Week 4: Indigenous Knowledge

One of the main reasons I went back to school was to find my voice as an Indigenous woman who thinks critically, feels connected to the land, and wants better for my family, my community, and my nation. My first foray into academia was supported by a 4 year minority photojournalism scholarship sponsored by the Buffalo News. I remember the day I had to sit for an interview with Agnes Palazetti, the News' journalist who covered most Indigenous content (although she herself was Italian!) Agnes kept focusing on my minority status as an Indigenous person. At the time I felt so disconnected with the concept of my own Indigeneity that I barely mentioned it in my scholarship application or two in-person interviews during the scholarship competition. Instead, I focused on my marginalized status as a woman. Each question she posed that redirected me to answer some question about my Indigenous identity was deflected. It wasn't until I started my Women's Studies program courses that I realized that I was the poster child for a new term- "Intersectionality."

During my time in Women's Studies my mind and heart opened for the first time to the idea that I had experienced marginalization. Pedagogues like Paulo Friere became my heroes because they shed light on an invisible framework, colonialism, which impacted my and my family's ability to access equitable education from a sentiment of "praxis," which Cavender-Wilson (2004) defines as "reflection and action upon the world in order to transform it" (p. 69.) By seeing the chains that had been silently choking me most of my life, I felt liberated and for the first time in a long time, that there was hope that the world might be able to transform from one where I felt excluded, to one where I felt empowered.

At the age of 18 I had already felt how the sting of the sudden death of close family members transforms into the dull ache of grief, like arthritic wounds throbbing at the memory of rain. I lost both my uncles to post-contact diseases (alcoholism and diabetes,) my grandmother (heart disease and diabetes,) my cousin (alcohol-induced car accident,) just to name a few. At the time I didn't realize that these were "post-contact" issues caused by colonization (Cavender-Wilson, 2004, p. 71.) My initial education, although focused mainly on gender, started to extract from the tragedy of loss my family experienced and hung a large sign around it's neck with the word "colonization" written on it in my family's, and by association, my people's blood.

Cavender-Wilson (2004) draws on Taiaiake Alfred's concept of what it means to be an Indigenous scholar, something that the few Indigenous academics who made up the "community" at the University at Buffalo in the mid 1990's reminded me of at every turn- sustainable survival is only possible by restoring traditional Indigenous governance (p. 71.) Additionally, as Indigenous peoples who by our very nature are adaptable we need to use the tools of our discipline to "address the concrete needs of our communities" (p. 71,) something we can do to help reclaim the knowledge that helped sustain us for millenia pre-contact (p. 73.)

I often feel conflicted about participating in the very institution that has not only formed but also constantly reaffirms the shackles of colonial thought- academia. I wasn't sure how to articulate my discomfort, but as I moved on in my life and became more familiar with Indigenous knowledge I realized I was feeling protective and more and more mistrusting of what institutions would do with the information being produced by Indigenous scholars, and how it might be used against us. Cavender-Wilson (2004) articulates this better than I ever could stating, "engaging in an activity within the academy such as the recovery of Indigenous knowledge also presumes that to some extent Indigenous knowledge can be effectively transferrable to an institution" (p. 73.)

Certainly there is a feeling of subversiveness as an Indigenous person navigating academia. Sitting in anthropology classes where the subject of the day's lecture is translating the worldview of our people in a sort of distant game of telephone. By being present for this and having honed critical thought in the language academics understand, we can advocate from within the institution. We can give voice to the sacredness of our "grave goods," our ancestor's bodies, and our sacred sites (p. 73.) By reclaiming our knowledge and situating ourselves inside the institutions that have trampled, exoticized, and taken it for "the greater good" we can remember who we are and make the space and time to unravel how to continue decolonization (p. 84.)

As my time in academia wound to a close (the first time around) I began to develop less of an affinity for "thinking" and more of an affinity for "being." My life became more entwined with the roots of the earth, which felt so much more nourishing to my spirit than the hamster-wheel of thought ever could. I became enraptured with herbal medicine, wandering the woods of my ancestors identifying plants and sitting in silence, two of my greatest teachers. It wasn't until much later that I connected the dots around my affinity to the land as something that is my birthright.

In Cajete's (2000) Philosophy and Native Science he articulates this connection through the analogy of trees and "treeness," "cosmological and structural symbols for Native science that embodies its life- and nature-centered orientations" (p. 58.) Drawing on Polish philosopher Henryk Skolimowski's eco-philosophical thought, Cajete confirms what I've felt for a long time- that the colonial cosmology is too young and inexperienced to support a sustainable vision for the future, and that what the world needs is a philosophy of "ecological cosmology" to avoid environmental destruction (p. 59.)

Cajete's (2000) "tenets of Native philosophy" feel to me like a roadmap to sustainability. Drawing on the similarities between many Indigenous cultures' worldviews that sustained us for millenia, we have been given the key for walking in our world in a way that doesn't maintain us (humans) as separate. I especially love the idea of ceremony being equated with technology for "accessing knowledge, and symbols used to remember key understandings of the natural world" (p. 65.) This could be a world where we honour everything as a living spirit; where we honour the knowledge of our old one's experiences; and where dreams are the "gateways" (p. 65.) Can you imagine how the world might flourish, how our health and well-being could be maximized, what the possibilities for technological advancement might be if we considered an ecosophical perspective? It's almost unimaginable.

