The cultural times, they are a- changin’
Wearing headdresses and war paint insults heritage of aboriginal people
In a summer that’s already seen the mass takedown of the Confederate battle flag, another North American symbol mired in controversy is now being removed en masse: the aboriginal battle headdress.
This week, the Edmonton Folk Festival joined three Quebec music festivals in banning First Nations headdresses worn as “a fashion accessory,” rather than for ceremonial purposes.
“Such headdresses have a sacred, cultural meaning and we ask that you respect and honour that by not using them,” read a Facebook post by Edmonton organizers.
It added, “these items will be confiscated by festival security.”
Earlier, the Osheaga, Heavy Montreal and Ile- Sonic festivals similarly announced “First Nations Headdresses are not permitted.”
Wednesday, the Calgary and Winnipeg Folk Festivals said that, while they wouldn’t ban the practice, they were officially asking patrons to stop.
“We don’t have a policy banning any type of attire for people,” said Debbi Salmonsen, executive director of the Calgary festival.
She added she trusted the festival’s “inclusive, diverse and intelligent” crowd not to wear anything offensive.
Much like cut- off shorts and hippie headbands, native headdresses had until recently become a ubiquitous accessory at outdoor summer music festivals.
Most notably, feathered headdresses are informally considered part of the official “uniform” of Coachella, a massive Southern California music festival.
Worn by native groups on the Canadian Prairies and the American Plains, headdresses — or “war bonnets”— have strict ceremonial meanings, similar to the Sikh turban or the peaked mitres worn by senior Roman Catholic clergy.
“These items cannot be legitimately possessed or imitated by just anyone, as they represent achievements earned according to a specific criteria,” reads a widely circulated blog post by Chelsea Vowel, a writer from the Plains Cree community of Lac Ste. Anne.
Vowel compared wearing the headgear to flaunting unearned military medals or displaying a fake medical degree.
It’s this aspect of headdresses that makes them different from moccasins, mukluks or Cowichan sweaters, which typically aren’t seen as offensive when worn casually by non- aboriginals.
In recent years, efforts to banish wearing of the headdresses at music festivals has been spearheaded by A Tribe Called Red, an Ottawabased electronic group whose works blend in traditional First Nations music.
In 2013, group member Ian Campeau, a member of the Nipissing First Nation, told the CBC that, at festivals, they often faced crowds filled with white people dressed up in face paint and headdresses.
“Please stop wearing headdresses and war paint. It’s insulting,” the group wrote in a Twitter message at the time.
More recently, the Winnipeg Folk Festival found itself the target of an Internet shaming campaign after a woman was seen in the crowd wearing a war bonnet and full face paint.
In a statement this week, Winnipeg Folk Festival officials said next year, they’ll “certainly be asking patrons to not wear headdresses.”
With music festivals across North America now under pressure to enact Edmonton- style headdress bans, the campaign is similar to last month’s drive against exhibition of the Confederate battle flag.
Only days after nine people were killed in a racially motivated shooting in Charleston, S. C., public pressure prompted Sears, Walmart, Amazon and eBay to suspend sales of the flag, which is closely associated with both the white supremacist KKK and the slaveholding Confederate States of America.
Headdresses aren’t the only item of headgear that have been attracting Canadian outrage of late.
Last week, Alberta Premier Rachel Notley was accused of forsaking the province’s rural heritage when she accidentally wore a backward cowboy hat to a meeting with Prime Minister Stephen Harper.
“When it comes to events like these that are specific to rural Alberta and celebrating our heritage, it’s just stunning that her or her assistants overlooked something like this,” rural- raised Albertan Keean Bexte told Postmedia.