eyes. Sometimes that’s on the “women’s” side, and sometimes it’s with the men. But when I really feel at ease is when I get to sit in the middle.

IN BETWEEN (Aabitoose)

I like being in the middle, both, neither, the in between (Aabitoose is a word I’ve heard to describe that). In the middle, in between in the circle, in the middle in between in the gender spectrum. And the more I did ceremony, the more I realized how freeing, fitting and useful between in the middle, both, neither, and in between is. Because ceremony is a lot of hard work. Lot’s of responsibilities for men and so many responsibilities for women. And sometimes when preparing for ceremony, you might be short on helpers or volunteers. And you know what’s really useful when you don’t have enough women to do all the women’s work or men to do the mens work? People who are in the middle, both, neither, or in between.

So in the places that I’ve done ceremony, I’ve always helped wherever I can. I’ve tossed on a skirt to help tie off the frame of a sweat lodge and two minutes later ripped my skirt off (with satisfaction) so that I could climb or shimmy up a teepee to fetch a peg from the top to open up the flap only to put my skirt back on to collect cedar, and then pull an all-nighter fire keeping to give the fire keeper (a man) the night off to sleep. 88

And from what I hear, back in the day, pre-contact, and before colonization, there were roles, responsibilities and protocols for a multitude of genders - some say 3 some say 5 and others say more. I’ve heard some old people talk about how there were Male roles, Female roles, and many other roles that were fulfilled by those who fit into both/neither the male/female roles and/or had special abilities/gifts outside of male/female roles.

I’ve also heard that there wasn’t any kind of rigidity between male and female roles and that often children were nurtured to learn to fulfill roles based off of their own interest and gifts. And sometimes young people were pulled into performing/fulfilling/or assuming another gendered role depending on the needs of the community - sometimes they just performed the duties without embodying the “gender”, but most times they adopted and embodied those roles completely. I’ve been taught, “gender” as we call it in English, was more fluid, and had more to do with your gifts, talents, powers, and contributions to the community than it had to do with “biology.”

So those experiences alongside those teachings had a lot of impact on my understanding of my own gender. I stopped identifying as a Trans man after my first fast. I realized that being on that end of the spectrum didn’t really work for me. That I like being in between and both while also being neither. A mix. A lot of people ask me whether I’m Two Spirited but I struggle with that. For some, identifying as Two-Spirit makes sense - they describe the feeling of having both a male and female spirit, and embody both.

For me, I’m all about spirit, I’m incredibly spiritual, but I don’t connect with that concept. I think it’s the binary again that doesn’t match up with my spirit. I understand my spirit as neither male or female. I don’t really have a traditional name for that. I haven’t been taught one yet. But I’ve been gifted with a concept that I think suits my spirit. In many Nations and Tribes, Indigenous people often gender the moon and the sun. You may be familiar with the term “grandmother moon” well how many of you have also heard of “grandfather sun”? Well there are teachings that go with those beings, our relatives but I’m not going to get into that cause I need to wrap this up. How I describe 89 and/or picture my gender identity I call “Aabitoose piitaapanink” - In between at the coming of the dawn. It’s that time between sunset and sunrise. Between grandfather sun and grandmother moon. It’s a very powerful time. A good time for praying. A good time for spirit. That time in between at the coming of the dawn, that’s where I find place, in between the male and female spirit. Not both, not really neither, but a mix in the middle in between.

Chapter 6 Where Do I Go From Here?

Concluding Questions and Concluding Art

6.1 Journal Entry # 16: Concluding Questions

“Words are sacred. They can transform. Words can change peoples’ attitudes, their thinking, their construction of reality, their actions. Words can change the world. As can silence.” -Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm (2005) in First Peoples Literature in Canada (p. 172).