What I'm noticing lately is that the most interesting and innovative technologies emerging in energy, health, and even robotics are using more holistic perspectives that consider balance and reciprocity. Hopefully, we can incorporate more and more of this as Indigenous issues and knowledge come into the forefront through the environmental protection actions that have continued to dominate the consciousness of people, transcending the corporate media blackouts, like the Keystone XL pipeline and most recently, the Standing Rock protections. These actions are using the tenets of Native philosophy at the heart of their work, calling for another way. Maybe that way will incorporate some of the "treeness" that Cajete (2000) speaks of, one that maintains "balance and harmony with all relationships to nature... based on a mutual principle of reciprocity" (p. 73.)

Sources:

Cajete, G. (2000). Philosophy and Native Science. Chapter 2, In Cajete, G. (2000) pages 57-84. Native Science: Natural Laws of Interdependence. Clear Light Publishers: Sante Fe, New Mexico.

Cavender Wilson, A. (2004). Reclaiming our humanity: Decolonization and the Recovery of Indigenous Knowledge. Chapter 4, In Abbott Mihesuah, D., & Cavender Wilson, A. (2004) pages 69-87. Indigenizing the academy: Transforming scholarship and empowering communities. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.

Weeks 1-3: Playing Catch-Up

Turtle Island and Tree of Life, by DarkArtistic
Iroquois creation story

Traditional medicine has been a focus for me in my everyday life since 2012 when I started working for Juddah's Place, a healthcare centre located on Six Nations reserve in Ohsweken, Ontario. I knew nothing of traditional medicine when I started working there as an administrative assistant, aside from a small amount of familiarization from my cultural competency training when I worked for the Aboriginal Students Health Sciences office at McMaster University. I was intimidated and afraid when I started working with Elva, the traditional medicine practitioner, at Juddah's. I didn't want to offend anyone, and I didn't want to seem like I didn't know anything about our people's health and culture. I wish I would have taken these courses before working there! If I knew then what I know now, I think I would have felt so much more confident and at ease working there.

When I met Elva the first thing she impressed upon me was an absolute dedication to helping her community heal. Early on Elva corrected me when I called her a "healer," saying that she is merely a "helper" and that the only one who can heal is the person in need, through the will of the Creator. As we got to know one another Elva shared more as she gained trust in me, opening doors to me that I never knew existed. This time at Juddah's Place built an essential foundation for me to understanding our unique perspective, as Indigenous peoples, one which incorporates not only mind, body, and emotion in relation to health. I came face to face with spirit during my time at Juddah's, learning that Indigenous perspectives, specifically Haudenosaunee, of health are inseparable from spirit. I also learned that there is a gaping wound in the relationship between Western and Traditional medicine- one that Juddah's means to heal in their own unique way.

As I joined the class late (I didn't know it was being offered) I started 4 weeks after it began. I've been doing a bunch of catch up readingI've read Dr. Dawn Martin-Hill's (2003) Traditional Medicine in Contemporary Contexts before, for other classes, as well as for my own research. Each time I read it I understand a little more. It is the perfect reading to begin this course. Dr. Martin-Hill provides an overview of Traditional Medicine on Turtle Island, situating the concept of "Indigenous knowledge" as a framework to address the effects colonization has had on Indigenous epistemologies, which have been marginalized, essentialized, reduced, and appropriated since contact (p. 3.) Martin-Hill's paper has been a keystone in the work of developing an understanding of what Traditional Indigenous medicine is in relation to the present-day post-colonial construct of the West. I appreciate that she draws attention to the complex task that defining "traditional medicine" has been, mostly because it's hard to translate an "Indigenous" concept that varies from nation to nation and language to language. For example, she makes a point to note that the term "traditional" is in and of itself a colonized construct introduced to Indigenous peoples by the British, who used this word to establish a separateness from their own form of healing, which was assumed to be more effective (p. 7.)

The privileging of Western over Indigenous epistemologies is solidified throughout the paper, something that is probably the biggest theme I experienced in working within the Western healthcare system. One thing I experienced that hammered home how much work is still needed in this regard still sits inside me today: the Makayla Sault case. I remember the entire New Credit and Six Nations community reverberating with fear, judgment, animosity, defensiveness, and sadness as our healing ways were put on trial. It made me think that the "progress" made through the Aboriginal Healing Strategy, National Aboriginal Health Organization, and resulting Aboriginal programming through Aboriginal Health Access Centres and other Indigenous-specific, community-driven organizations were proverbial bones being thrown at Indigenous peoples- that when the rubber hit the road in Canadian healthcare, that Indigenous healing resulted to little more than superstitious hoodoo than the resilient, time-tested, complex, and vibrant ways of knowing that kept our people healthy for millenia prior to contact.

