Language & Art & Red Rising Magazine

Over the last year and a half, I’ve done a lot of writing that has yet to find its way into the world. There are a ton of short stories and poems, blog posts and partial novel drafts sitting on my computer patiently waiting their turn to make their way into the world. And when all is said and done with my dissertation work, I intend to release most of that writing—to pair it up with the art I’ve done over the last two years and set it free into the world to find the people that it’s meant to.  

I’ve written before about what it’s like to try and stay focussed on a research project while so many terrible things keep happening in the world. In short—it’s been difficult. But in other ways, having to focus so intensely on something and to produce a dissertation in a relatively tight timeframe has been good for me. It’s made me question what I’m really doing with my time and why. It’s made me think about what it is that I really want. And as more time goes on, it’s made me think about the audience I’m writing and creating for. The who. The why. 

Ultimately, I realize that the majority of my efforts are for my children. So that they know the truth about who we are as Indigenous Peoples of Turtle Island, that they understand what our responsibilities are, and that they have some insight into how their mother tried to fulfill those responsibilities in environments that were not always supportive or welcoming. I want them to see how when things were difficult for me—our stories, knowledges, songs and ceremonies anchored me and helped me withstand and weather all manner of storms. And I want them to know and see that I valued language enough to make time to learn it well enough to speak every day, even when the pathways I was on (earning a doctorate, for example) were pointing me in a very different direction (i.e., writing articles, presenting at conferences, teaching grad courses). 

You cannot split yourself very many ways before it begins to impact the quality of your effort, your health and your ability to produce good work. For me—I’ve come to the realization that the biggest contribution I can make is not to the field in which I research (education)—but in my ability to be able to speak our languages with my family, and most especially—with my children. I’m grateful to have gained some clarity at the end of this huge educational journey, about what my priorities really need to be.

That said, there are many things in this world that I value deeply, some of which have emerged out of western mainstream knowledge systems. I’ve visited elders in hospitals or nursing homes and been grateful there are facilities and western medicines that support their care. And I’ve been a part of ceremonies that you don’t really study for in school—that you learn by taking part in community, by having a community that is willing to help you learn, and a community that even after experiencing a lot of adversity, is still very committed to helping each other. All of this appreciation factors into how I see the world, how I make my choices, and how I think about or evaluate those choices after I’ve had some distance from them. Sometimes, I have to make adjustments. Sometimes, I have to make a new choice. 

My point is—that amidst all of this academic activity, thought and action, there are things that have helped me that I will always be grateful for. Experiences that helped me understand what I value at my core, and helped me find other people who share those values. Encounters that have helped me think about how I could be helpful. 

Language is one of those things. Definitely, absolutely. So is writing. And so is art. 

All of which brings me to a bit of exciting news!

A few months ago, I submitted a small piece of art to Red Rising Magazine that I made for an article my sister wrote, along with a small explanation of the piece and where it came from. I’m super happy to share that all of these pieces appear in the most recent edition of Red Rising Magazine which launched recently! It’s the language edition, and it’s available for order here. I hope you have a chance to check it out. It’s the first time that my art is appearing in a magazine and I’m super excited for it. It’s wonderful to flip through the pages and see a lot of beautiful art and stories about people who love Indigenous languages. And it comes at a time where I’m able to make even more space in my life for language—which is timely all on its own.

I love this piece. It's especially cool because this was the 100th piece I completed. I made this painting for Red Rising Magazine but displayed a working progress version of it at Woodlands Cultural Centre for Indigenous Art 2018. It's special for a lot of reasons!

Anyways, this is just a small, fun writing/art update in the midst of all the crazy work/life/research excitement that I am super grateful to be able to share. I hope you're having a great summer and I look forward to sharing more exciting news very soon! 

Nya:weh and happy creating!

S.

A Letter

Dear Ione and Vivian,

I am writing this letter for you, because I think it is important that you understand some of the things that I have learned in my life that have to do with being an Indigenous woman living on Turtle Island and of belonging to the league of nations known as the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. 

A lot of what I am going to share with you is reflective of things I have learned and thought about over the last fifteen years. Things I am still thinking about. There are stories about your family members here as well, about your grandfather and your uncle. About your grandmother and your aunties. Your family on your father’s side has many stories to tell as well, but I will let him tell you what those are. 

I want to start by telling you that there is a lot of history in our community and that not all of it will be easy to read or hear about. But I did not know these histories growing up and I had to learn them in a sometimes hard and difficult manner over many, many years. I do not want the same thing for you—not when there is something I could do about it. A way I could empower you with knowledge by informing you sooner, though even by telling you—I cannot promise you will not grapple with similar issues in your lifetime. 

I have lived on Onondaga Road in the community of Six Nations of the Grand River for most of my life. Our family home was just around the corner from where your father grew up. Onondaga Road is situated within the heart of the Carolinian Forest, in a large stretch of green that is still visible from space. This is where I grew up; surrounded by trees and brush and quiet. Many of my memories of growing up here are happy ones, although there are unhappy ones too, as there are in life. 

At the time I am writing this, there are things unfolding in the world where people who believe their race is superior to all others are becoming very loud and aggressive. People who believe this kind of nonsense (and it is nonsense) have always been around and though there have been times in the last several decades where it seemed like people were starting to accept that other races were entitled to equal treatment, this kind of thinking has still been there, lurking beneath the surface. 

I think these kinds of beliefs are narrow-minded and dangerous. And while you can’t change people’s minds with the wave of a wand, you can create opportunities for learning and that is why I work in the area of education—to try and create opportunities for people to learn and to create opportunities for people who love to learn. And there are many wonderful things to learn about in this world, make no mistake. There is knowledge of language, ceremony, land, place, people, art, storytelling, music, dance, science, archaeology, cosmology, astrophysics, theoretical physics and so, so much more. I offer you this because while there are some things in the world that are out of our control, we do have autonomy for ourselves. We can take critical actions and transform our own lives, even when there are systems of oppression around us. And though this makes it harder, it is a worthwhile and valuable struggle. 

