Please click on the comments button to add you reflection under this heading.... if using a video or image formate, please email it to me and I will add it here
Work by Ronan
As you have let us into the world of Anishinaabe language and culture I wanted to show you a special space that I go to, to think. While singing the water song in class it brought that space to mind and I wanted to sing it to the water. I have been fortunate enough to have been hired as an outdoor education instructor and have been thinking a lot about pedagogy and inclusivity. This course has been a large help and eye opener even further into these areas. I wanted to go to the water and give it my thoughts and share them for this assignment. I wanted to discuss the importance of indigenous culture and teaching how to most effectively make space for and spread these brilliant teachings you have given the class. But to do so in an appropriate way. Also please forgive my pronunciation in the song I practiced a lot but still sounds little off but I’m sure will be a good laugh for you none the less.
Roots Before Routes by Emma Litschko
Something that stuck with me from the first class was “roots before routes” and you have to know where you are coming from before you know where you are going. So, here is where I’m coming from, here are my roots:
‘kwe. pusu’l. Mala l’nu. N’in tleyawi epegwitg Lennox Island First Nation. Mala ugtutem ku’ku’kwes. Talusisi Emma.
Hello. I am Mi’kmaq. I am from the place of calm waters (Prince Edward Island) at Lennox Island First Nation. I am of the owl clan. My name is Emma.
Before an Elder gave me a teaching on circles of responsibilities, I always introduced myself in the wrong order like we do in English where we start with our name. The Elder told me that “you are not the most important thing” so you go last. I was always confused by this as they never gave further explanation. Now that I have heard roots before routes, I have made a deeper connection to what that Elder meant. We are not single beings. We belong to a long connection of ancestors, places, animals, and interconnected histories whether you are Indigenous or a settler; we are all connected by history and treaties. For someone to really learn who you are, they must understand where you come from as that can tell them about your belief systems, who your people are, who your family is, your responsibilities, what language you speak and so much more. That is why I now establish my Mi’kmaq roots first, then where I am from within Mi’kma’ki, then my clan, and then myself.
The painting I included above is something I made when I was 18. It was about my struggle with identity at the time. The hands from the Creation of Adam to me created that big black abyss in the center where I got lost attending a Catholic school and my big, bright, vibrant Indigeneity was pushed to the background; where that was not the most important thing. I’ll leave the rest of the painting up for your interpretation.
Since moving from Mi’kma’ki, I have come to better understand the importance of language and its connection to the surroundings. Mi’kmaq makes no sense when spoken in the territory of Tkaronto. Language is central to the land. Without using Mi’kmaq and having other Mi’kmaq speakers around, it feels so strange and out of place even though I can understand a fair bit of Anishinaabemowin, my cousin language.
Although we have only had a few classes, I am beginning to feel more connection and understanding towards this host territory. I am beginning to understand the landscapes and histories better. We have a great deal of shared history in colonization and even some pre-contact history but that has been muddled and lost in settler narratives. It is like when settlers come to Mi’kma’ki for vacation and I hear them talking about specific hiking trails, but they don’t know the true stories of how Gloosap encountered that space. There is a lack of deep appreciation and Indigenous history. I had always understood this territory as that of other Indigenous groups mainly that of the Anishinaabe but to understand more of the history has helped me to understand how to respect this territory more and how to uplift and support my fellow Indigenous people of this area. Knowing the roots of this territory has established the route I will go to do my best as a guest living in this territory.
‘kwe. pusu’l. Mala l’nu. N’in tleyawi epegwitg Lennox Island First Nation. Mala ugtutem ku’ku’kwes. Talusisi Emma.
Hello. I am Mi’kmaq. I am from the place of calm waters (Prince Edward Island) at Lennox Island First Nation. I am of the owl clan. My name is Emma.
Before an Elder gave me a teaching on circles of responsibilities, I always introduced myself in the wrong order like we do in English where we start with our name. The Elder told me that “you are not the most important thing” so you go last. I was always confused by this as they never gave further explanation. Now that I have heard roots before routes, I have made a deeper connection to what that Elder meant. We are not single beings. We belong to a long connection of ancestors, places, animals, and interconnected histories whether you are Indigenous or a settler; we are all connected by history and treaties. For someone to really learn who you are, they must understand where you come from as that can tell them about your belief systems, who your people are, who your family is, your responsibilities, what language you speak and so much more. That is why I now establish my Mi’kmaq roots first, then where I am from within Mi’kma’ki, then my clan, and then myself.
The painting I included above is something I made when I was 18. It was about my struggle with identity at the time. The hands from the Creation of Adam to me created that big black abyss in the center where I got lost attending a Catholic school and my big, bright, vibrant Indigeneity was pushed to the background; where that was not the most important thing. I’ll leave the rest of the painting up for your interpretation.
Since moving from Mi’kma’ki, I have come to better understand the importance of language and its connection to the surroundings. Mi’kmaq makes no sense when spoken in the territory of Tkaronto. Language is central to the land. Without using Mi’kmaq and having other Mi’kmaq speakers around, it feels so strange and out of place even though I can understand a fair bit of Anishinaabemowin, my cousin language.
Although we have only had a few classes, I am beginning to feel more connection and understanding towards this host territory. I am beginning to understand the landscapes and histories better. We have a great deal of shared history in colonization and even some pre-contact history but that has been muddled and lost in settler narratives. It is like when settlers come to Mi’kma’ki for vacation and I hear them talking about specific hiking trails, but they don’t know the true stories of how Gloosap encountered that space. There is a lack of deep appreciation and Indigenous history. I had always understood this territory as that of other Indigenous groups mainly that of the Anishinaabe but to understand more of the history has helped me to understand how to respect this territory more and how to uplift and support my fellow Indigenous people of this area. Knowing the roots of this territory has established the route I will go to do my best as a guest living in this territory.
Work by Simon Sousa
Reflection
As most people can acknowledge, our education systems are not designed to inform students of the horrific history of colonization, genocide and cultural assimilation endured by the Indigenous peoples of Canada, as well as several other nations globally. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to take a course in high school, run by a Métis teacher, called “Contemporary Indigenous Issues and Perspectives in a Global Context”. This enlightened me on the brutal past that this country tries so hard to sweep under the rug and conceal from its inhabitants. I was shocked to learn about this history in a way that didn’t glorify colonization, or heroize settlers. I chose to enrol in LIN2636 to learn more about the culture and language of Anishinaabemowin, rather than the history of colonization in Canada (which of course is very important to learn about, but I wanted to explore other areas of Indigenous history and culture). Throughout this reflection, I will relate my learning experiences and make connections to the themes of the capability of language and culture, the river of life, and the medicine bundle discussed in class.
During the past month, we have learned a lot about how and why language is so important to Indigenous peoples. Language is used to communicate, express emotion, educate others, and share ideas or stories. It is what connects humans together. Imagining being stripped of my ability to speak is incomprehensible. It enrages me that the Indigenous peoples of Canada were forced to stop speaking their languages through isolation, withdrawal of meals, and horrific abusive tactics. They were silenced and confused. This of course is one of many factors that contributes to the pain, suffering, and destruction amongst so many Indigenous communities today. It amazes me yet makes so much sense why these languages have the ability to heal. Many people identify with the language they speak, it is a major part of our cultures and every day lives. Therefore, their reclamation of it was able to provide restoration. During high school, there was a First Nations student in my class, the same course I had previously mentioned. A lot of people knew about the struggles he faced, including homelessness, drug addiction, and mental illness among others. He didn’t have a good relationship with his family nor his culture. My teacher, who he was very close to, supported him in beginning his healing journey. She provided him with resources, including a summer long camp where he was able to learn about his culture, language, clan etc. Upon his return the following school year he was unrecognizable, he was a completely changed person. He presented a seminar in class discussing what he learned, how it has helped him heal, the ceremonies he took part in, etc. He claimed that he found purpose within his life. This really was the first eye-opening moment that proved to me how powerful and healing language and culture can be.
The river of life was another concept we discussed in class. The river of life represents the divide between settlers and Indigenous peoples. Each row on the river represents a different principle: trust, friendship and mutual respect. Together, these principles lay the foundation of requirements for reconciliation. We need to be able to trust each other, work together, and respect each other’s identities. Reconciliation is something I am very passionate about, and I believe as a settler, that it can only be achieved by listening to Indigenous people, understanding what they need, and realizing that it is our duty to mend a connection viciously destroyed by our ancestors. This is why I work towards becoming more educated every day, there is so much to learn about regarding Indigenous Canadian history, language, culture, etc. In my opinion, education is the starting point of reconciliation.
I will lastly discuss the medicine bundle concept discussed in class. The medicine bundle represents the aspects that will bring healing to Indigenous peoples. This includes language, ceremonies and practices, worldviews, spirituality, stories, and reconciliation among many other things. I learned a lot about the medicine bundle and Indigenous worldview from a Mohawk healer named Doug Doolittle. He works to promote Indigenous healing with a focus on Indigenous men coming together to end violence against women. One experience that sticks out to me is when he did the blanket exercise with our class. This is a participatory lesson where we were taught about history in a way that fosters truth and understanding (video linked below for anyone who wants to learn more about it). This experience really educated me on many of the horrific events that led to minimal land ownership. Another experience I had was participating in a sweat lodge at Doug’s house on the six nations of the grand river reserve. This was an amazing opportunity that I took so much from. Inside we sang, listened to teachings and stories, and sweat. I learned a lot about Indigenous teachings and world view, two factors that aid in Indigenous healing and that personally changed my outlook on life. We learned about the four sacred medicines as well, two of which were used in our sweat lodge (cedar and tobacco).
Finally, I learned a lot about reconciliation from Doug. I am so grateful to have learned so much from him regarding Indigenous culture, teachings, world views, and healing. After our sweat lodge experience, we made art to reflect on what we learned or felt after participating. I made this piece (Image included below) which reflects reconciliation and Indigenous healing. I painted a turtle on deer hide, with the four sacred medicine colours at its core. This represents Turtle Island and its inhabitants, and the centre represents Indigenous healing, which we need to prioritize. The feathers represent my promised efforts to work towards achieving reconciliation. Overall, I am excited to learn further in this course in a different way than I ever have before.
Video about the Blanket Exercise: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzXdi_RDkjc
As most people can acknowledge, our education systems are not designed to inform students of the horrific history of colonization, genocide and cultural assimilation endured by the Indigenous peoples of Canada, as well as several other nations globally. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to take a course in high school, run by a Métis teacher, called “Contemporary Indigenous Issues and Perspectives in a Global Context”. This enlightened me on the brutal past that this country tries so hard to sweep under the rug and conceal from its inhabitants. I was shocked to learn about this history in a way that didn’t glorify colonization, or heroize settlers. I chose to enrol in LIN2636 to learn more about the culture and language of Anishinaabemowin, rather than the history of colonization in Canada (which of course is very important to learn about, but I wanted to explore other areas of Indigenous history and culture). Throughout this reflection, I will relate my learning experiences and make connections to the themes of the capability of language and culture, the river of life, and the medicine bundle discussed in class.
During the past month, we have learned a lot about how and why language is so important to Indigenous peoples. Language is used to communicate, express emotion, educate others, and share ideas or stories. It is what connects humans together. Imagining being stripped of my ability to speak is incomprehensible. It enrages me that the Indigenous peoples of Canada were forced to stop speaking their languages through isolation, withdrawal of meals, and horrific abusive tactics. They were silenced and confused. This of course is one of many factors that contributes to the pain, suffering, and destruction amongst so many Indigenous communities today. It amazes me yet makes so much sense why these languages have the ability to heal. Many people identify with the language they speak, it is a major part of our cultures and every day lives. Therefore, their reclamation of it was able to provide restoration. During high school, there was a First Nations student in my class, the same course I had previously mentioned. A lot of people knew about the struggles he faced, including homelessness, drug addiction, and mental illness among others. He didn’t have a good relationship with his family nor his culture. My teacher, who he was very close to, supported him in beginning his healing journey. She provided him with resources, including a summer long camp where he was able to learn about his culture, language, clan etc. Upon his return the following school year he was unrecognizable, he was a completely changed person. He presented a seminar in class discussing what he learned, how it has helped him heal, the ceremonies he took part in, etc. He claimed that he found purpose within his life. This really was the first eye-opening moment that proved to me how powerful and healing language and culture can be.
The river of life was another concept we discussed in class. The river of life represents the divide between settlers and Indigenous peoples. Each row on the river represents a different principle: trust, friendship and mutual respect. Together, these principles lay the foundation of requirements for reconciliation. We need to be able to trust each other, work together, and respect each other’s identities. Reconciliation is something I am very passionate about, and I believe as a settler, that it can only be achieved by listening to Indigenous people, understanding what they need, and realizing that it is our duty to mend a connection viciously destroyed by our ancestors. This is why I work towards becoming more educated every day, there is so much to learn about regarding Indigenous Canadian history, language, culture, etc. In my opinion, education is the starting point of reconciliation.
I will lastly discuss the medicine bundle concept discussed in class. The medicine bundle represents the aspects that will bring healing to Indigenous peoples. This includes language, ceremonies and practices, worldviews, spirituality, stories, and reconciliation among many other things. I learned a lot about the medicine bundle and Indigenous worldview from a Mohawk healer named Doug Doolittle. He works to promote Indigenous healing with a focus on Indigenous men coming together to end violence against women. One experience that sticks out to me is when he did the blanket exercise with our class. This is a participatory lesson where we were taught about history in a way that fosters truth and understanding (video linked below for anyone who wants to learn more about it). This experience really educated me on many of the horrific events that led to minimal land ownership. Another experience I had was participating in a sweat lodge at Doug’s house on the six nations of the grand river reserve. This was an amazing opportunity that I took so much from. Inside we sang, listened to teachings and stories, and sweat. I learned a lot about Indigenous teachings and world view, two factors that aid in Indigenous healing and that personally changed my outlook on life. We learned about the four sacred medicines as well, two of which were used in our sweat lodge (cedar and tobacco).
Finally, I learned a lot about reconciliation from Doug. I am so grateful to have learned so much from him regarding Indigenous culture, teachings, world views, and healing. After our sweat lodge experience, we made art to reflect on what we learned or felt after participating. I made this piece (Image included below) which reflects reconciliation and Indigenous healing. I painted a turtle on deer hide, with the four sacred medicine colours at its core. This represents Turtle Island and its inhabitants, and the centre represents Indigenous healing, which we need to prioritize. The feathers represent my promised efforts to work towards achieving reconciliation. Overall, I am excited to learn further in this course in a different way than I ever have before.
Video about the Blanket Exercise: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzXdi_RDkjc
Reflection by Zhihui Xia (Tracey)
LIN 2636
Reflection#1
Colonialism has ruined countless of innocent lives and it also resulted in tones of murder, torture, exploitation and indoctrination. The Europeans were so brutal to the first nations on turtle island, they took advantage of the kindness and hospitality that were given. The first nations did not want to force the Europeans into their way of living, they wanted to share their culture and language with the “visitors”. The whites on the other hand had another idea, yes, everything was “peaceful” for many years but, everything went downhill when the whites built residences for their own people, they wanted their land for themselves and nothing to do with a different culture. Its absolutely disgusting to me that they did so many disturbing things for so many centuries, they really wanted to strip everything that had and turn them into a slave to the white man, a robot to the white man.
Not only the whites ruined the health of the people of turtle island by bringing diseases and plagues from their world, they also committed cultural genocide! I was absolutely baffled when I heard in lecture that the white men took over indigenous areas and forced indigenous communities away from water and areas that are vital to practice culture. Fishing certainly was and still is a massive aspect of indigenous culture, I just don’t know how people are so cruel to do such a thing, destroying a culture ruins it not only for that generation for generations down… Once you are robbed of your culture, you lose a part of a connection to your ancestors and your roots, which can cause so much trauma and a struggle to your worth and identity.
I kind of relate with culture being stolen on some level because my parents are from Maoist China and thanks to the cultural revolution, so much tradition and values were destroyed, and my parents were never able to pass down many customs to me or my sister. My father wanted us to move to Nova Scotia because he didn’t want us to only speak with Chinese people, he wanted us to improve our English because we were in a English speaking country. My Chinese is still pretty good but, I do feel robbed of a chance of connection to Chinese culture, I think colonialism has a part in my father’s decision, as a immigrant from China in the early 2000s, you want the whites to be pleased by you. Its so depressing and upsetting to see that its not only indigenous people who suffer from colonization, but just like you said, also the whites and other minority groups.
The fact that even today, indigenous people are still suffering, all thanks to awful, disgusting, vile, white supremacist. For example, I didn’t know indigenous people had the highest suicide rate in the world until this class, It really makes me angry that the people up north working in the mines don’t get the mental help they need, that all the resources just go to populated areas that do not have marginalized groups. It really makes me angry that Trudeau claims he’s all about helping the indigenous people but, he still allows police brutality to the communities and individuals.
Reflection paper by Vimala Suppiah
Language
I have always taken my mother tongue for granted. Never cared about it nor given much
thought about it. It has always been there waiting, spoon fed to me. I had always thought it useless and inferior as English was the dominant language that I used in the workplace and in everyday life. Clearly, I was not going to be paid for speaking it. I remember being frustrated and angry as a teenager that I was forced to learn it. It was not easy learning two languages at one time.
I was born in South East Asia. I am an islander. English is the dominant language. However, the government had made an effort to preserve native languages and therefore it was taught to me in both the written and spoken form by native speakers in school. In both primary and high school, I learnt my mother tongue, Tamil as a second language within the school curriculum. It was compulsory for me to pass both the written and spoken form otherwise I could not move on to the next grade. This class has got me thinking of the impacts of losing my mother tongue which I had not thought about all before. What would it be like if I did not have the opportunity to speak it nor write it? I pondered over this question incessantly and tried to put myself in the shoes of those who had been there.
If I cannot read or speak my mother tongue, I would not be able to access the folklores, idioms, arts, poetry, philosophy and literature books that I had enjoyed reading as a teenager on those lazy Saturday afternoons. I am not an expert on this subject, but common sense tells me that language, religion, and culture are deeply connected and intertwined to a level that i cannot even begin to understand. Language discloses both cultural and historical meanings in life. It links me to the past with the teachings, wisdoms, and histories of our forefathers and in this instance, what comes readily to my mind is yoga, ayurveda and mediation. If learning was disrupted for me, I would not be able to access that knowledge on a deeper intimate level. The result of this would be a loss of my link to that vast amount of knowledge and the historical past. Without a link to the past, I would be lost on many levels beyond my comprehension. I would lose my sense of place, my purpose and path because I feel that one must know where one comes from to know where one is going to next. My personal narrative and identity of myself would also be disrupted. My “atman” (Soul) is lost.
I then questioned myself further. if language is lost, isn’t culture and religion not lost too? Yes, I believe so. The teachings of both culture and religion are written down in literature and passed down orally through language down the generations. If one cannot speak or write the language, how does one access information? My mind cannot even begin to understand the impact this would have on my psyche. Devastating. A personal tragedy.
I would always be in search of “me”, a never-ending unsatisfying search, and a dreaded sense of having lost a part of myself. Nevertheless, not being able to take comfort in the teachings and knowledge of my own culture is something I have not experienced before but something I can empathize with.
As I sift through my ponderings, it suddenly dawns on me that even though I speak or use English as my main medium to communicate, it can never ever take the place of my mother tongue. English is in a way, to me “foreign and adopted”.
I have travelled to countries where they do not speak much English and it has been very stressful trying to get my ideas across to them. I decided then to never travel to a place where they do not speak English or my native language. It is already stressful travelling let alone trying to communicate in a foreign language and nobody there seems to understand you much apart from your exaggerated body language and hand gestures. Language is powerful.
I have a two-year-old son and I cannot imagine the torture, suffering and pain that these young aboriginal children were subjected to daily. Heart wrenching. They were punished horribly for speaking their mother tongue. I cannot imagine my child being separated from me to go get educated and become more “civilized”. This is inhumane. No decent human being would have acted this way and inflicted such pain.
These perpetrators tore away at the framework and fabric of the indigenous people by destroying their language, religious practices, and eventually the very core of who they are. These actions have led to intergenerational trauma being passed down from one generation to the next as each affected individual tries to cope with trauma by engaging with drugs, alcohol, and other means to escape the pain. This in turn generates trauma for the next generation as the affected caregivers are not available physically, mentally, and emotionally thus creating a never- ending cycle of intergenerational trauma. The perpetrators should be held accountable for their actions and prosecuted and shamed.
I feel and understand the situation but at the same time, I have not been subjected to these circumstances and therefore I can’t claim that I fully and truly understand what it is like being in the other’s shoes. Thankfully, I did not have to live through this.
I wanted to enroll my son in a French preschool later so that he can better assimilate into his environment but on second thoughts, I should probably teach him his mother tongue first before anything else. It would provide him with an essence of who he is, in time to come.
Thank you Ms Chacaby for providing me with this eye-opening learning experience to have an introspective view on the importance of language. I applaud you for doing your part in keeping your heritage alive. I feel that all of us have a right to mother tongue education and should not be embarrassed to speak it. We must own the language to revitalize it. As the old adage goes “Rome was not built in a day” stating that there is a need for time to create great things. It is the collective efforts of everyone involved indigenous or non-indigenous to lend our hands and help each other out. After all, we are part of a bigger picture – humanity.
Language
I have always taken my mother tongue for granted. Never cared about it nor given much
thought about it. It has always been there waiting, spoon fed to me. I had always thought it useless and inferior as English was the dominant language that I used in the workplace and in everyday life. Clearly, I was not going to be paid for speaking it. I remember being frustrated and angry as a teenager that I was forced to learn it. It was not easy learning two languages at one time.
I was born in South East Asia. I am an islander. English is the dominant language. However, the government had made an effort to preserve native languages and therefore it was taught to me in both the written and spoken form by native speakers in school. In both primary and high school, I learnt my mother tongue, Tamil as a second language within the school curriculum. It was compulsory for me to pass both the written and spoken form otherwise I could not move on to the next grade. This class has got me thinking of the impacts of losing my mother tongue which I had not thought about all before. What would it be like if I did not have the opportunity to speak it nor write it? I pondered over this question incessantly and tried to put myself in the shoes of those who had been there.
If I cannot read or speak my mother tongue, I would not be able to access the folklores, idioms, arts, poetry, philosophy and literature books that I had enjoyed reading as a teenager on those lazy Saturday afternoons. I am not an expert on this subject, but common sense tells me that language, religion, and culture are deeply connected and intertwined to a level that i cannot even begin to understand. Language discloses both cultural and historical meanings in life. It links me to the past with the teachings, wisdoms, and histories of our forefathers and in this instance, what comes readily to my mind is yoga, ayurveda and mediation. If learning was disrupted for me, I would not be able to access that knowledge on a deeper intimate level. The result of this would be a loss of my link to that vast amount of knowledge and the historical past. Without a link to the past, I would be lost on many levels beyond my comprehension. I would lose my sense of place, my purpose and path because I feel that one must know where one comes from to know where one is going to next. My personal narrative and identity of myself would also be disrupted. My “atman” (Soul) is lost.
I then questioned myself further. if language is lost, isn’t culture and religion not lost too? Yes, I believe so. The teachings of both culture and religion are written down in literature and passed down orally through language down the generations. If one cannot speak or write the language, how does one access information? My mind cannot even begin to understand the impact this would have on my psyche. Devastating. A personal tragedy.
I would always be in search of “me”, a never-ending unsatisfying search, and a dreaded sense of having lost a part of myself. Nevertheless, not being able to take comfort in the teachings and knowledge of my own culture is something I have not experienced before but something I can empathize with.
As I sift through my ponderings, it suddenly dawns on me that even though I speak or use English as my main medium to communicate, it can never ever take the place of my mother tongue. English is in a way, to me “foreign and adopted”.
I have travelled to countries where they do not speak much English and it has been very stressful trying to get my ideas across to them. I decided then to never travel to a place where they do not speak English or my native language. It is already stressful travelling let alone trying to communicate in a foreign language and nobody there seems to understand you much apart from your exaggerated body language and hand gestures. Language is powerful.
I have a two-year-old son and I cannot imagine the torture, suffering and pain that these young aboriginal children were subjected to daily. Heart wrenching. They were punished horribly for speaking their mother tongue. I cannot imagine my child being separated from me to go get educated and become more “civilized”. This is inhumane. No decent human being would have acted this way and inflicted such pain.
These perpetrators tore away at the framework and fabric of the indigenous people by destroying their language, religious practices, and eventually the very core of who they are. These actions have led to intergenerational trauma being passed down from one generation to the next as each affected individual tries to cope with trauma by engaging with drugs, alcohol, and other means to escape the pain. This in turn generates trauma for the next generation as the affected caregivers are not available physically, mentally, and emotionally thus creating a never- ending cycle of intergenerational trauma. The perpetrators should be held accountable for their actions and prosecuted and shamed.
I feel and understand the situation but at the same time, I have not been subjected to these circumstances and therefore I can’t claim that I fully and truly understand what it is like being in the other’s shoes. Thankfully, I did not have to live through this.
I wanted to enroll my son in a French preschool later so that he can better assimilate into his environment but on second thoughts, I should probably teach him his mother tongue first before anything else. It would provide him with an essence of who he is, in time to come.
Thank you Ms Chacaby for providing me with this eye-opening learning experience to have an introspective view on the importance of language. I applaud you for doing your part in keeping your heritage alive. I feel that all of us have a right to mother tongue education and should not be embarrassed to speak it. We must own the language to revitalize it. As the old adage goes “Rome was not built in a day” stating that there is a need for time to create great things. It is the collective efforts of everyone involved indigenous or non-indigenous to lend our hands and help each other out. After all, we are part of a bigger picture – humanity.
