A thousand years ago I wrote a play titled DEAD WHITE WRITER ON THE FLOOR. In it, six familiar Native stereotypes-all created by non-Native writers- wander across the stage pondering the point of their creation. Perhaps many of these Settler writers merely wanted to, as the newly departed editor of Writer’s Union of Canada magazine WRITE, Hal Niedzviecki “explore the lives of people who aren’t like you.”
That might possibly explain Lone Ranger buddy Tonto with his inability to process personal pronouns. Or Disney’s Pocahontas with stunningly tended hair and ability to be best friends with raccoons and hummingbirds. And then there is Injun Joe from TOM SAWYER. The best thing that can be said about him is that in our time, he would be ‘known to the police”. Surprisingly, not exactly fine portrayals of First Nations individuals
In his editorial, Niedzviecki struggles to explain the logic of letting non-Native writers broaden their horizons by once again, colonizing everything that can be seen to those same horizons. I think that puts the ‘colon’ in colonize. He even advocates a metaphorical Appropriation Award. Has he forgotten this award has been around for as long as the rivers flow and the grass grows. I seem to recall authors like John Richardson (Wacousta), Michael Blake (Dances With Wolves), Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (The Song of Hiawatha), W. P. Kinsella (The Hobbema Stories), George Ryga (The Ecstacy of Rita Joe) just to name a few, being finalists for such an award.
Could it possibly be as simple as non-Native writers have run out of things to write about? How sad. I think Harlequin books is still hiring. Having resigned a mere 24 hours after his editorial came out, Niedzviecki might be interested. Well, non-Native writers had the first couple thousand years of writing anyway.
This is not an isolated event. IN the past few months, there has been an interesting burst of interest in exploring the Aboriginal voice. Personally, I find it interesting how it’s the arts that have been the front lines of this discussion.
Last week my girlfriend and I went to see the Canadian Opera Company’s production of LOUIS RIEL. At the end of the evening I found myself ruminating on the symbolism of what I saw that evening, and how in its own way reflected the state of Native/non-Native relationships. And oddly enough, it had nothing to do with the actual opera.
First of all, upon receiving our tickets, we proceeded to the excellent seats I had bought which as the custom dictates, had been ‘reserved’ for us. How indigenously appropriate. Upon arrival, we were surprised to see them already ‘settled’, by a White woman. After muttering to ourselves “not again”, we managed to gain control of what was legally and morally ours and got comfortable for the evening.
As the show started Cole Alvis, Indigenous cast member of the show and former executive director of the Indigenous Performers Arts Alliance, came out to address the audience, informing them this production was taking place on the traditional territories of the Mississaugas of the New Credit, Anishinaabe, the Haudenosaunee & the Wendat peoples. When he finished a loud voice from what sounded like an older –I assume non-Native -woman suddenly erupted from the audience saying “I didn’t understand a word you just said.” So much for the cultured, respectful reputation of opera crowds. Possibly the first case of Aboriginal opera heckling.
As Cole again explained patiently to the impatient the meaning of his acknowledgement, it occurred to me what an absolutely perfect snapshot those incidents were of the undercurrents happening in the country today, circa Canada150. And as I said, it was happening in the arts.
This production of Louis Riel has been mired in a bit of its own controversy during its recent revival. Created 50 years ago for Canada’s Centennial, an opera about a central character in the development of Metis identity was noticeable for its lack of Aboriginal representation. Director Peter Hinton tried to address that in the remount but with questionable success. Still, the presence of so many First Nation and Metis performers on stage was a political statement in itself. It also harkened back to one of Louis Riel’s most famous statements:
“My people will sleep for one hundred years and when they awake, it will be the artists who give them back their souls.” And there’s been a lot of soul searching lately, in the Native artistic community.
Both in the last week and last six months, the media has been awash in stories about controversial issues being hashed out ironically not in the arts but because of the arts. Occasionally you will see updates about the MMIW inquiry or stronger calls to action to better improve the quality of water in many Native communities. But because art is a highly visible window to the soul and what is troubling the soul, it seems to get a lot more press.
It was just last December when the Joseph Boyden affair became public resulting in a myriad of stories circling around the topic of who is Native and who can write Native stories. I was even asked my stance on the issue when I was in Mazatlan, Mexico. So the dust is still settling on that one. But personally, I have to say “Where do you stand on the JB situation?” was the most frequent question I (and I am sure many other Native writers) have been asked in a long time. Closest comparison- back in the early 1990’s, it was ‘What did you really think of ‘Dances With Wolves’? Ah, that brings back memories.
Just last week, a Toronto art gallery cancelled an art exhibit by a non-Native artist named Amanda PL, who’s work copied heavily from the style of Norval Morrisseau and other Woodland style artists. The gallery was unaware that the artist was non Native and the artist seemed unaware that she was dipping her big toe in a sea of cultural controversy. Once again its sparked a heated discussion over what is Indigenous art and what isn’t.
Many people of a non-Native background may find this reaction odd. I have heard variations of ‘Don’t people copy other people’s and culture’s artistic creations all the time’? Or ‘If I want to do a painting in a cubist style, am I infringing upon the technique of Pablo Picasso, or if I write in iambic pentameter, am I imagining myself to be an Elizabethan playwright/poet of some note?’
I was pondering this very concept recently, as I walked the streets of Dawson City. I had attended the Dawson City Film Festival, being hosted by the Klondike Institute of Art and Culture, whose acronym is pronounced ‘kayak’ oddly enough. As a First Nations person, I couldn’t help but point out that for Native people, art and culture are not separate. They are essentially the same thing. You cannot have one without the other. The art of the West Coast carver is inseparable from their heritage. Same with Inuit sculpture and Cree beading. That is why anything that infringes upon our art can be considered a direct threat to our culture. And understandably, Indigenous people react.
Some call it cultural appropriation. WE call it cultural preservation. I seriously don’t think it’s that difficult a concept. Or maybe something is lost in the translation.
One of these days I really do have to write an “Idiot’s Guide To Native Arts”. Maybe it will be taught in all the better University Fine Art programs. And be available in opera company lobbies and writer magazines.