The following is a piece I wrote in the form of stream of consciousness in response to a writing prompt from my supervisor Deb Cowen as a way to move past a writing/ emotional block. Deb challenged me to write for at least a half an hour after asking me something along the lines of “what I want to accomplish with my thesis” and/or “what world/reality/intervention do I want to contribute to shaping?” This was written in February of 2017 and by the end I formulate what I would one day like to pursue in a phd. The lack of capitals and irregular or absent punctuation was inspired by Métis artist and philosopher Tannis Nielsen who wrote her entire masters thesis without any punctuation at all. what does it mean to be both Indigenous and settler but beyond the conversations of “walking in both world” or “jagged worldviews” what does it mean in terms of moving in the world - moving through urban, academic, community or ceremonial spaces? what does it mean to identify as mixed? blood quantum? %? métis? what is the difference between mixed and métis? between mixed and halfbreed? what is the language of 90 mixedness? am I still Indigenous if I identify as mixed? does “one drop” count? but also, what is the political intervention or intention in specifying mixedness? what relation/ articulation am i offering by identifying as mixed instead of Cree or Atikamekw or even métis? what are the privileges to such? status as a canadian citizen, light-skin and “passing” privilege, decreased chance of violence, racism, oppression. but at what cost? mixedness often comes with disconnection to family, community, culture, land, language etc. what does it mean to self-identify as Indigenous and mixed if your direct connection to biological family, community and land have been disrupted by settler colonial violence via institutions such as child and family services if i don’t have my clan if i don’t have my name if i don’t know my territory (reservation/treaty) am I still Indigenous? where is my land? what dialect does it speak? who are my people? who claims me? self-identifying as Indigenous is a very complex thing. what does it mean when you don’t meet INAC definitions (concrete and detailed knowledge of blood relatives) and Anishinaabek definitions (concrete and detailed knowledge of connection to land, territory, and those who live there) am not the only one and many of us are here - in urban centers often it is within these urban centers that we come to build understandings of our identities and not all of us know our living or past relations that bind us to land and activate our status as rightfully Indigenous do we detach ourselves from that identity? continue the work of forced assimilation 91 or do we claim space as displaced mixed people and identify our community as the urban what are the protocols then? do we give up looking for our ancestral blood/land ties? of course not. but do we put our attachment to Indigeneity on hold until we dig up documents in archives miles and miles from our now lives in urban centers - to dig up family trauma against the will or wishes of our relations in order to post a picture on social media proving our claim? what are alter/native ways of fostering kinship to account for our past, present and future selves? how do we weave the traditions and knowledges of our many nations the come together in urban centers? do we adhere to treaty protocol for this question and account for Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee traditions? what are ways of seeking out the past that aren’t centering settler colonial ways of acknowledging citizenship? what if we don’t have names and dates to type into ancestry.ca or what if we don’t have the permission of our parent to access information kept by children services? there are ceremonies to access this type of information...but how do we access them in the city? and what about if we’re queer?

Part of the ongoing conversation I would like to contribute to is the complicated translation or transition of Indigenous cultures into the urban context. Examining Tkaronto (Toronto) specifically, and the unique urban Indigenous cultures that are grown from a land that has always been shared by numerous nations (the Huron Wendat, Petun, Seneca and Anishinaabek to name a few) for thousands of years (15,000+) before its settlement and treaty of purchase. Gihci-oodenang pane gii-aawon gaa-nji-aashtoongeng nji-sa ntam Anishinaabeg, Tkaronto has always been a trading centre for Indigenous peoples. And now, after so many generations of settler-colonial violence, of forced dispossession of and disconnection from lands and languages and the complex knowledge systems and ceremonies born of them, members of Tkaronto’s urban Indigenous community continue to trade with each other to heal. We share teachings of our knowledge and kinship systems, cultures, customs, languages, philosophies, ceremonies and form new relations to each other, to the more-than- human, and to the land. And from those exchanges and newly established kinships, 92 sometimes hybrids are formed. My investment in this topic is rooted in personal and intimately shared experience. It would be an innovative project intended to further understanding of, and create/take up space for mixed and Indigenous, queer and Two- Spirit, futurist conversations around citizenship, membership, and kinship for multi- racial, multi-lingual, multi-gendered and Indigenous-identifying community members living in Tkaronto.

6.2 Concluding Art

My time as a part-time graduate student was temporarily interrupted for just over one year when I accepted a job offer from the centre for addiction and mental health (camh) as their Aboriginal engagement lead for the greater Tkaronto area. It wasn’t until November of 2016 that I returned to the program with some residual mental health issues and a thesis left to complete. I was lucky enough to be given the opportunity to focus on my school for once did not have a full-time job and should have had no problem completing my thesis in a years time. But I struggled. I resisted writing as I found it too painful. I was happy to read, think, and talk about what I wanted to discuss but when it came down to writing I would sit in front of a glowing white screen and nothing would come. Sometimes I would try to write and then end up crying and delete what I had written. Depression has a way of making simple things challenging, as does residual trauma. One way that I coped with this was by creating digital collage art using my computer’s word processor. At the time I thought that I was neglecting my thesis writing. Sometimes I made art in direct rejection of writing, and other times I would try to write and end up making art instead. What I didn’t realize until only a few weeks before now when finalizing my thesis was that my art was part of my thesis. I started attempting to write my thesis in late october and my first digital collage was created in early november. These collages allow me to dive deeper into the topics I’ve engaged and represent the future tense of that concept of piitaapan (coming of the dawn). I project myself and my thoughts into space, into the Starworld, to create and claim space for my future self. 93

ᐋᐱᑑᓭ ᐋᐱᑑᓭ ᐋᐱᑑᓭ aabitoose aabitoose aabitoose (aabitoose = in the centre, in between, mixed) we are stars and nebulae between grandmother moon and grandfather sun our spirits stretching from our traditional territories to these cities we are the spectrums that bind two halves and we are essential our presence and powers complete ceremonial circles not of one nor the other but both and all we are in the centre in between mixed 94

ᐍᐘᐦ We’Wha We’Wha (1849–1896) Lhamana, Zuni we are stars and nebulae between grandmother moon and grandfather sun our spirits stretch and reach and braid the space-time continuum we are the spectrums that bind two halves and we are essential our presence and powers complete ceremonial circles our rightful place is in the centre third and fourth genders and beyond infinite 95