Free verse by Sydney M
Reflection #1 (A free verse poem)
Brushed landscapes.
Ever jade-forested green hills,
Smoothed rocks and faded driftwood shores, Soft sanded lakes, deep teal or aegean blue.
Home.
Rising landscapes.
Frosted glass & framed steel structures,
Cemented fields and shattered trees,
Busy lives and flowing streets, people rushing through.
Home.
Social landscapes.
Forced or Forgotten ways of life,
Agreements mistranslated and held within worldviews, Minds set and language formed, hiding what they once knew.
Home.
Educational landscapes.
Where do we fit both sides of the river?
How do we ride parallel our canoes?
Can we show the ways? Without being untrue?
Home.
Wandering Mindscapes.
Is learning Anishinaabemowin wrong, when numbers cannot use it? When many have been lost to these missed connections?
Is it a harmful privilege? If so, what are the right directions?
Home.
We are here now, and we weren’t then.
To do this right, we need to be better and defend. To listen, to learn, to try.
We need action, no more lies.
Water,
Language,
Safety,
Shelter,
Community,
A Bundle.
Home.
Future Landscapes.
A place at every table for all.
Merged views with respected differences. A shared home. A place we can all belong.
Home.
Brushed landscapes.
Ever jade-forested green hills,
Smoothed rocks and faded driftwood shores, Soft sanded lakes, deep teal or aegean blue.
Home.
Rising landscapes.
Frosted glass & framed steel structures,
Cemented fields and shattered trees,
Busy lives and flowing streets, people rushing through.
Home.
Social landscapes.
Forced or Forgotten ways of life,
Agreements mistranslated and held within worldviews, Minds set and language formed, hiding what they once knew.
Home.
Educational landscapes.
Where do we fit both sides of the river?
How do we ride parallel our canoes?
Can we show the ways? Without being untrue?
Home.
Wandering Mindscapes.
Is learning Anishinaabemowin wrong, when numbers cannot use it? When many have been lost to these missed connections?
Is it a harmful privilege? If so, what are the right directions?
Home.
We are here now, and we weren’t then.
To do this right, we need to be better and defend. To listen, to learn, to try.
We need action, no more lies.
Water,
Language,
Safety,
Shelter,
Community,
A Bundle.
Home.
Future Landscapes.
A place at every table for all.
Merged views with respected differences. A shared home. A place we can all belong.
Home.
Work by Sakanie Karunakaran
This painting/drawing I have created is a reflection of how trapped the people of Anishinaabemowin are. The fairy represents them struggling to get out of the surrounding darkness that causes them pain and struggles. The light (yellow outline) within them is what's helping them fight through all this pain. I realize how much the people of Anishinaabemowin are going through fighting for their land and culture due to it getting stripped away from them because of western culture. I believe the Anishnaabemowin will eventually end up being out the darkness and into the light where they belong to shine.
Work by Pavneet Kang
Reflection by Paige Lalonde
In a recent class discussion, when learning about the different kinds of nouns that exist in Anishinaabemowin – “it” nouns and “he/she” nouns – I made a comment that likened it to the way that genders in Latin languages work: “It’s like male or female words in languages like French. There’s no reason for it, it’s just ‘vibes.’”
There’s no reason for it. When I said this, Maya Chacaby made a very important
distinction. To paraphrase, she said, “Well, Paige, there actually is a reason. It has to do with our worldview. It has to do with the way we look at things.”
Language is this incredibly important tool, this fantastic thing that connects people and brings about the potential for sharing and growth. As we’ve learned in class, language has the potential to improve the mental health of young people, to bring about a kind of connection that reduces suicidality in individuals and improves the overall health and happiness of entire communities. I always take extra care to ensure that my words reflect exactly what I mean.
When I was sixteen, my friend used the word “assimilation” to describe feelings that she had for immigrants in Canadian society. I tried to express to her the violent implications of that word, tried to make her understand that history has rendered the dictionary definition of that word useless, and turned it instead into a word that is heavy with trauma and genocide.
She stuck to her guns and insisted that the denotation of the word was more relevant than the connotation of it. To this day, I think she was ridiculous for thinking that. Language is and always has been about more than just dictionary definitions. Words are only useful if they mean something to the people using them.
When I said there was no reason for the grammar structures in Anishinaabemowin, I was neglecting to think critically about the words that I use to express my ideas. More importantly, I was neglecting to apply indigenous worldview to my thought process. Throughout this course, so much weight has been placed on demonstrating the intentionality and purposefulness of Anishinaabe culture. It would be naïve to believe that anything in Anishinaabemowin happened by accident. Grammar, after all, only comes about to reflect common usage of a given language, shaped by centuries of evolution and influence by the culture using it. And while I knew this in theory, I failed to take the extra step by allowing it to inform the way I think about Anishinaabemowin.
Language is a direct reflection of the people that use it. It is forged out of a necessity to communicate, to survive, and to understand one another. It is used as an expression of love, of anger, of hurt, of fear, of sadness, and of hope. Everything that we don’t express through dance or touch or art, we express through language. As much as I thought I already knew all of this to be true, many of the discussions we’ve had in class have given me a revitalized understanding of what it truly means.
Anishinaabemowin is a language in danger of extinction. But the primary problem with this isn’t simply in the loss of a language, although that in and of itself is tragic in its own right. What’s most threatening at the prospect of Anishinaabemowin being lost with time is the disappearance of all of the ancestral memory that it carries with it. In a language, there is understanding of culture; there is shared history; there is a reflection of worldview and ideology; there is identity.
In class, we discussed that connection to indigenous language is the number one determinant in the overall wellbeing of indigenous youth. I think it’s becoming very clear to me why that is. Language has always been more than just words; And for many, it can be a release from the clutches of isolation. It can be a pathway that leads to true understanding of the self and of one’s positioning in the greater culture that they inhabit.
There’s no reason for it. When I said this, Maya Chacaby made a very important
distinction. To paraphrase, she said, “Well, Paige, there actually is a reason. It has to do with our worldview. It has to do with the way we look at things.”
Language is this incredibly important tool, this fantastic thing that connects people and brings about the potential for sharing and growth. As we’ve learned in class, language has the potential to improve the mental health of young people, to bring about a kind of connection that reduces suicidality in individuals and improves the overall health and happiness of entire communities. I always take extra care to ensure that my words reflect exactly what I mean.
When I was sixteen, my friend used the word “assimilation” to describe feelings that she had for immigrants in Canadian society. I tried to express to her the violent implications of that word, tried to make her understand that history has rendered the dictionary definition of that word useless, and turned it instead into a word that is heavy with trauma and genocide.
She stuck to her guns and insisted that the denotation of the word was more relevant than the connotation of it. To this day, I think she was ridiculous for thinking that. Language is and always has been about more than just dictionary definitions. Words are only useful if they mean something to the people using them.
When I said there was no reason for the grammar structures in Anishinaabemowin, I was neglecting to think critically about the words that I use to express my ideas. More importantly, I was neglecting to apply indigenous worldview to my thought process. Throughout this course, so much weight has been placed on demonstrating the intentionality and purposefulness of Anishinaabe culture. It would be naïve to believe that anything in Anishinaabemowin happened by accident. Grammar, after all, only comes about to reflect common usage of a given language, shaped by centuries of evolution and influence by the culture using it. And while I knew this in theory, I failed to take the extra step by allowing it to inform the way I think about Anishinaabemowin.
Language is a direct reflection of the people that use it. It is forged out of a necessity to communicate, to survive, and to understand one another. It is used as an expression of love, of anger, of hurt, of fear, of sadness, and of hope. Everything that we don’t express through dance or touch or art, we express through language. As much as I thought I already knew all of this to be true, many of the discussions we’ve had in class have given me a revitalized understanding of what it truly means.
Anishinaabemowin is a language in danger of extinction. But the primary problem with this isn’t simply in the loss of a language, although that in and of itself is tragic in its own right. What’s most threatening at the prospect of Anishinaabemowin being lost with time is the disappearance of all of the ancestral memory that it carries with it. In a language, there is understanding of culture; there is shared history; there is a reflection of worldview and ideology; there is identity.
In class, we discussed that connection to indigenous language is the number one determinant in the overall wellbeing of indigenous youth. I think it’s becoming very clear to me why that is. Language has always been more than just words; And for many, it can be a release from the clutches of isolation. It can be a pathway that leads to true understanding of the self and of one’s positioning in the greater culture that they inhabit.
Work by Jennifer Weerasinghe
Reflection Blog #1
Based on my experience in the course thus far, I have come to understand the importance of language and stories in Indigenous worldviews. I am choosing to reflect on the river of life, the medicine bundle and the power of language. I would like to express my personal feelings of sadness, disgust and anger towards how Indigenous people have been treated in the past until the present.
I personally had a strong connection to the river of life. Both European and Indigenous people come from somewhere. Indigenous nations are on one side of the river and Europeans would be on their own vessels on the other side of the river. As so long as we could respect one another boat’s, we could live together in peace. Each row has a different meaning: the first row is trust; the second row is friendship; the third row represents mutual respect. Trust, friendship and mutual respect are the foundational principles for how we are supposed to live. It is every person’s responsibility to uphold this. With the rise of capitalism, which induced greed within societies and the individuals within them, Indigenous worldviews that were created by the elders began to fade. I believe that trust, friendship and mutual respect is very important as it is not just an Indigenous worldview; it is a worldview for all. I really resonated with this approach, as it demonstrates the beauty behind Indigenous ways of life. Upon reflecting about the combination of trust, friendship and mutual respect, I think about how beautiful life would be if we could embrace this in our contemporary society. However, our society has become one of competition and greed, which is based on a European approach to life.
The discussion surrounding the medicine bundle was very impactful on my experience. The medicine bundle includes ways of being, understanding and doing in the world. This includes stories, tools, language and ceremonies. All of the systems and ways of life are embedded in the medicine bundle; it is a central feature of everyday life. I think about the medicine bundle in relation to my own experience and I truly believe that the medicine bundle is powerful. I believe that there is a certain sense of identity which is rooted in the bundle and there is a greater sense of belonging. Meaning is made within the bundle, which connects individuals to their language and to their own personal and family histories, which is very unique. I believe that the bundle is central and by reflecting on it, I would like to further explore it and embrace it in my own everyday life.
What I found very interesting was the power of language and its healing potential. When language was proven to cure a form of diabetes, this really conveyed the importance of language to me. That is why I believe it is so important to re-store Indigenous languages, by using the recommendations of the youth and the elders. In the western world, there is a heavy focus on the medical profession in treating health concerns, such as diabetes. However, the power of language is strong and also has the potential of curing a form of diabetes. This is not something I have ever heard about and I am able to understand why: the dominance of western ideologies has impacted how we perceive remedies for health concerns. However, language is a cure and the youth and elders who have had this lived experience have been suggesting this for over decades. I feel a personal connection to Indigenous approaches to health. We have been colonized to believe certain stories over others, which is the result of mainstream medicine’s constructed superiority over other approaches, such as language. The fact that Indigenous languages are endangered due to the violence of colonization makes me feel very angry. I personally believe in the importance of restoring Indigenous languages, as it is important in developing connections for individuals, as well as understanding stories.
I personally feel a lot of anger and disgust towards how Indigenous people were treated in the past and how they are presently being treated. I also feel as though I have been lied to, as prior to this class, I was never aware of the extent of the violence that Indigenous people were faced with, as well as the destruction of Indigenous worldviews and languages. I really wonder about what the world would look like once we re-store the bundle as an approach to everyday life. As there is no beginning and no end to the river of life, we are still able to make change and design a society that embraces Indigenous ways of being, knowing and doing. The river of life has stayed with me, specifically how “it has been waiting for us”. I have really enjoyed learning more about Indigenous culture, as well as learning the language. I am developing a deeper connection with the Indigenous approach to life in my own personal life, which is something I want to continue to explore.
Based on my experience in the course thus far, I have come to understand the importance of language and stories in Indigenous worldviews. I am choosing to reflect on the river of life, the medicine bundle and the power of language. I would like to express my personal feelings of sadness, disgust and anger towards how Indigenous people have been treated in the past until the present.
I personally had a strong connection to the river of life. Both European and Indigenous people come from somewhere. Indigenous nations are on one side of the river and Europeans would be on their own vessels on the other side of the river. As so long as we could respect one another boat’s, we could live together in peace. Each row has a different meaning: the first row is trust; the second row is friendship; the third row represents mutual respect. Trust, friendship and mutual respect are the foundational principles for how we are supposed to live. It is every person’s responsibility to uphold this. With the rise of capitalism, which induced greed within societies and the individuals within them, Indigenous worldviews that were created by the elders began to fade. I believe that trust, friendship and mutual respect is very important as it is not just an Indigenous worldview; it is a worldview for all. I really resonated with this approach, as it demonstrates the beauty behind Indigenous ways of life. Upon reflecting about the combination of trust, friendship and mutual respect, I think about how beautiful life would be if we could embrace this in our contemporary society. However, our society has become one of competition and greed, which is based on a European approach to life.
The discussion surrounding the medicine bundle was very impactful on my experience. The medicine bundle includes ways of being, understanding and doing in the world. This includes stories, tools, language and ceremonies. All of the systems and ways of life are embedded in the medicine bundle; it is a central feature of everyday life. I think about the medicine bundle in relation to my own experience and I truly believe that the medicine bundle is powerful. I believe that there is a certain sense of identity which is rooted in the bundle and there is a greater sense of belonging. Meaning is made within the bundle, which connects individuals to their language and to their own personal and family histories, which is very unique. I believe that the bundle is central and by reflecting on it, I would like to further explore it and embrace it in my own everyday life.
What I found very interesting was the power of language and its healing potential. When language was proven to cure a form of diabetes, this really conveyed the importance of language to me. That is why I believe it is so important to re-store Indigenous languages, by using the recommendations of the youth and the elders. In the western world, there is a heavy focus on the medical profession in treating health concerns, such as diabetes. However, the power of language is strong and also has the potential of curing a form of diabetes. This is not something I have ever heard about and I am able to understand why: the dominance of western ideologies has impacted how we perceive remedies for health concerns. However, language is a cure and the youth and elders who have had this lived experience have been suggesting this for over decades. I feel a personal connection to Indigenous approaches to health. We have been colonized to believe certain stories over others, which is the result of mainstream medicine’s constructed superiority over other approaches, such as language. The fact that Indigenous languages are endangered due to the violence of colonization makes me feel very angry. I personally believe in the importance of restoring Indigenous languages, as it is important in developing connections for individuals, as well as understanding stories.
I personally feel a lot of anger and disgust towards how Indigenous people were treated in the past and how they are presently being treated. I also feel as though I have been lied to, as prior to this class, I was never aware of the extent of the violence that Indigenous people were faced with, as well as the destruction of Indigenous worldviews and languages. I really wonder about what the world would look like once we re-store the bundle as an approach to everyday life. As there is no beginning and no end to the river of life, we are still able to make change and design a society that embraces Indigenous ways of being, knowing and doing. The river of life has stayed with me, specifically how “it has been waiting for us”. I have really enjoyed learning more about Indigenous culture, as well as learning the language. I am developing a deeper connection with the Indigenous approach to life in my own personal life, which is something I want to continue to explore.
Reflection by Aamoo
A Reflection on Anishinaabemowin
For years on end I was against my own being after discovering the reality of the colonial world. I was just a small child living in Thunder Bay where things seemed to be only white and red, however the white dominated and looked down upon those who identified with red. I was unaware of the lack of diversity and the Indigenous erasure in my own hometown, but even my own identity vanished before me.
I felt detached and lost as I rejected my own identity and the people who embrace it, deep down I felt as if it were wrong to welcome my spirituality and language with open arms. Learning my own language felt wrong, praying to the Creator felt wrong, and practicing sacred ceremonies felt wrong. It wasn’t until years later where I had learned that what I was experiencing was intergenerational trauma, a pain that has lasted many generations.
My Kookum had written her own memoir on the legacy of residential schools and her trauma as a survivor. In this sacred text she explains that she had been grateful for not being taught Anishinaabemowin for she would have endured more extreme amounts of abuse. While reading this I felt a wave of regret, guilt, sadness, and even anger as I wished that we could have learned our own language together. However, my family only knows very few words and phrases but never speak of it.
This course so far has brought a lot of weight onto my spirit that oftentimes I find myself stepping away to catch my breath or to stop the loud beat of my heart from invading my mind. I could easily identify that my body is responding to trauma and is in a flight or fight response. I enjoy hearing the songs and the beautiful Anishinaabe words that flow from everyone’s tongue gracefully, I love hearing the drums and laughter from classmates who are trying their best to sing along to it. Outside of class I lay on the green grass with the warmth of the sun upon me and whisper words in Anishinaabemowin to my friend and we laugh with each other if we stutter from the amount of double vowels and tongue twisters that follow. I see healing and vulnerability in everyone and wish for myself to do the same, I only wish for myself to overcome my anxiety and not feel so small and forgotten in colonial academia.
One of the students in this class is a former coworker of mine, once we had learned that we were taking the same class we had decided to write words we liked in Anishinaabemowin and tried our best to pronounce it without getting it wrong. It felt nice to enjoy my language with a non-Native individual, it was a rare occurrence. He was a barista where we worked, and his word was “gaapii” which translates to “coffee”
I have my days where I let my trauma overcome me, and on those days I roll myself up in a blanket and let the gentle hum of anxiety consume me. Some days I let my physical body take a rest from the reality of a full-time job and give myself a day of self care, as someone who has the possibility of having Multiple Sclerosis I try to find time to let the tingles of my hands vanish for a while. During this time I allow myself to embrace the medicines that my ancestors onced loved and light sage to calm my nerves from my illnesses.
I think I am treating this reflection as an opportunity to analyze myself as a healing Indigenous person and what it is like learning my identity without judgement or guilt. Learning the history of my people and their ceremonies along with the storytelling of ourselves feels as if I am becoming whole again, rather than just a fragment. I am a fragment by just only being a physical body, working and studying to survive in today’s world. I want to feel whole again by accepting my mind, spirit, and emotions; like a medicine wheel
For years on end I was against my own being after discovering the reality of the colonial world. I was just a small child living in Thunder Bay where things seemed to be only white and red, however the white dominated and looked down upon those who identified with red. I was unaware of the lack of diversity and the Indigenous erasure in my own hometown, but even my own identity vanished before me.
I felt detached and lost as I rejected my own identity and the people who embrace it, deep down I felt as if it were wrong to welcome my spirituality and language with open arms. Learning my own language felt wrong, praying to the Creator felt wrong, and practicing sacred ceremonies felt wrong. It wasn’t until years later where I had learned that what I was experiencing was intergenerational trauma, a pain that has lasted many generations.
My Kookum had written her own memoir on the legacy of residential schools and her trauma as a survivor. In this sacred text she explains that she had been grateful for not being taught Anishinaabemowin for she would have endured more extreme amounts of abuse. While reading this I felt a wave of regret, guilt, sadness, and even anger as I wished that we could have learned our own language together. However, my family only knows very few words and phrases but never speak of it.
This course so far has brought a lot of weight onto my spirit that oftentimes I find myself stepping away to catch my breath or to stop the loud beat of my heart from invading my mind. I could easily identify that my body is responding to trauma and is in a flight or fight response. I enjoy hearing the songs and the beautiful Anishinaabe words that flow from everyone’s tongue gracefully, I love hearing the drums and laughter from classmates who are trying their best to sing along to it. Outside of class I lay on the green grass with the warmth of the sun upon me and whisper words in Anishinaabemowin to my friend and we laugh with each other if we stutter from the amount of double vowels and tongue twisters that follow. I see healing and vulnerability in everyone and wish for myself to do the same, I only wish for myself to overcome my anxiety and not feel so small and forgotten in colonial academia.
One of the students in this class is a former coworker of mine, once we had learned that we were taking the same class we had decided to write words we liked in Anishinaabemowin and tried our best to pronounce it without getting it wrong. It felt nice to enjoy my language with a non-Native individual, it was a rare occurrence. He was a barista where we worked, and his word was “gaapii” which translates to “coffee”
I have my days where I let my trauma overcome me, and on those days I roll myself up in a blanket and let the gentle hum of anxiety consume me. Some days I let my physical body take a rest from the reality of a full-time job and give myself a day of self care, as someone who has the possibility of having Multiple Sclerosis I try to find time to let the tingles of my hands vanish for a while. During this time I allow myself to embrace the medicines that my ancestors onced loved and light sage to calm my nerves from my illnesses.
I think I am treating this reflection as an opportunity to analyze myself as a healing Indigenous person and what it is like learning my identity without judgement or guilt. Learning the history of my people and their ceremonies along with the storytelling of ourselves feels as if I am becoming whole again, rather than just a fragment. I am a fragment by just only being a physical body, working and studying to survive in today’s world. I want to feel whole again by accepting my mind, spirit, and emotions; like a medicine wheel
the burden of proof - Jordan M. Burns (reflection 1)
Papers, please.
Check off which one you belong to.
I would’ve never guessed.
We’re going to have to see some proof.
Nidaatagaadendam. The burden of proof lies over my head and it seems as though it’s a cloud that is constantly raining down. Nindayekoz. I am tired of being tired and exhausted in my efforts to find my family, my connection, my inherited responsibilities. My father was taken when he was very young in the 60s scoop, separated from his community, and from ever learning of his inherited responsibility within his clan. He was always told that his parents abandonned him because they were Indian savages and that he was lucky to have found a home with a ‘proper’ Canadian family. He believed this for many years until discovering the truth regarding the 60s scoop and how he was forcefully taken; my father’s adoptive mother passed away before she could reveal any information regarding his biological parents, other than that who they believed to be his biological mother had died several years prior. Nimaanendam. My father seems at peace with the separation from his community; he has made a nice life for himself and believes many of the Indigenous stereotypes to be true. Because of this, finding proof of where I come from - what my inherited responsibilities are - is difficult.
In the first class, you mentioned the burden of proof; how it was the responsibility of the indigenous person to provide proof of their indigenity. This sent me into a crisis. Am I not indigenous because I was successfully separated from my clan and am (at this moment) unable to re-establish that connection? It made me feel as though I was an outsider once again because even though I am learning to speak Anishinaabemowin, I don’t truly know if I am Anishinaabe, or Cree, or Metis, or… I don’t know where I belong. I know of my indigenous blood, my indigenous history, my desire to reconnect with that community. Yet, I feel as though learning in-depth about any specific indigenous culture leads to me not having a ship to steer on my own. I shouldn’t cross to the Zhaaganaashag, yet without proof or certainty over where I belong, I feel stranded. I’ve always felt this way, the burden of proof just became evident to me in that moment.
Like many indigenous folx, I have been successfully colonized. Whether it be the 60s scoop, the starlight tours, the mass-genocides, the destruction of culture and language, the discrimination, the residential schools, or some other factor, many indigenous people were ripped away from their communities, left without knowledge of their inherited responsibilities. Of their culture. Of their own blood. How does one heal without a community to heal with? The mentioning of traumas that indigenous people went through - and are still going through and dealing with - has certain recommendations for healing. Learning the language and finding your naaha, your medicine bundle. Without knowledge of which language would be mine or what ceremonies or ways of life that I would have, how can I heal? How can unclaimed indigenous people heal while wandering the wasteland when they’ve lost that connection?
Nidaatagaadendam. I am overwhelmed by the task of the burden of proof. So many obstacles. So little guidance. I wonder how many other people out there are like me or my father? I wonder how their lives are affected and impacted? Do they just continue on? Abandoning their roots and routes that got them there? What do they do? Mainly, I wonder how this affects those communities that are on the verge of collapse because they are losing their language. I wonder if, somehow, those inherited responsibilities will continue to be passed down without that proof or without the language.
I am lost
I am weak
I am wandering
Wanderlust with a call from beyond
The wandering traveller
The people of the land
Calling out with no voice
Sharing no stories near the fire
Just fog, haze, and smoke
Smoke of the burning planet
Smoke of the burning language
Smoke of the burning heart
That knows not from where it comes
That knows not of how to be
Nidaatagaadendam
Nindayekoz
Nimaanendam
Nidaatagaadendam
Reflection by Jennifer Weerasinghe
Based on my experience in the course thus far, I have come to understand the importance of language and stories in Indigenous worldviews. I am choosing to reflect on the river of life, the medicine bundle and the power of language. I would like to express my personal feelings of sadness, disgust and anger towards how Indigenous people have been treated in the past until the present.
I personally had a strong connection to the river of life. Both European and Indigenous people come from somewhere. Indigenous nations are on one side of the river and Europeans would be on their own vessels on the other side of the river. As so long as we could respect one another boat’s, we could live together in peace. Each row has a different meaning: the first row is trust; the second row is friendship; the third row represents mutual respect. Trust, friendship and mutual respect are the foundational principles for how we are supposed to live. It is every person’s responsibility to uphold this. With the rise of capitalism, which induced greed within societies and the individuals within them, Indigenous worldviews that were created by the elders began to fade. I believe that trust, friendship and mutual respect is very important as it is not just an Indigenous worldview; it is a worldview for all. I really resonated with this approach, as it demonstrates the beauty behind Indigenous ways of life. Upon reflecting about the combination of trust, friendship and mutual respect, I think about how beautiful life would be if we could embrace this in our contemporary society. However, our society has become one of competition and greed, which is based on a European approach to life.
The discussion surrounding the medicine bundle was very impactful on my experience. The medicine bundle includes ways of being, understanding and doing in the world. This includes stories, tools, language and ceremonies. All of the systems and ways of life are embedded in the medicine bundle; it is a central feature of everyday life. I think about the medicine bundle in relation to my own experience and I truly believe that the medicine bundle is powerful. I believe that there is a certain sense of identity which is rooted in the bundle and there is a greater sense of belonging. Meaning is made within the bundle, which connects individuals to their language and to their own personal and family histories, which is very unique. I believe that the bundle is central and by reflecting on it, I would like to further explore it and embrace it in my own everyday life.
