Afterlives of Indigenous Archives
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Dartmouth College Dartmouth Digital Commons Open Dartmouth: Published works by Dartmouth faculty Faculty Work 2019 Afterlives of Indigenous Archives Ivy Schweitzer Dartmouth College, [email protected] Gordon Henry Jr Michigan State University Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.dartmouth.edu/facoa Part of the Archival Science Commons, Civic and Community Engagement Commons, Community- Based Research Commons, Digital Humanities Commons, Indigenous Studies Commons, Literature in English, North America Commons, Race and Ethnicity Commons, and the United States History Commons Dartmouth Digital Commons Citation Schweitzer, Ivy and Henry, Gordon Jr, "Afterlives of Indigenous Archives" (2019). Open Dartmouth: Published works by Dartmouth faculty. 3983. https://digitalcommons.dartmouth.edu/facoa/3983 This Book is brought to you for free and open access by the Faculty Work at Dartmouth Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Open Dartmouth: Published works by Dartmouth faculty by an authorized administrator of Dartmouth Digital Commons. For more information, please contact [email protected]. Afterlives of Indigenous Archives Edited by Ivy Schweitzer and Gordon Henry AFTERLIVES OF INDIGENOUS ARCHIVES Essays in honor of The Occom Circle Dartmouth College Press Hanover, New Hampshire Dartmouth College Press © 2019 Trustees of Dartmouth College All rights reserved Manufactured in the United States of Amer i ca Designed by Mindy Basinger Hill Typeset in Minion Pro by Westchester Publishing Services For permission to reproduce any of the material in this book, contact Permissions, Dartmouth College Press, 6025 Baker-Berry Library, Hanover, NH 03755; or email [email protected] Library of Congress Cataloging- in- Publication Data available upon request Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-5126-0364-4 Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5126-0365-1 Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5126-0366-8 5 4 3 2 1 FOR THE WATER PROTECTORS AT STANDING ROCK AND FOR ALL OF THOSE WHO PROTECT THE EARTH WE ALSO DEDICATE THIS VOLUME TO OUR COLLEAGUE TIMOTHY POWELL, WHO DIED IN FALL 2018 AS THIS COLLECTION WAS IN PREPARATION. THE COLLAB- ORATIVE AND INCLUSIVE APPROACH TO AMERICAN STUDIES YOU PIONEERED WAS A LIGHT AND A MODEL TO MANY OF US. MAY IT SHINE FOR A LONG TIME. CONTENTS FOREWORD The Afterlives of the Archive Melanie Benson Taylor ix Acknowledgments xv INTRODUCTION “The Afterlives of Indigenous Archives” Ivy Schweitzer 1 PART I Critiques ONE The Role of Indigenous Communities in Building Digital Archives Timothy B. Powell 23 TWO From Time Immemorial: Centering Indigenous Traditional Knowledge and Ways of Knowing in the Archival Paradigm Jennifer R. O’Neal 45 THREE Decolonizing the Imperialist Archive: Translating Cherokee Manuscripts Ellen Cushman 60 FOUR Caretaking Around Collecting and the Digital Turn: Lessons in Ongoing Opportunities and Challenges from the Native Northeast Christine DeLucia 79 PART II Methods FIVE New Methods, New Schools, New Stories: Digital Archives and Dartmouth’s Institutional Legacy Thomas Peace 95 SIX Entangled Archives: Cherokee Interventions in Language Collecting Kelly Wisecup 120 SEVEN Recovering Indigenous Kinship: Community, Conversion, and the Digital Turn Marie Balsley Taylor 139 EIGHT Reading Tipâcimôwin and the Receding Archive Susan Paterson Glover 156 NINE Re- incurating Tribal Skins: Re- imagining the Native Archive, Re- stor(y)ing the Tribal Imagi(Native) Gordon Henry 172 PART III Interventions TEN The Occom Circle at Dartmouth College Library Laura R. Braunstein, Peter Carini, and Hazel- Dawn Dumpert 189 ELEVEN The Audio of Text: Art of Tradition Alan Ojiig Corbiere 202 TWELVE Writing the Digital Codex: Non/Alphabetic, De/Colonial, Network/ed Damián Baca 212 THIRTEEN An Orderly Assemblage of Biases: Troubling the Monocultural Stack Jason Edward Lewis 218 About the Contributors 233 Index 237 FOREWORD The Afterlives of the Archive Melanie Benson Taylor What does a scholar of modern and con temporary lit er a ture have to say about the archive? This is not a rhetorical question; rhetorical questionsdon’t demand answers quite so insistently, don’t keep us up at night, haunted by the proverbial blinking cursor of a blank Word document. When asked to participate in this proj ect, I worried earnestly that I would have little to say and much to expose. I have always felt a little inferior to — and envious of — my brilliant colleagues in Native American Studies who take regular research trips to comb through dusty archives at far flung institutions, both settler and tribal, returning bleary-eyed but triumphant with sheaves of freshly drafted manuscript pages. Against mine, the work of my colleagues seems commendably grounded, rooted tangibly in the densities of history and the material conditions of community, altogether more constructive, purposeful, and noble. Wistfully, I won der less about what they have found in their archival junkets than what they went searching for