Now. Despite there being so many opportunities for learning, I am writing this letter because I am not confident that you will learn this information unless I share it with you myself, in my own way. That is my right as a parent and my responsibility as your mother. To love you. To accept you. To prepare you. To encourage you. To help you learn about difficult things in a safe way. To help you discover the awesomeness that is life and that is being Ogwehoweh. 

And while you will probably read a lot of stories and watch documentaries about the reclamation—stories of why it happened, and the history leading up to it—unless I write this letter none of them will be ours, your father’s and mine. 

Regarding the Reclamation

Ten years ago, my father was the elected Chief of Six Nations. I still remember when he told me he was going to run. After we got off the phone I cried, something I have never really never talked about until now. I cried because I think I knew even then, that it was a difficult and thankless job to undertake. And it was. 

All in all, your grandfather did a very good job with the tools that he had. He’d had practice being a good leader already. He was the head coach of the first ever Indigenous team to win a national championship in Jr. A. Lacrosse, a group of players which included your uncle, and that he had coached for years. Even though I didn’t play, lacrosse taught me a lot. I attended those games for the majority of my childhood and into my teenage years. It was an exhilarating time, a thrilling journey to a championship that had been just within our reach for so many years. As the team progressed, the modest crowd at the start of the season grew bigger and bigger until they wound up having to build new stands at the end of the arena where the zamboni came in, and even then it wasn’t enough to fit everyone. 

It was also during this time that I was first exposed to overt racism, although I didn’t fully understand it. But even though I didn’t understand it, I knew it was an ugly thing. Despite this ugliness and the skewed refereeing that often occurs in the sport, the team competed well and won. This win felt enormous, like a dam breaking and letting all the water, hope, and happiness gush out with it. Many more championships followed in its wake. I found it—and maybe still find it—ironic that when we returned from British Columbia in 1993, there was a sign that said “Dave General for Chief”, and in less than 15 years, he would actually have this experience and it would be both a positive and negative one, full of ups and down.

There were good moments and there were terrible moments, and all in all, it was a very difficult time and environment to be learning things in. When it comes to matters of community and governance, people need to be able to reflect and critique, and reflecting and critiquing doesn't always happen in a wholly peaceful manner. People were angry with him and the elected council, and they took their anger out in many different ways. I think people who take on these kinds of leadership roles, anticipate this. For their families though, it is somewhat different and suffice it to say, all of these things together made me feel sad and isolated and alone. I did not fully understand the anger people felt towards him, and even now that I understand the history of governance at Six Nations better, I remember this time and want to treat people with understanding, respect, and kindness. My point is, despite all of this hurtful history, I believe in our people. In our capacity for consensus-building, in our need to stand up for ourselves, in our ways of living and our right to self-determination. And I want you to have the tools and know the information that will help you participate in this because I want you to have better tools of understanding (sooner) than I did.

Before I tell you what I learned about the matter of governance, I want to remind you that I love my father very much. I am proud of him and all of his accomplishments. His interest in hunting, lacrosse, snow snake, music and art have influenced me in the best possible ways. I am thankful that he’s someone who is willing to have challenging conversations and for being someone who loves ideas and learning. I am especially thankful to him for valuing his children as equals, including his daughters. Even as I am writing this letter, he is encouraging me to explore and share my story, my learning and my ideas with you. He remains open to the things that I have to say and this too, makes me proud. This also, at a time when he has just lost his mother, your great-grandmother, who I know was one of his greatest supporters and who I know he loved very, very much. 

I tell you this because loving someone who had been the target of so much negativity and support from our own community is difficult. But even though a few people were unkind towards him at times—I still love our community. And so does he. In this way, though we may not always share the same views, your grandfather has been a role model for me, and in many ways his experience with elected leadership has grown my compassion immensely. And I am so grateful for this compassion. It is the thing that helps remind me that issues in our community are not always clear-cut. It has taught me to let go of things. And it has helped me to see that there is complexity and nuance here and there always has been.

Our History 

Because I didn’t learn about the history of our people in school—a problem that I hope will not exist for you—I had to learn about it from other places. Mostly by reading and listening. Or sometimes, I mentioned—when these histories and ideas collided with our everyday life. 

My journey to learn led me to a lot of wonderful, knowledgeable people who have books and writings of their own that I hope you will read. For me, this started in university, where I was fortunate enough that people before me had created a space for something called Indigenous Studies. It was here I was able to gather some foundational understanding of the true history between Indigenous Peoples and Canada that had been completely neglected by the provincial curriculum. But probably the most of my learning happened through the time I spent working with an organization called the Chiefs of Ontario. Because of the work I was doing, I travelled to meetings all over Turtle Island. I consistently heard elders remind us of the importance of language, Creation stories, natural law, and responsibility. And little by little, their words began to sink in. 

Regarding the Indian Act

The situation at Caledonia has a number of layers for me. I went to school in Caledonia (my school was closed because of asbestos contamination when I was 8, which is another story altogether) and worked there for many years at a local coffee shop. As a result of this, I have a respect and fondness for many of the people there. But what I learned while going to school in Caledonia was not the full story of Canada’s relationship with our people. Not even close. And so many of my friends that I grew up with were as unprepared as I was for what was really happening when the events at Kanonhstaton came to be. Especially because these events were compounded by federal and provincial policies and processes that few people knew about, some which stretched back into the previous century.