What I found very interesting was the power of language and its healing potential. When language was proven to cure a form of diabetes, this really conveyed the importance of language to me. That is why I believe it is so important to re-store Indigenous languages, by using the recommendations of the youth and the elders. In the western world, there is a heavy focus on the medical profession in treating health concerns, such as diabetes. However, the power of language is strong and also has the potential of curing a form of diabetes. This is not something I have ever heard about and I am able to understand why: the dominance of western ideologies has impacted how we perceive remedies for health concerns. However, language is a cure and the youth and elders who have had this lived experience have been suggesting this for over decades. I feel a personal connection to Indigenous approaches to health. We have been colonized to believe certain stories over others, which is the result of mainstream medicine’s constructed superiority over other approaches, such as language. The fact that Indigenous languages are endangered due to the violence of colonization makes me feel very angry. I personally believe in the importance of restoring Indigenous languages, as it is important in developing connections for individuals, as well as understanding stories.
I personally feel a lot of anger and disgust towards how Indigenous people were treated in the past and how they are presently being treated. I also feel as though I have been lied to, as prior to this class, I was never aware of the extent of the violence that Indigenous people were faced with, as well as the destruction of Indigenous worldviews and languages. I really wonder about what the world would look like once we re-store the bundle as an approach to everyday life. As there is no beginning and no end to the river of life, we are still able to make change and design a society that embraces Indigenous ways of being, knowing and doing. The river of life has stayed with me, specifically how “it has been waiting for us”. I have really enjoyed learning more about Indigenous culture, as well as learning the language. I am developing a deeper connection with the Indigenous approach to life in my own personal life, which is something I want to continue to explore.
Jessica Gomez reflection
Wow. The last few weeks in this class have been really eye opening to me. I took this class to further learn about the Ojibwe people and language. I was prepared for the heartbreak that would come with this class, as learning any history about Indigenous people comes with stories of colonization, genocide, and pain. To hear about how their language and teachings were stripped away from them so that they HAD to conform to a colonial lifestyle frustrated me. What made me even more upset was listening to how many of my classmates haven’t heard about and were even aware of issues impacting First Nations’ people in Canada. What I had to realize though is that you only become aware of these issues if you actively search for them. The mainstream media often doesn’t showcase all the human rights violations that occur to Indigenous people, which I think for lack of a better word is absolute BULLSHIT. I don’t blame others for not being aware, when there are people who don’t want us to be because when we are that’s when revolutions start. This is why I’m glad that we can have a class like this, to actively call out the BS society tries to feed us of a picture-perfect country when it is anything but that. I’m also glad that with learning all this we can share ideas of how to decolonize our minds and work on rebuilding a new way of thinking, that does not shut out Indigenous teaching and lifestyle.
I was aware that Language is a huge part of First Nation culture, but I wasn’t aware of how vast it really is. I mean there are many different dialects and even in just learning Anishinaabemowin there are many words that could be the definition for just one, I was amazed just learning that. How every word has a special meaning behind it, really displays how beautiful the culture really is. When listening to colonization stories the Indigenous language is lost because the colonizer language is forced in order to survive but hearing and reading about how the youth are actively seeking to learn and keep language thriving makes me happy because that means it beat colonization. To have York have a course to teach this language to non-Indigenous people of Kanada (even though that’s the bare minimum they could do) further allows all of us to understand and learn more about First Nations people.
In just the few weeks I’ve been in this class was a huge self-reflective time for myself. I am an Indigenous woman, and hearing stories from my grandpa of getting in trouble for speaking his mother tongue to how the Indigenous community as a whole was outcasted for practicing their teachings because they were seen as different. This all just made me realize how stuck we are in a colonial mindset. As the Indigenous people here were treated the same way, for living a life that incorporated all aspects of being. I learned in this class, there are a lot of similarities of First Nations people from Turtle Island and Mayan people from my country. Both communities value the Earth and every part of it to where it is a connection of themselves. They also both live a lifestyle where everything is in balance with all creations. Makes me wonder if they would communicate with each other all those generations ago lol.
Overall, I think it’s not only my duty but everyone else in this country to advocate, educate, and fight alongside the Indigenous communities all over the world, as we are the only ones who have the power to do so. I believe the world is finally catching up and seeing how messed up the state we are currently in is. The fight continues and the movement can only grow from here.
Liisa Duncan Reflection
I began this course to satisfy an interest in the linguistic structures of polysynthetic indigenous languages that originated a couple decades ago when I was an undergraduate linguistics student. As a fourth-year student, I took a course called Field Methods, which provided students an opportunity to learn how to linguistically analyze a language that was unknown to anyone in the class. Every week a Cree speaker came in and we learned how to elicit data and conduct original linguistic analyses of that data. I was intrigued by the differences between Cree and the languages that I had previously been exposed to, in particular the polysynthetic features of Cree and the relationships between the morpho-syntax and phonology.
As part of field work, linguists will often ask if certain words or sentences are grammatical, as a means of uncovering the linguistic structures and rules. During one of the elicitation sessions, I recall the speaker becoming quite frustrated with our questions, commenting that linguists were constantly trying to change and reshape the language. The remark always stayed with me, as I didn’t understand her perspective. From my view, we were clearly interested in the language and were trying to learn more, but it seemed she regarded our motives with some suspicion.
Many years passed. I left school and then later returned, working always on other languages, but never forgetting my attraction to Cree and other indigenous languages with their amazing ability to create complex words. Although I had hoped to learn one of these languages, living outside of Toronto always meant that I never had an opportunity to take any available classes. When courses went online, I finally had the chance I had long waited for.
Initially, I had hoped that the course would be full of endless inflectional charts, long lists of morphemes, and examples of sounds as they changed in different environments – the stuff of linguists’ dreams! I was disappointed to learn that I would have to wait and be patient. However, as I listened to the history of the people and the cultural importance of the language, I realized that I had perhaps been unaware of a crucial aspect of the course: how the language unifies and permeates the Anishinaabe people, its social importance. Although I often discuss the relationship between a people and their language in my classes and superficially recognized the impact of language endangerment, I realized that I had perhaps never fully appreciated the depth and pain of this, and what it truly means for a group to have their language forcibly taken from them and denied to them.
Finally, the comments of the Cree speaker from so long ago came into clear focus. While my classmates and I hadn’t had any intention of altering or damaging her language and, in fact, we thought that we were doing something positive in learning about a threatened language, what we missed, what I missed, was the impact of generations of white linguists and academics coming into communities and taking more than they gave, leaving with the knowledge that they sought but providing nothing in return or, worse, missing or ignoring key aspects of the relationship between the language and the people.
While I can’t recall the name of the Cree speaker from so long ago, and it is likely irrelevant to her whether I developed any further understanding of her perspective, I think that it is important that I have finally begun to see past my own viewpoint and have begun moving towards a greater understanding of the linguistic and cultural genocide that affected the indigenous peoples of North America. While my own interests in language relate to the structural components, it is important to be reminded that languages are not merely collections of linguistic properties. They must be respected as the cultural property of their speakers and a window into their worldview.
Mike Boucher, Reflection
This past summer, against the advice from the government and from our parents, three of my friends and I decided to drive across the country to Vancouver, British Columbia. The four of us packed our things, shoved two weeks of food and clothes into a car and set off on the most hectic two weeks of our lives. With the average day being 12 hours of driving between two people (the only two that had licenses) we had a lot of time to talk and lots of time to look around. As we got deeper and deeper into the country that we have all lived in for our entire lives, there was a feeling of excitement and adventure as we got to see our beautiful country with our own eyes. That is, until we started to truly pay attention to what we were seeing. Countless reservations, countless “indidinous tourist attractions” that after further researched belonged to white people, and this is when my friends and I came to a realization. We know nothing about the true roots of our country. We were taught nothing in school, as our history textbooks had at most 3 pages on indigenous history in our country, and the information provided was heavily biased. Truly, we felt guilt. Passing through a town in Saskatchewan, my friend told me something that stuck in my head: “History is told by the oppressors”. That is the same line that went through my head two weeks later, when trying to find a class to join for my first term at university. I saw this class and thought back to driving through the country, and realized that this was a class I had to take.
A few months went by and finally it was time for my first class in Lin2636, honestly the only class I was truly excited for. When class started, I quickly realized this wouldn’t be a “normal university class”. Those first three hours of class was a crazy mix of emotions I truly wasn’t expecting to happen, but that truly needed to happen: excitement, sadness, and the most prominent feeling: guilt. I try my best to never disrespect others, and when I do I feel guilty. This was a different kind of guilty. I felt guilty for not looking into the history of indiginous people in the country when I heard the land acknowledgments. I felt guilty for being a supporter of BLM and pride, but for not being aware of the racism and the hatred that continues towards indigdinous people. I felt guilty to have driven across the entire country that indigenous people thrived on for thousands of years and didn’t truly realize how mistreated the community was. Truly, I felt guilty to be white and to have not done whatever I could up to that point to support indigenous people in Canada. This class has opened my eyes to the mistreatment of indigenous people like nothing has ever done before. This got me thinking, why is this what it took for me to truly take notice about this terrible mistreatment of a group who has been in the country longer than anyone else. And finally, I realised it was because the whole situation was being basically ignored for most of my life, so growing up I was never exposed to it. My parents did their best to inform me on the situation, but they knew less than I did, as my Mom grew up in another country, and my Dad told me that they weren’t taught a lot, if at all about indigenous people in Canada. This class has not only given me the opportunity to learn more about the TRUE history of our country, but it has also given me the opportunity to educate my friends who I went across the country with about what we were really seeing around the country. It gave me the opportunity to educate my parents, who weren’t able to have classes like this because of the racism of the school system. Allowed me to educate my community, about Canada’s original community. This class has given me the opportunity to do what I can to help the indeginous community in Canada, and for that this is the most important class I have ever taken.
Amal’s Reflection
It’s only been a few weeks since the start of this class, but it feels like each week brought me deeper into understanding the Anishnaabe worldview, even if it still feels like the tip of the iceberg. The importance in language and its connection to people and worldview clicked well with what I’ve come to love most about learning languages. It’s the fact that language gives you the means to not only communicate, but to express things specific to cultures, nations and peoples. I speak Urdu at home and, aside from learning French (and now Anishnaabemowen) at Glendon, I’ve become pretty fluent in Korean and started to learn Mandarin as well. What I’ve found is that with each language, you almost discover and become a different version of yourself, which feels amazing and mind-blowing. You express yourself in ways you couldn’t before with the worldview that each language and culture bring, and I found myself better understanding the people of those cultures because of that. All people have their own story and that is what appealed to me most about learning languages. When we were talking in class about linguicide, it was heart-wrenching to think that people were losing their language, and therefore, their identities. With the example of “potass”(?) given in class, we learned how much was horribly misinterpreted; something beautiful that connected people together as a community was reduced to just a cupboard. Things like this are specific to languages of different cultures and help to guide people to learn about themselves and their people. When we talked about this in class, it reminded me of a couple of examples from different languages that, from a first glance, seem like just simple words but have a much deeper meanings that are worldviews. One of these examples in “noon-chi” in Korean, which can mean something like “eye-gaze/glance”. This can mean reading social situations, being aware of someone watching you, etc. Explaining this concept in English is actually very difficult even as I’m writing this out, which just goes to show how exclusive ideas can be to certain cultures. I would connect this to how it’s very important to be consciously aware of others in Korean culture as a curtesy. It can be connected to how to act/speak if an elder is in the room, or someone of higher “rank”. It shows how people display respect.
This leads me to a concept that I had never really thought of before and it has to do with respect and responsibilities. When we spoke in class today about responsibility and how it was horrifically misconstrued as ownership, I heard for the first time about the responsibility to maintain the relationships between other things. Like the example with the canoe’s relationship with the water and fish, those need to be maintained. There’s this idea that everything and everyone around you is existing and interacting, and that we cannot impose ourselves on them. I think it’s a beautiful to give a whole other level of respect to the world around you. I also think we’re severely lacking this kind of thinking and that the whole world would be much better off with this worldview. This can apply to our own relationships, especially having healthy boundaries. A huge issue with how the world is running right now has to do with climate change and how we treat the environment. If we were to see this with Anishnaabe worldview, we would be responsible for taking care of the Earth even if we wished to use its resources. It would be our job to make sure that the world is running and interacting just the way it was, harmoniously, without ruining and exploiting it. Everything seems to be interconnected when I think of the world this way.
I’m really looking forward to learning more about Anishnaabe worldviews and what they can teach me about things that I thought I knew, but I really don’t.
Alyssa’s Refelction
One thing that really stood out to me from the past few lectures was the roles that everyone has to fulfill, and in particular, the Two Row Wampum Belt. The basis of this treaty is that the European settlers and Indigenous Peoples would live amicably amongst each other, where they will follow the three principles of peace, friendship, and mutual respect. To this day, the treaty still applies, but obviously, the settler government refuses to respect this treaty. The concept of the treaty had me thinking a lot about my place and responsibilities on Turtle Island.
I am Indigenous, but not to Turtle Island, making me a settler on this land. I do reap the benefits of being a settler on this land, but yet, I recognize and relate to a lot of the oppression and violence that Indigenous Peoples here are facing. This had me wondering which boat of the Two Row Wampum Belt I belong to. On one side, I am Indigenous. I am Mayan and Lokono-Arawak. Guatemala and Guyana, like Turtle Island, are suffering from the ongoing processes of colonialism and capitalism. I do understand how violent colonialism and capitalism can be as my ancestors suffered through that. My Indigenous ancestors were forced to forget their languages and adopt a different identity of being “Latino,” “Hispanic,” or “Spanish.” My African ancestors from Nigeria were displaced to Barbados to be slaves for the capitalistic agenda of the Europeans. I understand how it is like to live without knowing your language or not having cultural knowledge. So in some ways, I do understand the Indigenous Peoples here on Turtle Island. Does this mean I can completely understand the oppression and violence that is ongoing on Turtle Island? Hell no! I don’t have the familial ties to the violent system of the residential schools as my ancestors did not go through that, so I do not share the same intergenerational trauma. I don’t have ties to this land as my ancestors do not build their nations here. This is why I think I can’t be on the same boat as Indigenous Peoples for the Two Row Wampum Belt.
In regards to the settler side of the Two Row Wampum Belt, I recognize my privileges of being a settler on Turtle Land. Like many settlers on Turtle Island, I have running, clean water, a steady source, and relatively cheap source of food, and I have accessible resources, such as trustworthy healthcare. Many Indigenous communities don’t have access to clean water, where water advisories have become the norm. Food items are a lot more expensive in remote communities, especially the healthier options. Remote communities are also isolated from resources, such as healthcare and education. Even then, the healthcare and education system has failed Indigenous Peoples repeatedly. From the residential schools to the forced sterilization of Indigenous women, how does anyone expect Indigenous Peoples to trust these systems?
I think I belong on the side of the settlers, where even though I am Indigenous and can understand the struggles of the people here, this is not my land. I think I can have an important role on the settler side of the treaty due to me being able to comprehend and relate to the oppression and violence that is ongoing here. I can help guide the settlers in the right direction, with the guidance from the Indigenous Peoples here. I do not want to be at the forefront of the Indigenous resistance movement in Turtle Island as this is not my land, but I want to be an ally to them. I will try my best to fulfill my responsibilities as a settler, but also as an Indigenous ally.
Jarod’s Reflection
As a very young person, I always felt that epiphanies, those moments of realization that change your path, those life-changing seconds that jolt you into awareness and consciousness, do not exist. I was wrong, and I was literally kicked back to reality at the age of 16 years old. My epiphany begins in my early journey of martial arts training which started at the age of 5 years with Mixed Martial Arts, Karate, and Taekwondo. (Note that I purposefully create these forms of martial art in capital letters because they are a large part of my identity. I have decided to ‘pronoun’ them in this reflection to emphasize the importance of my training.) With my passion came my drive to succeed thus I have announced the most valuable junior male in Karate, winning multiple Toronto and Canadian Open Tournaments; in addition, I mentored other students even older than me as this is not a culture of age-ism but one that takes into consideration your experience. No matter the art, the training has developed me in areas of self-discipline, confidence, focus, respect, perseverance, resiliency and compliance.
As you can imagine, my accolades brought me first and second-place awards in every competition I entered starting at the age of 6 years old in Karate. During those tournaments, I complied with each and every direction that my coach would yell out in my direction. In those tournaments, I can foresee every move my opponent would do before he completes the movement. In those tournaments, I was in a zone of anticipation – always anticipating my opponent’s next move, guessing how he might avoid any of my moves, and responding to each direction from my coach without hesitation. This process worked for me and I had the multiple trophies, plaques and medals as evidence. Of course, it was successful until it was no more. I was misled to believe that success is in compliance with the coach. But, in the real world, in reality, it bit me in the ass to believe this illusion. It happened during one of my Black Belt Tournaments, where I finally met my match, he was doing exactly what I’ve been doing; he was anticipating my every move and countered me perfectly. I felt lost in this fight as if I, myself, was lost, I couldn’t put my moves together. I felt choppy, out of sync with my mind and body, and that I lost the harmony of my moves. As I was about to get kicked in the face, the epiphany hit me LITERALLY kicked me in the face and I realized OH SHIT, I LOST.
For the first time in my young yet experienced Martial Artist life, I fucken lost a competition. It royally sucked and I originally blamed myself…but deep in my soul, I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. I listened to every direction of my coach. I did what I was told just as I always did. As a young child, I was a very shy, anxious and compliant kid who was terrified to verbally share what was on my mind. I was especially afraid to speak up and wouldn’t dare even consider speaking up if I disagreed with a thought or statement or action. I especially believed that those who were teaching me always knew the right answers and that they would teach me what I need to be successful in life. Thus, I was an obedient, overly-compliant, non-thinking young robot who never questioned anything I was taught at school following each and every rule and direction bestowed upon me. My epiphany made me realize that this compliance will only get me so far. My home-education always encouraged me to ‘think outside the box’, ‘make connections’, ‘use creativity in tournaments’, ‘don’t assume they’re right’, and ‘think critically’. When I truly stopped and reflected on that tournament, I realized that I knew the coach’s directions were wrong but I still did them. I knew the moment he yelled me to do a ‘roundhouse kick’ that it was not the right time; but, I still did it. I knew the second he yelled for me to ‘retreat then do a back-kick’ that it was not the right move; and yet, I still did it. I was a robot in my body regurgitating the bullshit allowing society to direct me, lead my path and define who I am. My world shifted underneath me as if I was experiencing a slow-moving earthquake where the path in front of me was changing at that very moment. My eyes changed its lens, my ears twitched for the truth, and my heart was beating to a different rhythm. I realized in that moment that I have all the basic and foundational knowledge to make me an expert in my own destiny. I was reminded that I was the one who is getting kicked in the face, I was the one who suffers the lost, I was the one who has to get up from the mat; then I might as well ensure that the consequences whether it be positive or negative, are the result of my own doing. I’m not suggesting that I know everything; however, I now know that I will no
Ashley’s Reflection
Of the many topics and ideas discussed in class so far, I will be reflecting on gradual civilization and the restoration of indigenous languages. I was unaware of both concepts beforehand. As much as I enjoyed attending these lectures, I started to feel almost embarrassed of my unawareness. This idea of gradual civilization really opened my eyes to my lack of knowledge on indigenous people and culture. There was so much I did not know, and it took me by surprise.
The fact that a person’s status depended entirely on the language(s) they were able to speak is just racist and disgusting. Why is there a standard of civilization, and what makes people believe it is correct universally, or even correct at all? The beauty of the world is that normalcy is different everywhere; there is not simply one normal. The struggle for acceptance is such a real problem in the world because there is always the concept of not being good enough. But what exactly are we being compared to, and why does the comparison exist in the first place? People and cultures are unique in their own ways, but somehow, we all became stuck in this game of comparison.
It makes me feel even more frustrated to see the oppression of culture that occurred in the past still happening in the world today. Why have things not changed even after realizing that they were wrong in the past? For most of my life I was aware that racism still existed, but I felt that the issue had significantly improved when compared to the past. However, being in this class as well as just taking in the events of this past year have led me to the conclusion that I was very wrong. All of my life I viewed the world through semi rose-tinted glasses, mostly seeing what I wanted the world to be and not digging deep enough into its harsh reality. After this realization, I am now learning about the things I did not know I was missing.
The restoration of indigenous languages is proven to be extremely effective at preventing suicide. I also found this particularly interesting because it makes so much sense, yet it remains overlooked. I think that a problem many people struggle with today is the feeling that something is missing in their life. It is an emptiness that they cannot quite shake, or a longing for something they do not know. The sad thing is that sharing this type of problem with others is not taken seriously as often as it should. They point to all of the external factors in life and refuse to believe you can have problems deep internally within yourself. This western notion of health neglects so many important factors of a person’s well-being and it can be very frustrating. There is so much more to it that people do not realize or understand.
When I was in high school, I felt an extreme pressure to do well and it definitely took a toll on my mental health. There were times where I would allow myself to suffer mentally so much that I would become physically sick. It was not until grade 12 that I realized how much I was hurting myself by letting this continue. I think it is the internal factors that people ignore because they cannot be seen. This is why people do not see how the restoration of a language has such dramatic effects. It is so much more than just speaking; it is freedom and identity. In my eyes, it is like giving a person back a piece of themselves when they did not realize they were missing it in the first place.
After discussing with other students, I realized that I had not been taught anything remotely close to this. Everything that I knew about indigenous people and culture was from a completely different perspective. When Maya asked the class, “did you learn this?” it triggered such a strong feeling of guilt inside of me that it brought me to tears. At first, I was genuinely confused; I did not understand why. Then I realized that I felt so frustrated with myself for being ignorant to something so important. We have, in fact, been colonized to believe and think about events in a certain way. The education system not only failed to teach me about something so important and serious, but also presented it to me in such a sugar-coated and misleading way. I now feel that I never really knew anything to begin with, which is scary to think about. Society has hidden this from me for such a large portion of my life, and I find that absolutely devastating.
Rachel’s Reflection
As a non-indigenous person, I have been made more aware than ever before about what duties I hold in society and what responsibilities I have to upkeep. I acknowledge the privilege that I have, as a white, Canadian, female is incomparable and puts me in a position of advantage in society. My culture nor my language have ever been at risk and I’ll never understand the generational impacts that linguicide has on indigenous communities not just across Canada, but worldwide. Through the first few weeks in taking this course, I have earned a greater understanding and appreciation for what my duties are in society. It is essential that I continue to educate myself and take proactive steps decolonizing myself and others who live in ignorance. I have always known that racism still exists, but it’s not something I am in a position to speak on. What I feel like is the most important for someone like myself is to listen to others and become proper allies in hopes to work towards decolonization and peaceful coexistence. Some important steps that I have learned to take in the decolonization process include amplifying indigenous voices, honouring and putting a spotlight on indigenous languages, and respecting treaty rights.
To begin, it has become more obvious than ever for me, the importance of amplifying indigenous voices in order to fully understand traumatic pasts and move towards more peaceful futures. From what I’ve observed taking this course and, in the news, today, performative activism and this concept of fake liberal ‘wokeness’ is more apparent than ever. In my opinion, the efforts made by society today don’t do enough to amplify indigenous voices and are less effective than we think in making sure history does not repeat itself. Seeing all of these initiatives today, although very important steps to be made, makes me question whether or not non-indigenous people have actually asked to make sure their initiatives work. History is doomed to repeat itself if we don’t start listening to and amplifying indigenous voices. My biggest takeaway is that we all need to understand and be willing to hear that the help we think we’re giving may not be as effective as we think it is. Although it’s important to put the spotlight on recognizing indigenous land, I think it’s just as important to amplify pedagogy and medicinal practices that belong to indigenous cultures.
To continue, I have become much more aware of the importance of indigenous languages and preserving them. Speaking from personal experience, language gives us a sense of belonging and helps makes us feel part of something. The languages we speak can provide us with this feeling of identity and when something this essential to the core of many groups is stripped away from someone in the form on linguicide, the impacts are extremely harmful. English is my first language, as is the case for the majority of the people I grew up around. I wish I hadn’t been so ignorant towards this privilege I’ve been living with but learning about linguicide and how detrimental this very concept is to many indigenous communities has enlightened me and inspired me to do better in the future. As a hopeful future educator, I will no longer accept the colonial teaching methods and pedagogy which exclude indigenous practices and methods. When doing this in the future, I am also going to make sure I don’t come off as a white saviour and honour indigenous languages in a way which I know doesn’t speak over them. I don’t even want to imagine how lonely and isolating of a feeling it can be to have my language and culture stripped away from me, and still be facing these impacts generations later. Through this course so far, I’ve learned that it’s my duty to incorporate and amplify indigenous points of view in education so to help prevent any further forms of linguicide.
