LAND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: MEANING AND ACTION

 Breaking the Glass Case | Chantelle Perreault

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I have lived in Canada all of my life – in big cities like Toronto and Ottawa, and in suburban towns like Whitby, Ontario – and in all of these instances, I have been culpable of knowing far too little about the Indigenous history of the land I was occupying.

Kanyon Sayers-Roods, a Mutsun Ohlone activist, affirms that "there have always been Indigenous peoples in the spaces we call home, and there always will be". All land in Canada, from coast to coast to coast, has Indigenous connections, and the increasing practice of Land Acknowledgments provides an opportunity for settlers to gain an introductory understanding about past and present Indigenous relationships to this territory. While the practice of acknowledging connections to both the land and the people who reside on it is not new – this has been a tradition amongst many Indigenous cultures long before the arrival of European settlers, and Karyn Recollet, an urban-Cree professor at the University of Toronto, describes it as “an ancient practice that flows into the future” – today, organisations and individuals alike are engaging in the practice of crafting Land Acknowledgements more frequently.

Land Acknowledgments – intentional statements that recognise the relationships between Indigenous people and their traditional land – act to remind settlers of a place’s Indigenous history and the continued presence of Indigenous people in that place today, and encourage settlers to understand how they have come to live on this land, explains Indigenous U of T. You may have heard a Land Acknowledgement spoken aloud at an event, or read one in a syllabus at school. Museums and heritage institutions, in an effort to reconcile their own colonial roots, are also increasingly turning towards the use of Land Acknowledgements.

The process of creating the Land Acknowledgment and the content included in the statement are equally important aspects of the practice. The Native Governance Centre explains that, as a settler, it is essential to begin with self-reflection and an understanding of the goals of Land Acknowledgements — specific goals can differ depending on the institution, but should include the empowerment of Indigenous voices and a commitment to ongoing action. Before beginning, knowledge of the land you are occupying and the Indigenous groups that reside there (historically and presently) is crucial, and this will require research and time. Anishinaabe academic Sheila Cote-Meek also emphasises the importance of connecting with Indigenous people of the territory when possible (and with proper compensation for labour).

The language of Land Acknowledgments is significant: the use of present tense rather than historical references to Indigenous communities reiterates that Indigenous people continue to live on this territory today — colonialism is an ongoing process. 

Land Acknowledgement from the website of the Royal Ontario Museum

Similarly, when Land Acknowledgments are read aloud, accurate pronunciation is required: Emily Riddle of Alexander First Nation in Treaty 6 territory explains that mispronunciation indicates “a lack of effort and consideration” by the organisation. An emphasis on correct pronunciation can be encouraged by including a pronunciation guide, as seen in the City of Toronto’s official Land Acknowledgement.

Pronunciation guide from the City of Toronto's Land Acknowledgment webpage

Land Acknowledgements should also be accompanied by further action – these statements are not made to "check a box", but stem from a commitment to empower Indigenous voices. The Manitoba Museum, following their Land Acknowledgement, lists a series of further commitments towards reconciliation, such as developing collaborative relationships with Indigenous communities and partnering with local communities to share more Indigenous stories. This transparency encourages accountability and makes clear to the museum’s audience that they are committed to specific goals when it comes to reconciliation.

We Are All Treaty People, exhibit at the Manitoba Museum. (Image: manitobamuseum.ca)

Museums often have a colonial past to reckon with, and have a responsibility to understand their connection to the physical land that they occupy. Anishinaabe writer and educator Hayden King reminds us that Land Acknowledgements are not done to validate Canadian presence on the land, but rather to empower and uplift the voices of Indigenous people. At a time where Land Acknowledgements are becoming increasingly common, and can sometimes seem redundant or meaningless, museums have an obligation to reflect on the purposes of these statements, and how they will impact museum practices going forward.

A LIST OF ORAL HISTORY COLLECTIONS

Collections Corner | Martin Bierens

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Oral history is certainly not a new concept in the museum field. Realistically, it is the oldest form of passing along knowledge over generations. Recently I have started to think about the relevance of oral histories as my upcoming exhibition project is planning to include information gathered through oral history interviews.

The conduction of an oral history interview as part of the Greater Rosemont History Day. (Source)

In a way, we can think of oral history as an essential element to museum collections. Most collections are composed of objects that have been donated to a museum, but oral histories are individuals donating their story rather than their possessions. A museum must then hold these stories to the same standard as they care for their collections. Oral history in a sense is a way for individuals who may not be wealthy in material goods, but are wealthy in knowledge and stories to share their experiences in a museum setting. Thus, it becomes evident that oral histories are a great way for museums to give space to people who have historically been marginalized.

Here I will be providing a list of some interesting oral history collections in North America that you can check out and listen to amazing stories and histories that are not widely told. If you are looking for more detailed information about oral history as an approach to heritage, check out the work of Chloé Houde and Jingshu Helen Yao.