in the first place: what gaps in the rec ord insisted on being filled? Where did they know to look for clues? How does one judge whether the discoveries are true? And — perhaps most bewildering of all — where does the quest begin and end? There are obvious answers to these questions, supplied by intellectual logic and disciplinary methodologies; and while they are seductive, truthfully, none of them are fully convincing to me. If knowledge were a puzzle, I imagine the archive as a dazzling trea sure chest filled with final missing pieces; yet, as a liter- ary scholar admittedly ruined by poststructural theory, and an American Indian Studies scholar inured to postmodern appropriations of the “real,” I have long since jettisoned the very notion of final pieces, missing links, or the elusive clue that would solve the mystery. The truth is that I don’t trust the archives. Setting foot in any Special Collec- tions store house, you can veritably smell the musty air of reverence, the profound care with which its precious contents are guarded from ink pens and coffee cups. I feel ner vous there, and a little recalcitrant. My preferred texts are housed in the wide- open, defenseless field of the now, with all its awful silences and nagging mysteries, and my work is tuned to exposing rather than falsely patching the dark, permanent vacancies of the human condition. So that haunting, blinking cursor plagued me. What could I say about this thing, this quest, this space that had never spoken to me? I began by doing what all good literary scholars do and scurried to my own preferred archives: the vast alphabetic repositories of the Oxford En glish Diction- ary. Archive — the entry was surprisingly, uncharacteristically, indeed distress- ingly spare. Two entries alone stared back at me: “1. A place in which public rec ords or other impor tant historic documents are kept”; and “2. A historical rec ord or document so preserved.”1 ( Imagined footnote: “It really is that simple, you idiot.”) Yes, in some ways, it is exceedingly simple: the archives (rendered almost exclusively in the plural form) are both text and container: the rec ords themselves, and the spaces where they are held. Voices and places — what could be a more simple synergy, a more appealingly Indigenous pairing, a more multi- throated expression of lively communities and textured pluralities? Things got even better for me when I contemplated the verb form of “archive”: “To place or store in an archive; in Computing, to transfer to a store containing infrequently used files, or to a lower level in the hierarchy of memories, esp. from disc to tape.”2 Here, place is elevated from static to dynamic, from the concrete to the abstract, and from the library basement to the (virtual but somehow literal) cloud of the internet — a shuttling energy to which the final two essays in this book attest with stunning symmetry. Indeed, the archive lives in the ancient coils of a birch tree, as Alan Corbiere beautifully documents in his essay, as well as the ever- growing stack of the World Wide Web that Jason Edward Lewis unravels in his. Both archives are rich, enduring, mutating things; both invite readers to engage with and translate them in order that they may go on living; and both are vulnerable to the sinking forces of hierarchy exerting downward pressure on the fragile roots and traces preserved therein. x Foreword Indeed, what all of the essays in this volume demonstrate, over and over again, is the ponderous weight of history and hierarchy threatening to eclipse forms of Indigenous knowledge forever and, thus, the urgency of archival methods to excavate, transliterate, and reboot them. In environments both digital and eco- logical, we battle the kind of opacity and “dangerous . blindnesses” that Lewis describes, the murky consequences of our post- settler condition. But traveling backward through the striations of history, no matter how energetic the archive, doesn’t guarantee either clarity or survival. Nor does importing and updating the found nuggets of Indigenous wisdom. It is not simply that the orthographies are “obsolete,” as Corbiere admits, but rather, as Lewis notes, that, “tinkering at the edges will not fix a system that is so deeply compromised.” That is, surrendering to the inevitability of corrupted data, of the bungled translation, is perhaps the only way to ensure that communities, languages, and identities persist into the twenty- first century. Tethered irremediably to a broken system, Lewis thus won ders, “how do we breathe humanity back into our computational creations?” Rather than answer this question with the genuine fervor that most Indigenous scholars do, I think we might do better to scramble the terms — to ask instead whether we might confront the vast computational and colonial creations themselves as the expres- sion of humanity in this new millennium. Full stop. Such a revision would shift our focus from proj ects of reclamation or reversal, or even of decolonization, to a more sober but potentially nutritive emphasis on the heteroglot certainties of our pres ent moment.