The Indian Act is one of the many tools of oppression that the Canadian government has used against our people, to control us and to control our lands. Among the ideas that shaped or enabled the Indian Act, is the Doctrine of Discovery, which emboldened settler nations to feel they could lay exclusive claim to land that was ‘terra nullius’ or unoccupied and that they 'discovered'. Because we were here and could not be 'discovered', this concept was amended to include the idea that non-Christians did not count as real people and in this way, settlers from these nations used the Doctrine of Discovery to justify their efforts to take hold of our lands.  

I will pick this thread back up again in a moment, but before I go any further, I want to pause to introduce another concept. I am introducing it slightly out of order because it is important. Pay attention.  

Our people are a nation. We made treaty with Creation before we came here—a promise to honour this world and to be grateful for the ways it helps us to survive and thrive. We are among the Indigenous Peoples of Turtle Island. And as Indigenous Peoples of Turtle Island, we have inherent rights. These are rights that cannot be taken away by anyone. When non-Indigenous peoples came here, we made treaty with them. We agreed that they could share space here, because by all accounts, the place where they had come from was not a good one. There was starvation, disease and overcrowding (Venne, 2007). At the time that non-Indigenous people arrived—the land here was pristine and the water was drinkable. It is in our teachings that we should never take this for granted—that we should always be grateful for land and water. Now of course, a mere five hundred years later, the situation with water is much changed. We are concerned about that and with good reason. Water is more scarce than it was and it has been affected by various forms of pollution and human expansion. There is much work to do just in this one area. For more on this, I would encourage you to read Maude Barlow’s series of books, the most recent of which is called Boiling Point and provides information and perspective on water and the steps we need to take to protect it. I would also encourage you to learn from the people who have been working hard over the years to maintain the relationship that we have with water, and to honour it for the life-sustainer that it is.

Moving back to the matter of treaties, it is important for you to know that our ancestors also made Treaty with other nations, including the British Crown (Venne, 1997). It is also important that you know that treaty-making was not a new concept that we learned from non-Indigenous people and that we made treaties with other Indigenous nations as well (Venne, 2011). It is my intent that you will come to know those too, and while I do not know them all—your father and I will make every effort to find ways to make sure you know what we didn’t. And finally, it is important that you understand that “To enter into a treaty, a party must be a nation” and that “a colonizer is not a nation” (Venne, 2011). But we are. And we belong to a league of nations that has been dealing with conflict and colonization for a very long time. 

Six Miles Deep

Now back to Six Nations. There is a plaque by the Grand River that describes how it is that we came to be the Six Nations of the Grand River territory. About how we allied with the British during the American Revolution and faced persecution in the years that followed the establishment of the United States government. Many people relocated to the Grand River from our homelands in upper state New York as a result. This process occurred via the support of a proclamation that has come to be referred to as the Haldimand Deed of 1784 and which granted six miles on either side of the Grand River from the mouth to the source to the “Mohawk Nation and such others of the Six Nations Indians”. Over the last 233 years, this area of land has slowly been diminished to the size of our community as is known today and is captured in a well-known and circulated map. Some of our scholars have written about this subject—important books that I hope others will read. I have included some of those in my reading list at the end of this letter.

When the reclamation began, Six Nations had already been taking action for many years to recover the land that had been lost, address the mismanagement of Six Nations funds by the federal government and be compensated for it. A quick look at the map will tell you that much of the six miles on either side of the Grand River are filled with major towns and cities. This area was also the target of the province of Ontario’s, Places to Grow Act. One of the main criticisms of this policy was that it did not take into consideration the land and treaty rights of Indigenous Peoples. Which is true. It didn’t. But a lot of times, people do not like to be concerned with something that they think is ancient history and it can be difficult for people to see things another way when they feel it threatens their life and well-being. The thing about land though, is that our relationship to it is not ancient history. It is alive. It is happening now and it is not something that we should put aside or behind us. Like the language—the land belongs to our children. To the future. 

The mechanisms for resolving land matters between Indigenous Peoples and the state of Canada are inefficient. They are inefficient because they are colonial constructs. Two of these constructs that were in operation at the time the reclamation began were the Specific Claims Policy and the Comprehensive Claims Policy. I am not a lawyer, but here is something that I have learned that is important. Canada’s land claims policies are extinguishment policies, meaning that Indigenous Peoples must extinguish their interest in lands in exchange for a new agreement over a specific portion of our territory. These policies have been reviewed and revised over the years, even as recently as the last five years and they are still not very good, operating as they do, from this principle. 

Recall what I have told you about our responsibility to land and natural law. We cannot and should not extinguish our responsibilities to land. 

Learning and More Learning

Many of the people I listened to and learned from across Turtle Island felt it was critical that Indigenous Peoples continue to position themselves as nations who had made treaties with other nations whose people then settled and formed colonies on Turtle Island. And that because there is no true will to honour the treaties, there is a need for an international mechanism to oversee their implementation. I tend to agree with this also. I have always felt it is important that we have people everywhere, at every level, doing many different kinds of work. This is an example of a kind of work that I think is much needed. It is my understanding that this work has been underway at the United Nations for several years, although I do not know where it currently sits, and after writing this, I am making a note to find out.

And this is where we come to the difference between the Confederacy Council and the Elected Council. The Confederacy Council is the governance system that was given to us by the Creator. It came to us from the Peacemaker, who went among the Onondaga, Oneida, Seneca, Cayuga and Mohawk nations with other like-minded thinkers and determined a way that our nations could work together. It is our system. Our way. It is made up of both men and women, it is meant to be inclusive and it is my opinion that this form of governance could be even more robust and responsive to modern day concerns if it were not consistently in survival mode and perhaps, if we were able to be more compassionate and forgiving. Indeed, with the number of intelligent, well-informed, and thoughtful people engaged in a process of decolonization and healing, we stand in a very good position to mend some of our governance issues and move forward; although, I recognize that this would take a lot of work and discussion. 