Historica Canada, a large organization conducting oral history interviews. (Source)

1. Historica Canada — the famed organization behind the iconic “Heritage Minutes” also conducts oral history projects. The organization features stories ranging from Indigenous heritage, historical injustices in Canada, 90 years of Canadian military history, and first-hand accounts of notable Canadians. Their goal is to amplify voices missing from the standard historical narrative.

2. UofT Libraries — The UofT Libraries offer access to thousands of oral history collections on an uncountable amount of topics. Some include the Ellis Island Oral History Project, the Civil Rights Documentation Project, and the Japanese American Relocation Digital Archive.

3. Ah-Tah-Thi-Ki Seminole Museum Oral History Program — This project focuses on the preservation of Seminole culture, history, and memory. This project has also been an effective method to preserve Creek and Miccosukee, the languages of the Seminole. The production of Creek and Miccosukee dictionaries and a mobile app are also available to Seminole Tribal Members. They have also produced content that teaches how to conduct oral history interviews.

The Columbia Center for Oral History is one of the largest university-operated oral history projects. (Source)  

4. Columbia Center for Oral History — Columbia University actually offers a Master of Arts with a focus on Oral History. Some interesting projects available online are the September 11, 2001, Oral History Project, the Institute for Research on Women, Gender and Sexuality Oral History Project, and the Rule of Law Oral History Project. The latter features interviews with challengers of capital punishment, and in 2010 shifted focus to the experiences of detainees at Guantanamo Bay following the 9/11 Terror Attacks.

5. Library of Congress —The LOC features many oral history projects that touch on a very wide range of topics.

6. Jewish Women’s Archive — The Listen and Tell: Oral Histories project collects oral histories that teach listeners about Jewish history, identity, and community. A wide variety of material is available online some of which includes resources on how to conduct oral history projects, family histories, the testimony of Holocaust survivors, and contemporary Jewish personal histories/stories.

This is a relatively small list of oral history projects, not all of which are conducted by museums, but all tell personal stories. There are so many oral history projects available online that if there is any topic that you are interested in, a quick google search will likely turn up a wealth of resources.

EQUIP MUSEUMS WITH INDIGENOUS VOICES

Heritage Moments | Jingshu Yao

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June is National Aboriginal History Month. While most heritage events were cancelled due to the pandemic, long hours staying indoors also gave me the chance to research about all the Indigenous museums and historical sites in Canada. A handful of museums and galleries are dedicated to Indigenous history and arts, and many larger museums include Indigenous culture sections in their general exhibitions. Following the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, museums have played a role in Indigenous culture education and revitalization. The narrative voice, representation, and languages used in the exhibitions are important factors that help facilitate their missions.

Aboriginal Cultures in North American (Source)

Sarah Carr-Locke states in Indigenous Heritage and Public Museums: Exploring Collaboration and Exhibition in Canada and the United States that the lack of collaboration between museums and Indigenous communities could result in exhibitions with the privileged perspective of museum staff rather than that of Indigenous people. Through a case study on four museums across North America, Carr-Locke suggests that museums could address this problem by using first-person narration by the specific Indigenous community members they work with through the exhibition and hiring more Indigenous staff to make sure the voice has the right representation.

Using the case of the National Museum of the American Indian, Carr-Locke emphasized the value of the presence of Native voices. This can be demonstrated by using first-person quotations and the use of Aboriginal language, like in this title in the exhibition: “Niitsitapiisini: Our Way of Life”.

Indigenous Art, Royal BC Museum (source) 

Language is considered an important part of culture since it carries all the stories and traditions, which have no equivalent in any other language. The exhibitions where languages are treated the same as an ancient artifact might not be helpful for Indigenous culture revitalization. While language documentation provides the necessary resources for language revitalization, the two should not be considered the same, as the latter requires the engagement of both researchers and potential speakers.

The exhibition “Our Living Languages” at the Royal BC Museum was a good example of language education at museums. “Our Living Languages” not only displayed 34 Indigenous languages spoken in British Columbia and the history they connected with but also introduced an online learning portal that transformed visitors into learners. The website continued to be available and was updated regularly even after the exhibition ended in 2017. 

Royal BC Museum (source)

Traditionally, language education is the responsibility of schools and community centres. However, museums have the advantage of reaching a larger range of audiences and can become a complement to other institutions. In Lucy and Lola, a children's book for Indigenous culture education, the 11-year-old twin sisters with Snuneymuxw origin learned about their Indigenous identity by going to an exhibition about residential schools with their mother and kookum (grandmother). While the adults recalled their tragic memories by looking back at the past, they recognized it as an opportunity to reconcile and move forward. Even though the characters in the novel are fictional, many families might be longing for such an opportunity, and museums are well-positioned to offer them the chance. 