ᐊᐣᒋᓭ ᑭᐦᒋ ᒪᓂᑑ ᐅᓇᑎᐣ ᐱᐦᒋ ᒪᓂᑑ anjise kihci manitoo, onadin kihci manitoo (anjise kihci manitoo, onadin kihci manitoo = creator is change, shape creator) we are stars and nebulae between grandmother moon and grandfather sun our spirits vogue, sashay, jingledance to transcend settler colonial violence we are the spectrums that bind two halves and we are essential our presence and powers complete ceremonial circles we are earthseed and our destiny is to one day return and take root in starworld 96

ᒌᒫᓂᐣᐠ/ciimaanink/around a canoe, piihkonikewin/connor pion, 2016 Here I am brinGing forward the ancestral imprint that I can sometimes tune into when spending time by Skanyadari:o (Lake Ontario). The land and the waters hold memories of our ancestors who have since journeyed to the starworld. Sometimes if you listen and look and feel and think in just the right ways all while connecting with the land and water, you can pick up (sometimes faint) traces of Tkaronto before settler invasion and colonization. The city and its alien like skeleton fade away and the land projects forward, while also journeying back in time. Long before the condos and towers, Tkaronto as it was recognized by its trees standing in the water where many travelled by canoe to come together. Often our ancestors still make this journey to meet with us, their urbanized kin and with the land, water and animals whose treaty rights have been neglected. I think about how maintaining these relations in a good way must extend into one’s life in the Starworld. However far the connections of our navels to those of our ancestors must stretch, their love and care extends itself to us and we must work to keep the connecting cable adequately tethered and live. 97

ᒪᓯᓂᐸᑲᐣᒋᑲᓇᐣ/mazinibaganjiganan/design by , piihkonikewin/connor pion, 2016

The starworld is a fairly consistent backdrop for my art, most likely due to the fact that many of my connections to my ancestors and relations have been severed by intergenerational trauma, mental health and addictions, and the child welfare system, so I look to the stars to find and relate to my kin. Birchbark biting, an old school art form made by many nations surrounding the great lakes region were also vehicles for knowledge transference through symbology. I had the privilege of seeing some well- preserved mazinibaganjiganan while at the Smithsonian’s national Museum of the American Indian and I immediately felt a connection deep within my body. Those transcripts contained ceremonial knowledge, likely also treaty related information, as well as nods to the syllabic writing system. My spirit has always been drawn to this art form, and several years back I was encouraged by my Anishinaabemowin kihkinohamaakenini (language teacher) to develop my skills by practicing making patterns on freshly fallen leaves. Since then I’ve created a few small and simple pieces and felt very much connected to my relations in the starworld in those moments. Those pieces now contain those memories and as I look at them from time to time I am reminded of the significance of art and its ability to retain ancestral ties. 98

ᓂᒼᑕᓇᐣᑰᐏᓂᓂᐘᐠ ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᐠ/Nintanangoowininiwag Anishinaabek/Indigenous People Are All Star Beings/ piihkonikewin/connor pion, 2016

Most of the creation stories I’ve heard from around these parts involves beings in the sky or star worlds descending, falling, or being lowered down to ᒥᑭᓈᑯᒥᓂᓯᐣᐠ Mikinaakominising Turtle Island. A journey that they then make in reverse when their time as a two-legged has come to an end. I have often thought and dreamt of visiting my ancestors or the ancestors of this territory in the star and sky worlds - of teleporting back and forth when I am lonely, lost, or in need of their guidance. Sometimes I feel like since that is where I am originally from, that the sky and star worlds are where I belong. I often feel like such a star-being that I begin to feel alien. Alien to the city, to the ways in which our society moves through their experience as two-leggeds and I ache for the ability to teleport up up and away. 99

ᑤᐦᐃᑫ ᑭᒋ ᑮᔑᑯᐣᐠ/Dwaahige Gichi Giizhigong/t/s/h/e/y makes a hole in the ice into outer space, piihkonikewin/connor pion, 2016 100

ᓃᐡ ᒪᓂᑑᐠ ᑭᒋᑮᔑᑯᐣᐠ/Niish Manidoog Kicikiishikonk/Two Spirit in Outer Space, piihkonikewin/connor pion, 2017. 101

ᐚᐚᐡᑫᔑ ᑑᑌᒼ/Waawaashkeshi Tootem/They are Deer Clan, piihkonikewin/connor pion, 2017. 102

views from ᐃᐦᐄᐱᐦᒑᓯᐤ/views from ihiipihchaasiu/views from the net maker, piihkonikewin/connor pion, 2017 103

ᓂᐣᑯᑤᐦᓱ ᒥᑭᓈᑯᒥᓂᐢ/Nikotwaahso, Mikinaakominis/The 6, Turtle Island, piihkonikewin/connor pion, 2017 104

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