anishinaabewiziwin

all the elements that make up anishinaabe life through ojibway makwa ikawe embodiment + anishinaabe feminist lens

Month: June, 2015

red through green

bouncing. or, gliding. gently floating through lush day-after rain storm green forest my backyard, nswi waawaashkeshiwag. it’s been years since i knew your back, long and lean, muscles undulating as you move across our lands hauling life, walking for it. to trace a fingertip there. it’s been years and still you catch me off guard, take my breath away, the unexpected red of your late spring coat bouncing gliding jumping across rivers and golden rod bushes walking down trails packed through tall grasses through lush day-after rain storm green forest my backyard. the smells of excited life exploding and expiring, spent, hang in the air. a sensual muggy afternoon. a flowering bush. fresh cut grass. wild grass limp with the weight of humidity, perfume, love and brilliance. water saturated soil seeping into our pores, beneath our nails clinging to this life. i caught a glimpse of you in the forest at twilight and you took my breath away.

note: nswi waawaashkeshiwag is three deer

what works

searing sunlight cuts
through dry hot air
blowing around
rolled down windows
still, sweat.

heatwaves undulating
from black asphalt,
blurring the horizon
and yellow centre line

i offer loud music.
burning sage.
smouldering sweetgrass.

and this.

new theme for anishinaabeweziwin: resistance on the daily (cuz that’s how anishinaabeg roll)

so yesterday a nice lookin’ older electrician working on my neighbours’ apartment chatted me up in the laundry room which separates our apartments. if memory serves correct this is the same man and group of electricians that worked on updating my unit (they are doing all the buildings here i guess). anyhow, within minutes this is what i learned about my neighbour, er, i mean, him:

her apartment smells awful

so awful they had to wear fumigation masks
(which he was wearing as he was talking to me and waving his hand in front of his face)

and

she has two kids and two dogs living in there with her

i learned that the young man standing beside him also had something to say about it but presumably given his lack of skill and ease with disparaging women he was not able to speak loud enough or assertively enough for me to hear him so he got the eyebrow raise, the squinty eye and was ignored (because you know what, if you are going to enter into the glorious world of sexism and misogyny you better own your shiii young man. piss or get off the pot so the world can respond how it will.)

i also learned that i did this nice looking electrician a solid with my laundry-ing as it created a strong fresh smell allowing him to take off his fumigation mask and inhale deeply and smile at me with grateful, kind blue eyes.

made me recall the time that one white boyfriend who i loved so much told me i wasn’t like all the other indians. me made grateful that i could recognize the feeling of being constructed as ‘better than’ someone because _____; in this case, better than her because clean, hygienic, smell nice. made me shake my head because he was giving me all the grapes thinking i’d be complicit in his heteropatriarchial-hating-on-women-masculinity. made my stomach roll because the world allows him to be so sure he can run off like this and be considered wonderful….he can socialize young men standing beside him into the world of sexism and misogyny and still be considered boss.

what f*ckery.

nobody has time for this but i’m an educator and a resister by nature. i rage. my heart throbs. i hope for something different but know as one wise FB friend says, “It’s only a transformative experience if you take action; otherwise it remains a story.” (Sarah Sandy, FB, June 10, 2015)

just printed out a letter of concern to the leasing office.
cc’d the company that runs the leasing office.
cc’d the tenant, too.

naahaaw, mii sa iw for today.

Update: After hand-delivering my letter to the leasing office and talking with a leasing agent, the manage in the office read my letter. Within about an hour she came to my apartment and assured me that this behaviour was not acceptable to their company and while the electricians were not employees of the leasing company they did recognize they needed to attend to the matter immediately. She assured me that it was being addressed at that time. This was in the afternoon.

This evening I had the chance to give my letter to the tenant and chat with her about the electricians exchange with me and to update her regarding managements’ response. She thanked me and also said that our conversation shed some light on a visit she had this early this morning by the boss of the electrical company. He said that based on information he received about how she was treated by one of his employees, he had fired that person. My neighbour and I discussed this series of events and we both agreed that firing someone for disrespectful treatment is overkill. In fact, my experience with Human Resources and labour law (in Canada) suggests that there has to be some disciplinary procedures and efforts to support employees to engage in corrective behaviour. You cannot just fire somebody based on third party information. We did alot of surmising and it is not sure if the same man who talked me up about this woman is the one who was fired. She said she was confused as she had not had any negative exchanges with the electricians. This makes me wonder if someone else on site witnessed his behaviour and made a complaint or if this is altogether a different situation. All we know is that someone was fired this morning based on an account that a man had mistreated this tenant. Given I did not address this matter with the leasing office until this afternoon, there seems to have been a few incidents with this company. It’s too bad someone was fired. Disrupting someone’s livelihood is a drastic move and not one that should be taken lightly or made reactively.

words of wisdom from the land of the nacotchtank, piscataway, and delaware

“…where we’re going we’ve never been before, and it’s going to be very beautiful…”

~ Alannis Obomsawin, Abenaki, 82 years old, speaking on her film, Trick or Treaty, #NAISA2015

NOTE: The reference to the Indigenous peoples of this land comes from Margaret Noodin, “Ditiba’oode Aabiskose Anishinaabemowin: Experiences in Language Revitalization from Translation to Code” (Introduction to panel). Today this place is popularly known as Washington, D.C..