By contrast, the Elected Council was put in place in 1924 by the federal government. In short—it is a colonial construct. And while I so appreciate all of the people who have served our community in this capacity—including your grandfather—I do not see any way of getting around that. Further, as someone who continues to grapple with my own efforts to decolonize, I offer this information with no judgement. I am grateful for all of the people who labour on behalf of our community in these various capacities, and I have seen first hand the success that the elected council has had in organizing with other communities and organizations to prevent further incursions on our rights, as has almost happened many times over on issues like HST and education. But the history of this construct remains what it is.

I have also seen the success the Confederacy Council has had in advocating on issues and keeping our traditions healthy and in tact. One example, is the Great Law readings that have been organized these past few years. Another, is the work of Cayuga Chief Deskaheh Levi General. Throughout the early 1920s, Duncan Campbell Scott, the Superintendent of the Department of Indian Affairs, was angry that Deskaheh had journeyed to Geneva, Switzerland to present to the League of Nations (the precursor to the United Nations) about incursions on Indigenous sovereignty and mobility. By many accounts, Duncan Campbell Scott was extremely committed to the project of colonization and assimilation and open about the fact that he viewed Indigenous Peoples as inferior. He was also one of the proponents of the residential school system. I have little doubt that you will have learned about residential schools throughout your education. It is an atrocious and inexcusable policy initiative that believe it or not, some people still try to defend.

When I look back at the events unfolding around 1923-1924, it is hard to not feel that the whole situation was being played like a game of chess. That as the Chiefs tried to advance the issue of our right to self-determination and unresolved land matters through Deskaheh’s campaigns to Geneva and by being aware of the continual legislative changes that might impact our people; Duncan Campbell Scott was putting measures in place to further discredit the Confederacy and attempting to secure the conversion and assimilation of our people. As if he was constantly on the lookout for any kind of conflict that could be used to support his position. At least two of these kinds of incidents involved the Soldier’s Settlement Act and a local agricultural club (Catapano, 2007). And unfortunately, one of his attempts to undermine us—the Thompson Commission—was successful. It was this report that was the catalyst for the order-in-council that ended the Confederacy Council's rule. 

Among other things, the Thompson report claimed that the situation of governance at Six Nations was primitive, effeminate, ineffective and that there was no written constitution, although he did acknowledge that the form of governance stemmed from a long established custom—referring ostensibly, to the Great Law (Catapano, 2007). 

Thompson’s investigation of “conditions at Grand River” began on September 18, 1923. Not everyone participated in the hearings of this investigation. Some spoke in favour of the Confederacy, including a clan mother who was also Christian (which I mention to explain how nuanced our beliefs sometimes were). Some did not speak in favour of the Confederacy, though Catapano (2007) notes in reviewing the minutes, that the examiner was deliberate in choosing to listen to those who were eager for political and social change. Catapano (2007) further reflects that this is a common strategy—“that a minority of a population in an Indigenous community is used to legitimize government decrees, policy, or land cessions and then, count the absence of voices raised in dissent as virtual support for neo-colonial policy" (p. 232). I would only add that this is not really neo-colonial policy at all, but a progression of colonial policy that we continue to see today (recall for instance, the extinguishment policies of the Specific Claims process).  

Thompson’s report was submitted to the Superintendent General of Indian Affairs on November 22, 1923. The Order-in-Council was passed on September 17, 1924. (Catapano, 2007). The proclamation dissolving the Confederacy Council was read on October 7, 1924.

Moving Forward

Now. I do not tell you any of these things to tell you a sad story. There are many wrong things that happened in this history of ours. But despite these many wrong things—so much good remains. The ceremonies have continued. The Confederacy has continued to meet. Efforts at the international level are ongoing. The Elected Council has done valuable and important work. Our people have continued to learn, understand and fight against these injustices in many different arenas; by learning language, by developing curriculum, by creating space in universities for the truth to be known, by presenting to standing committees, by speaking truth in policy discussions, by rejecting legislation, by leading organizations, by creating reports for the international forums, by writing and performing. By living and healing. By sharing our story with our neighbours. By being willing to hear theirs. By organizing and taking direct action. By having difficult discussions. 

If the Thompson report or something similar were to happen now, I do not doubt that criticisms about the governance here might emerge. Nobody is perfect. Mistakes have been made and will probably continue to be made. But this is what I also know. We are a sovereign, self-determining people. We have inherent rights. We have treaty rights. We have rights enshrined in legislation. We have constitutional rights. We have international support for our rights. And we have work to do to be good ancestors and impactful stewards of the land for future generations. All of this work is made difficult because the wheels of colonization are still in motion and we often work with external governments who don’t always have the benefit of this history and understanding. After all—because of the curriculum I was learning from—this had been me for the first half of my life. And so to me, our strategy needs to be comprehensive and include some of these layers. And then we need to make individual choices about where we fit and how we are going to spend our time learning and helping and giving back. Choices about where and how we will use the gifts we were given. And when there are so many valuable places to spend it, this is not always an easy task. 

Regarding My Own Choices 

There was a time in my late twenties, when I became very ill and my vision became exceptionally blurry. I went to my doctor, my eye doctor, my eye specialist and then back to my doctor once more. I knew something was wrong with me but no tests revealed anything out of the ordinary.

During this time, I felt worse than I had ever felt in my entire life. I felt lonely and disconnected. I worked very long hours and I had very little time for leisure. I was working in an area that was extremely important to me (First Nations education), but everything I was working on felt like a battle that would never end. I tried things I thought could help me restore balance to my life. Taking time off. Answering less emails. Running. Yoga. Green tea. Journaling. None of these activities seemed able to make a substantial difference. The longer it went on, the more indifferent and distant I became to my friends and family. 