Among other things I’ve learned in this course so far, one that stuck out the most to me was learning about the different forms of treaties and what they meant in the past and how they are being honoured today. With gaining new information about the Two Row Wampum, for example, I am able to better understand my duties as a non-indigenous person and reflect on what work we have to do to get back to a place in society where we honour these treaty agreements. Since high school, I have had very baseline knowledge on this topic, only ever being taught what the two purple rows symbolize (two boats travelling down the same river with their paths never crossing). This very knowledge has made me question everything about the public education system and the crisis it still sees itself in today. It is not rational to think we are moving towards a more peaceful future while still actively ignoring this historical treaty and what it outlines. Now, I understand that the belt represents so much more and holds so many important value
Emily’s Reflection
As I learn about the state of Indigenous languages, it got me thinking about my own experiences learning new languages and how that relates to the situation in which many Indigenous people currently find themselves. I reflect on how I took French in school. Almost every class I had was in French. I even graduated with a French diploma. By the end of the 13 years, I could speak very poor French: the kind of French that most are too embarrassed to speak. It’s been 5 years now since I graduated from secondary school and I can read in French and understand it being spoken but when it comes to speaking it myself, I can barely string together a proper sentence. Even though they call it French immersion, I was definitely not fully immersed in the language; I learned what I had to in order to get by in class. Had my parents spoken French to me at home while growing up, I’m sure it would have been a different story. It goes to show just how important speaking a language in a home setting is in order to fully learn it.
One day, I’d love to learn Omamiwininimowin fluently. I can sign up for language classes through my reserve, yet I’m afraid that without the needed exposure to the language, I will never be fluent. I don’t have any Algonquin speaking people in my (known) family. Reflecting on my experiences of attempting to learn a second language and through what I’ve learned in this class, I now understand why intergenerational transmission of language is so important for a language to flourish. Without a parent or grandparent to immerse you in the language, it’s evident that in most cases the language will not stick, case in point: my current “French-speaking” capabilities.
When I learned in this class that all Indigenous languages are considered endangered, even the ones with the most speakers, I was not surprised. Sad yes, but not surprised. I repeat: every single Indigenous language is considered endangered!! Every time I read that sentence, I have to take a moment to absorb the gravity of the situation. The reason I’m not surprised at this statement is because, you look at the policies, the racism, the violence which has been imposed on Indigenous peoples and it makes complete sense why our languages have suffered! So many Indigenous children were/are just trying to survive. Not to mention that residential schools and the 60’s scoop and countless other atrocities, actively targeted our languages and cultures. The very existence of Indigenous people on Turtle Island threatens the legality of canada, so erasing Indigenous people in whichever way possible has always been in canada’s best interest.
In my family anyways, the canadian government took our language. My Mother, an Indigenous child grew up in a white family’s home where she was treated as though she was inferior to their biological children. This really messed my mom up. I could tell growing up that Mom wasn’t often happy. She had a lot of shit to deal with. At birth, it was unfairly decided for her that she would not have access to her language and culture; She wasn’t even given a chance! At no fault of our own, learning our language remained near impossible. The relevance of this is astounding to me. I get pretty angry when I think about it. It’s coming up on 10 years now since she passed away. I know my Mom struggled with the idea of reconnecting with her birth family and our Algonquin culture, but I hope she understands why I want to learn.
My Mom survived a genocide because she was strong as fuck, her language didn’t, but maybe one day I will be able to speak it for the both of us.
Meegwetch,
Emily
Papers, please.
Check off which one you belong to.
I would’ve never guessed.
We’re going to have to see some proof.
Nidaatagaadendam. The burden of proof lies over my head and it seems as though it’s a cloud that is constantly raining down. Nindayekoz. I am tired of being tired and exhausted in my efforts to find my family, my connection, my inherited responsibilities. My father was taken when he was very young in the 60s scoop, separated from his community, and from ever learning of his inherited responsibility within his clan. He was always told that his parents abandonned him because they were Indian savages and that he was lucky to have found a home with a ‘proper’ Canadian family. He believed this for many years until discovering the truth regarding the 60s scoop and how he was forcefully taken; my father’s adoptive mother passed away before she could reveal any information regarding his biological parents, other than that who they believed to be his biological mother had died several years prior. Nimaanendam. My father seems at peace with the separation from his community; he has made a nice life for himself and believes many of the Indigenous stereotypes to be true. Because of this, finding proof of where I come from - what my inherited responsibilities are - is difficult.
In the first class, you mentioned the burden of proof; how it was the responsibility of the indigenous person to provide proof of their indigenity. This sent me into a crisis. Am I not indigenous because I was successfully separated from my clan and am (at this moment) unable to re-establish that connection? It made me feel as though I was an outsider once again because even though I am learning to speak Anishinaabemowin, I don’t truly know if I am Anishinaabe, or Cree, or Metis, or… I don’t know where I belong. I know of my indigenous blood, my indigenous history, my desire to reconnect with that community. Yet, I feel as though learning in-depth about any specific indigenous culture leads to me not having a ship to steer on my own. I shouldn’t cross to the Zhaaganaashag, yet without proof or certainty over where I belong, I feel stranded. I’ve always felt this way, the burden of proof just became evident to me in that moment.
Like many indigenous folx, I have been successfully colonized. Whether it be the 60s scoop, the starlight tours, the mass-genocides, the destruction of culture and language, the discrimination, the residential schools, or some other factor, many indigenous people were ripped away from their communities, left without knowledge of their inherited responsibilities. Of their culture. Of their own blood. How does one heal without a community to heal with? The mentioning of traumas that indigenous people went through - and are still going through and dealing with - has certain recommendations for healing. Learning the language and finding your naaha, your medicine bundle. Without knowledge of which language would be mine or what ceremonies or ways of life that I would have, how can I heal? How can unclaimed indigenous people heal while wandering the wasteland when they’ve lost that connection?
Nidaatagaadendam. I am overwhelmed by the task of the burden of proof. So many obstacles. So little guidance. I wonder how many other people out there are like me or my father? I wonder how their lives are affected and impacted? Do they just continue on? Abandoning their roots and routes that got them there? What do they do? Mainly, I wonder how this affects those communities that are on the verge of collapse because they are losing their language. I wonder if, somehow, those inherited responsibilities will continue to be passed down without that proof or without the language.
I am lost
I am weak
I am wandering
Wanderlust with a call from beyond
The wandering traveller
The people of the land
Calling out with no voice
Sharing no stories near the fire
Just fog, haze, and smoke
Smoke of the burning planet
Smoke of the burning language
Smoke of the burning heart
That knows not from where it comes
That knows not of how to be
Nidaatagaadendam
Nindayekoz
Nimaanendam
Nidaatagaadendam
Reflection by Jennifer Weerasinghe
Based on my experience in the course thus far, I have come to understand the importance of language and stories in Indigenous worldviews. I am choosing to reflect on the river of life, the medicine bundle and the power of language. I would like to express my personal feelings of sadness, disgust and anger towards how Indigenous people have been treated in the past until the present.
I personally had a strong connection to the river of life. Both European and Indigenous people come from somewhere. Indigenous nations are on one side of the river and Europeans would be on their own vessels on the other side of the river. As so long as we could respect one another boat’s, we could live together in peace. Each row has a different meaning: the first row is trust; the second row is friendship; the third row represents mutual respect. Trust, friendship and mutual respect are the foundational principles for how we are supposed to live. It is every person’s responsibility to uphold this. With the rise of capitalism, which induced greed within societies and the individuals within them, Indigenous worldviews that were created by the elders began to fade. I believe that trust, friendship and mutual respect is very important as it is not just an Indigenous worldview; it is a worldview for all. I really resonated with this approach, as it demonstrates the beauty behind Indigenous ways of life. Upon reflecting about the combination of trust, friendship and mutual respect, I think about how beautiful life would be if we could embrace this in our contemporary society. However, our society has become one of competition and greed, which is based on a European approach to life.
The discussion surrounding the medicine bundle was very impactful on my experience. The medicine bundle includes ways of being, understanding and doing in the world. This includes stories, tools, language and ceremonies. All of the systems and ways of life are embedded in the medicine bundle; it is a central feature of everyday life. I think about the medicine bundle in relation to my own experience and I truly believe that the medicine bundle is powerful. I believe that there is a certain sense of identity which is rooted in the bundle and there is a greater sense of belonging. Meaning is made within the bundle, which connects individuals to their language and to their own personal and family histories, which is very unique. I believe that the bundle is central and by reflecting on it, I would like to further explore it and embrace it in my own everyday life.
What I found very interesting was the power of language and its healing potential. When language was proven to cure a form of diabetes, this really conveyed the importance of language to me. That is why I believe it is so important to re-store Indigenous languages, by using the recommendations of the youth and the elders. In the western world, there is a heavy focus on the medical profession in treating health concerns, such as diabetes. However, the power of language is strong and also has the potential of curing a form of diabetes. This is not something I have ever heard about and I am able to understand why: the dominance of western ideologies has impacted how we perceive remedies for health concerns. However, language is a cure and the youth and elders who have had this lived experience have been suggesting this for over decades. I feel a personal connection to Indigenous approaches to health. We have been colonized to believe certain stories over others, which is the result of mainstream medicine’s constructed superiority over other approaches, such as language. The fact that Indigenous languages are endangered due to the violence of colonization makes me feel very angry. I personally believe in the importance of restoring Indigenous languages, as it is important in developing connections for individuals, as well as understanding stories.
I personally feel a lot of anger and disgust towards how Indigenous people were treated in the past and how they are presently being treated. I also feel as though I have been lied to, as prior to this class, I was never aware of the extent of the violence that Indigenous people were faced with, as well as the destruction of Indigenous worldviews and languages. I really wonder about what the world would look like once we re-store the bundle as an approach to everyday life. As there is no beginning and no end to the river of life, we are still able to make change and design a society that embraces Indigenous ways of being, knowing and doing. The river of life has stayed with me, specifically how “it has been waiting for us”. I have really enjoyed learning more about Indigenous culture, as well as learning the language. I am developing a deeper connection with the Indigenous approach to life in my own personal life, which is something I want to continue to explore.
Jessica Gomez reflection
Wow. The last few weeks in this class have been really eye opening to me. I took this class to further learn about the Ojibwe people and language. I was prepared for the heartbreak that would come with this class, as learning any history about Indigenous people comes with stories of colonization, genocide, and pain. To hear about how their language and teachings were stripped away from them so that they HAD to conform to a colonial lifestyle frustrated me. What made me even more upset was listening to how many of my classmates haven’t heard about and were even aware of issues impacting First Nations’ people in Canada. What I had to realize though is that you only become aware of these issues if you actively search for them. The mainstream media often doesn’t showcase all the human rights violations that occur to Indigenous people, which I think for lack of a better word is absolute BULLSHIT. I don’t blame others for not being aware, when there are people who don’t want us to be because when we are that’s when revolutions start. This is why I’m glad that we can have a class like this, to actively call out the BS society tries to feed us of a picture-perfect country when it is anything but that. I’m also glad that with learning all this we can share ideas of how to decolonize our minds and work on rebuilding a new way of thinking, that does not shut out Indigenous teaching and lifestyle.
I was aware that Language is a huge part of First Nation culture, but I wasn’t aware of how vast it really is. I mean there are many different dialects and even in just learning Anishinaabemowin there are many words that could be the definition for just one, I was amazed just learning that. How every word has a special meaning behind it, really displays how beautiful the culture really is. When listening to colonization stories the Indigenous language is lost because the colonizer language is forced in order to survive but hearing and reading about how the youth are actively seeking to learn and keep language thriving makes me happy because that means it beat colonization. To have York have a course to teach this language to non-Indigenous people of Kanada (even though that’s the bare minimum they could do) further allows all of us to understand and learn more about First Nations people.
In just the few weeks I’ve been in this class was a huge self-reflective time for myself. I am an Indigenous woman, and hearing stories from my grandpa of getting in trouble for speaking his mother tongue to how the Indigenous community as a whole was outcasted for practicing their teachings because they were seen as different. This all just made me realize how stuck we are in a colonial mindset. As the Indigenous people here were treated the same way, for living a life that incorporated all aspects of being. I learned in this class, there are a lot of similarities of First Nations people from Turtle Island and Mayan people from my country. Both communities value the Earth and every part of it to where it is a connection of themselves. They also both live a lifestyle where everything is in balance with all creations. Makes me wonder if they would communicate with each other all those generations ago lol.
Overall, I think it’s not only my duty but everyone else in this country to advocate, educate, and fight alongside the Indigenous communities all over the world, as we are the only ones who have the power to do so. I believe the world is finally catching up and seeing how messed up the state we are currently in is. The fight continues and the movement can only grow from here.
Liisa Duncan Reflection
I began this course to satisfy an interest in the linguistic structures of polysynthetic indigenous languages that originated a couple decades ago when I was an undergraduate linguistics student. As a fourth-year student, I took a course called Field Methods, which provided students an opportunity to learn how to linguistically analyze a language that was unknown to anyone in the class. Every week a Cree speaker came in and we learned how to elicit data and conduct original linguistic analyses of that data. I was intrigued by the differences between Cree and the languages that I had previously been exposed to, in particular the polysynthetic features of Cree and the relationships between the morpho-syntax and phonology.
As part of field work, linguists will often ask if certain words or sentences are grammatical, as a means of uncovering the linguistic structures and rules. During one of the elicitation sessions, I recall the speaker becoming quite frustrated with our questions, commenting that linguists were constantly trying to change and reshape the language. The remark always stayed with me, as I didn’t understand her perspective. From my view, we were clearly interested in the language and were trying to learn more, but it seemed she regarded our motives with some suspicion.
Many years passed. I left school and then later returned, working always on other languages, but never forgetting my attraction to Cree and other indigenous languages with their amazing ability to create complex words. Although I had hoped to learn one of these languages, living outside of Toronto always meant that I never had an opportunity to take any available classes. When courses went online, I finally had the chance I had long waited for.
Initially, I had hoped that the course would be full of endless inflectional charts, long lists of morphemes, and examples of sounds as they changed in different environments – the stuff of linguists’ dreams! I was disappointed to learn that I would have to wait and be patient. However, as I listened to the history of the people and the cultural importance of the language, I realized that I had perhaps been unaware of a crucial aspect of the course: how the language unifies and permeates the Anishinaabe people, its social importance. Although I often discuss the relationship between a people and their language in my classes and superficially recognized the impact of language endangerment, I realized that I had perhaps never fully appreciated the depth and pain of this, and what it truly means for a group to have their language forcibly taken from them and denied to them.
Finally, the comments of the Cree speaker from so long ago came into clear focus. While my classmates and I hadn’t had any intention of altering or damaging her language and, in fact, we thought that we were doing something positive in learning about a threatened language, what we missed, what I missed, was the impact of generations of white linguists and academics coming into communities and taking more than they gave, leaving with the knowledge that they sought but providing nothing in return or, worse, missing or ignoring key aspects of the relationship between the language and the people.
While I can’t recall the name of the Cree speaker from so long ago, and it is likely irrelevant to her whether I developed any further understanding of her perspective, I think that it is important that I have finally begun to see past my own viewpoint and have begun moving towards a greater understanding of the linguistic and cultural genocide that affected the indigenous peoples of North America. While my own interests in language relate to the structural components, it is important to be reminded that languages are not merely collections of linguistic properties. They must be respected as the cultural property of their speakers and a window into their worldview.
Mike Boucher, Reflection
This past summer, against the advice from the government and from our parents, three of my friends and I decided to drive across the country to Vancouver, British Columbia. The four of us packed our things, shoved two weeks of food and clothes into a car and set off on the most hectic two weeks of our lives. With the average day being 12 hours of driving between two people (the only two that had licenses) we had a lot of time to talk and lots of time to look around. As we got deeper and deeper into the country that we have all lived in for our entire lives, there was a feeling of excitement and adventure as we got to see our beautiful country with our own eyes. That is, until we started to truly pay attention to what we were seeing. Countless reservations, countless “indidinous tourist attractions” that after further researched belonged to white people, and this is when my friends and I came to a realization. We know nothing about the true roots of our country. We were taught nothing in school, as our history textbooks had at most 3 pages on indigenous history in our country, and the information provided was heavily biased. Truly, we felt guilt. Passing through a town in Saskatchewan, my friend told me something that stuck in my head: “History is told by the oppressors”. That is the same line that went through my head two weeks later, when trying to find a class to join for my first term at university. I saw this class and thought back to driving through the country, and realized that this was a class I had to take.
A few months went by and finally it was time for my first class in Lin2636, honestly the only class I was truly excited for. When class started, I quickly realized this wouldn’t be a “normal university class”. Those first three hours of class was a crazy mix of emotions I truly wasn’t expecting to happen, but that truly needed to happen: excitement, sadness, and the most prominent feeling: guilt. I try my best to never disrespect others, and when I do I feel guilty. This was a different kind of guilty. I felt guilty for not looking into the history of indiginous people in the country when I heard the land acknowledgments. I felt guilty for being a supporter of BLM and pride, but for not being aware of the racism and the hatred that continues towards indigdinous people. I felt guilty to have driven across the entire country that indigenous people thrived on for thousands of years and didn’t truly realize how mistreated the community was. Truly, I felt guilty to be white and to have not done whatever I could up to that point to support indigenous people in Canada. This class has opened my eyes to the mistreatment of indigenous people like nothing has ever done before. This got me thinking, why is this what it took for me to truly take notice about this terrible mistreatment of a group who has been in the country longer than anyone else. And finally, I realised it was because the whole situation was being basically ignored for most of my life, so growing up I was never exposed to it. My parents did their best to inform me on the situation, but they knew less than I did, as my Mom grew up in another country, and my Dad told me that they weren’t taught a lot, if at all about indigenous people in Canada. This class has not only given me the opportunity to learn more about the TRUE history of our country, but it has also given me the opportunity to educate my friends who I went across the country with about what we were really seeing around the country. It gave me the opportunity to educate my parents, who weren’t able to have classes like this because of the racism of the school system. Allowed me to educate my community, about Canada’s original community. This class has given me the opportunity to do what I can to help the indeginous community in Canada, and for that this is the most important class I have ever taken.
Amal’s Reflection
It’s only been a few weeks since the start of this class, but it feels like each week brought me deeper into understanding the Anishnaabe worldview, even if it still feels like the tip of the iceberg. The importance in language and its connection to people and worldview clicked well with what I’ve come to love most about learning languages. It’s the fact that language gives you the means to not only communicate, but to express things specific to cultures, nations and peoples. I speak Urdu at home and, aside from learning French (and now Anishnaabemowen) at Glendon, I’ve become pretty fluent in Korean and started to learn Mandarin as well. What I’ve found is that with each language, you almost discover and become a different version of yourself, which feels amazing and mind-blowing. You express yourself in ways you couldn’t before with the worldview that each language and culture bring, and I found myself better understanding the people of those cultures because of that. All people have their own story and that is what appealed to me most about learning languages. When we were talking in class about linguicide, it was heart-wrenching to think that people were losing their language, and therefore, their identities. With the example of “potass”(?) given in class, we learned how much was horribly misinterpreted; something beautiful that connected people together as a community was reduced to just a cupboard. Things like this are specific to languages of different cultures and help to guide people to learn about themselves and their people. When we talked about this in class, it reminded me of a couple of examples from different languages that, from a first glance, seem like just simple words but have a much deeper meanings that are worldviews. One of these examples in “noon-chi” in Korean, which can mean something like “eye-gaze/glance”. This can mean reading social situations, being aware of someone watching you, etc. Explaining this concept in English is actually very difficult even as I’m writing this out, which just goes to show how exclusive ideas can be to certain cultures. I would connect this to how it’s very important to be consciously aware of others in Korean culture as a curtesy. It can be connected to how to act/speak if an elder is in the room, or someone of higher “rank”. It shows how people display respect.
This leads me to a concept that I had never really thought of before and it has to do with respect and responsibilities. When we spoke in class today about responsibility and how it was horrifically misconstrued as ownership, I heard for the first time about the responsibility to maintain the relationships between other things. Like the example with the canoe’s relationship with the water and fish, those need to be maintained. There’s this idea that everything and everyone around you is existing and interacting, and that we cannot impose ourselves on them. I think it’s a beautiful to give a whole other level of respect to the world around you. I also think we’re severely lacking this kind of thinking and that the whole world would be much better off with this worldview. This can apply to our own relationships, especially having healthy boundaries. A huge issue with how the world is running right now has to do with climate change and how we treat the environment. If we were to see this with Anishnaabe worldview, we would be responsible for taking care of the Earth even if we wished to use its resources. It would be our job to make sure that the world is running and interacting just the way it was, harmoniously, without ruining and exploiting it. Everything seems to be interconnected when I think of the world this way.
I’m really looking forward to learning more about Anishnaabe worldviews and what they can teach me about things that I thought I knew, but I really don’t.
Alyssa’s Refelction
One thing that really stood out to me from the past few lectures was the roles that everyone has to fulfill, and in particular, the Two Row Wampum Belt. The basis of this treaty is that the European settlers and Indigenous Peoples would live amicably amongst each other, where they will follow the three principles of peace, friendship, and mutual respect. To this day, the treaty still applies, but obviously, the settler government refuses to respect this treaty. The concept of the treaty had me thinking a lot about my place and responsibilities on Turtle Island.
I am Indigenous, but not to Turtle Island, making me a settler on this land. I do reap the benefits of being a settler on this land, but yet, I recognize and relate to a lot of the oppression and violence that Indigenous Peoples here are facing. This had me wondering which boat of the Two Row Wampum Belt I belong to. On one side, I am Indigenous. I am Mayan and Lokono-Arawak. Guatemala and Guyana, like Turtle Island, are suffering from the ongoing processes of colonialism and capitalism. I do understand how violent colonialism and capitalism can be as my ancestors suffered through that. My Indigenous ancestors were forced to forget their languages and adopt a different identity of being “Latino,” “Hispanic,” or “Spanish.” My African ancestors from Nigeria were displaced to Barbados to be slaves for the capitalistic agenda of the Europeans. I understand how it is like to live without knowing your language or not having cultural knowledge. So in some ways, I do understand the Indigenous Peoples here on Turtle Island. Does this mean I can completely understand the oppression and violence that is ongoing on Turtle Island? Hell no! I don’t have the familial ties to the violent system of the residential schools as my ancestors did not go through that, so I do not share the same intergenerational trauma. I don’t have ties to this land as my ancestors do not build their nations here. This is why I think I can’t be on the same boat as Indigenous Peoples for the Two Row Wampum Belt.
In regards to the settler side of the Two Row Wampum Belt, I recognize my privileges of being a settler on Turtle Land. Like many settlers on Turtle Island, I have running, clean water, a steady source, and relatively cheap source of food, and I have accessible resources, such as trustworthy healthcare. Many Indigenous communities don’t have access to clean water, where water advisories have become the norm. Food items are a lot more expensive in remote communities, especially the healthier options. Remote communities are also isolated from resources, such as healthcare and education. Even then, the healthcare and education system has failed Indigenous Peoples repeatedly. From the residential schools to the forced sterilization of Indigenous women, how does anyone expect Indigenous Peoples to trust these systems?
I think I belong on the side of the settlers, where even though I am Indigenous and can understand the struggles of the people here, this is not my land. I think I can have an important role on the settler side of the treaty due to me being able to comprehend and relate to the oppression and violence that is ongoing here. I can help guide the settlers in the right direction, with the guidance from the Indigenous Peoples here. I do not want to be at the forefront of the Indigenous resistance movement in Turtle Island as this is not my land, but I want to be an ally to them. I will try my best to fulfill my responsibilities as a settler, but also as an Indigenous ally.
Jarod’s Reflection
As a very young person, I always felt that epiphanies, those moments of realization that change your path, those life-changing seconds that jolt you into awareness and consciousness, do not exist. I was wrong, and I was literally kicked back to reality at the age of 16 years old. My epiphany begins in my early journey of martial arts training which started at the age of 5 years with Mixed Martial Arts, Karate, and Taekwondo. (Note that I purposefully create these forms of martial art in capital letters because they are a large part of my identity. I have decided to ‘pronoun’ them in this reflection to emphasize the importance of my training.) With my passion came my drive to succeed thus I have announced the most valuable junior male in Karate, winning multiple Toronto and Canadian Open Tournaments; in addition, I mentored other students even older than me as this is not a culture of age-ism but one that takes into consideration your experience. No matter the art, the training has developed me in areas of self-discipline, confidence, focus, respect, perseverance, resiliency and compliance.
As you can imagine, my accolades brought me first and second-place awards in every competition I entered starting at the age of 6 years old in Karate. During those tournaments, I complied with each and every direction that my coach would yell out in my direction. In those tournaments, I can foresee every move my opponent would do before he completes the movement. In those tournaments, I was in a zone of anticipation – always anticipating my opponent’s next move, guessing how he might avoid any of my moves, and responding to each direction from my coach without hesitation. This process worked for me and I had the multiple trophies, plaques and medals as evidence. Of course, it was successful until it was no more. I was misled to believe that success is in compliance with the coach. But, in the real world, in reality, it bit me in the ass to believe this illusion. It happened during one of my Black Belt Tournaments, where I finally met my match, he was doing exactly what I’ve been doing; he was anticipating my every move and countered me perfectly. I felt lost in this fight as if I, myself, was lost, I couldn’t put my moves together. I felt choppy, out of sync with my mind and body, and that I lost the harmony of my moves. As I was about to get kicked in the face, the epiphany hit me LITERALLY kicked me in the face and I realized OH SHIT, I LOST.