One of the biggest fears Elva had working in a more "official" capacity at Juddah's, one that keeps Juddah's mostly funded through private donation and fee-for-service payments, is a mistrust of appropriation of intellectual property. Whether it's through research or chart documentation, the mistrust is intense. Elva reflected Martin-Hill's (2003) assertion that elders have been apprehensive to share traditional knowledge out of a fear of having their healing methods controlled by colonizers (p. 28.) This is a very real fear as once you enter agreements with Candian government, you agree to oversight. This doesn't contribute to our goal of self-determination. It's also a catch-22: if OHIP or the LHIN can't regulate services, they won't fund them, which puts the oness on the patient for providing the funding. Elva has spoken of her conflicted feelings of being paid for something she (as well as her community) feels is her responsibility to her people saying, "deer meat and cloth don't put gas in my car when I need to drive to Oneida," meaning that she is expected to provide these services without any real reciprocity. Martin-Hill (2003) points this contradiction out stating, "traditional medicine as a sacred activity... cannot be bought or sold and the modern need for traditional healers to have stable incomes to support their families" (p. 29.)

The reading for week 2 sets up the class to understand the foundation of why Indigenous peoples' health and well-being is unique. Herring & Waldram (2006) provide a brief overview of Indigenous peoples pre-and post contact, explaining the complexities that contribute to the current conditions of Indigenous people’s health & well being- namely, the effects of colonization through the dimensions of biology, culture, and legal status (p. 3.) One of the pervasive threads that runs through most of the research on Indigenous disparities in health is tied to residential school. Herring & Waldram confirm this as well stating, "residential school syndrome remains a legacy of these institutions" (p. 16.) 
The National Collaborating Centre for Aboriginal Health (NCCAH) (2012) expands on this, concluding in their review of Indigenous health in Canada that, due to the "social, cultural, and political" factors of colonization, "It is clear from these &ndings that Aboriginal people generally have poorer health than the general Canadian population has" (p. 29.)

Martin Cooke’s (2007) examination and comparison of the shifts in the Human Development Index of Indigenous peoples versus non-Indigenous peoples found that there is indeed a large disparity between indices of human development (life expectancy, education, and income) in the colonized Western countries of Canada, US, NZ, AU. He concluded that while these nations generally have levels of human development, when Indigenous HDI data was extracted, the disparities became clearly “inconsistent,” indicating more work is needed to improve the health and well being of all peoples, including Indigenous peoples. (Cooke et al, 2007, 1-11.)

Week 3 brings us from understanding the foundation of how colinization has affected Indigenous epistemologies and health to touching upon the Indigenous worldview. Steckley & Cummins (2008) bridges the epistemological violence through an example of how our knowledge was suppressed. The potlach ceremony of the Northwest coast was banned from 1884-1951 (p. 178.) I appreciated Rice's (2005) question about what it means to be bi-cultural. I often feel guilty about my own lack of knowledge about my Indigenous identity, but also acknowledge that I was brought up in a world where the dominant ideology won out. Rice supports this stating "a bi-cultural person will most likely be brought up with one predominant culture" (p. 2.) I've always been a non-linear thinker, connected to the land, and revere spirit in everything. Reading Rice's first chapter continues to affirm that my ancestral links to concept such as dualism, cyclical time, and sacred spaces are real and valid (pp. 3-11.) I think about this a lot as I entertain the notion of having children with a non-native man as well. Reading books like Rice's, taking courses like this one, and working with and for my Indigenous community are all ways I'm bringing a balanced perspective to my and my family's lives. I look forward to what this course brings. I have to start somewhere. 

Sources:

Cooke, M., Mitrou, F., Lawrence, D., Guimond, E., & Beavon, D. (2007). Indigenous well-being in four countries: an application of the UNDP's human development index to Indigenous peoples in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States. BMC international health and human rights, 7(1), 1.

Herring, A., Waldram, J., & Young, T.K. (2006).  An Overview of Aboriginal Peoples in Canada. Chapter 1, In Herring, A., Waldram, J., & Young, T.K. (2006) pages 3-23. Aboriginal peoples in Canada: Historical, cultural and epidemiological perspectives, 2^nd Edition. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

National Aboriginal Health Organization. (2003). Traditional Medicine in Contemporary Contexts. Available at:  http://www.naho.ca/english/pdf/research_tradition.pdf

National Collaborating Centre for Aboriginal Health (2012). The State of Knowledge of Aboriginal Health: A Review of Aboriginal Public Health in Canada. Prince George, BC: Author. Chapter 1, Key Health Issues pages 9-30. Available at: http://www.nccah-ccnsa.ca/Publications/Lists/Publications/Attachments/52/SOK_report_EN_web.pdf

Rice, B., Oakes, J.E., & Riewe, R.R. (2005). Seeing the world with Aboriginal eyes. A Four Directional Perspective on Human and Non-Human Values, Cultures and Relationships on Turtle Island. 

Steckley, J. L., & Cummins, B. D. (2008). Religious colonialism. Chapter 17, In         Steckley, J. L., & Cummins, B. D. (2008) pages 172-179. Full circle Canada’s First Nations. Toronto: Pearson Prentice Hall.