Finally, one night, I confessed to a friend what I had been feeling. I was nervous to tell her, nervous to say the words out loud. I thought she would think that I was weak or lying or incapable of making myself happy. I told her anyways. When I was finished, I felt this huge weight falling away from me. It was like I had been wearing a heavy coat of fear and now it was gone. It was a step, a first of many.

It was a few days after this confession that I decided to make an appointment to see one of the traditional readers on the reserve. The appointment was made for late in the summer, a month or more away at the time. I made it knowing that I could change my mind if I wanted to. Full of scepticism, I kept my appointment. By the time the reading was finished, however, I had been given answers and guidance for why I was feeling the way I had been feeling and all of it resonated. The reader explained that I needed a certain ceremony, which in our community, are called feasts. 

Within a few weeks after I went to get my reading done, the feasts were put through and immediately, I felt better. I still had a lot of work to do, to help myself maintain the peace and balance in my life, but my spirit was uplifted and the feast had cleared the path for me to do that work. In those days that followed, I felt like a new person. 

I also felt incredibly grateful. This experience made such an important and positive impact on my life. It was an experience made possible by the continuation of Haudenosaunee culture, knowledge and language and the realization of how important our ceremonies were was very humbling to me. I realized that while I had a bachelor’s degree and critical thinking skills, there were other things that I was missing, things that were very important. I wondered if there were other people, in my family perhaps, or my community, who might be missing it as well and needing a similar kind of help.

Now before I go any further, I need to say that I have a great appreciation for science and technology, as well as the advances that have been made in so many areas concerning individual health and well-being. A part of the reason why I went to the eye doctor when I became sick was because both of my retinas had detached when I was twenty-five. If it had not been for physics and technology, I would be blind today. So I am grateful for science and grateful for physics. I also have enormous appreciation for education and have continued on with my own studies because I've learned so much from other people’s reading and thinking about language, language revitalization, rights and responsibilities, treaties, collaboration, and education itself.

But in this particular case, it was my spirit that needed help. And as long as I neglected to take care of my spirit, it was going to impact other parts of me—my mind, my heart and my body. I realized that if other people were to find themselves in a similar situation as I had been, I wanted to be able to help them. I wanted to help because I was so grateful to the people who helped me and I knew how busy those people are in our community. But to help them beyond what I was able to do now—I realized that one of the things I could do was make a greater commitment to language. 

This is the reason that I'm as devoted to language as much as I am. I realize that we have need of so many kinds of people. Doctors. Lawyers. Artists. Writers. Builders. But language and ceremony brought me back from the brink of self-destruction and in every policy issue I ever encountered, whether it was water, land rights, education and so many others—language was always near (if not at) the core of it. Language and ceremony have also helped many of our family members. And I will always be grateful for that. I will always want to be able to help someone else if they have need of the same things and I want to do my part to make sure that this knowledge thrives, however I can; whether that is writing proposals, doing administrative tasks, writing books, making movies, or learning myself. Whatever it is that I can do to contribute. And I hope to always be helpful and work in service to the people of our community.  

Self-determination

Other communities across Turtle Island face similar challenges as we do and so I think we should always offer our encouragement to them as they move forward and figure things out, and offer them strength in their times of need. Those communities have the same strengths as we do—they too have inherent rights, treaty rights, and all the others that I outlined. So they will continue to create their pathways forward in all kinds of different ways. We can learn from them, as well as support them. 

As for us, and some of our current challenges regarding governance, there are many potential solutions and mechanisms. Many sites of interconnected struggle. Right now, we are hearing calls for a willingness to support, to listen, for goodmindedness, and for participation. This is good. Listening and sharing has always struck me as a good starting point. And while I am committed right now to the things I have chosen to do, there are definitely other things I think we could do that I could help with, like creating a curriculum that tells the story of some of what I have outlined here (although someone may indeed have already done this), to learn more about a potential international mechanism for treaty implementation, to have more informal and formal governance discussions within our community, to create a plan for advocacy at the nation-to-nation, regional, national, and international levels. To pinpoint specific actions and enact policy processes that are proper Treaty roundtables (and whose purpose is not to pass new “modern” extinguishment treaties), to have another layer of policy discussion about urgent day-to-day issues and needs (water, climate change, food security, child welfare, etc), some of which is already happening. Whatever we choose, I can see that certain of these core matters that have been outstanding for over a hundred years need to be addressed. Issues of self-determination. Issues of governance. Matters of land. Matters of treaty. All of these things are up to the nation, of which we are a part and of which we must take part. We can heal and forgive and show compassion and understand that it is possible to work together, to appreciate all of the contributions that we have made, even when our personal opinions and experiences of governance differ. We have done it already, after all and a visit around our community during Community Awareness Week will show you the depth of the wonderful work that is happening here, a great deal of which happens through and with the support of the elected council administration.  

So what I most want to share here with you, my daughters, is that there is hope. I want to thank you for choosing us and this world. I want you to be patient with yourselves and your own learning—even if other people are not patient with you and want you to see things their way, at the exact moment when they want you to. I want you to learn to listen and share your ideas. I want you to know that it is okay to take a hard stance on certain issues—even as many of your peers and future friends will have a difficult time understanding why you continue talking about things that are ‘ancient history’, why you are trying to find alternative solutions and ways forward, why you have chosen the work that you have, why you care about treaties or why you do not define yourself as Canadian. Because ultimately, you are not. You live on Turtle Island. You belong to the Turtle Clan and the Mohawk Nation. You are Ogwehoweh. And I hope you will always be proud of that. 

Kninǫhkwa, 

Etsino̲ha. 

