We Don’t Know What We Don’t Know
Chapter Three
“Nature is our history as Canadians. It’s not what you read in the books. That’s a very small portion of it, but our actual, true history is just as old, if not older, than every other country around the world. We need to embrace it.”
James Michels is an Indigenous visual storyteller – a globally celebrated creator of the unique bentwood box. For him, art is “inspiration, like music. It’s a part of your soul.”
More than that though, art is a vehicle for James to tell stories.
“It engages people instantly, and it gets them thinking. And then (once the audience is hooked) you can talk about the boring stuff and they learn it.”
James knows that for many, Canadian history – natural history – is boring. But he urges us to think again.
“I’m never better than nature. Nature can blow your mind at any moment. It’s history.”
Nature is James’ canvas and he says our history is imprinted in our forests – in the trees he uses to create bentwood boxes. And James wants his art to spark a curiosity and love for the land in others.
“A tree is just as unique as us. You can take a piece of wood, cut it in half and both those pieces will be completely different, even though it comes from the same tree. It’s got earth and air and water in it. It’s as organic as we are.”
You might assume James’ art and love of land stems from his cultural upbringing. But you’d be wrong.
“The art form that comes from where my bloodline is from is something that it’s taken a long time (for me to learn about) because there’s not a lot of information out there. And I don’t have relatives that really embrace it.”
It’s a sad story that isn’t unique to James.
For so many peoples across this land, cultural traditions – language, art and so much more – has been lost. And yet their cultural spirit continues to burn bright.
James grew up in the small forestry-based town of Merritt, BC where he was exposed to both the wonders of forests and the cultural traditions of west coast Indigenous nations.
“I have more knowledge of west coast Salish and Haida (art) than I do with Cree. My bloodline comes from the Red River Valley.”
James says that learning about different art and storytelling styles is, in many ways, a journey of understanding different cultures and history. He believes the process of discovery has made him a better artist and a better citizen.
“It kind of finds you almost. You go and look for it, you can’t really find it. And all of a sudden, one day, ‘Hey, wow! Look at this.’”
And by making Coast Salish bentwood boxes his own, he hopes to not just honour the work and cultures of Indigenous nations other than his own, but continue to find the inspiration needed to learn more about his own lost heritage.
“It’s great because I’ll often find that the road is always better than the destination. So, if it takes a lifetime to discover this, it’s going to be worth it.”
Which is an important lesson. But so too is this: Not everyone agrees we should emulate and celebrate other cultures by making their traditions – their art and stories – our own.
It’s a heated and contentious debate – especially in media and the creative industry. From music and writing to hockey masks, the examples are numerous. So too are the opinions – some arguing the debate has gone too far and some arguing we need it to go further.
However, just because it’s a difficult conversation, doesn’t mean we should shy away from it, argues former Alberta cabinet minister, Donna Kennedy-Glans.
“The whole issue of cultural appropriation, the issue of whose decision is this to make? I think it is one of the most profound conversations we still need to have (as a country).”
Art innovator Jerry McGrath explains the issue this way:
“Just because I experience something in a particular way, doesn’t mean that someone else with a very different life than me will experience it similarly. And so, if we’re always paying attention to how people are experiencing a moment, or a story, or an opportunity, that allows us to bring what’s best in them into that.”
That means, obviously, allowing people to speak for themselves – not super-imposing our views on others. That should make sense to everyone. But it gets more complicated in art – where the line between appreciation and appropriation is less clear – as well as in the political discourse, where cultural appropriation has been used to silence debate, according to Donna Kennedy-Glans. The issue is what let Donna to launching the blog Beyond Polarity.
“The first issue we dove into was cultural appropriation. And, actually, it was a trigger issue for me. I work with a lot of First Nations directly and I have for decades. So, for people to say, ‘Oh, my goodness. You should feel shame for your relationship with the First Nations’. Well, I’m a student of history, I understand that statement. And to some degree, I feel some shame, but I also feel joy, and I feel hope, and I feel responsibility and I feel positive. And (the cultural appropriation debate) is, like, just take all those feelings and just flush them because right now it’s about shame and that’s all we want to talk about.”
Donna continues, “So, I reacted to that, and that was actually the genesis for the very first blog. It was a polite blog, and it wasn’t in-your-face, although it did offend people at the time. It was just saying there must be another way through this because this (debate) is limiting.”
How limiting? Donna adds it’s “to the point where we actually almost have stalemates because we can’t get anything done.”
She’s referencing stories like the one we shared earlier in this lesson. And Donna’s not wrong in saying Canada does seem to be at a stalemate – culturally and politically.