For the first time in my young yet experienced Martial Artist life, I fucken lost a competition. It royally sucked and I originally blamed myself…but deep in my soul, I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. I listened to every direction of my coach. I did what I was told just as I always did. As a young child, I was a very shy, anxious and compliant kid who was terrified to verbally share what was on my mind. I was especially afraid to speak up and wouldn’t dare even consider speaking up if I disagreed with a thought or statement or action. I especially believed that those who were teaching me always knew the right answers and that they would teach me what I need to be successful in life. Thus, I was an obedient, overly-compliant, non-thinking young robot who never questioned anything I was taught at school following each and every rule and direction bestowed upon me. My epiphany made me realize that this compliance will only get me so far. My home-education always encouraged me to ‘think outside the box’, ‘make connections’, ‘use creativity in tournaments’, ‘don’t assume they’re right’, and ‘think critically’. When I truly stopped and reflected on that tournament, I realized that I knew the coach’s directions were wrong but I still did them. I knew the moment he yelled me to do a ‘roundhouse kick’ that it was not the right time; but, I still did it. I knew the second he yelled for me to ‘retreat then do a back-kick’ that it was not the right move; and yet, I still did it. I was a robot in my body regurgitating the bullshit allowing society to direct me, lead my path and define who I am. My world shifted underneath me as if I was experiencing a slow-moving earthquake where the path in front of me was changing at that very moment. My eyes changed its lens, my ears twitched for the truth, and my heart was beating to a different rhythm. I realized in that moment that I have all the basic and foundational knowledge to make me an expert in my own destiny. I was reminded that I was the one who is getting kicked in the face, I was the one who suffers the lost, I was the one who has to get up from the mat; then I might as well ensure that the consequences whether it be positive or negative, are the result of my own doing. I’m not suggesting that I know everything; however, I now know that I will no
Ashley’s Reflection
Of the many topics and ideas discussed in class so far, I will be reflecting on gradual civilization and the restoration of indigenous languages. I was unaware of both concepts beforehand. As much as I enjoyed attending these lectures, I started to feel almost embarrassed of my unawareness. This idea of gradual civilization really opened my eyes to my lack of knowledge on indigenous people and culture. There was so much I did not know, and it took me by surprise.
The fact that a person’s status depended entirely on the language(s) they were able to speak is just racist and disgusting. Why is there a standard of civilization, and what makes people believe it is correct universally, or even correct at all? The beauty of the world is that normalcy is different everywhere; there is not simply one normal. The struggle for acceptance is such a real problem in the world because there is always the concept of not being good enough. But what exactly are we being compared to, and why does the comparison exist in the first place? People and cultures are unique in their own ways, but somehow, we all became stuck in this game of comparison.
It makes me feel even more frustrated to see the oppression of culture that occurred in the past still happening in the world today. Why have things not changed even after realizing that they were wrong in the past? For most of my life I was aware that racism still existed, but I felt that the issue had significantly improved when compared to the past. However, being in this class as well as just taking in the events of this past year have led me to the conclusion that I was very wrong. All of my life I viewed the world through semi rose-tinted glasses, mostly seeing what I wanted the world to be and not digging deep enough into its harsh reality. After this realization, I am now learning about the things I did not know I was missing.
The restoration of indigenous languages is proven to be extremely effective at preventing suicide. I also found this particularly interesting because it makes so much sense, yet it remains overlooked. I think that a problem many people struggle with today is the feeling that something is missing in their life. It is an emptiness that they cannot quite shake, or a longing for something they do not know. The sad thing is that sharing this type of problem with others is not taken seriously as often as it should. They point to all of the external factors in life and refuse to believe you can have problems deep internally within yourself. This western notion of health neglects so many important factors of a person’s well-being and it can be very frustrating. There is so much more to it that people do not realize or understand.
When I was in high school, I felt an extreme pressure to do well and it definitely took a toll on my mental health. There were times where I would allow myself to suffer mentally so much that I would become physically sick. It was not until grade 12 that I realized how much I was hurting myself by letting this continue. I think it is the internal factors that people ignore because they cannot be seen. This is why people do not see how the restoration of a language has such dramatic effects. It is so much more than just speaking; it is freedom and identity. In my eyes, it is like giving a person back a piece of themselves when they did not realize they were missing it in the first place.
After discussing with other students, I realized that I had not been taught anything remotely close to this. Everything that I knew about indigenous people and culture was from a completely different perspective. When Maya asked the class, “did you learn this?” it triggered such a strong feeling of guilt inside of me that it brought me to tears. At first, I was genuinely confused; I did not understand why. Then I realized that I felt so frustrated with myself for being ignorant to something so important. We have, in fact, been colonized to believe and think about events in a certain way. The education system not only failed to teach me about something so important and serious, but also presented it to me in such a sugar-coated and misleading way. I now feel that I never really knew anything to begin with, which is scary to think about. Society has hidden this from me for such a large portion of my life, and I find that absolutely devastating.
Rachel’s Reflection
As a non-indigenous person, I have been made more aware than ever before about what duties I hold in society and what responsibilities I have to upkeep. I acknowledge the privilege that I have, as a white, Canadian, female is incomparable and puts me in a position of advantage in society. My culture nor my language have ever been at risk and I’ll never understand the generational impacts that linguicide has on indigenous communities not just across Canada, but worldwide. Through the first few weeks in taking this course, I have earned a greater understanding and appreciation for what my duties are in society. It is essential that I continue to educate myself and take proactive steps decolonizing myself and others who live in ignorance. I have always known that racism still exists, but it’s not something I am in a position to speak on. What I feel like is the most important for someone like myself is to listen to others and become proper allies in hopes to work towards decolonization and peaceful coexistence. Some important steps that I have learned to take in the decolonization process include amplifying indigenous voices, honouring and putting a spotlight on indigenous languages, and respecting treaty rights.
To begin, it has become more obvious than ever for me, the importance of amplifying indigenous voices in order to fully understand traumatic pasts and move towards more peaceful futures. From what I’ve observed taking this course and, in the news, today, performative activism and this concept of fake liberal ‘wokeness’ is more apparent than ever. In my opinion, the efforts made by society today don’t do enough to amplify indigenous voices and are less effective than we think in making sure history does not repeat itself. Seeing all of these initiatives today, although very important steps to be made, makes me question whether or not non-indigenous people have actually asked to make sure their initiatives work. History is doomed to repeat itself if we don’t start listening to and amplifying indigenous voices. My biggest takeaway is that we all need to understand and be willing to hear that the help we think we’re giving may not be as effective as we think it is. Although it’s important to put the spotlight on recognizing indigenous land, I think it’s just as important to amplify pedagogy and medicinal practices that belong to indigenous cultures.
To continue, I have become much more aware of the importance of indigenous languages and preserving them. Speaking from personal experience, language gives us a sense of belonging and helps makes us feel part of something. The languages we speak can provide us with this feeling of identity and when something this essential to the core of many groups is stripped away from someone in the form on linguicide, the impacts are extremely harmful. English is my first language, as is the case for the majority of the people I grew up around. I wish I hadn’t been so ignorant towards this privilege I’ve been living with but learning about linguicide and how detrimental this very concept is to many indigenous communities has enlightened me and inspired me to do better in the future. As a hopeful future educator, I will no longer accept the colonial teaching methods and pedagogy which exclude indigenous practices and methods. When doing this in the future, I am also going to make sure I don’t come off as a white saviour and honour indigenous languages in a way which I know doesn’t speak over them. I don’t even want to imagine how lonely and isolating of a feeling it can be to have my language and culture stripped away from me, and still be facing these impacts generations later. Through this course so far, I’ve learned that it’s my duty to incorporate and amplify indigenous points of view in education so to help prevent any further forms of linguicide.
Among other things I’ve learned in this course so far, one that stuck out the most to me was learning about the different forms of treaties and what they meant in the past and how they are being honoured today. With gaining new information about the Two Row Wampum, for example, I am able to better understand my duties as a non-indigenous person and reflect on what work we have to do to get back to a place in society where we honour these treaty agreements. Since high school, I have had very baseline knowledge on this topic, only ever being taught what the two purple rows symbolize (two boats travelling down the same river with their paths never crossing). This very knowledge has made me question everything about the public education system and the crisis it still sees itself in today. It is not rational to think we are moving towards a more peaceful future while still actively ignoring this historical treaty and what it outlines. Now, I understand that the belt represents so much more and holds so many important value
Emily’s Reflection
As I learn about the state of Indigenous languages, it got me thinking about my own experiences learning new languages and how that relates to the situation in which many Indigenous people currently find themselves. I reflect on how I took French in school. Almost every class I had was in French. I even graduated with a French diploma. By the end of the 13 years, I could speak very poor French: the kind of French that most are too embarrassed to speak. It’s been 5 years now since I graduated from secondary school and I can read in French and understand it being spoken but when it comes to speaking it myself, I can barely string together a proper sentence. Even though they call it French immersion, I was definitely not fully immersed in the language; I learned what I had to in order to get by in class. Had my parents spoken French to me at home while growing up, I’m sure it would have been a different story. It goes to show just how important speaking a language in a home setting is in order to fully learn it.
One day, I’d love to learn Omamiwininimowin fluently. I can sign up for language classes through my reserve, yet I’m afraid that without the needed exposure to the language, I will never be fluent. I don’t have any Algonquin speaking people in my (known) family. Reflecting on my experiences of attempting to learn a second language and through what I’ve learned in this class, I now understand why intergenerational transmission of language is so important for a language to flourish. Without a parent or grandparent to immerse you in the language, it’s evident that in most cases the language will not stick, case in point: my current “French-speaking” capabilities.
When I learned in this class that all Indigenous languages are considered endangered, even the ones with the most speakers, I was not surprised. Sad yes, but not surprised. I repeat: every single Indigenous language is considered endangered!! Every time I read that sentence, I have to take a moment to absorb the gravity of the situation. The reason I’m not surprised at this statement is because, you look at the policies, the racism, the violence which has been imposed on Indigenous peoples and it makes complete sense why our languages have suffered! So many Indigenous children were/are just trying to survive. Not to mention that residential schools and the 60’s scoop and countless other atrocities, actively targeted our languages and cultures. The very existence of Indigenous people on Turtle Island threatens the legality of canada, so erasing Indigenous people in whichever way possible has always been in canada’s best interest.
In my family anyways, the canadian government took our language. My Mother, an Indigenous child grew up in a white family’s home where she was treated as though she was inferior to their biological children. This really messed my mom up. I could tell growing up that Mom wasn’t often happy. She had a lot of shit to deal with. At birth, it was unfairly decided for her that she would not have access to her language and culture; She wasn’t even given a chance! At no fault of our own, learning our language remained near impossible. The relevance of this is astounding to me. I get pretty angry when I think about it. It’s coming up on 10 years now since she passed away. I know my Mom struggled with the idea of reconnecting with her birth family and our Algonquin culture, but I hope she understands why I want to learn.
My Mom survived a genocide because she was strong as fuck, her language didn’t, but maybe one day I will be able to speak it for the both of us.
Meegwetch,
Emily
Eleana Norton
Learning and Teaching in an Indigenous Context
I would like to start by identifying myself as a non-indigenous, white woman. My first real perspective on Indigenous realities – not counting the very white-washed grade 7 social studies curriculum of Jacques Cartier and the Iroquois – was in grade 11. The course I took was called “Indigenous Issues in a Global Context”. It was an elective, taken online from a different school board because my school did not have a single university preparation course on First Nations. It angers me that it took until my second last year of public school to formally learn about anything from an Indigenous perspective. It is a huge disservice to anyone in public school. I was the only one from my graduating class who took this course, so the vast majority of my peers finished high school without having ever taken an Indigenous studies class. I thought I knew a lot about Indigenous issues simply because I knew more than my peers, but I realize now how naïve that was. Indigenous people are diverse, rich in culture, and have extensive teachings on the world. Pretending that I knew “enough” was neglecting the fact that I was referring to an entire people group and not an area of study. The truth is, I don’t really know anything about Indigenous people if the only thing I’ve done is read about them in books.
My plan for this summer was to work with Frontier College to be an Indigenous Summer Reading Camp Counsellor, most likely in Northern Ontario. When COVID-19 happened, the program was unfortunately cancelled. However, I’ve realized through the first couple weeks of this course that while I would have entered that position with sensitivity and good intentions, I also would have been inattentive to the historical trauma that would have been present in my classroom. I am realizing historical trauma is the root of many conditions that would have made learning more difficult for many of my students. I think this is especially true since I would be teaching language (not Indigenous language, but the colonizers’ language). I am thankful for the way things have turned out, as I now have an opportunity to be more responsible if I decide to be a Reading Camp Counsellor in 2021.
First, I would better understand the significance of trauma that Indigenous people face when learning language. As a language learner myself, I understand how difficult and intimidating it can be to learn a new language. I never felt this way when learning French since I started picking it up at a young age, however, learning Spanish as a teenager came with a whole new range of emotions. I found it much more difficult to speak up in class and I was so afraid of messing up. This felt very out of character for me because I normally would not hesitate to raise my hand in other classes – but language feels more personal and vulnerable than other subjects. However, while I can empathize to an extent with the emotions that come with language learning, I have no way of knowing what it feels like to also carry historical trauma into the classroom. What I learned from the Bryce Report and in-class discussions was horrific. Not only were the children in residential schools not allowed to speak their Indigenous languages but they also weren’t taught a vibrant English, leaving many children with no language. Not having the ability to communicate freely caused mad-developed brains, mental illness in 98% of the students, and separation of families who could no longer speak with their kin. That kind of trauma will be carried for generations and would affect students wishing to learn their Indigenous languages, as well as improve their English competencies.
In addition to understanding a little more about historical trauma, I would also have a more well-rounded perspective on pedagogy. One of my favourite things about teaching is being able to change the way young children feel about learning. In the summer of 2019, I had the privilege of teaching English as a Second Language to students in Italy. During my training, I learned that the Italian education system is based on their history as a Catholic state. In the past, Catholicism has controlled the people by only giving the power of knowledge to religious authorities. Rather than read from a Bible for themselves, the people would listen to the man behind the pulpit. This system was adopted in education. Rather than learning from experiences or being taught to think critically, children learn to listen. The curriculum I was given to teach English was much different; it consisted of games, songs, and anything that didn’t feel like traditional school. My Italian students picked up the language so quickly because they were having fun. This experience showed me the power of pedagogy to affect a student’s learning experience. As a literacy camp counsellor in an Indigenous community, my insti
As a literacy camp counsellor in an Indigenous community, my instinct would have been to teach the way I was taught in public school because that feels natural to me, but unfortunately it involves a lot of regurgitation. Knowing what I do now about Indigenous pedagogy, if I decide to teach in an Indigenous community in 2021, I will try to incorporate more of their education practices in my teaching. This would involve experiential learning, story telling, and if possible, inviting community elders to be involved in teaching through traditional knowledge.
Honestly, I am struggling to decide if it would be a good idea for me to teach in an Indigenous community with Frontier College in the future. I know that good intentions are not enough, and I would be weary of contributing to the white-savior narrative. If I do decide to pursue that opportunity, I would commit to learning as much from my students as they do from me.
Clare Ashford
Right now, we are only one month into this course, and I feel frustrated and disappointed, but also hopeful. While these may not seem like the best feelings, they feel necessary. In one month, I have learned so much, yet I know I still have a tremendous amount to learn. What frustrates me is that in my fourth year of university I feel like this learning has just started. This course is teaching me an incredible amount about Anishinaabemowin culture and language. In this reflection, I will share my thoughts and appreciation for the language and culture, as well as the new style of learning I have been introduced to, and how I will be apply these values to my life.
As a bilingual Glendon student, the idea of learning a new language excites me as well as scares me. The gift of language is a very powerful tool, and this course already has greatly reinforced the idea that language truly is a gift that not everyone receives unfortunately. In the past month, I have come to realize that langue is so much more significant than I previously thought. Langue provides a way for us to communicate, and a way for us to express ourselves, and connect with others.
As we had various discussions in class I was able to reflect on my previous experiences with language learning. As an elementary student, I absolutely hated going to French class. I remember each day before French class I would get a knot in my stomach and start to feel sick from the thought of having to participate and worrying I would mess up or pronounce something wrong. My teacher was not a monster, but I was extremely shy, and the idea of speaking a new language in front of my classmates terrified me.
I remember once I misunderstood instructions given in French and began to do something wrong which resulted in me getting yelled at. While it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, it really stuck with me. It bothered me enough that 8 year old me decided I should fake the stomach flu to get out of going to school the next day, and the day after that. My case of “the stomach flu” lasted until I actually gave myself symptoms of the flu from worrying about going back and facing my teacher who had completely forgotten about the incident by the time I returned!
Reflecting on past experiences like this makes me incredibly grateful for the learning style of this course. I love how welcoming this style of learning is. I do not feel too shy or embarrassed to participate with my classmates and professor because I know I most likely will mess up, but that is okay. I no longer feel a knot forming in my stomach before class. Instead I feel happy (niminwentam) and excited because I know I will learn be engaged and present instead of worrying about if I will be called on and criticized.
From our class discussions, I have developed a deeper understanding of linguicide and how it is so detrimental. I cannot even begin to fathom the impact and the loss indigenous communities have faced. When discussing indigenous cultures in school, I was always taught in a very removed way where I never really understood exactly what happened. I was taught very briefly about residential schools and was basically told that it was bad, and it happened a long time ago in Canadian history. While yes, it is true it was horrific, it is not just in the past.
I am now seeing that so many government policies continue to hurt indigenous cultures, and the trauma continues to be reinforced. I also realize that my knowledge of indigenous culture is incredibly limited. I learned about the trauma communities faced, and I learned about current social issues in indigenous communities, however my knowledge of indigenous language, traditions, culture and worldview was practically non-existent prior to the start of this course. I feel angry that I have lived in Canada for the past twenty years, and failed to understand the history of indigenous peoples.
As we discussed community or clan responsibilities in class, I realized I have a responsibility to educate myself, as I have the opportunity to do so. For indigenous peoples learning is considered to be an ongoing journey filled with reflection and transmission through storytelling, teachings and legends as well as engaging in cultural practices. I believe these methods of learning would be much more effective in creating great change.
Already, this course has had a great impact on me. It has opened my eyes, and made me question so much around me. I have been introduced to new ways of teaching and learning, and I have fallen in love! I am so much more aware of the power of language. While I have learned a lot already, I have an appreciation for learning and I know this will be a lifelong journey. I am so appreciative that I have the opportunity to continue this journey of learning.
Emma Posca
Reflection Paper One:
My Responsibility
I always knew that settler colonialism dehumanized and alienated Indigenous people from themselves, their culture, their language and their lands; however I never really fully comprehended the ongoing impact of colonialism on Indigenous people until I embarked on my PhD journey almost 4 years ago. In this paper, I have decided to reflect on the motivation behind my dissertation research and the responsibility that I have undertaken towards providing an education about colonialism in order to become part of decolonial movements. This has been a part of the discussions that we have had in the breakout rooms in class.
In the summer of 2018, I was enrolled in a directed reading course with my dissertation supervisor; Professor Ruth Koleszar-Green. This course was a re-introduction to Indigenous worldviews after many years away from Indigenous research and teachings. This course was the first time I had been taught about Indigenous worldviews from the perspective of an Indigenous faculty member versus the perspective of a white faculty member; which therefore introduced me to ethnographic literature written by and from the perspective of Indigenous matriarchs. After reading ethnographies produced by Maureen Lux, Laurie Meijer Drees, Beverly Jacobs, Patricia Monture-Angus and Audra Simpson I was exposed to both the historical and continuing impact of colonialism on Indigenous communities, especially Indigenous women and children, in Canada. I became overwhelmed with anger at the horror that were contained within these first-hand accounts of the life and death of Indigenous people in residential schools and Indian hospitals. Both residential schools and Indian hospitals were government institutions that demonstrated the way the government felt about Indigenous people, especially women. They highlight the intensive impact of colonialism as they were tools of marginalization and eradication. For example, racial and biological differences between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people were magnified to blame Indigenous people for tuberculosis because they were thought to be racially and biologically inferior. Furthermore, based on the race and gender-based narratives Indigenous culture and language was thought to be uncivilized and therefore had to be removed from society- thus placing Indigenous people in residential schools.
I cried for many days after conducting this research because it was horrible to read and contextualize. But I realized, after much time and reflection, that Indigenous people do not need my guilt and they do not need my tears. They need an understanding of and the ending of the existence of race and gender-based colonial structures that aim to continue to marginalize, assimilate and eradicate Indigenous people. This fueled my desire to learn my responsibility towards Indigenous people by digging deeper into understanding the physical and psychological experiences that occurred in these colonial institutions. Indigenous women were traumatized by the physical and psychological abuse they suffered at the hands of those in these hospitals and in residential schools. This perpetuated a cycle of intergenerational trauma that began with women who survived their ordeal and the children that eventually grew up with those who survived and/or grew up to be survivors. The impact of intergenerational trauma is still felt all over Canada.
You have asked us to look to the TRC and the Calls To Action in this course, which I have currently done, but I have also have reviewed the TRC within my own research. I will say this, weaving between ethnographic stories and the TRC’s Calls To Action allowed me to contextualize the historical impact of colonialism and realize its ongoing impact on Indigenous people, especially women. I came to realize, after reading literature from scholars such as Beverly Jacobs, Cyndy Blackstock and Ceila Haig-Brown that the government has not fully followed through on the Calls To Action. Beyond the apology for residential schools there has been no movement by the government to provide aid to healing the intergenerational trauma among Indigenous communities. There has been no movement towards making amends via land claims, improvements to reserve housing, educational attainment and/or even movement towards ending the race and gender-based violence and discrimination against Indigenous women. The MMIWG2S report that was issued in 2019 is still sitting there on a shelf. In my opinion, the millions of dollars that were used to create this report could have been used for many reserves that still do not have running water and/or electricity. The money could have been used to give Indigenous people on reserves access to post-secondary education. The money could have been used to foster more Indigenous language classes- such as this one. The money could have been used to education those in police services about the ge
The money could have been used to education those in police services about the gender and race-based violence to end its cycle and stop the deaths of many Indigenous women.
I am glad that you assigned us to read Celia’s article as I have read her work as part of my research. Celia became motivation behind me taking my responsibility. As a white woman who has admitted we are on Indigenous lands (article from class), Celia has set the standard and the bar for many white women. Celia, has made it so that we as white people have to admit the horrors of colonialism. We must admit the impact of residential schools and Indian hospitals on Indigenous people and the ongoing impact of institutional colonial structures on Indigenous people. Celia, has listened to the needs of Indigenous people and has become a catalyst for change. This is true of academic settings such as York where there is a movement towards hiring more Indigenous faculty and admitting more Indigenous students into academic programs.
Furthermore, after working with and reading Ruth’s article I have begun to understand my role in all this and what is my responsibility towards Indigenous people. Ruth Koleszar-Green’s article, “What is a guest? What is a settler?” taught me that I am a settler but also a guest of Indigenous people. As cited by Ruth Koleszar-Green; non-Indigenous people are settlers on Indigenous lands. Settlers, also known as colonizers are often non-Indigenous white people that settled Canada and displaced Indigenous people from their lands.
As a white woman this makes me a settler however, being a guest is a bit more complex. Settlers are not automatically accepted as guests. Therefore, just because I acknowledge that I am a settler does not make me automatically accepted as a guest. I must be accepted by Indigenous people, especially women, and be made a part of the land, the community and be aligned within the resistance against colonialism. It is my responsibility to create an education for non-Indigenous women, especially white women, about the negative colonial experiences Indigenous women and girls went through and continue to go through at the hands of the federal government. It is my responsibility to provide an education about the existence of race and gender-based discrimination that perpetuated violence against Indigenous women in both residential schools and Indian hospitals because of the Indian Act.
It is my responsibility to educate non-Indigenous people about the fact that Indigenous languages are dying out and there is no funding for those that want to teach it all because of colonial based policies.
By identifying that I am a white researcher I am acknowledging that I am willing to admit the evils of colonialism and use my power and privilege to work towards change (decolonialism). White women/researchers do not operate within a position of trust within Indigenous communities but rather within spaces of privilege and therefore need to ensure that Indigenous women understand why white women like myself are conducting this research. Personally, my desire to be a responsible guest is geared towards ending the colonial gender and race-based violence that is committed against Indigenous women daily. As a white researcher, guest and ally I feel strongly that Indigenous women were robbed of their lands, lives and identities. I want Indigenous women to get back what was stolen from them and be recognized as the true people of this territory.
This is more than just writing a dissertation or taking this course. This is about ensuring that Indigenous people do not do all the work. Indigenous people cannot be the ones to educate about the history of colonialism and its ongoing impact and work towards change. White people (aka-settlers/colonizers) created this mess and now we must clean it up.
Hence, my responsibility as a guest is clear! It is important to provide an education to more white women about the gender and race-based violence that are barriers for Indigenous women. Through this education more guests will be able to come together to be able to disrupt colonial policies, procedures and structures that eradicate, marginalize, and oppress Indigenous women in Canada.
The accountability that I have to Indigenous women is what I keep in mind as I write this paper and in future work.
Mackenzie Gauthier
Mackenzie Gauthier Oct 5th 2020
The lost mother tongue
Over the course of the last month we have spent in class I have learned about many different things in Anishinaabemowin language and culture. I never thought a course like this would be offered to me and being able to learn one of the many languages that were spoken here on turtle island is something I am so grateful for. I have begun to realize how much language really does mean to me, being able to speak two languages that most people will understand is something I always took for granted. I have personally never known the struggle of having to have someone interpret for me or to be ridiculed for not speaking the “normal” language .
With all that being said, it does not mean I don't know anyone who has gone through this. To start, I have quite a large family, my dad has 7 older siblings so there are a lot of people in my life. Well a handful of my cousins are deaf, they're only means of communication is through American Sign language (ASL). ASL is quite difficult to learn and not many people know how to do it or even the basic ways to communicate simple things such as how are you doing, or can I help you? I’ve been lucky enough to learn ASL through them personally but it has sadly got harder to keep up with and I have started to forget some of the signs. I have seen the frustration they have when they are not able to communicate with people the same way I am, when I am with them 9 out of 10 times I have to speak for them and it takes away a sense of independence for them.