Reading List: 

I have done the best I could with this letter, given the other responsibilities I have at this time. As a result, I feel I have only skimmed the surface of so many issues and have really not done them justice. Further, what I have presented here, is only a part of my evolving understanding. It may be that other people know more or better. It may be that in the days, months and years to come that my understanding will evolve and shift further. And even if it does, I will still strive to practice goodmindedness and appreciation for the people in our community who are striving to do their very best for themselves, their families, their communities and our nation. 

Nonetheless, here is a list of the many things that I have read or watched that have helped me build an understanding of what I have mentioned here. Some of these books are about Six Nations, some are about international law, and some are about water and physics. For me, these subjects intersect. 

I leave it here for you and will probably add to it over the years or when I get more time. I hope one day you will be able to read these books as well. Also, these citations are not in alphabetical order :).  

The List:

Venne, S. H. (1997). Our Elders Understand Our Rights: Evolving International Law Regarding (Doctoral dissertation, University of Alberta).

http://www.nlc-bnc.ca/obj/s4/f2/dsk2/ftp04/mq21232.pdf 

Martinez, M. (1997) Study on Treaties, Agreements and Other Constructive Arrangements Between States and Indigenous (Final Report to the the UN for the "Working Group on Indigenous Peoples”)

http://hrlibrary.umn.edu/demo/TreatiesStatesIndigenousPopulations_Martinez.pdf

McIvor, B. “Canada's Misguided Land Claims Policy”. First Peoples Law. http://www.firstpeopleslaw.com/index/articles/170.php

Venne, S. H. (2011). Treaties made in good faith. Canadian Review of Comparative Literature/Revue Canadienne de Littérature Comparée, 34(1).

Hill, S. M. (2017). The Clay We are Made of: Haudenosaunee Land Tenure on the Grand River (Vol. 20). Univ. of Manitoba Press.

Monture, R. (2014). We share our matters: Two centuries of writing and resistance at six nations of the Grand River. Univ. of Manitoba Press.

Simpson, L. (2011). Dancing on our turtle's back: Stories of Nishnaabeg re-creation, resurgence and a new emergence. Arbeiter Ring Publishing.

Turner, D. A. (2006). This is not a peace pipe: Towards a critical indigenous philosophy. University of Toronto Press.

Barlow, M. (2016)Boiling Point: Government Neglect, Corporate Abuse, and Canada's Water Crisis. ECW Press. 

Turok, N. (2012). The Universe Within: From Quantum to Cosmos. House of Anansi.

Catapano, A. L. (2007). The Rising of the Ongwehonwe: Sovereignty, identity, and representation on the Six Nations Reserve. State University of New York at Stony Brook.

Chiefs of Ontario: Alternative Report to the Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination: 

http://www.chiefs-of-ontario.org/sites/default/files/files/COO%20Alternate%20Report%20to%20UNCERD%20FINAL%202012.pdf 

Report of the Ipperwash Inquiry: https://www.attorneygeneral.jus.gov.on.ca/inquiries/ipperwash/report/

Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada: http://www.trc.ca/websites/trcinstitution/index.php?p=890

Which you can also listen to on Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxPr_RIsvg9JJWoiRx2kl2v24r_pu7JbR

Videos:

Sharon Venne: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpDsMDu8tmY 

Takaiya Blainey: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdAsKzr-sM8

Russ Diabo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECi_7G0QAgw

Steve Newcomb: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZBKbNhfh-c

Happy 5 Year Anniversary to My Blog!

Today is the five year anniversary of my blog! I have to say, I find this so incredible. I’ve celebrated this day in a lot of different ways over the last few years, like writing super long blog posts or by doing giveaways and going to community events. This year, I'm going to spend it reflecting, planning and having some small adventures with my family. I have some giveaways planned for later in the summer, but today is definitely a day for reflecting about how to take the next step with my writing and creative endeavours, including language. 

Last year, I wrote about how I started this blog because I wanted a space where I could share the positive things happening in my community. That I started it because I loved Turtle Island and I wanted to do my utmost to honour creation, my ancestors and my family. All of that remains true today and that love has helped me so much over the past five years. It’s helped me work on difficult and important projects. It’s helped me understand how much I want to learn the language and develop a plan to do so. Most of all, it's helped me to realize my dream of being a writer and a storyteller, and given me a place to think out loud about the learning that goes into finishing a story and turning it into a book. 

I’ve written a lot of stories over the last few years and independently published the majority of them in one form or another and as hard as this journey has been at times, I've truly treasured every minute of it. I've learned something new with every project and endeavour I've undertaken and all of that learning will help me to create even more over the next five years.

One of my mentors, Joanna Penn of The Creative Penn, talks often on her podcast about how she wants to measure her life by the things she creates. I want to do the same. And when I look back over the last five years and see that I have written ten books, several short stories, and started to paint more seriously, it makes me feel incredibly happy and peaceful about this goal. It also makes me feel proud of the work I've started and positively energized about the work to come. I know that the more I learn and practice, the better a writer and painter I will become. And there is still so much to learn!

Over the next five years I intend to continue making books and art, but I also want to expand into making music, films, resources, podcasts and comics. I want at least half (if not more) of those projects to be in the language. I want to make cool stories for my children. I want to improve my speaking proficiency. I want to measure my life by what I create, and I want to share and inspire others to create things as well - if they are so inclined. In honour of this new goal, I thought I would share a little snapshot of some of the things I’ve created since 2012.

Books and Prints!

A recent painting with some interesting filters added. 

My daughter Ione looking at an inked sketch.

My current favourite painting. Watercolour and ink. 

A watercolour with some interesting filters applied to give a burst of colour. 

Looking at them makes me so excited.  I am so grateful for all of the learning that has gone into these projects. Five years ago, I couldn't have imagined how awesome it would be to focus some of my time and energy around being creative or how much it would help me to focus my passion and love for my community and Turtle Island. I am so excited to see what more I will learning in the next ten years! 