reconciliation

my fb newsfeed has been on fire with postings about the truth and reconciliation closing ceremonies in ottawa. most of those postings espouse the air of reconciliation. only a few postings are in the spirit of windigokahn–the contrary– infusing this popular postionality with perspectives or truths that counter the popular idea of reconciliation.

the trc or reconciliation talk does not resonate with everybody.

as i’ve learned through some who have bore witness to trc events or news articles, some people have been further harmed by the trc process (e.g. re-telling their dibaajimowad–personal story; windigo lawyers, etc.) or do not agree with reconciliation.

i respect the hope and inspiration that comes with the idea of reconciliation. i get it, wholly. i see and feel the spirit that comes from sharing an ideology of reconciliation. i would not speak against that or act against people who have their spirit, their thinking, their hopes, and/or their analysis of their world; that is not for me to speak against or criticize. in fact, i see the hope and tempered affinity for reconciliation and i want to jump in and be a part of it.

i see the logic in it. reconciliation makes good sense, for gawd sakes.

however, call me skeptical, jaded, cynical or pessimistic; call me tempered, justifiably hesitant, or astute. call me wrong. call me whatever you want but as much as i respect the spirit of what is happening, and the practice of it in walking and marching, and as much as i can get the logic of it, personally, reconciliation discourse makes me feel pissy and harpy and re-traumatized. indigenous peoples in the northern part of turtle island (i.e. canada) have nothing to reconcile with canada. i tense up at the implied expectation that reconciliation seems to require our participation in more ways than answering the question: what do we settlers/government have to do to reconcile what we have done and continue to do to Indigenous people and nations and lands?

for me, there is no ‘we’re in this together’ until all of us is living on the streets or getting sores on our bodies due to feces in the water or being incarcerated at the same rates or all living on 15,000 a year or less. there is no ‘we’re all equal’ until all or our children have education that fits our needs, have access to fresh healthy foods and water, have resources to experience the world as we desire, wear what we want, access art and culture as we see fit, have political power to influence our lives, are able to practice our spiritual responsibilities unfettered by agents of colonization or settlers inquiring what we’re doing when we’re selecting our rocks or harvesting our medicines…

fyi, my ancestors never wanted a treaty.

they were starved into it (from what i understand).

like many other indigenous Nations.

the idea that all the answers lie in treaty-to-treaty relations is a good one, logically. however, even in this case, it requires many nations to suspend the truth of their history: many of us (if not all?) did not want treaty just like some do not want land claims today. treaty talk, which is linked to reconciliation talk, is important and again logical but it does not ask, “what about those nations that were compelled to agree?”

i still don’t want a treaty for the same reasons my ancestors of around a hundred and fifty years ago likely did not want a treaty: canada, in its present formation, as in its historical formation, continues to be windigo. why would i want to have a partnership with windigo?

i don’t.

why would i want to engage in reconcilation with windigo?

i do not.

but you know what the kicker is?

personal responsibilty. so many settlers (i.e. canadians) do take personal responsibility and they/we think that if we “citizens” get along and play nice, then reconciliation will happen. while it is true that we do need to play nice with each other, governments have ways of dividing peoples to pursue their own interests.

so….

reconciliation begins with changing the nation-state and it’s objectives. it’s pretty evident that they will not change or be changed anytime soon. in the meantime, #myreconciliationincludes er, does not include kum-bay-a…anywhere. #myreconciliationincludes 34 million-ish settlers using their energy, time, resources and good intentions to compel the nation-state to honour nation-to-nation governance with Indigenous Nations AND stopping nation-state windigo-ing of our lives and lands when they see it happening. #myreconciliationincludes the time, space, and resources the one million or so of us need to practice and re-generate our Indigenous lives and nations. #myreconciliationincludes, er, does not need a ride to the polling stations where i can vote for settler politicians, particularly if not one of them knows the word decolonization or refuses to say, “Nation-to-Nation”relationship. when they start talking like this, and backing this up with evidence that is verifiable, i will make the time to go and vote. i will not need a ride when settler politicians start to speak in a way that resonates with indigeneity, as long as i have two feet and a heartbeat, i will walk.

none of this means that we can’t still be lovers, frenz, or frenemies, either, because we can. it just means we have different work to do. it also means not voting for the canadian political parties that are going to put indigenous peoples in jail for protecting our lands and waters. #my reconciliationincludes you voting for the party that is looking out for Indigenous peoples and lands and aiming to create governmental responsiblity with Indigenous Nations, not your bank account.

see? i told you. pissy, harpy and all #firedup

good things come when you learn your language. or, the best grilled cheese sandwich ever made by a mother in the history of mothers making grilled cheese sandwiches

me, walking into the livingroom, yelling: nibaakade! nibaakade!

teen, sprawled on couch, face in machine, looks up with a big smile: i’m hungry, too!

me, thrilled that she knew what i said: ho-layl just for that i’ll def make you something.

teen: really?

me: hellz, yea. good things come to those who learn their maternal ancestral languages. *proceeds to make something to eat. minutes pass.* wow. this is the best grilled cheese sandwich i’ve ever made! ever luck you. see how that works? you learn your language and good things really do happen. this is so beautiful i won’t even cut it so you can see how perfect it is.

teen: *comes to table* wow. this IS the best grilled cheese sandwich. *takes a bite* MOM! it is! look at this! *takes a bite and slowly pulls the stretchy, melted cheese away from the sandwich* it’s so good i don’t want it to ever end!

me: ah-ha! see. you keep learning your language, more of that good stuff is going to happen to you!