With new developments in technology, the methods in which the museum can engage in language teaching have multiplied. Aside from interactive exhibitions, online platforms and cell phone apps can also be helpful for language and culture education. In addition, museums could use Indigenous languages in exhibition descriptions or with virtual tour guides in general exhibitions. The best way to keep languages alive is to use them in daily life.

CHALLENGING HERITAGE: HOW ARTISTS ENVISION THE TERM

Heritage Moments | Carly Wolowich

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During my time writing for Heritage Moments I have been compelled to constantly contemplate the meaning of heritage. As museum professionals, our goal is to capture, conserve, and present heritage to the public in a demarcated manner, however, I have come to learn that values, culture, and traditions cannot be so easily delineated. I have found artists living in Canada and across Turtle Island to profoundly remind me of the intangible and ephemeral nature of heritage and the myriad of ways it can be presented. I thought I would share some of the artists whose work inspires me to challenge my own preconceived ideas of what heritage should look and feel like.

 

Shelley Niro, The Shirt, 2003. One of the nine durations transparencies. Source.

Growing up on the Six Nations of the Grand River Reserve, near Brantford, Ontario, Shelley Niro’s art challenges the expectations placed on Indigenous people by telling their stories and heritage from her own unique perspective. In her work, The Shirt, Niro poignantly critiques colonialism with witty souvenir T-shirt slogans. Progressing from one frame to the next, an Indigenous woman is shown to literally have her shirt taken from her back, serving as a metaphor for what Indigenous people were left with after colonialism.

Niro is profoundly aware of the commodification of Indigenous women’s image. As a Mohawk artist, Niro rejects the clichéd interpretations of Indigenous people in the media by putting those she knows and loves in her work. As Niro notes,

"It’s really about having those images out there in the public, and people seeing. It’s like breaking that barrier where people see images of Native women and it becomes more approachable". 

In The Shirt is an artist and friend of Niro, Hulleah J. Tsinhnahjinnie, and Veronica Passalacqua – Tsinhnahjinnie’s real-life wife. These women boldly challenge the stereotypes of Indigenous women that persist today.

Morris Lum, Chinese Freemasons Toronto, 2017. Source.

Morris Lum is a Mississauga-based, Trinidadian born artist whose work explores the hybrid nature of the Chinese-Canadian community through photography, installation, and documentary practices.

Over the last eight years, Lum has been searching for the clusters of Chinatown communities that have been built across Canada and the United States for the purpose of settlement and growth. In Tong Yan Gaai, he aims to focus and direct attention towards the functionality of Chinatown, and explore the generational context of how “Chinese” identity and heritage is expressed in these structural enclaves. These images are what Lum notes to be “visual records of historical and contemporary cultural fixtures” such as small mom and pop shops, Chinese restaurants, and community organizations.

 

Luther Konadu, Figure as Index, 2019. Source.

A writer and artist of Ghanaian descent based in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Luther Konadu’s reflective tangential practice touches on themes of identity and the power of voice. I find that his work critically discusses the integral yet flawed nature of presenting heritage itself.

Like heritage, personal identity is mutable. In his powerful photographic works, Konadu shows identity as a construction of groups and of the people around us. Konadu notes, “I’m always trying to make a photograph look more like a photograph, an object, as opposed to a portal into the realities of those who appear in my images”. By making the surface of his photographs more tactile is a means to “snap viewers out of the illusion of representation” and to create a tension between the real and the fictional. In his own words, “I essentially want viewers to second-guess what they’re looking at”.

Lucy Montgomery, Woodwose Series 1, 2016. Source. 

A common household object, known for its often familial and delicate nature, Lindsay Montgomery’s  ceramic artworks are simultaneously “fierce and fiery, radical and robust, and glorious and grotesque”.

As both of her grandmothers were painters, Montgomery’s artistic ancestry led to her attendance at Sheridan College to study ceramic art. Today, Montgomery’s more recent work is what she calls “neoistoriato”. Isoriatio was a popular style of pottery decoration made in Italy during the Renaissance that later proliferated in Europe from the 16th through to the 19th century. Inheriting this ancient form of art and its focus on storytelling in her own artwork, Montgomery has reframed Istoriato from a feminist perspective to talk about current issues that are going on in her life and the world.

“At the heart of everything I do is this idea of storytelling, of mining history. I look at so many different periods of art history, and my work is a collage of all these different times and places. That’s what’s exciting for me about being an artist”. 

-Lucy Montgomery 

Anique Jordan, Sixth Company Battalion, 2016. Source. 

Anique Jordan is an artist, award-winning writer, educator, curator, and entrepreneur. Her recent work thinks about working-class aesthetics, time travel, invisibility, Caribbean carnival, and Black Canadian futurities.

Jordan’s work Sixth Company Batallion is based on the history of a particular group of Black loyalists, who became freed people of colour, in the twin islands of Trinidad and Tobago of which her family descends. According to Jordan, “I dramatize and materialize this history as a meditation on survival and an exploration on the ways in which the unacknowledged histories of the past haunt and possess present day life in incredibly complex ways”. Featuring images of her mother and two of her five aunts poised as soldiers in uniforms from the war, the images offer a “de‐colonial, gendered incursion in the archives of Canadian, Caribbean and familial history”.