Happy writing and creating! And Happy Indigenous Day Turtle Island!

Magic on Turtle Island - Some Thoughts

Over the weekend, between two holidays celebrating two countries that have developed their identities on Turtle Island, my husband and I had a conversation about how we'll approach certain discussions with our daughters, who we hope will grow up enjoying reading and books as much as we do (including Harry Potter). In particular, we were referring to literature that erases the presence of Indigenous Peoples on Turtle Island, the way J.K. Rowling's most recent Pottermore stories that take place in North America have done. Some of our discussion was also prompted by reading this article and thinking about the responsibilities we have as parents to speak up when things like this happen or to help educate others so that ours and other children experience less incidents of discrimination and racism in the world. 

The answers we came to were not really simple. For the most part, they involved a lot of compassion, a lot of empathizing, a lot of patience, a lot of resilience and a willingness to flag when something doesn't feel right and to be able to talk about it with our girls in a good way. (Also a lot of learning of our language, sharing of our oral histories and writing of new stories). 

I come into this particular discussion in a lot of different ways. I love to read and I'm a writer. I'm also an Indigenous woman and a mother. For many years, I worked for an advocacy body for First Nation communities in Ontario. And I am so grateful for that opportunity. It showed me how rich our communities are and how greatly misunderstood we are by mainstream culture and governments—and kind of on purpose too, thanks to the ongoing legacy of colonialism. I also learned that our communities are not all the same. We carry unique knowledges and experiences. We have a lot to learn from one another, a lot to share and ways of sharing it.  

Over the course of my life I've come to care very deeply about the inherent and treaty rights of Indigenous People on Turtle Island. I care that Indigenous children—including my own—have an opportunity to connect with our responsibilities—that they have a chance to engage with the knowledges, languages, ceremonies and oral histories that belong to the over 600 First Nation communities across the country. Especially because there have been points in our history where those opportunities were made scarce and a lot of stories that should have been told—weren't.  

In this work of writing and telling stories—so much matters. Nations matter. Clans matter. Families matter. And communities matter, including those that have formed in urban settings. Our identities are complicated. They have deep roots. It's hard for anyone to wade into our experience and write about it in a way that doesn't risk doing more harm to the process of reconnecting and healing. Mistakes have been and will probably continue to be made. 

I’ve experienced this as a reader. There've been a few times when I've read something someone wrote about my people that hurt or unsettled me. And this isn't to say that only non-Indigenous writers will write things that are upsetting. I'm not sure exactly which community they come from, but when a well-known writer wrote about my people in one of their books people became upset. Some spoke up, challenging the portrayals in the book. Some were attacked for speaking out. People who cared about that author and liked their book didn't understand why others couldn't just let it go. Wasn't it all ancient history anyways? And as a writer I found myself asking all these different questions about who should be writing what. Because I believe in my people and I believe in the power of writing to heal as well as entertain, and encourage, and inspire, and educate. But I also believe that writers have to be true to the stories and characters that are inside them, asking to be written. And I believe that writers need to be free to write their truth. So where does that leave us? What do you do when these things happen? Serious things like misrepresentation and appropriation. 

I don't have all the answers. As a writer, I've chosen my own way of trying to balance these issues—and make no mistake they are difficult to balance. For example, it's a challenge for me when people say enough with the magic and spirituality when it comes to Indigenous peoples in literature because so much of my work includes magical, fantastical elements. But I also understand why people say that and why they want characters with more depth—spiritual and otherwise. 

I want characters with depth, as well. I also want to represent spirit well, in my life and in my writing because acknowledging spirit was such a huge part of my own growth. It made my life a lot more awesome than it was and it started me on a journey that brought me to where I am now —happy and grateful for my life, my relationships and for the chance to honour Creation through ceremonies and through my actions. In a way, I have only spirit to thank for that.

Still, feeling this way doesn't automatically mean I will write great characters. I still have to work hard at writing and I can say with no shame that it will take much more practice to do it as well as I'd like to. What will help me are the things that have always helped me: asking questions, listening, communicating, reading in a discerning way, writing with care, reflecting on what I've learned or experienced. Activities which in many ways can be captured by the word research. And even in doing these things there may come a point where people will dislike what I've written or feel I've reinforced a stereotype or I've gotten it wrong. It’s part of the process of entering the ring and sharing my work.  Indeed—every bit of non-fiction I've read about publishing has led me to accept the eventuality that criticism will come and when it does, I’ll have to remind myself I'm not a failure of a human being if someone doesn't like my writing. Instead I'll have to face that criticism and I'll have to grow from it. 

All that being said, if someone had said that in their world, a certain ceremony or knowledge or practice that was important to my people "didn't exist", it would have hurt. It did hurt—even though the world was fictional and even though the practice being talked about did not belong to my nation. It was a similar hurt to other times Indigenous voices were devalued. When the Papal Bulls stated that explorers could kill Indigenous Peoples if they couldn't be assimilated. When the settler state determined that the best way to assimilate Indigenous Peoples was to take children from their homes and place them in schools far from their families. When the resulting lateral violence of these atrocities made it difficult for us to have much needed conversations in our own communities.

But we are having them. Slowly. Surely. In many different forums. In many different spaces, some of which overlap. 

It will take time. There is a lot of hurt to heal. Colonialism is a wicked thing, a systemic and deeply ingrained attitude. I've seen the evidence of that in my own community—and myself—time and time again. Moving forward and trying to heal and decolonize is hard work. It's wonderful work—the kind that can have a tremendous and rippling effect on individuals, families and communities—but it’s hard. Most of the people I know who are engaged in the process or care about the process are therefore very careful with their words and how they choose to say things. They feel a responsibility to represent things well, to do no further harm and to treat others as best as they can. 