As well as my cousins, my great grandmother who passed away when I was only nine years old, she was an indigenous person. Well she never really got the chance to speak her native language because of the way she would be treated. She eventually married a french man and that is when our lineage kinda became grey. When asked I don’t usually identify as aboriginal because many times when I did, I was told “I didn’t look indian enough” and eventually I stopped trying to embrace that part of my culture. Not being able to learn the language because it stopped with my great grandma started to frustrate me once I began learning more about my family's past.
With these two connections and how upset and mad they make me, I cannot imagine the way these children, who were ripped away from all they knew and were placed in these institutions, also known as residential schools. I strongly disagree with them being called schools, a school is somewhere children are supposed to be cared for, taught and respected and treated as equals, which clearly wasn't the case for residential schools. They were not able to speak their own language, their mother tongue, or practice their own culture. The only ways in which they know how to communicate was torn away from them at such a young age. It must’ve been the worst possible thing in the world. I don’t think I will ever understand why these children were taken to these horrible places, wanting to make them more civilized and normal is the stupidest reason I have ever heard, why the hell do they want us all to be the same? I do not understand this at all. These children came out of these appalling institutions without a sense of identity, some not even knowing their own names or where they came from. As happy as I am that these places are now closed, the repercussions of how these institutions treated the children is something that can and will never be fixed.
Saradoodlez
CULTURELESS
Cultureless: without culture
Unwelcome in the community of my people, left alone
Left without knowledge of my belonging and worth
Tortured by the memories of what has happened years ago
Unwilling to believe that this if my life
Redirecting anger and sadness to substance abuse
Endlessly wandering this world, alone
Little to offer comfort, little to offer me my culture
Ever wondering about my people
So alienated
So without culture
Growing up knowing the shame my family felt of our culture was painful. Never being able to know where we came from was saddening. My grandfather feared persecution until the day he died, only then were the secrets of our exact origin revealed. My mother who is Mi’kmaw married my father who is white, and due to my skin colour, I have had to defend my heritage to those like and unlike me. Growing up white in Canada, I understand, has given me privilege and I am grateful, however that privilege does not make up for the culture I’ve lost, the language I’ve lost, the community I’ve lost or the family I’ve lost. When we talked about residential schools it really resonated with me because my grand father wouldn’t talk about where he came from I am unsure what portion of his life and his immediate family as a young boy was effected by this institutionalization. When Maya talked about how Native children shut down in their classes trying to relearn their culture, I felt that. Sometimes I don’t want to tell people I’m Mi’kmaw because I think that they are going to tell me I’m not or ask me all these questions I don’t know. Sometimes, especially in a class centred around First Nations culture, I do not want people to look at me like a specimen like “look, a real First Nation person” like I’m something to study. I know that these fears are irrational, and I should be embracing my culture, but that is hard to do when you do not know what your culture is. This is why I wanted to take this class. I am on the ever-difficult journey of regaining my culture, so I one day won’t see myself as CULTURELESS.
My own feelings pale in comparison to what the victims of residential schools went through. They were stripped of their culture from a young age and sent out into the world with no education, no home, and no name. These children that have never known parents and love grow up to be adults without knowing how to parent and love. Languages and traditions lost because their culture focuses on story telling as a way of teaching. It is shameful, not for the Indigenous Peoples, but for the white man to have done such a thing to people that only cared for the earth and their kin.
I am enraged that this terrible thing has happened, and I can do very little to regain anything that has been lost or fix anything or anyone that has been broken. My family is incomplete, we have lost so much without even knowing for sure what we have lost. Yet, when I think about others that know exactly what they have lost, it is heartbreaking.
Elisabeth Barghout
Reflection paper # 1:
The hidden truth
Shortly after arriving to Canada in 2007, I started learning about Canada’s history, the constitutional monarchy, the provinces and the Aboriginal people. Most of the learning was about the history of the Europeans coming to Canada and changing the cultural landscape.
I slowly started to learn that there is more to know about the Canadian history and it became clear that the history of the indigenous people was told by those who benefit more from minimizing certain aspects of the truth. By reading, learning and hearing about all the pain inflicted on the indigenous people, I knew I had to know more for me to be able to do more. And when I saw this course in the curriculum, I immediately enrolled and was pleasantly surprised by the way it is taught.
What happened?
It all began with the arrival of the Europeans to the First nations territories. The First nations shared their land, plants, air, water and animals with trust. Unfortunately, the Europeans took advantage of this and used their greediness instead to take over the Aboriginal land and resources.
What is happening now?
I was so saddened to hear that most of Indigenous languages are in danger of extinction and that only three Indigenous languages in Canada have a chance of surviving this century, and Indigenous people are dying of suicide, neglect and racism.
The history of the First Nations is not fully acknowledged. What is happening now and will happen in the future depends on three scales: individually, societally and nationally.
As an individual, respecting myself is one of the most important things my culture has taught me so why shouldn’t I be respecting others, it doesn’t matter if I’m white, Indigenous or if I come from a different background.
On a society scale, we need to talk and teach our students and our children about the First Nation’s history, culture and language and to be more prominent in the curriculum.
On a nation scale, the government needs to acknowledge and to reconcile and the need to admit that we were greedy to the First Nations and this by providing awareness like opening more schools for Aboriginal people, hospitals and build their communities, this will give them back the trust, the friendship and the mutual respect that the First nations gave us.
What happens in the future?
Once all Canadians acknowledge and understand the past and find a new way forward, this is when a deeper more healing reconciliation begins; treating each other equally with respect makes the world a better place. We could learn so much from the First Nation’s people, they can teach us how to look after the land we live on, how to use water, rivers and habitat and how to honour and respect other’s culture. How can I help other than volunteering and donating? My responsibility as a non-indigenous woman is to learn Indigenous culture and language and identify areas where my actions could help make a positive difference for the future of the Indigenous people and hopefully inspire others to do same.
Tabitha
Reflection # 1: Speaking Up and Native Tongues
I remember in the most recent class you mentioned that during times designated for people to speak up, those times are when all the white, male professors tend to hog the room (so to speak). After that we split up into breakout groups. In my group there were six people consisting of three white people and three who were minorities. Unfortunately, the entire time in the breakout room, all three white classmates basically talked about needing to find a way to let minority (mainly Indigenous) voices be heard. I thought it was so ironic that they basically led the conversation and didn’t really give any time for us other three to speak. So many people think that if they just talk about how things should be without acting it out that things will happen. In my final year of high school, they used to start the morning announcements with some sort of rehearsed speech about appreciating and thanking the different Indigenous whose land our school was upon. I feel like it was well intentioned, but it missed the mark. It was the same thing repeated every single day. It was basically a cop out way to make the people who instated it feel better. It made the rest of us numb to those words.
I’ve also been thinking about what you said in class about how learning the language helps with identity. I’ve been wrestling with that my entire life and it has some similarities but also many differences. For one thing, people look at me and expect me to know the language; I’m 4th generation Chinese born Canadian so I have extremely minimal language knowledge. Will attempting to learn Cantonese really help me with my identity? Is language identity the end all and be all? Even if I do learn Cantonese, I’ll still get grandpas and grandmas scorning me for not speaking Mandarin (their default reaction to me not speaking Mandarin is to ask if I’m Filipino). Even if I learn the language, I’ll have to interact with “my people” who are, for the most part, extremely judgemental behind your back and impossible to please. I suppose that’s why I’m glad my identity does not lie in what language I speak, or where my people are from, or even my gender/sexual identity. I used to think that I’d magically somehow understand the language the same way all my friends did as I got older. Now I know better and it’s a bit saddening, but I suppose when they have children it’s highly unlikely that their children will speak the language. Maybe then I can be someone they can relate to. There is so much baggage when trying to learn your native tongue as has been said in class. That combined with the expectations of others and other ongoing factors in the background of your life make it difficult to even want to learn your native language. It’s also frustrating because you know that it will never be your heart language and it’s sad not to see things through the same lens as those before you. I wonder if all cultures are similar with high disapproval rates and pressure to be good at the language quickly. It’s tough learning a new language after a certain age since you lose the ability to learn a language as well as when you were a child. Your brain just doesn’t have the same capacity it used to when you were a child. And if you add all the baggage like in the case for the young Indigenous people trying to learn their language, it becomes nearly impossible.
Angela
Nihtaaweu
Wachiye!
Welcome to my journey
An English-speaking Eeyou Shkwesh
(Cree girl)
Through Anish lands
Cree Nation of Eastmain nidoonjii.
Noochin I would say where I’m from.
(I think)
This is an exploration of heritage.
Eeyou Istchee onjii nimaamaa.
United States and Montreal onjii nidede.
Let me try in my language.
Eeyou Istchee uhchiiu nikaawii.
United States kiyeh Montreal uhchiiu nuuhtaawii.
I think I can also use uhtiskaanesuu but I’m not sure.
uhtiskaanesuu:
s/he belongs to that country, tribe, race
il/elle appartient à cette race, cette tribu; il/elle vient de ce pays
Did you notice that both languages use “ni” or something similar to mean “I” or “my”?
I will try to erase the uncertainty when speaking of my language. There are things I do know.
Wait, let me try that again. I will erase the uncertainty when speaking of my language. I owe it to myself to recognize my knowledge, although fragmented at times, as valid and important. I’m no expert on the Cree language or culture but that doesn’t mean my knowledge is useless or insignificant.
I spent a couple years walking through white spaces advocating for Indigenous students. In those spaces I was considered the expert. As the only Cree in rooms of mainly white people, with a few Mohawk (Kanien’kehá:ka) and Inuit sprinkled in, I was the Voice of the Cree Experience. This led to feelings of inadequacy.
Do these people not realize that I am half-white? That I moved to the big city (down South as we say on my rez) when I was still a child? That as I learned French I lost my language? That I forced myself to assimilate into Québécois culture, erasing part of myself in the process?
After all, my father is a wemishtikushiiu (White man). What does that make me?
I’ve often felt the need to justify both my lack of knowledge (language or culture) AND any knowledge I do have.
“I don’t speak Cree because my mom spoke English to me!"
“I know syllabics because I learned them before the roman alphabet!”
“Duh I know that! I lived on the rez too!”
“Oh, I didn’t know that because I haven’t lived on the rez for 13+ years!”
Fellow Eeyouch (Crees) are surprised when I know things because they see me as the “White Cree,” the “mixed Cree,” the one who moved down south when she was young. At the same time I feel bad when I don’t know things or when an Elder is disappointed I don’t speak the language and try to justify myself in a million different ways.
wemishtikushiiuayimuu:
s/he speaks English
il/elle parle anglais; c'est un-e anglophone
That’s what my mother says when a relative I haven’t seen in years turns to her and asks: Iiyiyuuayimuu ah? Does she speak Cree?
Muii. Wemishtikushiiuayimuu.
And then I smile and say but! I understand! But! But! But!
But I am an Eeyou Skwesh.
Just because the language doesn’t come to me easy, just because I dream in English, just because I went to school in French, just because…
maaniteuhtaakusuu:
s/he speaks like a stranger, a foreigner
il parle comme un étranger, elle parle comme une étrangère
I don’t care if people think maaniteuhtaakusuu when they hear me stumble though a wachiye, daan ay deen? (Hi, how are you?)
Because nin-gagwe-nidaa iiyiyuuayimuwin.
I am learning.
nihtaaweu:
s/he grows to be able to speak, s/he (baby) can speak now
il/elle commence à apprendre à parler; il/elle (un bébé) est capable de parler maintenant
Work Cited
Most Cree translations cited from the East Cree Dictionary, Southern coastal “dialect”
http://dictionary.eastcree.org/words
A couple translations were taken from my brain™️
Victoria Musial
Wow. I need to start by expressing my gratitude for making a course like this available at York University. Looking through the courses listed under “General Education”, I was captivated by the title Anishinaabemowin (Ojibway) Language and Culture 1. Knowing the importance of the untaught Anishinaabemowin history, I immediately felt drawn to enroll in this course. As an immigrant, my mom was fascinated with the Anishinaabeg culture and clearly passed it down to me. Speaking about the culture and history, I was particularly interested in one of the stories discussed during class. The story of the Gawigoshko’iweshiinh. This story is focused on the benign translatability of the Anishinaabe language which suffers from colonial historic trajectory. A loss of a rich language should not be allowed. Well, if we’re looking at this realistically many things that should have been forbidden, happened. Translation of the Anishinaabe language was just the start of the heart-breaking and identity stripping events the Indigenous community has endured. Where do I begin? I find myself at a state of unsettlement as I try to comprehend this catastrophic reality. This translation is a factor of degradation into non-existence since it was not the language that had disappeared from the light of acknowledgement. It was the forced detachment from it instead. As any person would, I cannot help but feel strong sympathy and understanding towards the Indigenous community. I would like to include a reasoning for my sense of understanding. I come from a very patriotic Polish family who has suffered from inexplicable horrors. My grandfather continues to live his 87-year-old life without a proper childhood. I mean, can working in a camp for a couple grains of corn as an 8-year-old be considered a childhood? Is it normal being a little boy seeing your parents and brothers get shot right in front of you just for their nationality? This is the hard but untold history of just one of the Hitler occupation survivors during WW2. Like Indigenous people, my grandfather along with the rest of the Polish population was stripped of the right to speak their native language. In schools, they were forcibly taught German and Russian and speaking your native language would come with a price, death. Communist troops would storm into bookstores, schools, homes, and take away all documents and books containing our history and lovely stories written in Polish. Many continued to risk their life for our heritage and host secret teachings forums called, “tajne komplety”. Such meetings came with a consequence of you and your entire family being killed by the Nazi’s if discovered. Paying great attention to the discussions held in class on the Anishinaabe language and culture, the Indigenous community has been denied of the right to speak and teach their own language in residential schools and instead given immense trauma and oppression. I noticed there is a consistent lesson that we are taught, “do not make the same mistakes”. It is hard and wrongful to call what is happening to the Indigenous a “mistake.” The years of oppression and abuse cannot be described with a light word like “mistake.” What is happening is much more than a simple mistake or wrongdoing. These are intentional actions which continue to be followed. What continues to baffle me is the amount of ignorance our world possesses. Why is that we who have endured so are expected to stay silent and the rest of the world uneducated? This is a question I continue to ask myself every day. I once reposted a simple post acknowledging an anniversary of the day Poland appeared on the map after being gone for 123 years due to occupation. I was surprised to receive the following response, “No one gives a sh*t about your country. Stop being so patriotic and be realistic.” I was shocked at this response since I was not aware being patriotic and trying to inform people of the history many countries have was a sin. Relating this back to the Indigenous people, they continue to be oppressed and expected by others to stay silent. This should not be the case! Everyone must become fully educated on the rich and beautiful culture of the Anishinaabe people as well as the gut-wrenching reality of their history. I have only been taking this course for a month, yet I already feel I have learned so much.
Zakaria Mohamed
Reflection #1: by Zakaria Mohamed
Topic: Linguicidal Trauma
I would like to start this reflection with a poem that I made for this reflection paper.
Linguicide, linguicide, linguicide,
Why must you be so keen on destroying languages.
Linguicide, linguicide, linguicide,
Don’t you know that you are destroying these people’s identity?
Linguicide, linguicide, linguicide,
At the end of the day are you happy?
Are you glad that you did this?
Look and see the trauma that you have caused.
The first thing I would like to address is why I started this poem with the word linguicide 3 times and the reason is because when I was in high school and I was taking an English class and we were reading a play called Macbeth by Shakespeare and at the beginning if I remember correctly they introduce 3 witches which meant a premonition of disaster. So, I started to think about other things that I have notice that had the mentioning of the number 3, and I notice that some movies that I watched had this thing where if you chant a name or being 3 times the being would be summoned and usually that meant that it was a bad thing so I concluded that when mentioning something three times it resulted in a catastrophic event.
I know from experience that when you can’t access your native language, you lose a part of you. As a person who grew up in a household where three languages were spoken you can see how confusing it might be as a child. Living in an anglophone city, English is the language I’m most comfortable with. Recently I have been brushing up on my French by practicing it with my mom (who is a francophone). My native language is Somali which is my weakest at out of the three languages. I do understand when someone is speaking Somali to me, but I have hard time speaking it back. I am lucky that I’m at least able to comprehend my native language. I can’t imagine how much trauma and depression that a person can take when not knowing their language as a result of disconnection to their culture. Attending this class for the pass 3 weeks I was blown away about all the history that was swept under a rug like it was not significant. I’m so angry that we were only taught that the colonisers were in the right and it was always told through them rather than from the point of view of the indigenous people.
The governments way of trying to help the indigenous communities were to make programs where they are teaching the language in the style of westernise teaching but I believe to truly learn a language you have to learn the language the way the people who speak the language speak because if you don’t, usually it results in not really learning the language or connecting the language to the culture. For example, if an anglophone decides to learn Chinese but the way they are trying to learn is by using the grammar of English which doesn’t work because the grammar of English and Chinese are so different from each other that if the anglophone did decide to use that method the native Chinese speaker wouldn’t understand what they are saying. Hence why we should learn the language the way that a native speaker would.
Taking this course made opened my eyes to a whole new world and I am glad that it did. I’m very excited to dive into more in-depth topics during this course
Work Cited
Shakespeare, William. Macbeth
Note: i wasn't sure if i had to cite Macbeth cause I mentioned briefly about it.
Bharathy (Angel) Iyathurai
Reflection #1: What I Have Learned
Being in the Anishinaabemowin (Ojibwe) Language and Culture class has truly opened my eyes and heart to a culture that is being pushed aside and not made more known in our education system and country. Whereas in school we learn about the more European cultures that over shadow the true history and cultures that belong to this land, this course is truly one that should become necessary for every student to take. In this past month, we’ve learned about fun stories with valuable lessons and some pieces of history that give us a glimpse of how the Anishinaabe culture is being diminished which really reminded me of two things. The first thing that the class and the content has reminded me about is all (not really much), but what i was taught in elementary and high school. In elementary school, we were taught more about those who came and torture, stole and completley dimised the existence of those who were on this land first. I personally never went to Black Creek Pioneer Village when I was in elementary school, but most of my family and friends went and would tell me about all the activities they got to do and all the things they learned about the pilgrims and the pioneers. Now that I really think about it, as children we were taught and shown what “early” canadian life was like based on the events and activities of the europeans who colonized this land. When I think about all the history of this country that I’ve learned I can only think about the first few prime ministers and the battles that the British and the French had over already stolen land. We were taught about “thanksgiving” which I now know is such an offensive and illogical thing to be celebrating. The education system is doing everyone so wrong in hiding and covering up what and who the true people and culture of this land is. The second thing that I’ve been reminded of this course was the similarities between the cultural genocide of the First Nations in Canada as well as my mother land and culture; The dismisal of Tamils in Sri Lanka. Even though the two situations are drastically different, at the same time they carry effects that can be seen in both. As a tamil person, I know that even while we saw a literal bloody civil war and its apparent end, to this day our culture and identity is hidden and is in the attempt of being erased. When i speak to others about my culture and background they are often confused and have no idea what I’m talking about, or I get teased and ridiculed because people are not educated about it or they see others diminishing it and doing it themselves. I can see from what I have learned in this course that it is the same thing or at least a relatively similar case. Calling myself a Canadian, it is my responsibility to uplift and bring to light the atrocities that I am now being educated about and demand the justice and true reconciliation that is necessary even though no apology can make up for what has been done. I am intrigued to learn more about the culture and the language and hopefully utilize my skills to make a change and bring up others’ voice.
Reflection #1: Mila Petrovic
Mila Petrovic
Reflection: 1
When picking my courses for my second year of university, I really wanted to choose my courses on time so that I can get the courses I’m actually interested in. I was going through the long list of classes and then I came across this class and remembered that one of my professors’ from last year had suggested it. I’ll be honest, I hesitated clicking and adding this class: I was worried that the class would be taught in a colonialistic manner/perspective. By this I mean only being taught about a tiny fraction of Indigenous history and everything else being about the colonizers. I was worried because those were the only things we were ever taught in elementary and highschool. We weren’t educated enough in the many rich Indigenous cultures, history and languages. That was something I wanted so I’m glad I signed up. This is why after the first class, I was so incredibly happy and excited to educate myself in a non-colonialistic environment.
First of all I wanted to say that the way this course is taught is not how I imagined it, and I am pleasantly surprised! I love how this isn’t just a plain history class where facts and dates are being thrown at us. We learn through culture, stories and games, which I think are extremely efficient teaching methods. In this way we are having fun and are learning at the same time.
When I told my dad that I’m taking this Anishinaabemowin language and culture class, he was so happy and proud at the same time. My parents immigrated to Canada about 25 years ago from Serbia. During that time in the 90s, there was war in our country so it was very difficult for my family to start a new life here. When coming here, my parents didn’t feel accepted by anyone. Studying and completing their Canadian citizenship test, they told me how shocked they were that there was no mention of any type of Indigenous culture or language in a test that was supposed to tell you “how to be Canadian”. My parents were looking forward to learning about this, especially because back home in Serbia they were only taught a small portion of Indigenous culture and history (they were taught more there than they were in a Canadian government financed program!). They figured that when they came to Canada they would be able to expand their knowledge, but yet again the Canadian schooling system failed to include Indigenous people in Canadian education. My parents then took it upon themselves to educate themselves from borrowing Indigenous history books from the library and watching APTN almost daily (fun fact my dad’s favourite show is “North of 60”, haha.). Growing up my dad would always tell me about all the injustices the Indigenous community was and still is facing. He always told me to never forget that we are on their and their ancestor’s land and how grateful we should be.
During one of the first few classes, I learned that “dialect” is a dangerous word for many reasons. In class we discussed how there are only around 10 thousand mother tongue speakers of Indigenous languages in Canada. The dialect of an Indigenous language should not matter, if anything it could discourage learners. It is so important to keep these Indigenous languages alive and available to people because it is a part of their identity. It shouldn’t matter if they speak different dialects or with different accents, they are all brought together by beautiful languages that are passed down from generation to generation. Because without language it is hard to express social, spiritual and philosophical aspects in one’s life. But we as second language learners of Ojibway also need to understand that a lot of the Indigenous community faces trauma when it comes to their own language as well. They were forbidden to speak it in residential schools, and even if its generations that were post residential schools there is still that generational trauma that is present. I hope I understood that aspect of the class, because I took my own family’s experiences that were similar to these that I mentioned and related them to one another. During the war in the Balkans in the 90s, you could literally be killed for your dialect or language. In Bosnia, a neighboring country with Serbia, the same language was spoken in both countries but they had different accents and dialects. Soldiers or guards would ask innocent Serbian civilians to count to 5, and if they heard a different dialect they would shoot them on the spot. Nidaakoz to my stomach when I think of these gut wrenching horror moments in history.
This is why we all need to get together and fight whatever ongoing colonialism there is going on. We need to help each other keep our languages and cultures alive. That is what’s so beautiful in life, that we get to share and learn each other’s cultures, and it's even easier now with
That is what’s so beautiful in life, that we get to share and learn each other’s cultures, and it's even easier now with technology and social media. Together we need to help keep all these beautiful Indeginous languages and cultures alive, we need to invest time, money and (most importantly) love into it. It has only been one month of classes and I already feel like I have learned a lot. I can’t even imagine how many more things I will learn. EXCITED! Niminwentam, migwech :)
Leah Stammis
I just want to begin by saying that I am a non-Indigenous woman, and my family settled on the traditional territories of the Haudenosaunee, in what is now known as Richmond Hill. I only learned about this a year ago, when I took an introductory course on Indigenous studies at Glendon. I was asked to do an assignment on the particular First Nations people whose traditional territories now comprise my own town/region, and it demanded that I face the reality of my place in Canada. My knowledge on Indigenous people was never substantial, and I only ever thought of their existence as quite distant from mine. I had never encountered an Indigenous person, I had never heard their stories, I had never learned about Indigenous people in school – apart from them being a fundamental part of the “glorious” colonial conquest of North America. I had never quite learned just how fundamental this role was in the establishment of Canada. I have never fully acknowledged or stated this, but blatant white nationalism was most definitely prevalent during my education. We saluted Samuel de Champlain whenever his name was spoken. In denouncing my past, I acknowledge my ignorance to Indigenous realities and seek to educate myself about Indigenous peoples and perspectives to remedy the false teachings I have encountered throughout my life.
I am now in my third year of Political Science at Glendon, and I have come to realize how exceedingly Eurocentric my education still is. I constantly recognize that Indigenous and BIPOC realities are brushed over, whilst we continue to analyze the dominance of “greater European powers.” I appreciated when professor Chacaby spoke to the fact that everyone, Indigenous and non-Indigenous people alike, have been victims of injustice through mis-education. Although I cannot speak to, nor will I ever truly understand, the prevailing traumas Indigenous people face, I can acknowledge how damaging Canadian (Western) education systems are, through their persistence in preaching false narratives. I am extremely disheartened to know that we all continue to endure these colonial narratives, but I am so grateful to be a part of this course which actively contests such a disparaging discourse. I have only just begun to re-educate myself on the realities of Canada’s colonial “legacy” and the realities of Indigenous peoples. I have decided to take a certificate in Indigenous studies so that my degree in Political Science is balanced out by truth to contest the colonial narratives that my education imparts upon me. I feel that I cannot in good conscience take a degree in Political Science without acknowledging how world politics have devastated Indigenous people over the course of history.
