THREADS THAT BIND
Indigenous educators from around world gather in Toronto,
It’s a celebration, this conference on education, for which some 2,700 Indigenous people from around the world have gathered in Toronto.
You might notice them around the Metro Toronto Convention Centre. Or, you might not.
“There’s no ‘Made on Reserve’ stamp on our forehead,” says Dr. Verna Billy-Minnabarriet, a B.C. educator and vice-president of the Nicola Valley Institute of Technology.
Every one of the leading Indigenous educators from B.C., Hawaii, Australia and New Zealand I spoke to this week agreed: It’s insulting to say to an Indigenous person, “But you don’t look native.”
While this emerged as a footnote in an hours-long rich group discussion on how these geographically disparate groups were brought together by a common history, it tapped into a larger issue that inextricably links them together.
“Colonization is a common cancer that afflicted Indigenous people across the world,” says Bob Morgan, a professor at the University of Newcastle, Australia.
It’s easy to see how being colonized by the same people has resulted in some of the same outcomes — higher poverty, lower health indicators, suicide crises, disproportionate rates of incarceration and removal of children from families. It has also given them a common language with which to mobilize, to exchange ideas.
But riddle me this. How do people with no known connections for centuries all interpret land the same way?
“In my culture, we don’t own land. Land is a gift. And our job is to take care of that land and to ensure that that land is there for those who come behind,” Billy-Minnabarriet says. “Whereas in dominant society land is a commodity.”
“Our largest relationship is to the land,” says Dr. Noe Noe WongWilson, a native, or Kanaka Maoli, from Hawaii. “It’s not a commodity. It’s in essence an inseparable part of ourselves. If you remove a native from the land, they struggle to survive physically, spiritually, economically.”
“Our connectedness is to country and to our waters and land,” says Peter Buckskin, a professor at the University of South Australia.
The soreness about having your identity doubted is at least partly linked to this connectedness to land.
When you tell a native person they don’t look native, not only are you saying they don’t fit your stereotype of them, you’re also suggesting they are not entitled to their own land.
At one time, to qualify for Hawaiian land, you had to have 50-percent native blood. Given all the intermingling of cultures, this year, the state legislature changed the blood quantum required to inherit native lands to 1/32.
This blood logic or the idea of measurable blood purity is a colonial construct historically used to override traditional norms that defined Indigeneity. It was a tool to determine ineligibility for benefits and rights reserved for white people. Now it’s used to reduce Indigenous populations by recognizing fewer of them, to cut off access to land and undermine Indigenous sovereignty.
The solidarity of this group also springs from the struggle to be allowed to live as Indigenous people.
“Our greatest challenge is to live as Maori,” says Bentham Othia, deputy chair of the Waikato Endowed Colleges Trust in New Zealand. “The second challenge is the survival of Maori as a people.”
“We are not asking for permission,” Morgan says. “We assert our fundamental right and freedom to be Indigenous. That is our basic human right before all else.”
“The sad thing is modern society doesn’t even work for non-Indigenous people. So why do we assume it’s going to work for Indigenous people?
“And why is it that in every city I’ve visited internationally, there’s an increasing number of people living in poverty that live on the streets that are homeless that are marginalized. What type of society allows that to happen?
“In the modern world I’m shattered to see that young people are turning away from life and choosing death . . . so what type of society allows that to happen to their young?”
The natives also found a commonality in the misconceptions and stereotypes.
“We’re not happy natives in hula skirts dancing seductively around coconut palms,” Wong-Wilson says.
“We’re seen as dysfunctional,” Buckskin says. “All we’re asking for is respect and a sense of place at the table. But that’s hard to continue that agenda when you continually come from a deficit model. There’s a lack of trust that Aboriginal people can solve our own problems.”
“One thing that’s consistent is the whole attitude of being less than,” B.C.’s Billy-Minnabarriet says. “You don’t have good education, you can’t keep a good job, you don’t, you don’t, you don’t. That stereotype is consistent in the fabric of everything we do.”
“We will never surrender to injustice,” Morgan says. “The day we do, all that our forefathers fought for will mean nothing.”
It is a celebration of resilience, this conference.
“If there’s one thing that we can celebrate it is that we’ve survived,” Morgan says. “That is our greatest achievement. We always have to see ourselves as people that are of this land . . . And we’re not going away.” Shree Paradkar tackles issues of race and gender. You can follow her @shreeparadkar.