What is my way? I think it's still evolving. I've written about it in this book and in a way I'll continue to write about it in all my books, some of which will continue to include magic and a fantasy filter that I happen to love in stories I read. But I suppose when you remove those fantasy filters from my writing, there are issues beneath them that I'm thinking very deeply about on a daily basis. Issues that require certain kinds of discussions and ones that can't just happen in books or on paper. They are issues of land. Issues of treaty. Issues of peace. Issues of spirit. 

Those are the kinds of things I want my daughters to know about as well.  I want to create things—books and art—so that my own children don't grow up believing that we aren't "real".  That these issues I mentioned aren't "real". That our stories aren't "real". That a dream or a vision isn't "real". That's how I grew up. And though my spirit knew it wasn't true, it took a long time to convince the rest of me. And I'm sure wherever you are you know or have learned or have heard that not believing in yourself can hurt. That's true. It can. 

I want to make sure that my children know the truth about Turtle Island and that if they read things that erase us  (whether intentionally or not), they will know an important part of the story is missing and they will not have to search and struggle to fill in what those missing parts are. And honestly, I'm excited and grateful to be able to share those stories with them. I'm excited to find out about other peoples' stories with them. I can see this great future where they are empowered with knowledge and compassionate and confident enough to share it with others; a future where they're good listeners, able to hear and appreciate the stories of their friends and neighbours, as well. My big hope is that we'll get to do all this work and learning together, and make really cool stories and art along the way. 

So this weekend, prompted by the appearance of new merchandise and articles and advertisements and instalments about magic in North America, my husband and I spent a lot of time talking about how we will make this future a reality. As parents. As a family. As people who are Harry Potter fans. And what we resolved (at least as much as we could resolve anything given that so many issues came up that the whole conversation feels far from over) was that the most immediate actions we will take will be to maintain our focus on the language and becoming good speakers and speaking the language in our home. And then to keep to keep writing and learning, in English and Cayuga. To support other writers in sharing their work, including writers from my own community. People with passion and vision and stories to tell.  It's why I started a publishing company, after all. To have a place to put my energy—my love, my care, and my respect—so that someone in the future would be able to find our stories and realize that it didn't matter what anyone said about us.

Magic is real. We have a relationship with land. Spirit matters. Treaties matter. Our voices matter. Our histories are alive. And there really are Turtles All the Way Down. 

I truly believe sharing stories can help bridge the gap in understanding between cultures. I believe that the process of sharing can be respectful, invigorating and exciting. It's what I hope to achieve with some of my own work, like Spirit & Intent and Treaty Baby and The Tiny Queen. And for this reason, I want to share my books with everyone—people who love to read and people who want to have a conversation and people who are looking to uphold the peace for present and future generations.  I may make mistakes along the way. I'm still learning, after all. But if you want to you can support and follow my efforts to grow by signing up for my newsletter here or by following my company's journey here. And if you're interested in watching as we learn the Cayuga language, you can do so here: www.learncayuga.com. 

Nya:weh. Thank you. Sge:no Swagwe:goh, and as always, happy writing,

S. 

The Four Year Anniversary Book Giveaway!

My blog is four years old today, which is amazing. So many wonderful things have happened over the last four years and while I don’t often post the events of my life in any kind of detail, I’m happy to have a small glimpse of them on record here—a sense of how I’ve grown as an artist, as a writer, as a mother, a wife, and a spirit capable of love and peace and compassion. There is a lot going on today in addition to the blog's anniversary. I am releasing a new book. It's National Indigenous Peoples Day. And finally, today marks the start of my effort to learn the Cayuga language using the master-apprentice method with my husband. All very exciting things and to celebrate, I am gifting away some of my books! 

Celebrating Turtle Island

I started this blog because I wanted a space where I could share the positive things I saw happening in my community. Four years ago I had just left a job where I was fortunate enough to travel and visit many First Nation communities. The travel wore me out, but the communities never did. I love the people of Turtle Island. I love the stories they have to share. The resilience. The hope. The creativity. The ideas. The passion. In every community I visited I met people who were committed to making thing better for their children and for the future. That inspired me. I am very fortunate to work in my own community and try to be helpful. And though our community has our struggles, there's also a lot of strength, creativity and shared commitment to areas I've personally come to love, like language and education and art. I hope I'm always able to see and support everyone's efforts. 

Writing is the other reason I started this blog. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to tell stories. Over the last four years I’ve continued to work away at that dream with a bit more focus—learning about storytelling and publishing through reading and writing and practice. All along, my goal has been to not only write stories but to share them and over the past four years, I've done just that. I’ve written a ton of stories—some of which I’ve shared (some of which will likely stay in the trunk) and I’ve even branched out and begun sharing some of my artwork. I won't lie, sharing your art and your writing can be a scary experience but on a whole, I’m very happy to be doing it.

So today is a special day. It’s a day to celebrate this blog and the journey I’ve been on. And this blog really does mean a great deal to me. I have no idea how many people read or visit my blog, but I thank each and every one of you that do. Having this space has never been about numbers or traffic—even though I know those things are very important for authors. It’s mostly been about creating a small space to think about things, to practice writing and to share. Most of all, it’s been about having a place to talk about the things I love, things like writing a book or learning the language or formatting and publishing books or my own wonderful little family. I am so grateful for all of it—for every second—and I know there is still so much to learn and experience.

But for now, I'm happy to celebrate the accomplishments of the last several years and in honour of that, I will be gifting away copies of my books! One book will go to one of my newsletter subscribers (you can subscribe here). Another book will go to a random retweeter of this blog on Twitter. Another to a liker of this post on Facebook. And finally, another book will go to a liker of this post on Instagram. The giveaway goes until midnight tonight and I'll announce winners tomorrow. 

Happy Writing Everyone! And Happy Blogging! And Happy Reading! And Happy Dreaming!

S.