To represent heritage in museum spaces can be daunting for those of us entering into the museum field. However, these artists affirm the importance of remembering the histories that have created the spaces and communities we live in today. I have come to realize that presenting heritage requires that in which museums require most; reciprocal sharing and intent listening.

What challenges your perceptions of heritage? Please feel free to comment below! 

ANCIENT DNA: A LINK TO THE PAST

Breaking the Glass Case | Alexandra Forand 

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It would not be a stretch for me to say that one of museums’ major roles is to illuminate human history. Many museums do this by using timelines or installing a linear progression through exhibits. The first thing audiences see when entering The Canadian Museum for Human Rights (CMHR) is the massive, multimedia timeline with 100 points in history. While the CMHR’s timeline spans the globe there are timelines that focus on a particular topic, such as a place, a phenomenon, or a certain group of people. For instance, the Royal Saskatchewan Museum (RSM) First Nations Gallery traces the history of the first peoples in Saskatchewan, starting nearly 6,000 years ago to present day.

The CMHR's gallery with the timeline on the left (Source).

The timeline that is present the RSM shows a direct link between the people who were present 6,000 years ago to the people present on the land today. With the employment of science when conducting historical and archeological research, especially the study of DNA pulled from ancient humans (known as aDNA), this idea has become doubly enforced. You see, aDNA promotes a different kind of timeline.

The study of, understanding, and potential for ancient DNA has rapidly advanced, providing important insights into a range of biological, historical, and social questions. The study of aDNA has illuminated many answers to questions such as disease, migration patterns, impacts of European colonization and much more, it isn’t without its controversies—namely the ethical issues of collecting human genetic material of the past. 

A hotly debated topic amongst scientists is the peopling of North America, a question aDNA could potentially answer (Source). 

There have been numerous instances reported where scientists have used samples without permission, disregarded customs of communities, and resisted obtaining any form of consent from the people involved in studies (in some cases, these people were involved involuntarily). In 2013, Ian Mosby, an assistant professor at Ryerson, revealed that a number of highly unethical nutritional experiments were performed on children at six residential schools between 1942 and 1952. In turn, Indigenous communities have had to become sceptical of any sort of scientific and social testing to protect themselves, communities, and autonomy.

Ripan Malhi, a molecular anthropologist at the University of Illinois, is part of an effort to change this relationship. In 2011, Malhi helped found the Summer Internship for Indigenous Peoples in Genomics (SING), a weeklong program funded by the National Institute of Health and the National Science Foundation (NSF). The program both aims to train indigenous scientists, but also so bring their much needed perspective to the research. In 2018, SING faculty and alumni publishes ethical guidelines for genomics studies, which call for community engagement, pose questions to tackle, and protocols on how to handle samples and data. You will notice these protocols are very much focused on the present communities and the future of genomics research. But, what about the science of the past? The ethical concerns of research are often not applied to aDNA studies, even though they have implications rooted in the present.

But this is changing.

In October of 2019, the National Science Foundation has awarded 350, 882$ to a collaborative team from the University of Connecticut, The Denver Museum of Nature and and independent scholars across the United States, Europe and Canada. 

(Source.)

“In many cases, aDNA studies continue to fall in a gray area of ethical oversight, despite greater awareness by researchers of the potential pitfalls,” says Deborah Bolnick, associate professor of anthropology at UConn. “With this project, we will include Indigenous leaders in the conversation alongside researchers to attempt to build an ethical framework that encourages positive, collaborative relationships between scientists and Indigenous communities.”

The team hopes to develop resources to enable informed decision making for researchers and indigenous communities in North America.
Both this project and SING inform how research is being done with, for, and by Indigenous communities pertaining to tracing history through DNA. The significance of these interventions cannot be over stated and affect the way the general public understands certain histories of Indigenous communities.

What are your thoughts? I really want to know! Leave a comment or if Twitter and Instagram are more your speed my handle on both is @Ally_but_online.

THIS ARTICLE DOES NOT HAVE A TITLE

Breaking the Glass Case | Alexandra Forand
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Titles. We would all agree are important. It is important to keep in mind titles, like the institutions they reside in, are not neutral. Titles are often given to pieces of artwork after the piece of artwork has come into a collection—not by an artist, but by that institution or a previous one. The name given to the piece of artwork, is then perpetuated throughout the showing of this piece and becomes the “accepted” title.

Photo courtesy of Carly Wolowich.

This phenomenon is often heightened when discussing collections of Indigenous artwork. The title that is given to the painting or an object is endemic of the time period and reflects the colonial language of when it entered a collection.