In an attempt to further understand the struggle and pertinence language and how closely associated it is to identity and culture, I have made an attempt to connect this challenge with my own personal experience. To a very limited extent, I can understand the challenges associated with being disconnected with one’s language. I come from a Dutch family and I know absolutely nothing about the language. I have a relatively strong connection to my heritage, as my grandparents and my parents have exposed me to a lot of my culture, but I have never been exposed to the language. In this way, I feel extremely disconnected to my heritage. I lived in the Netherlands while on my gap year before university and realized the true extent of this disconnect. In being surrounded by all those who did have that connection to language, I felt ostracized in my inability to express myself. I felt like I fell short of truly being Dutch, and I felt like my identity was fragmented. I, however, have resources to access my language, I have ample means and ability to learn it, I am not ridiculed for trying to learn it, I have never been punished for attempting to preserve my language, and it has never been systemically stripped away from me. Many Indigenous peoples cannot say the same. Although I face certain challenges in understanding and resonating with my culture, I cannot truly resonate with the lasting injustices of linguicide that Indigenous people have faced at the hands of colonization. It is incredibly devastating to reflect on the fact that
I have learned more in the past few weeks in taking this class about the impacts of language and on Indigenous culture and practices than I have in all my previous years of education. It has made me question a lot about my own ways of thinking, and on the way that I perceive language, as well as the world around me. I look forward (in anticipation and inevitable provocation) to learning more in the upcoming weeks. I am eager to continue to be challenged in my learning, but not in a way that devalues perspectives, as so often does Western education. I feel empowered to learn in this course and I am impassioned by the content, as it is provocative, pushing
I feel empowered to learn in this course and I am impassioned by the content, as it is provocative, pushing one to reflect and acknowledge all the different walks of life we come from and our ability to impact the world around us.
Eitan Markus
I have a strange relationship with privilege.
Growing up in an insular, predominately white community, I have been surrounded by people who look like me my whole life. Everyone I looked up to as a child was a white or white-passing, cisgender male and, because I am too, that was expected. Fear of the other was palpable in my highly patriarchal community; women in positions of authority were scarce and People of Colour and queer people were nowhere to be found in the public sphere. I know how it feels to care solely about issues that are only relevant to me and my community, and the acts of racism, homophobia, and transphobia that I have witnessed first-hand have never been directed at me.
What I also know, however, is what it feels like to be part of a visible religious minority in a secular society. I was told in Jewish day school that I must always be on my best behavior during field trips not only because it is the right thing to do, but also because my actions speak on behalf of all Jews. The skullcap on my head identifies me instantly. Though I am extremely fortunate to live in a place where I can wear it proudly and without fear, there are many places in this country and in this world where I would not be able to. I am a grandchild of Holocaust survivors and, though its terror is not something I encounter regularly, fear of anti-Semitism is as much a part of me as my name. When the hate-filled #JewishPrivilege started trending on Twitter this past July, this fear was vindicated
Many people I once thought of as friends or close family members have said terribly homophobic things in my presence, but the remarks were never directed at me. I was in the closet at the time, so I was safe. When I hear people discussing the morality of same-sex marriage as if it were a controversial piece of policy up for debate and not the natural reality for me and hundreds of millions of other people, it makes my blood boil. It drives me mad when white people talk about the recent racial tensions in the United States without recognizing the privilege they have that no matter the outcome of the situation, they will not be affected. When I discuss social justice issues with people who call me sensitive, they fail to realize that I am not a thin-skinned child waiting for a happy ending from a Disney movie, they just have no skin in the game. When we are discussing issues that directly affect me and my rights, there is no way for me to discuss this from an objective, removed perspective.
Privilege is everywhere and everyone is affected by it in one way or another. I directly benefit from male, cisgender and white-passing privilege, while I am directly harmed by religious majority and straight privilege. I do not apologize for being white-passing or for being male. Having privilege does not make me a bad person. What would make me a bad person, however, would be if I recognized my privilege and did not attempt to use it for good and to actively work to dismantle it. Dismantling my own privilege is something I have been passionate about for years and it therefore struck very close to home when we learned in class about the different privileges non-Native people have.
Learning about Anishinaabe culture and history during the first couple of lessons of our class was extremely enjoyable for me, but I will fully admit that I got a little impatient. I thought to myself a few times, why can we not just start the language already? Why do we need to spend so much time on background information, I just want to get to grammar and vocabulary. It was only when Maya explained about the trauma, shame, and pressure that is so often associated for Native people with their native languages that I understood. I am extremely privileged to be in this course as a non-Native person because whether I successfully learn the language or not, I can carry on with my life unaffected. I have lived in Canada my entire life, not having any idea of the extent to which, for over 400 years, we have been actively betraying our original treaty with the Native people. Modern Canadian society is built for me and for that ignorance. Ignorance of and profiting off of this betrayal is the norm and, if I forget everything I learn in this course this year, I can happily return to that norm. I was lied to and I am also a victim of colonization, but that lie did not kill millions of my people and place my oppressors in power. I am privileged to never need to think about the extent to which I am privileged because I have no skin in this game.
I have no skin in this game, yet I am still playing. I am still actively trying to learn about the Anishinaabe language and culture because Maya has helped me believe that it can be a tool not only to enrich my own life, but a tool to create palpable and positive societal change. By educating myself on the broken treaties and the reality of the endangerment of Native languages, I am empowering myself to take a stand against these injustices and to shut up and listen when Native people speak. I am motivated to join Native people in their healing process and to act as canoe neighbours in the same river, helping them bring the ideals of trust, friendship, and mutual respect into my life and the world as a whole. LIN2636 gives me hope that the future is bright for Native and non-Native people as partners and, with the number of other enthusiastic non-Native people in the course, it gives me hope that dismantling privilege does not have to be so lonely.
Learning and Teaching in an Indigenous Context
I would like to start by identifying myself as a non-indigenous, white woman. My first real perspective on Indigenous realities – not counting the very white-washed grade 7 social studies curriculum of Jacques Cartier and the Iroquois – was in grade 11. The course I took was called “Indigenous Issues in a Global Context”. It was an elective, taken online from a different school board because my school did not have a single university preparation course on First Nations. It angers me that it took until my second last year of public school to formally learn about anything from an Indigenous perspective. It is a huge disservice to anyone in public school. I was the only one from my graduating class who took this course, so the vast majority of my peers finished high school without having ever taken an Indigenous studies class. I thought I knew a lot about Indigenous issues simply because I knew more than my peers, but I realize now how naïve that was. Indigenous people are diverse, rich in culture, and have extensive teachings on the world. Pretending that I knew “enough” was neglecting the fact that I was referring to an entire people group and not an area of study. The truth is, I don’t really know anything about Indigenous people if the only thing I’ve done is read about them in books.
My plan for this summer was to work with Frontier College to be an Indigenous Summer Reading Camp Counsellor, most likely in Northern Ontario. When COVID-19 happened, the program was unfortunately cancelled. However, I’ve realized through the first couple weeks of this course that while I would have entered that position with sensitivity and good intentions, I also would have been inattentive to the historical trauma that would have been present in my classroom. I am realizing historical trauma is the root of many conditions that would have made learning more difficult for many of my students. I think this is especially true since I would be teaching language (not Indigenous language, but the colonizers’ language). I am thankful for the way things have turned out, as I now have an opportunity to be more responsible if I decide to be a Reading Camp Counsellor in 2021.
First, I would better understand the significance of trauma that Indigenous people face when learning language. As a language learner myself, I understand how difficult and intimidating it can be to learn a new language. I never felt this way when learning French since I started picking it up at a young age, however, learning Spanish as a teenager came with a whole new range of emotions. I found it much more difficult to speak up in class and I was so afraid of messing up. This felt very out of character for me because I normally would not hesitate to raise my hand in other classes – but language feels more personal and vulnerable than other subjects. However, while I can empathize to an extent with the emotions that come with language learning, I have no way of knowing what it feels like to also carry historical trauma into the classroom. What I learned from the Bryce Report and in-class discussions was horrific. Not only were the children in residential schools not allowed to speak their Indigenous languages but they also weren’t taught a vibrant English, leaving many children with no language. Not having the ability to communicate freely caused mad-developed brains, mental illness in 98% of the students, and separation of families who could no longer speak with their kin. That kind of trauma will be carried for generations and would affect students wishing to learn their Indigenous languages, as well as improve their English competencies.
In addition to understanding a little more about historical trauma, I would also have a more well-rounded perspective on pedagogy. One of my favourite things about teaching is being able to change the way young children feel about learning. In the summer of 2019, I had the privilege of teaching English as a Second Language to students in Italy. During my training, I learned that the Italian education system is based on their history as a Catholic state. In the past, Catholicism has controlled the people by only giving the power of knowledge to religious authorities. Rather than read from a Bible for themselves, the people would listen to the man behind the pulpit. This system was adopted in education. Rather than learning from experiences or being taught to think critically, children learn to listen. The curriculum I was given to teach English was much different; it consisted of games, songs, and anything that didn’t feel like traditional school. My Italian students picked up the language so quickly because they were having fun. This experience showed me the power of pedagogy to affect a student’s learning experience. As a literacy camp counsellor in an Indigenous community, my insti
As a literacy camp counsellor in an Indigenous community, my instinct would have been to teach the way I was taught in public school because that feels natural to me, but unfortunately it involves a lot of regurgitation. Knowing what I do now about Indigenous pedagogy, if I decide to teach in an Indigenous community in 2021, I will try to incorporate more of their education practices in my teaching. This would involve experiential learning, story telling, and if possible, inviting community elders to be involved in teaching through traditional knowledge.
Honestly, I am struggling to decide if it would be a good idea for me to teach in an Indigenous community with Frontier College in the future. I know that good intentions are not enough, and I would be weary of contributing to the white-savior narrative. If I do decide to pursue that opportunity, I would commit to learning as much from my students as they do from me.
Clare Ashford
Right now, we are only one month into this course, and I feel frustrated and disappointed, but also hopeful. While these may not seem like the best feelings, they feel necessary. In one month, I have learned so much, yet I know I still have a tremendous amount to learn. What frustrates me is that in my fourth year of university I feel like this learning has just started. This course is teaching me an incredible amount about Anishinaabemowin culture and language. In this reflection, I will share my thoughts and appreciation for the language and culture, as well as the new style of learning I have been introduced to, and how I will be apply these values to my life.
As a bilingual Glendon student, the idea of learning a new language excites me as well as scares me. The gift of language is a very powerful tool, and this course already has greatly reinforced the idea that language truly is a gift that not everyone receives unfortunately. In the past month, I have come to realize that langue is so much more significant than I previously thought. Langue provides a way for us to communicate, and a way for us to express ourselves, and connect with others.
As we had various discussions in class I was able to reflect on my previous experiences with language learning. As an elementary student, I absolutely hated going to French class. I remember each day before French class I would get a knot in my stomach and start to feel sick from the thought of having to participate and worrying I would mess up or pronounce something wrong. My teacher was not a monster, but I was extremely shy, and the idea of speaking a new language in front of my classmates terrified me.
I remember once I misunderstood instructions given in French and began to do something wrong which resulted in me getting yelled at. While it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, it really stuck with me. It bothered me enough that 8 year old me decided I should fake the stomach flu to get out of going to school the next day, and the day after that. My case of “the stomach flu” lasted until I actually gave myself symptoms of the flu from worrying about going back and facing my teacher who had completely forgotten about the incident by the time I returned!
Reflecting on past experiences like this makes me incredibly grateful for the learning style of this course. I love how welcoming this style of learning is. I do not feel too shy or embarrassed to participate with my classmates and professor because I know I most likely will mess up, but that is okay. I no longer feel a knot forming in my stomach before class. Instead I feel happy (niminwentam) and excited because I know I will learn be engaged and present instead of worrying about if I will be called on and criticized.
From our class discussions, I have developed a deeper understanding of linguicide and how it is so detrimental. I cannot even begin to fathom the impact and the loss indigenous communities have faced. When discussing indigenous cultures in school, I was always taught in a very removed way where I never really understood exactly what happened. I was taught very briefly about residential schools and was basically told that it was bad, and it happened a long time ago in Canadian history. While yes, it is true it was horrific, it is not just in the past.
I am now seeing that so many government policies continue to hurt indigenous cultures, and the trauma continues to be reinforced. I also realize that my knowledge of indigenous culture is incredibly limited. I learned about the trauma communities faced, and I learned about current social issues in indigenous communities, however my knowledge of indigenous language, traditions, culture and worldview was practically non-existent prior to the start of this course. I feel angry that I have lived in Canada for the past twenty years, and failed to understand the history of indigenous peoples.
As we discussed community or clan responsibilities in class, I realized I have a responsibility to educate myself, as I have the opportunity to do so. For indigenous peoples learning is considered to be an ongoing journey filled with reflection and transmission through storytelling, teachings and legends as well as engaging in cultural practices. I believe these methods of learning would be much more effective in creating great change.
Already, this course has had a great impact on me. It has opened my eyes, and made me question so much around me. I have been introduced to new ways of teaching and learning, and I have fallen in love! I am so much more aware of the power of language. While I have learned a lot already, I have an appreciation for learning and I know this will be a lifelong journey. I am so appreciative that I have the opportunity to continue this journey of learning.
Emma Posca
Reflection Paper One:
My Responsibility
I always knew that settler colonialism dehumanized and alienated Indigenous people from themselves, their culture, their language and their lands; however I never really fully comprehended the ongoing impact of colonialism on Indigenous people until I embarked on my PhD journey almost 4 years ago. In this paper, I have decided to reflect on the motivation behind my dissertation research and the responsibility that I have undertaken towards providing an education about colonialism in order to become part of decolonial movements. This has been a part of the discussions that we have had in the breakout rooms in class.
In the summer of 2018, I was enrolled in a directed reading course with my dissertation supervisor; Professor Ruth Koleszar-Green. This course was a re-introduction to Indigenous worldviews after many years away from Indigenous research and teachings. This course was the first time I had been taught about Indigenous worldviews from the perspective of an Indigenous faculty member versus the perspective of a white faculty member; which therefore introduced me to ethnographic literature written by and from the perspective of Indigenous matriarchs. After reading ethnographies produced by Maureen Lux, Laurie Meijer Drees, Beverly Jacobs, Patricia Monture-Angus and Audra Simpson I was exposed to both the historical and continuing impact of colonialism on Indigenous communities, especially Indigenous women and children, in Canada. I became overwhelmed with anger at the horror that were contained within these first-hand accounts of the life and death of Indigenous people in residential schools and Indian hospitals. Both residential schools and Indian hospitals were government institutions that demonstrated the way the government felt about Indigenous people, especially women. They highlight the intensive impact of colonialism as they were tools of marginalization and eradication. For example, racial and biological differences between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people were magnified to blame Indigenous people for tuberculosis because they were thought to be racially and biologically inferior. Furthermore, based on the race and gender-based narratives Indigenous culture and language was thought to be uncivilized and therefore had to be removed from society- thus placing Indigenous people in residential schools.
I cried for many days after conducting this research because it was horrible to read and contextualize. But I realized, after much time and reflection, that Indigenous people do not need my guilt and they do not need my tears. They need an understanding of and the ending of the existence of race and gender-based colonial structures that aim to continue to marginalize, assimilate and eradicate Indigenous people. This fueled my desire to learn my responsibility towards Indigenous people by digging deeper into understanding the physical and psychological experiences that occurred in these colonial institutions. Indigenous women were traumatized by the physical and psychological abuse they suffered at the hands of those in these hospitals and in residential schools. This perpetuated a cycle of intergenerational trauma that began with women who survived their ordeal and the children that eventually grew up with those who survived and/or grew up to be survivors. The impact of intergenerational trauma is still felt all over Canada.
You have asked us to look to the TRC and the Calls To Action in this course, which I have currently done, but I have also have reviewed the TRC within my own research. I will say this, weaving between ethnographic stories and the TRC’s Calls To Action allowed me to contextualize the historical impact of colonialism and realize its ongoing impact on Indigenous people, especially women. I came to realize, after reading literature from scholars such as Beverly Jacobs, Cyndy Blackstock and Ceila Haig-Brown that the government has not fully followed through on the Calls To Action. Beyond the apology for residential schools there has been no movement by the government to provide aid to healing the intergenerational trauma among Indigenous communities. There has been no movement towards making amends via land claims, improvements to reserve housing, educational attainment and/or even movement towards ending the race and gender-based violence and discrimination against Indigenous women. The MMIWG2S report that was issued in 2019 is still sitting there on a shelf. In my opinion, the millions of dollars that were used to create this report could have been used for many reserves that still do not have running water and/or electricity. The money could have been used to give Indigenous people on reserves access to post-secondary education. The money could have been used to foster more Indigenous language classes- such as this one. The money could have been used to education those in police services about the ge
The money could have been used to education those in police services about the gender and race-based violence to end its cycle and stop the deaths of many Indigenous women.
I am glad that you assigned us to read Celia’s article as I have read her work as part of my research. Celia became motivation behind me taking my responsibility. As a white woman who has admitted we are on Indigenous lands (article from class), Celia has set the standard and the bar for many white women. Celia, has made it so that we as white people have to admit the horrors of colonialism. We must admit the impact of residential schools and Indian hospitals on Indigenous people and the ongoing impact of institutional colonial structures on Indigenous people. Celia, has listened to the needs of Indigenous people and has become a catalyst for change. This is true of academic settings such as York where there is a movement towards hiring more Indigenous faculty and admitting more Indigenous students into academic programs.
Furthermore, after working with and reading Ruth’s article I have begun to understand my role in all this and what is my responsibility towards Indigenous people. Ruth Koleszar-Green’s article, “What is a guest? What is a settler?” taught me that I am a settler but also a guest of Indigenous people. As cited by Ruth Koleszar-Green; non-Indigenous people are settlers on Indigenous lands. Settlers, also known as colonizers are often non-Indigenous white people that settled Canada and displaced Indigenous people from their lands.
As a white woman this makes me a settler however, being a guest is a bit more complex. Settlers are not automatically accepted as guests. Therefore, just because I acknowledge that I am a settler does not make me automatically accepted as a guest. I must be accepted by Indigenous people, especially women, and be made a part of the land, the community and be aligned within the resistance against colonialism. It is my responsibility to create an education for non-Indigenous women, especially white women, about the negative colonial experiences Indigenous women and girls went through and continue to go through at the hands of the federal government. It is my responsibility to provide an education about the existence of race and gender-based discrimination that perpetuated violence against Indigenous women in both residential schools and Indian hospitals because of the Indian Act.
It is my responsibility to educate non-Indigenous people about the fact that Indigenous languages are dying out and there is no funding for those that want to teach it all because of colonial based policies.
By identifying that I am a white researcher I am acknowledging that I am willing to admit the evils of colonialism and use my power and privilege to work towards change (decolonialism). White women/researchers do not operate within a position of trust within Indigenous communities but rather within spaces of privilege and therefore need to ensure that Indigenous women understand why white women like myself are conducting this research. Personally, my desire to be a responsible guest is geared towards ending the colonial gender and race-based violence that is committed against Indigenous women daily. As a white researcher, guest and ally I feel strongly that Indigenous women were robbed of their lands, lives and identities. I want Indigenous women to get back what was stolen from them and be recognized as the true people of this territory.
This is more than just writing a dissertation or taking this course. This is about ensuring that Indigenous people do not do all the work. Indigenous people cannot be the ones to educate about the history of colonialism and its ongoing impact and work towards change. White people (aka-settlers/colonizers) created this mess and now we must clean it up.
Hence, my responsibility as a guest is clear! It is important to provide an education to more white women about the gender and race-based violence that are barriers for Indigenous women. Through this education more guests will be able to come together to be able to disrupt colonial policies, procedures and structures that eradicate, marginalize, and oppress Indigenous women in Canada.
The accountability that I have to Indigenous women is what I keep in mind as I write this paper and in future work.
Mackenzie Gauthier
Mackenzie Gauthier Oct 5th 2020
The lost mother tongue
Over the course of the last month we have spent in class I have learned about many different things in Anishinaabemowin language and culture. I never thought a course like this would be offered to me and being able to learn one of the many languages that were spoken here on turtle island is something I am so grateful for. I have begun to realize how much language really does mean to me, being able to speak two languages that most people will understand is something I always took for granted. I have personally never known the struggle of having to have someone interpret for me or to be ridiculed for not speaking the “normal” language .
With all that being said, it does not mean I don't know anyone who has gone through this. To start, I have quite a large family, my dad has 7 older siblings so there are a lot of people in my life. Well a handful of my cousins are deaf, they're only means of communication is through American Sign language (ASL). ASL is quite difficult to learn and not many people know how to do it or even the basic ways to communicate simple things such as how are you doing, or can I help you? I’ve been lucky enough to learn ASL through them personally but it has sadly got harder to keep up with and I have started to forget some of the signs. I have seen the frustration they have when they are not able to communicate with people the same way I am, when I am with them 9 out of 10 times I have to speak for them and it takes away a sense of independence for them.
As well as my cousins, my great grandmother who passed away when I was only nine years old, she was an indigenous person. Well she never really got the chance to speak her native language because of the way she would be treated. She eventually married a french man and that is when our lineage kinda became grey. When asked I don’t usually identify as aboriginal because many times when I did, I was told “I didn’t look indian enough” and eventually I stopped trying to embrace that part of my culture. Not being able to learn the language because it stopped with my great grandma started to frustrate me once I began learning more about my family's past.
With these two connections and how upset and mad they make me, I cannot imagine the way these children, who were ripped away from all they knew and were placed in these institutions, also known as residential schools. I strongly disagree with them being called schools, a school is somewhere children are supposed to be cared for, taught and respected and treated as equals, which clearly wasn't the case for residential schools. They were not able to speak their own language, their mother tongue, or practice their own culture. The only ways in which they know how to communicate was torn away from them at such a young age. It must’ve been the worst possible thing in the world. I don’t think I will ever understand why these children were taken to these horrible places, wanting to make them more civilized and normal is the stupidest reason I have ever heard, why the hell do they want us all to be the same? I do not understand this at all. These children came out of these appalling institutions without a sense of identity, some not even knowing their own names or where they came from. As happy as I am that these places are now closed, the repercussions of how these institutions treated the children is something that can and will never be fixed.
Saradoodlez
CULTURELESS
Cultureless: without culture
Unwelcome in the community of my people, left alone
Left without knowledge of my belonging and worth
Tortured by the memories of what has happened years ago
Unwilling to believe that this if my life
Redirecting anger and sadness to substance abuse
Endlessly wandering this world, alone
Little to offer comfort, little to offer me my culture
Ever wondering about my people
So alienated
So without culture
Growing up knowing the shame my family felt of our culture was painful. Never being able to know where we came from was saddening. My grandfather feared persecution until the day he died, only then were the secrets of our exact origin revealed. My mother who is Mi’kmaw married my father who is white, and due to my skin colour, I have had to defend my heritage to those like and unlike me. Growing up white in Canada, I understand, has given me privilege and I am grateful, however that privilege does not make up for the culture I’ve lost, the language I’ve lost, the community I’ve lost or the family I’ve lost. When we talked about residential schools it really resonated with me because my grand father wouldn’t talk about where he came from I am unsure what portion of his life and his immediate family as a young boy was effected by this institutionalization. When Maya talked about how Native children shut down in their classes trying to relearn their culture, I felt that. Sometimes I don’t want to tell people I’m Mi’kmaw because I think that they are going to tell me I’m not or ask me all these questions I don’t know. Sometimes, especially in a class centred around First Nations culture, I do not want people to look at me like a specimen like “look, a real First Nation person” like I’m something to study. I know that these fears are irrational, and I should be embracing my culture, but that is hard to do when you do not know what your culture is. This is why I wanted to take this class. I am on the ever-difficult journey of regaining my culture, so I one day won’t see myself as CULTURELESS.
My own feelings pale in comparison to what the victims of residential schools went through. They were stripped of their culture from a young age and sent out into the world with no education, no home, and no name. These children that have never known parents and love grow up to be adults without knowing how to parent and love. Languages and traditions lost because their culture focuses on story telling as a way of teaching. It is shameful, not for the Indigenous Peoples, but for the white man to have done such a thing to people that only cared for the earth and their kin.
I am enraged that this terrible thing has happened, and I can do very little to regain anything that has been lost or fix anything or anyone that has been broken. My family is incomplete, we have lost so much without even knowing for sure what we have lost. Yet, when I think about others that know exactly what they have lost, it is heartbreaking.
Elisabeth Barghout
Reflection paper # 1:
The hidden truth
Shortly after arriving to Canada in 2007, I started learning about Canada’s history, the constitutional monarchy, the provinces and the Aboriginal people. Most of the learning was about the history of the Europeans coming to Canada and changing the cultural landscape.
I slowly started to learn that there is more to know about the Canadian history and it became clear that the history of the indigenous people was told by those who benefit more from minimizing certain aspects of the truth. By reading, learning and hearing about all the pain inflicted on the indigenous people, I knew I had to know more for me to be able to do more. And when I saw this course in the curriculum, I immediately enrolled and was pleasantly surprised by the way it is taught.
What happened?
It all began with the arrival of the Europeans to the First nations territories. The First nations shared their land, plants, air, water and animals with trust. Unfortunately, the Europeans took advantage of this and used their greediness instead to take over the Aboriginal land and resources.
What is happening now?
I was so saddened to hear that most of Indigenous languages are in danger of extinction and that only three Indigenous languages in Canada have a chance of surviving this century, and Indigenous people are dying of suicide, neglect and racism.
The history of the First Nations is not fully acknowledged. What is happening now and will happen in the future depends on three scales: individually, societally and nationally.
As an individual, respecting myself is one of the most important things my culture has taught me so why shouldn’t I be respecting others, it doesn’t matter if I’m white, Indigenous or if I come from a different background.
On a society scale, we need to talk and teach our students and our children about the First Nation’s history, culture and language and to be more prominent in the curriculum.
On a nation scale, the government needs to acknowledge and to reconcile and the need to admit that we were greedy to the First Nations and this by providing awareness like opening more schools for Aboriginal people, hospitals and build their communities, this will give them back the trust, the friendship and the mutual respect that the First nations gave us.
What happens in the future?