This is the challenge: Who can or should speak for whom? What’s the line between good citizenship and thoughtful appreciation, and oppression and appropriation? Do we all deserve a voice in debates that impact more than one community or should communities have the final say – on politics or on art even? And what happens when there’s divides within a community?
We asked Nikki Sanchez for her take on the last point.
“I think that’s a place where I really invite people to use their own logic and to really be critically minded and look at our current economic system in terms of access to resources, economic growth and environmental carrying capacity. And, so, there’s a difference between our elders and our olders. And our olders aren’t always right, and our elders have been chosen because they’ve shown a lifetime of wisdom.”
Nikki Sanchez is also an Indigenous storyteller. And she believes this debate is clear-cut.
“I understand that some people are operating under a certain global perspective about sustained economic growth and continued resource extraction, but when we look at the nuts and bolts of it, those things are just no longer sustainable in our current global reality and so that no longer becomes a cultural issue, it becomes a very practical issue of what we can and cannot sustain.”
Nikki, however, is equally critical of the environmental movement.
“The failures that we’ve seen in the environmental movement over the last 50 years have essentially been because it’s refused to do the work in bridging social and environmental issues.”
For all of these reasons, to find a way forward – to move past stalemates – Nikki believes we need storytelling more than ever.
“I think the best way to call people into knowledge, and into action, and really mobilize people from their hearts and from their minds is through story.”
Nikki traces her cultural roots to the Pipil/Mayan people of Central America.
“Not so much that I look at it in a way that I’ve been informed, but just the central paradigm that I’ve used.”
And she’s used her cultural perspective to tell the stories of Indigenous nations around the world, but most especially here at home in Canada – whether they’re popular or not; whether there’s an audience of not.
“If something really moves me and I believe it’s an important story to tell, I don’t think about whether or not there’s an audience. I find a way to make it a captivating and urgent story, and then I push it forward in that way.”
Nikki believes, now more than ever, we need to find our inner storyteller and tell the stories that matter to us on the platforms that resonate with us.
“I really believe that the best thing you can do is to tell stories in the way you want to tell them. Find a medium to share them with the world and follow your own rules. Because nothing that exists right now is going to stay the same for very long and so you can be the one to lead a new platform of storytelling.”
Why does that matter? Because Nikki believes there are still stories that aren’t being told and need to be heard.
There is a caveat, however.
“With the successful resistance movements that are happening, one of the aspects of the stories that aren’t being told well is how allyship allows for that to happen. If relationships are respectful and decolonized and led by the Indigenous communities, allyship is essential.”
Libby Garg is a member of the Okanagan Nation and is an entrepreneur who believes storytelling does have the power to move us forward as a society. But she has a different perspective than Nikki, arguing that some forms of allyship are used to silence political debate, creating winners and losers within communities and between nations. Libby says she understands why this happens.
“There’s a general trend toward thinking about Indigenous communities with a pan Indigenous mindset. That’s flawed because each different community is very tied to the geography that they come from, and the history of that geography.”
Libby believes when we take stances of solidarity with one particular perspective within one community – or a group of communities – we ultimately reinforce the very hegemony that those fighting cultural appropriation seek to prevent.
“There is no such thing in Canada as an Indigenous people. It’s very easy to talk about Indigenous people in this way, because it’s what can be communicated in 240 characters.”
And that’s the issue, says Libby. We need to choose nuance and hard realities over generalities and political convenience.
“Talking about Indigenous peoples in a pan-Indigenous way is convenient. It’s a very easy way to talk about (issues facing Indigenous nations). So, I understand why the conversation ends up going there. But Indigenous communities themselves are very unique and they come with their own unique history.”
That shouldn’t be a controversial thought, but it’s become an increasingly polarized conversation in our society, explains pollster Shachi Kurl.
“You cannot have a conversation about immigration levels – (you cannot ask) are we really bringing in the correct number or the correct class, in terms of job skills, education, etc. – without people sort of questioning whether you’re truly a Canadian, or whether you’re a racist. We have to get away from that. But the finger wag on all sides is very, very quick to come out now.”
And when that happens? We shy away from asking the better questions; we shy away from complexity.
But Libby Garg says it’s a challenge we must embrace.
“People often have an aversion to things that – and I throw myself into the mix, as well –make them feel uncomfortable. However, I think there’s a very important role for (being uncomfortable) in the development of an individual.”
True. But being uncomfortable also can help develop better storytellers, better artists. And it can help propel forward a nation stuck, facing numerous challenges where economics, justice, the environment and culture meet.