Art galleries do not exist within isolation and museum professionals are shining a light on these objects that were titled in the past and tackling the process of trying to change them for the present audiences. In a post Truth and Reconciliation commission world, institutions are working hard to involve Indigenous communities that are affected by the harmful language of the past. The Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) and the National Gallery of Canada (NGC) are slowly implementing the 94 calls to action outlined in the TRC executive summary, and making changes not only to how artwork is displayed, but what these works are called based on consultation

In 1920, while tilling his field in the Fraser Valley, Arvo Skytte found an object that resembled a bowl under a Douglas fir tree. The “Skytte Bowl,” as the object was called at the time was donated to the Museum of Vancouver and was eventually transferred to the National Gallery of Canada (NGC). According to Jaime Koeble Morris (Michif) the curators at the NGC sought to break the cycle of treating Indigenous artworks as nameless, unimportant anthropological specimens. The NGC established two Indigenous Advisory Committees to counsel the institution on how to respectfully collect new artwork, how to best display, and how to care for artwork already in the NGC’s collection. As per the committee’s recommendation the NGC performed welcoming ceremonies.

Qelemteleq at the NGC. Every night the curator covers his case with a blanket so he can rest. Source.

In 2016, the “Skytte Bowl” was officially welcomed into the NGC’s collection. With consultation from the Katzie and Kwantlen First Nations of the Fraser Valley in British Columbia the “Skytte Bowl” was renamed “Qelemteleq,” and the digital records and labels regarding “Qelemteleq” were updated to reflect that he was not a bowl, but a seated stone figure with a living spirit.

In 1929, Emily Carr travelled up the west coast of Vancouver Island by steamer to Yuquot, the territory of the Nuu-chah-nulth people. It was there, in a summer village of the Mowachaht/Muchalaht people, where Carr painted an old white, windowless church, standing starkly against the background of rich green foliage In the 1930’s, the painting was shown extensively in American art galleries and dubbed “I*dian Church.” In 1970, Charles Shaw Band bequeathed “I*dian Church,” to the AGO, where it has since resided on and off of display for many years. Emily Carr’s painting currently hangs on the wall of the AGO is Gallery 126 Richard Barry Fudger Rotunda. Despite being surrounded by equally striking works, this painting has received immense attention from artists, museums professionals, and the international media. In May of 2018, the Art Gallery of Ontario, as part of their broader effort to eliminate offensive language in the museum, Carr’s painting, which up until this point had been known as “I*dian Church” was retitled “Church in Yuquot Village.”

The infamous, Church at Yuquot Village by Emily Carr, at the AGO. Source.

The discussion around this retitling effort has mainly focused on the idea of whether this is an act of the institution’s corrective art history practises or if it is the AGO’s attempt to censor and erase history. While this discussion is timely and merited, I believe it is more productive to explore how this change in the title of the painting by the AGO came about.

The village where Emily Carr painted the church. Friendly Cove, British Columbia. Source.

The AGO’s decision to consult the Mowachaht/Muchalaht community is a landmark event. By changing the name of Carr’s painting and removing the word “I*dian,” the AGO they are no longer going to be a part of propagating the hate of the word “I*dian thereby, connecting the Mowachaht/Muchalaht community to Ontario and placing them in the middle of the conversation.

Changing the name of artwork has not been done without criticism from audience, scholars, and artistic professionals, who make the argument that this is censorship at best, and erasure of history at worst. I argue that this decision to retitle offensive artwork is necessary as a larger act of reconciliation. This decision to consult Katzie, Kwantlen, and Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nations is powerful because it works to restore the communities’ roles in the creation of the item, the institution, and within the tradition of the visual arts.

What are your thoughts? I really want to know! Leave a comment or if Twitter and Instagram are more your speed my handle on both is @Ally_but_online.

NEW COLUMN ALERT: BREAKING DOWN "BREAKING THE GLASS CASE"

Breaking the Glass Case | Alexandra Forand

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Aniin, tansi, and hello! Welcome to the inaugural blog post of “Breaking the Glass Case.” I should mention that I am not originally from Toronto, but hail from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. When I first arrived in Toronto (like a true museum studies student) I went to the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM). The first gallery I visited was the Daphne Cockwell Gallery Dedicated to the First Peoples Art and Culture, mostly because it is free (like a true broke graduate student). As I walked the airy open hall I noticed the glass cases filled with Indigenous artifacts.

Daphne Cockwell Gallery Dedicated to the First Peoples Art and Culture on a Friday afternoon. Photo courtesy of Alexandra Forand 

Some of these objects were contemporary such as the Jane Ash Poitras paintings, others were older and more sacred such as the regalia of different Indigenous communities across Canada. One particular case jumped out at me right away. This case was entitled “Living Cultures,” and this specific case is concerned with telling the stories of Indigenous people today. At the far end of the case there is the Mohawk Family Life Group Diorama.

This diorama was created by Ulrich Dunbar and installed in the ROM in 1917. While this diorama was meant to showcase domestic activities it omits spiritual and intellectual life, presents a static picture of Mohawk life, and gives viewers a “cringeworthy” image of Indigenous people.