Once all Canadians acknowledge and understand the past and find a new way forward, this is when a deeper more healing reconciliation begins; treating each other equally with respect makes the world a better place. We could learn so much from the First Nation’s people, they can teach us how to look after the land we live on, how to use water, rivers and habitat and how to honour and respect other’s culture. How can I help other than volunteering and donating? My responsibility as a non-indigenous woman is to learn Indigenous culture and language and identify areas where my actions could help make a positive difference for the future of the Indigenous people and hopefully inspire others to do same.
Tabitha
Reflection # 1: Speaking Up and Native Tongues
I remember in the most recent class you mentioned that during times designated for people to speak up, those times are when all the white, male professors tend to hog the room (so to speak). After that we split up into breakout groups. In my group there were six people consisting of three white people and three who were minorities. Unfortunately, the entire time in the breakout room, all three white classmates basically talked about needing to find a way to let minority (mainly Indigenous) voices be heard. I thought it was so ironic that they basically led the conversation and didn’t really give any time for us other three to speak. So many people think that if they just talk about how things should be without acting it out that things will happen. In my final year of high school, they used to start the morning announcements with some sort of rehearsed speech about appreciating and thanking the different Indigenous whose land our school was upon. I feel like it was well intentioned, but it missed the mark. It was the same thing repeated every single day. It was basically a cop out way to make the people who instated it feel better. It made the rest of us numb to those words.
I’ve also been thinking about what you said in class about how learning the language helps with identity. I’ve been wrestling with that my entire life and it has some similarities but also many differences. For one thing, people look at me and expect me to know the language; I’m 4th generation Chinese born Canadian so I have extremely minimal language knowledge. Will attempting to learn Cantonese really help me with my identity? Is language identity the end all and be all? Even if I do learn Cantonese, I’ll still get grandpas and grandmas scorning me for not speaking Mandarin (their default reaction to me not speaking Mandarin is to ask if I’m Filipino). Even if I learn the language, I’ll have to interact with “my people” who are, for the most part, extremely judgemental behind your back and impossible to please. I suppose that’s why I’m glad my identity does not lie in what language I speak, or where my people are from, or even my gender/sexual identity. I used to think that I’d magically somehow understand the language the same way all my friends did as I got older. Now I know better and it’s a bit saddening, but I suppose when they have children it’s highly unlikely that their children will speak the language. Maybe then I can be someone they can relate to. There is so much baggage when trying to learn your native tongue as has been said in class. That combined with the expectations of others and other ongoing factors in the background of your life make it difficult to even want to learn your native language. It’s also frustrating because you know that it will never be your heart language and it’s sad not to see things through the same lens as those before you. I wonder if all cultures are similar with high disapproval rates and pressure to be good at the language quickly. It’s tough learning a new language after a certain age since you lose the ability to learn a language as well as when you were a child. Your brain just doesn’t have the same capacity it used to when you were a child. And if you add all the baggage like in the case for the young Indigenous people trying to learn their language, it becomes nearly impossible.
Angela
Nihtaaweu
Wachiye!
Welcome to my journey
An English-speaking Eeyou Shkwesh
(Cree girl)
Through Anish lands
Cree Nation of Eastmain nidoonjii.
Noochin I would say where I’m from.
(I think)
This is an exploration of heritage.
Eeyou Istchee onjii nimaamaa.
United States and Montreal onjii nidede.
Let me try in my language.
Eeyou Istchee uhchiiu nikaawii.
United States kiyeh Montreal uhchiiu nuuhtaawii.
I think I can also use uhtiskaanesuu but I’m not sure.
uhtiskaanesuu:
s/he belongs to that country, tribe, race
il/elle appartient à cette race, cette tribu; il/elle vient de ce pays
Did you notice that both languages use “ni” or something similar to mean “I” or “my”?
I will try to erase the uncertainty when speaking of my language. There are things I do know.
Wait, let me try that again. I will erase the uncertainty when speaking of my language. I owe it to myself to recognize my knowledge, although fragmented at times, as valid and important. I’m no expert on the Cree language or culture but that doesn’t mean my knowledge is useless or insignificant.
I spent a couple years walking through white spaces advocating for Indigenous students. In those spaces I was considered the expert. As the only Cree in rooms of mainly white people, with a few Mohawk (Kanien’kehá:ka) and Inuit sprinkled in, I was the Voice of the Cree Experience. This led to feelings of inadequacy.
Do these people not realize that I am half-white? That I moved to the big city (down South as we say on my rez) when I was still a child? That as I learned French I lost my language? That I forced myself to assimilate into Québécois culture, erasing part of myself in the process?
After all, my father is a wemishtikushiiu (White man). What does that make me?
I’ve often felt the need to justify both my lack of knowledge (language or culture) AND any knowledge I do have.
“I don’t speak Cree because my mom spoke English to me!"
“I know syllabics because I learned them before the roman alphabet!”
“Duh I know that! I lived on the rez too!”
“Oh, I didn’t know that because I haven’t lived on the rez for 13+ years!”
Fellow Eeyouch (Crees) are surprised when I know things because they see me as the “White Cree,” the “mixed Cree,” the one who moved down south when she was young. At the same time I feel bad when I don’t know things or when an Elder is disappointed I don’t speak the language and try to justify myself in a million different ways.
wemishtikushiiuayimuu:
s/he speaks English
il/elle parle anglais; c'est un-e anglophone
That’s what my mother says when a relative I haven’t seen in years turns to her and asks: Iiyiyuuayimuu ah? Does she speak Cree?
Muii. Wemishtikushiiuayimuu.
And then I smile and say but! I understand! But! But! But!
But I am an Eeyou Skwesh.
Just because the language doesn’t come to me easy, just because I dream in English, just because I went to school in French, just because…
maaniteuhtaakusuu:
s/he speaks like a stranger, a foreigner
il parle comme un étranger, elle parle comme une étrangère
I don’t care if people think maaniteuhtaakusuu when they hear me stumble though a wachiye, daan ay deen? (Hi, how are you?)
Because nin-gagwe-nidaa iiyiyuuayimuwin.
I am learning.
nihtaaweu:
s/he grows to be able to speak, s/he (baby) can speak now
il/elle commence à apprendre à parler; il/elle (un bébé) est capable de parler maintenant
Work Cited
Most Cree translations cited from the East Cree Dictionary, Southern coastal “dialect”
http://dictionary.eastcree.org/words
A couple translations were taken from my brain™️
Victoria Musial
Wow. I need to start by expressing my gratitude for making a course like this available at York University. Looking through the courses listed under “General Education”, I was captivated by the title Anishinaabemowin (Ojibway) Language and Culture 1. Knowing the importance of the untaught Anishinaabemowin history, I immediately felt drawn to enroll in this course. As an immigrant, my mom was fascinated with the Anishinaabeg culture and clearly passed it down to me. Speaking about the culture and history, I was particularly interested in one of the stories discussed during class. The story of the Gawigoshko’iweshiinh. This story is focused on the benign translatability of the Anishinaabe language which suffers from colonial historic trajectory. A loss of a rich language should not be allowed. Well, if we’re looking at this realistically many things that should have been forbidden, happened. Translation of the Anishinaabe language was just the start of the heart-breaking and identity stripping events the Indigenous community has endured. Where do I begin? I find myself at a state of unsettlement as I try to comprehend this catastrophic reality. This translation is a factor of degradation into non-existence since it was not the language that had disappeared from the light of acknowledgement. It was the forced detachment from it instead. As any person would, I cannot help but feel strong sympathy and understanding towards the Indigenous community. I would like to include a reasoning for my sense of understanding. I come from a very patriotic Polish family who has suffered from inexplicable horrors. My grandfather continues to live his 87-year-old life without a proper childhood. I mean, can working in a camp for a couple grains of corn as an 8-year-old be considered a childhood? Is it normal being a little boy seeing your parents and brothers get shot right in front of you just for their nationality? This is the hard but untold history of just one of the Hitler occupation survivors during WW2. Like Indigenous people, my grandfather along with the rest of the Polish population was stripped of the right to speak their native language. In schools, they were forcibly taught German and Russian and speaking your native language would come with a price, death. Communist troops would storm into bookstores, schools, homes, and take away all documents and books containing our history and lovely stories written in Polish. Many continued to risk their life for our heritage and host secret teachings forums called, “tajne komplety”. Such meetings came with a consequence of you and your entire family being killed by the Nazi’s if discovered. Paying great attention to the discussions held in class on the Anishinaabe language and culture, the Indigenous community has been denied of the right to speak and teach their own language in residential schools and instead given immense trauma and oppression. I noticed there is a consistent lesson that we are taught, “do not make the same mistakes”. It is hard and wrongful to call what is happening to the Indigenous a “mistake.” The years of oppression and abuse cannot be described with a light word like “mistake.” What is happening is much more than a simple mistake or wrongdoing. These are intentional actions which continue to be followed. What continues to baffle me is the amount of ignorance our world possesses. Why is that we who have endured so are expected to stay silent and the rest of the world uneducated? This is a question I continue to ask myself every day. I once reposted a simple post acknowledging an anniversary of the day Poland appeared on the map after being gone for 123 years due to occupation. I was surprised to receive the following response, “No one gives a sh*t about your country. Stop being so patriotic and be realistic.” I was shocked at this response since I was not aware being patriotic and trying to inform people of the history many countries have was a sin. Relating this back to the Indigenous people, they continue to be oppressed and expected by others to stay silent. This should not be the case! Everyone must become fully educated on the rich and beautiful culture of the Anishinaabe people as well as the gut-wrenching reality of their history. I have only been taking this course for a month, yet I already feel I have learned so much.
Zakaria Mohamed
Reflection #1: by Zakaria Mohamed
Topic: Linguicidal Trauma
I would like to start this reflection with a poem that I made for this reflection paper.
Linguicide, linguicide, linguicide,
Why must you be so keen on destroying languages.
Linguicide, linguicide, linguicide,
Don’t you know that you are destroying these people’s identity?
Linguicide, linguicide, linguicide,
At the end of the day are you happy?
Are you glad that you did this?
Look and see the trauma that you have caused.
The first thing I would like to address is why I started this poem with the word linguicide 3 times and the reason is because when I was in high school and I was taking an English class and we were reading a play called Macbeth by Shakespeare and at the beginning if I remember correctly they introduce 3 witches which meant a premonition of disaster. So, I started to think about other things that I have notice that had the mentioning of the number 3, and I notice that some movies that I watched had this thing where if you chant a name or being 3 times the being would be summoned and usually that meant that it was a bad thing so I concluded that when mentioning something three times it resulted in a catastrophic event.
I know from experience that when you can’t access your native language, you lose a part of you. As a person who grew up in a household where three languages were spoken you can see how confusing it might be as a child. Living in an anglophone city, English is the language I’m most comfortable with. Recently I have been brushing up on my French by practicing it with my mom (who is a francophone). My native language is Somali which is my weakest at out of the three languages. I do understand when someone is speaking Somali to me, but I have hard time speaking it back. I am lucky that I’m at least able to comprehend my native language. I can’t imagine how much trauma and depression that a person can take when not knowing their language as a result of disconnection to their culture. Attending this class for the pass 3 weeks I was blown away about all the history that was swept under a rug like it was not significant. I’m so angry that we were only taught that the colonisers were in the right and it was always told through them rather than from the point of view of the indigenous people.
The governments way of trying to help the indigenous communities were to make programs where they are teaching the language in the style of westernise teaching but I believe to truly learn a language you have to learn the language the way the people who speak the language speak because if you don’t, usually it results in not really learning the language or connecting the language to the culture. For example, if an anglophone decides to learn Chinese but the way they are trying to learn is by using the grammar of English which doesn’t work because the grammar of English and Chinese are so different from each other that if the anglophone did decide to use that method the native Chinese speaker wouldn’t understand what they are saying. Hence why we should learn the language the way that a native speaker would.
Taking this course made opened my eyes to a whole new world and I am glad that it did. I’m very excited to dive into more in-depth topics during this course
Work Cited
Shakespeare, William. Macbeth
Note: i wasn't sure if i had to cite Macbeth cause I mentioned briefly about it.
Bharathy (Angel) Iyathurai
Reflection #1: What I Have Learned
Being in the Anishinaabemowin (Ojibwe) Language and Culture class has truly opened my eyes and heart to a culture that is being pushed aside and not made more known in our education system and country. Whereas in school we learn about the more European cultures that over shadow the true history and cultures that belong to this land, this course is truly one that should become necessary for every student to take. In this past month, we’ve learned about fun stories with valuable lessons and some pieces of history that give us a glimpse of how the Anishinaabe culture is being diminished which really reminded me of two things. The first thing that the class and the content has reminded me about is all (not really much), but what i was taught in elementary and high school. In elementary school, we were taught more about those who came and torture, stole and completley dimised the existence of those who were on this land first. I personally never went to Black Creek Pioneer Village when I was in elementary school, but most of my family and friends went and would tell me about all the activities they got to do and all the things they learned about the pilgrims and the pioneers. Now that I really think about it, as children we were taught and shown what “early” canadian life was like based on the events and activities of the europeans who colonized this land. When I think about all the history of this country that I’ve learned I can only think about the first few prime ministers and the battles that the British and the French had over already stolen land. We were taught about “thanksgiving” which I now know is such an offensive and illogical thing to be celebrating. The education system is doing everyone so wrong in hiding and covering up what and who the true people and culture of this land is. The second thing that I’ve been reminded of this course was the similarities between the cultural genocide of the First Nations in Canada as well as my mother land and culture; The dismisal of Tamils in Sri Lanka. Even though the two situations are drastically different, at the same time they carry effects that can be seen in both. As a tamil person, I know that even while we saw a literal bloody civil war and its apparent end, to this day our culture and identity is hidden and is in the attempt of being erased. When i speak to others about my culture and background they are often confused and have no idea what I’m talking about, or I get teased and ridiculed because people are not educated about it or they see others diminishing it and doing it themselves. I can see from what I have learned in this course that it is the same thing or at least a relatively similar case. Calling myself a Canadian, it is my responsibility to uplift and bring to light the atrocities that I am now being educated about and demand the justice and true reconciliation that is necessary even though no apology can make up for what has been done. I am intrigued to learn more about the culture and the language and hopefully utilize my skills to make a change and bring up others’ voice.
Reflection #1: Mila Petrovic
Mila Petrovic
Reflection: 1
When picking my courses for my second year of university, I really wanted to choose my courses on time so that I can get the courses I’m actually interested in. I was going through the long list of classes and then I came across this class and remembered that one of my professors’ from last year had suggested it. I’ll be honest, I hesitated clicking and adding this class: I was worried that the class would be taught in a colonialistic manner/perspective. By this I mean only being taught about a tiny fraction of Indigenous history and everything else being about the colonizers. I was worried because those were the only things we were ever taught in elementary and highschool. We weren’t educated enough in the many rich Indigenous cultures, history and languages. That was something I wanted so I’m glad I signed up. This is why after the first class, I was so incredibly happy and excited to educate myself in a non-colonialistic environment.
First of all I wanted to say that the way this course is taught is not how I imagined it, and I am pleasantly surprised! I love how this isn’t just a plain history class where facts and dates are being thrown at us. We learn through culture, stories and games, which I think are extremely efficient teaching methods. In this way we are having fun and are learning at the same time.
When I told my dad that I’m taking this Anishinaabemowin language and culture class, he was so happy and proud at the same time. My parents immigrated to Canada about 25 years ago from Serbia. During that time in the 90s, there was war in our country so it was very difficult for my family to start a new life here. When coming here, my parents didn’t feel accepted by anyone. Studying and completing their Canadian citizenship test, they told me how shocked they were that there was no mention of any type of Indigenous culture or language in a test that was supposed to tell you “how to be Canadian”. My parents were looking forward to learning about this, especially because back home in Serbia they were only taught a small portion of Indigenous culture and history (they were taught more there than they were in a Canadian government financed program!). They figured that when they came to Canada they would be able to expand their knowledge, but yet again the Canadian schooling system failed to include Indigenous people in Canadian education. My parents then took it upon themselves to educate themselves from borrowing Indigenous history books from the library and watching APTN almost daily (fun fact my dad’s favourite show is “North of 60”, haha.). Growing up my dad would always tell me about all the injustices the Indigenous community was and still is facing. He always told me to never forget that we are on their and their ancestor’s land and how grateful we should be.
During one of the first few classes, I learned that “dialect” is a dangerous word for many reasons. In class we discussed how there are only around 10 thousand mother tongue speakers of Indigenous languages in Canada. The dialect of an Indigenous language should not matter, if anything it could discourage learners. It is so important to keep these Indigenous languages alive and available to people because it is a part of their identity. It shouldn’t matter if they speak different dialects or with different accents, they are all brought together by beautiful languages that are passed down from generation to generation. Because without language it is hard to express social, spiritual and philosophical aspects in one’s life. But we as second language learners of Ojibway also need to understand that a lot of the Indigenous community faces trauma when it comes to their own language as well. They were forbidden to speak it in residential schools, and even if its generations that were post residential schools there is still that generational trauma that is present. I hope I understood that aspect of the class, because I took my own family’s experiences that were similar to these that I mentioned and related them to one another. During the war in the Balkans in the 90s, you could literally be killed for your dialect or language. In Bosnia, a neighboring country with Serbia, the same language was spoken in both countries but they had different accents and dialects. Soldiers or guards would ask innocent Serbian civilians to count to 5, and if they heard a different dialect they would shoot them on the spot. Nidaakoz to my stomach when I think of these gut wrenching horror moments in history.
This is why we all need to get together and fight whatever ongoing colonialism there is going on. We need to help each other keep our languages and cultures alive. That is what’s so beautiful in life, that we get to share and learn each other’s cultures, and it's even easier now with
That is what’s so beautiful in life, that we get to share and learn each other’s cultures, and it's even easier now with technology and social media. Together we need to help keep all these beautiful Indeginous languages and cultures alive, we need to invest time, money and (most importantly) love into it. It has only been one month of classes and I already feel like I have learned a lot. I can’t even imagine how many more things I will learn. EXCITED! Niminwentam, migwech :)
Leah Stammis
I just want to begin by saying that I am a non-Indigenous woman, and my family settled on the traditional territories of the Haudenosaunee, in what is now known as Richmond Hill. I only learned about this a year ago, when I took an introductory course on Indigenous studies at Glendon. I was asked to do an assignment on the particular First Nations people whose traditional territories now comprise my own town/region, and it demanded that I face the reality of my place in Canada. My knowledge on Indigenous people was never substantial, and I only ever thought of their existence as quite distant from mine. I had never encountered an Indigenous person, I had never heard their stories, I had never learned about Indigenous people in school – apart from them being a fundamental part of the “glorious” colonial conquest of North America. I had never quite learned just how fundamental this role was in the establishment of Canada. I have never fully acknowledged or stated this, but blatant white nationalism was most definitely prevalent during my education. We saluted Samuel de Champlain whenever his name was spoken. In denouncing my past, I acknowledge my ignorance to Indigenous realities and seek to educate myself about Indigenous peoples and perspectives to remedy the false teachings I have encountered throughout my life.
I am now in my third year of Political Science at Glendon, and I have come to realize how exceedingly Eurocentric my education still is. I constantly recognize that Indigenous and BIPOC realities are brushed over, whilst we continue to analyze the dominance of “greater European powers.” I appreciated when professor Chacaby spoke to the fact that everyone, Indigenous and non-Indigenous people alike, have been victims of injustice through mis-education. Although I cannot speak to, nor will I ever truly understand, the prevailing traumas Indigenous people face, I can acknowledge how damaging Canadian (Western) education systems are, through their persistence in preaching false narratives. I am extremely disheartened to know that we all continue to endure these colonial narratives, but I am so grateful to be a part of this course which actively contests such a disparaging discourse. I have only just begun to re-educate myself on the realities of Canada’s colonial “legacy” and the realities of Indigenous peoples. I have decided to take a certificate in Indigenous studies so that my degree in Political Science is balanced out by truth to contest the colonial narratives that my education imparts upon me. I feel that I cannot in good conscience take a degree in Political Science without acknowledging how world politics have devastated Indigenous people over the course of history.
In an attempt to further understand the struggle and pertinence language and how closely associated it is to identity and culture, I have made an attempt to connect this challenge with my own personal experience. To a very limited extent, I can understand the challenges associated with being disconnected with one’s language. I come from a Dutch family and I know absolutely nothing about the language. I have a relatively strong connection to my heritage, as my grandparents and my parents have exposed me to a lot of my culture, but I have never been exposed to the language. In this way, I feel extremely disconnected to my heritage. I lived in the Netherlands while on my gap year before university and realized the true extent of this disconnect. In being surrounded by all those who did have that connection to language, I felt ostracized in my inability to express myself. I felt like I fell short of truly being Dutch, and I felt like my identity was fragmented. I, however, have resources to access my language, I have ample means and ability to learn it, I am not ridiculed for trying to learn it, I have never been punished for attempting to preserve my language, and it has never been systemically stripped away from me. Many Indigenous peoples cannot say the same. Although I face certain challenges in understanding and resonating with my culture, I cannot truly resonate with the lasting injustices of linguicide that Indigenous people have faced at the hands of colonization. It is incredibly devastating to reflect on the fact that
I have learned more in the past few weeks in taking this class about the impacts of language and on Indigenous culture and practices than I have in all my previous years of education. It has made me question a lot about my own ways of thinking, and on the way that I perceive language, as well as the world around me. I look forward (in anticipation and inevitable provocation) to learning more in the upcoming weeks. I am eager to continue to be challenged in my learning, but not in a way that devalues perspectives, as so often does Western education. I feel empowered to learn in this course and I am impassioned by the content, as it is provocative, pushing
I feel empowered to learn in this course and I am impassioned by the content, as it is provocative, pushing one to reflect and acknowledge all the different walks of life we come from and our ability to impact the world around us.
Eitan Markus
I have a strange relationship with privilege.
Growing up in an insular, predominately white community, I have been surrounded by people who look like me my whole life. Everyone I looked up to as a child was a white or white-passing, cisgender male and, because I am too, that was expected. Fear of the other was palpable in my highly patriarchal community; women in positions of authority were scarce and People of Colour and queer people were nowhere to be found in the public sphere. I know how it feels to care solely about issues that are only relevant to me and my community, and the acts of racism, homophobia, and transphobia that I have witnessed first-hand have never been directed at me.
What I also know, however, is what it feels like to be part of a visible religious minority in a secular society. I was told in Jewish day school that I must always be on my best behavior during field trips not only because it is the right thing to do, but also because my actions speak on behalf of all Jews. The skullcap on my head identifies me instantly. Though I am extremely fortunate to live in a place where I can wear it proudly and without fear, there are many places in this country and in this world where I would not be able to. I am a grandchild of Holocaust survivors and, though its terror is not something I encounter regularly, fear of anti-Semitism is as much a part of me as my name. When the hate-filled #JewishPrivilege started trending on Twitter this past July, this fear was vindicated
Many people I once thought of as friends or close family members have said terribly homophobic things in my presence, but the remarks were never directed at me. I was in the closet at the time, so I was safe. When I hear people discussing the morality of same-sex marriage as if it were a controversial piece of policy up for debate and not the natural reality for me and hundreds of millions of other people, it makes my blood boil. It drives me mad when white people talk about the recent racial tensions in the United States without recognizing the privilege they have that no matter the outcome of the situation, they will not be affected. When I discuss social justice issues with people who call me sensitive, they fail to realize that I am not a thin-skinned child waiting for a happy ending from a Disney movie, they just have no skin in the game. When we are discussing issues that directly affect me and my rights, there is no way for me to discuss this from an objective, removed perspective.
Privilege is everywhere and everyone is affected by it in one way or another. I directly benefit from male, cisgender and white-passing privilege, while I am directly harmed by religious majority and straight privilege. I do not apologize for being white-passing or for being male. Having privilege does not make me a bad person. What would make me a bad person, however, would be if I recognized my privilege and did not attempt to use it for good and to actively work to dismantle it. Dismantling my own privilege is something I have been passionate about for years and it therefore struck very close to home when we learned in class about the different privileges non-Native people have.
Learning about Anishinaabe culture and history during the first couple of lessons of our class was extremely enjoyable for me, but I will fully admit that I got a little impatient. I thought to myself a few times, why can we not just start the language already? Why do we need to spend so much time on background information, I just want to get to grammar and vocabulary. It was only when Maya explained about the trauma, shame, and pressure that is so often associated for Native people with their native languages that I understood. I am extremely privileged to be in this course as a non-Native person because whether I successfully learn the language or not, I can carry on with my life unaffected. I have lived in Canada my entire life, not having any idea of the extent to which, for over 400 years, we have been actively betraying our original treaty with the Native people. Modern Canadian society is built for me and for that ignorance. Ignorance of and profiting off of this betrayal is the norm and, if I forget everything I learn in this course this year, I can happily return to that norm. I was lied to and I am also a victim of colonization, but that lie did not kill millions of my people and place my oppressors in power. I am privileged to never need to think about the extent to which I am privileged because I have no skin in this game.
I have no skin in this game, yet I am still playing. I am still actively trying to learn about the Anishinaabe language and culture because Maya has helped me believe that it can be a tool not only to enrich my own life, but a tool to create palpable and positive societal change. By educating myself on the broken treaties and the reality of the endangerment of Native languages, I am empowering myself to take a stand against these injustices and to shut up and listen when Native people speak. I am motivated to join Native people in their healing process and to act as canoe neighbours in the same river, helping them bring the ideals of trust, friendship, and mutual respect into my life and the world as a whole. LIN2636 gives me hope that the future is bright for Native and non-Native people as partners and, with the number of other enthusiastic non-Native people in the course, it gives me hope that dismantling privilege does not have to be so lonely.