Picture of the original Mohawk Family Life Group Diorama. Photo Courtesy of Alexandra Forand. 

When the Daphne Cockwell Gallery reopened in 2017 the Mohawk Family Life diorama had undergone a renovation. The stone tools were replaced with modern technology such as iPods, power drills, and camera. The most notable intervention is the Great Seal of the Haudenosaunee which represents forms of Iroquoian government and social organization.

Update version of the Mohawk Family Life Group Diorama. Photo Courtesy of Alexandra Forand. 

The diorama is surrounded by a large wooden frame, which has a small golden plaque that says:

“You have a phrase called “Golden Age.” We do not want to be depicted the way we were, when we were first discovered in our homeland in North America. We do not want museums to continue to present us as something from the past. We believe we are very, very much here now, and we are going to be very important in the future.”
-- Georges Erasmus, Chief Assembly of First Nations, 1992

What do you guys think? Does the newly made over diorama represent modern Indigenous life? Or is the diorama another example of mishandled history? If it were up to you, what would you have done differently?

Senator Murray Sinclair said “reconciliation is not a spectator sport,” and I hope this blog can create a dialogue about the role of cultural heritage organizations and their participation in reconciliation. Beyond that, I want to hear from you, the readers, about what steps you see that are being taken (or you are taking) in the spirit of reconciliation. I want to learn from you, because I am in no means an expert on this topic and also journeying on this path of learning, understanding, and reconciliation. Please do not hesitate to contact me at allyforand@gmail.com or if twitter and instagram is more your speed my handle is @Ally_but_online. 

Breaking the Glass Case: Recent publications, such as the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People (2007) and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada Calls to Actions (2015), ask cultural heritage organizations to participate in national reconciliation and public education. These actions join the long history of indigenous people requests to redefine their place in cultural heritage organizations. This column is dedicated to exploring the history, development, and relationships between indigenous individuals, communities, and cultural heritage organizations.

MORE THAN CLOTHES

Sew What | Rachel Dice

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Guislaine Lemay and Jordan Fee standing at the entrance to
Wearing Our Identity, photo courtesy of Laetitia Dandavino-Tardif.

A view of the exhibition, including a man's caribou coat
made, unusually, with winter fur. Photo courtesy of
Laetitia Dandavino-Tardif.

At the beginning of November, MUSSA organized a student trip to Montreal, which was written about by Laetitia Dandavino-Tardif this past Friday in her post ALLONS À MONTRÉAL: MUSEUM STUDIES FIELD TRIP. On this trip we were able to visit an alarming number of museums in pretty much three days (five museum visits for most of us, and six for a determined few). A specific exhibition stood out among the rest and has become a source of inspiration for my own work with textiles. 

The exhibit, titled Wearing Our Identity—The First Peoples Collection, is currently on display at the McCord Museum in Montreal. It is a permanent exhibition with a little twist—the objects on display switch out every two years in a pre-planned pattern. The main focus of the exhibition is to encourage the public to “explore the complex heritage of the First Peoples of Canada and learn more about how their dress has helped define their rich cultures and identities” (source). In a nutshell, Wearing Our Identity aims to show how Indigenous culture is  intrinsically linked with clothing and aesthetic representation.

Guislaine Lemay leads a group through her exhibit, including
Dr. Cara Krmpotich, Director of the Museum Studies program.
Photo courtesy of Laetitia Dandavino-Tardif.

The exhibition was co-curated by Guislaine Lemay, McCord’s resident curator for the Indigenous Cultures collection, and a dedicated team of Indigenous peoples who worked closely with Lemay to ensure accuracy in content as well as design. It was Guislaine Lemay herself who took our group on a guided tour of the exhibition.

Going into this exhibition, I was fascinated by the layout and the different styles of garments on display. One of my favourite pieces was a little girl’s parka, made of caribou fur and sinew from the early twentieth century. We were told that the parka showed it belonged to a little girl who had not yet reached the age of puberty. We were also told that the furs were sewn in a special way so that every layer did not have stitching holes inside, therefore making it warmer and more waterproof. The style of the parka and the stitching technique were specific to the Inuit Inuinnaq, and all of this contributed to the parka’s role in the identity of the wearer.

Clothing itself plays an extremely important role in our lives. The way we dress and choose to represent ourselves is a deliberate action we take, from buying the clothes, making them, or just grabbing them out of the closet. Some people even come to be known for their taste in clothes, whether they usually dress in blue polo shirts or vintage aesthetics with a modern twist. These clothing choices become part of their identity, influencing the way they see themselves and the way we see each other.

A display of moccasins made with different
styles depending on the cultural and regional
group. Photo courtesy of Laetitia Dandavino-Tardif.

Now, imagine that you couldn’t wear your favourite sweater. Imagine that those earrings your grandmother gave you were banned, even though you tried to wear them as often as possible. Imagine being forced to wear clothes that were selected for you by strangers, clothes that were strange, outlandish, and even just dreadfully boring. You would hardly feel like yourself, and perhaps if it went on long enough, you’d forget who you were to begin with. This is another important part of Wearing Our Identity. The exhibition addresses the cultural importance of clothing for Indigenous peoples, while also looking at points in Canadian history where their clothing was banned, appropriated, and even turned into marketing gimmicks.

So the next time you reach into your closet for that outfit that boosts your confidence or makes you feel invincible, remember that our country hasn’t always let others have that same choice. No identity deserves to be repressed through clothing. Remember, it’s more than just clothes.

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For the curious ones, here's some further reading:

The Press Release for the Exhibition Opening

The Press Release for the Exhibition Catalogue

The Texts Used in Wearing Our Identity

UNIVERSAL COMPLICITY

GHOSTS OF TORONTO'S PAST

BY: KATIE PAOLOZZA

In my last post, I worked around a central idea that colonial cultures, specifically North American cultures of colonial descent, have a systemic problem of willfully dismissing Indigenous history. This has been done in a variety of ways. 

Source: This blog post from 2013 protests people of non-Native origins dressing in Redface for Halloween. 

There is willful forgetting, like I discussed in my last post. There is also generational disassociation; for example, when people get personally defensive and uncomfortable with acknowledging the brutal reality of history, and are quick to remind everyone that they are not responsible for the sins of their ancestors. That attitude is problematic for lots of reasons, and perpetuates a harmful status quo, but what frightens me more is apathy. This also tends to trickle down from authority figures in positions of power to regular citizens in Toronto. I think sometimes in school we take for granted that people are liberal-leaning and do not have personal reasons to deny history or stay submerged in outdated cultural views. Ride the TTC without headphones sometime; there is a lot of hate and aggression floating around.  

People who are well-meaning yet ignorant might gradually become more woke as they are exposed to more cultures and intelligent conversations about race. People who are already educated and apathetic are much more dangerous. They employ a different kind of silencing technique. They don't shut down activists outright, and they don't publicly block out Indigenous voices. They listen, they genuinely understand, they make small immediate reparations with the promise of more to come, then they disappear and take the media coverage with them. 

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau has been accused of the latter many times, most recently this February when he spoke to the House of Commons regarding changes to the Constitution that would officially recognize and define the rights of First Nations.

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I have no idea how much the prime minister personally cares about Indigenous rights. It's intrinsically debatable because any politician in the world that has risen to that level is far too entrenched in political strategy. It almost goes without saying that there is a disconnect between what is said, what is promised, and what actually happens. It's usually only the most conscientious, clear-minded people who are able to follow the path of bureaucratic and political procedures and test the veracity and legitimacy of the federal government as an entity. That's assuming, of course, that there was a tangible result to begin with.

We've all witnessed spikes in social awareness that seemingly spur positive change, only to then watch these issues disappear back into the ether and periodically re-emerge with no real progression. Every single Halloween there is a celebrity that dresses in Redface, followed by debates about how Redface is just as offensive as Blackface. It's a cyclical debate that never seems to get resolved, as both offensive costumes persist year after year. This happens all over Toronto as well, often without any awareness of how ironic it is: literally all of Toronto is stolen land. All of it.

Hilary Duff and then boyfriend Jason Walsh apologized in 2016 over this ill-conceived couples costume, but public relations damage control has also reached the point of saturation:

This controversial costume employed Redface and mocked abusive power dynamics between Native Americans and Pilgrims. Source.

There are countless yearly articles like this one that are photographic retrospectives and listicles counting down the most egregious celebrity costume offenses over the years, and many more articles that consistently spell out why any sort of cultural appropriation is wrong. North Americans also have a thriving tradition of dressing in Redface for sporting events or other unrelated cultural celebrations:

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Tina Fey and the writers of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt have openly discussed the cultural appropriation of Native Americans with questionable success, but with nowhere near the intelligence or sensitivity of older literary works that explore the same concept; like Nella Larsen's Passing. And much like offensive costumes or political rhetoric, the issue becomes an unnecessarily complicated debate. Reparations and restitution for First Nations and Native Americans is a clear moral imperative, so why do we struggle so much with defining the right course of action and implementing it? There are homeless First Nations People all over Toronto, and despite this horrific irony and the sheer visibility of the cracks in our system, there is still very little that is done on municipal, provincial, and federal levels to protect Indigenous rights and actually implement positive changes. I live near government buildings in Midtown, and for much of 2017 First Nations groups set up and enacted peaceful protests regarding Indigenous rights at Yonge and St. Clair, only to have the protest fade over months of indifference from the government and people passing by. There were also huge protests in Toronto recently regarding the Tina Fontaine verdict, and yet again it seemed like those in power were not giving much more than condescension. Some people obviously care, just not the right people.

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It's no accident or coincidence that people who choose to perpetuate cultural genocide have a bevy of legal and societal precedents to protect themselves. Even if Prime Minister Trudeau devotes his every waking moment to a universally accepted plan for reparations, he still has to navigate and apologize for systemic roadblocks that predate literally everyone. There are always people that will stand on the shoulders of historical bigots for their own self-serving interests. People like Donald Trump do not come from nowhere; they come from a long line of malicious entitlement. White colonists did not need to steal all of Toronto from the Mississaugas, nor did they need to spend the next two centuries trying to systematically destroy a culture they once relied on, but they too relied on historical precedence and apathy. 

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Those who would silence the disenfranchised rely on our apathy and complicity. They also rely on the saturation of other atrocities. We can't donate time or money to every cause, and we can't spend every waking moment taking in and appreciating every tragedy that we see because there is simply too much ugliness in the world, and that's what the silencers routinely exploit. 

But we don't have to play along. It's more than possible to incorporate respect and sensitivity into our everyday routines. We do not have to repeat toxic patterns or let ourselves get confused by silver-tongued opportunists. No one can change that we live on stolen land. Yes, it was stolen generations before us, but we must keep our awareness of this fact conscious in our minds and hearts, because not only do we live on stolen land, but we also live with the people it was stolen from. First Nations people are our colleagues and friends, and they deserve our respect. More importantly they deserve a voice, and fair representation in all levels of politics.

There simply aren't enough powerful people that are listening. I speak from pragmatism and not cynicism when I say this. Because there are so many problems built right into Toronto's infrastructure, any equitable solution will be painful on all sides. I still say it's worth it. It may be difficult to predict the future but we can always retrace our steps in history and learn from the past. Right is right and wrong is wrong, and it's all right there in the pages.  

DON'T FORGET TO REMEMBER

GHOSTS OF TORONTO'S PAST

BY: KATIE PAOLOZZA

This is the first in a short series of blog entries that attempts to explore the Indigenous history of Toronto. I'm very excited to shift the focus from a post-colonial, post-modern bias to a narrative that is more inclusive of Indigenous Peoples. More importantly I want to question our notions of home and identity, and how fragile those concepts are when we remember that we live on stolen land. In this first article, I'll muse about our collective ignorance.

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How do you define yourself? More specifically, how disenchanted with your native country would you have to be to leave your nationality out of a description about yourself? I acknowledge that it's a particularly difficult question to answer as a Canadian. Canadians as a culture tend to admire modesty and an understated approach to nationalism. However, I could argue that it's equally Canadian to shrug off any sort of nationalistic, umbrella designation. 

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There is, of course, probably a middle ground that is closer to the truth. The issue is not what percentage of a traditional Canadian stereotype we happen to embody, since no one is immune to their environment, especially during their formative years. It's a difficult question for anyone living in a post-colonial environment because our homes and cultures are transparent artificial constructs. There are signs everywhere of other cultures that had deep roots in this land before British and French occupation. I couldn't count the number of times I cut through Huron Street on campus.

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TheBata Shoe Museum has these moccasins from the Wyandot people in their collection
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The Huron-Sussex neighbourhood is just one example of a historical place that has its own post-modern identity, though a large part of that identity seems to have been shaped around acknowledging its own complex history. A few years ago it was even featured in the Globe and Mail, but like a lot of charming and distinct Canadian places, it cultivated a post-colonial identity and only retained small vestiges of its Indigenous past.

Everywhere in Ontario there are places like this. I grew up east of the city in Whitby, a town that borders Lake Ontario and takes its name from a similar British port town made famous in literature as the place where Count Dracula enters England. As a child, Mississauga was nothing more than the Western equivalent of Whitby. I was wrong about that in many ways, but more importantly I had no clue how to contextualize Canada as a young country. I skated at a place called Iroquois Park, had friends who cottaged in Muskoka, classmates who went to Nipissing, and I hung out at Wasaga Beach and took family day trips to Niagara Falls, not realizing that every one of those places had Indigenous names. Many of our museums also display First Nations items on stolen land, and it is only relatively recently that they have begun to acknowledge this irony.

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Even the title of this column, "Ghost of Toronto's Past," is a throwback to a Victorian idea of the past and death. But Toronto has more than one kind of ghost. We don't have our anglicized associations with places simply because of the natural evolution of culture. We work with vestiges because that is all we have. The nations that lived here before us had their own epic successes and tragedies, and we've compounded all of those tragedies with our dismissiveness. We've willfully forgotten things worth remembering, and it's shameful. 

I've loved creating and writing this column. I'm graduating soon, and I don't want my last blog entries to be Eurocentric. Toronto's history did not begin with European contact, and despite tremendous, violent force, there are still First Peoples who live and flourish here. Please join me for the next part of this journey, and please do not hesitate to share your opinions or suggestions for the upcoming articles. We produce stronger, more honest work when we are willing to collaborate and share.