Saturday, December 20, 2025

History of the New World - short story in which manatees/Mermaids express concern about interdimensional colonization

 Adam Garnet Jones is an author and filmmaker. 

His film Fire Song won the ImagineNative Film Festival's Audience Choice Award and was also nominated for a Leo. I'm not sure where to watch it, but the trailer is available on IMBD. It's also a book which I have not yet read as I just became aware of it... so adding it to my list! 


His short story History of the New World is included in the anthology Love After the End: An Anthology of Two-Spirit, Indigiqueer & Speculative Fiction

Summary

Earth is becoming uninhabitable. But thanks to trans-dimensional travel, people are able to travel to an alternate dimension. The main character in this story, Em, is deciding whether or not to move his family to the new dimension. His partner is keen to go. But he is hesitant. The government publishes media encouraging people to go to the new world. But then one day they also provide a troubling update: 

The United Governments of the New World were rocked yesterday by an audio communication from an underwater species that bears a striking physical resemblance to Earth's extinct manatees. New World pioneers have begun referring to them as the Mermaids. Our United Governments have not yet revealed the content of the message, but they assure us that it contains a single non-threatening phrase repeated on a loop. Citizen academics from disciplines as far-ranging as musicology, cryptography, theology, and engineering are claiming to have decoded the Mermaid's message, have released various translations. The first interpretation was published as, "Your circle is not round." A rival group of scientists claim that the phrase translates more accurately as "All beings require more than one tide." The latest and perhaps most cryptic interpretation states, "Even desert animals live underwater." (Garnet Jones, 2020, p.44).

Upon hearing this, Em is overwhelmed by his Indigenous intergenerational memories of colonization. Ultimately Em's daughter decides not to travel to the new dimension and Em chooses to respect her choice. Em's wife does go to the new dimension. Em and his daughter join the Rainbow People's Camp, a protest camp which seeks to revive Indigenous culture, language, and connection to the land. 

Reflection

The first time that I read this, I loved the choice to make manatees the creatures who deliver this message. Sweet, vulnerable manatees swimming around in another dimension and being concerned for the well-being of the arriving humans. I also find it interesting that theology is thrown into the mix of people trying to decode the manatee's message. 

I think this story raises an interesting question. If we wreck the planet in our dimension, then is it ethical to go and colonize another dimension?

Works Cited

Garnet Jones, A. (2020). History of the new world. In J. Whitehead (Ed.), Love after the end: An anthology of Two-Spirit & Indigiqueer speculative fiction (pp. 35-60). Vancouver, British Columbia: Arsenal Pulp Press.  

jaye simpson's short story "The Ark of the Turtle's Back"

According to the bio in Love After the End, "jaye simpson is an Oji-Cree Saulteaux Indigiqueer whose roots hail from the Sapotaweyak, Keeseekoose, and Skownan Cree Nations." 

jaye is the subject of a film called I'll Tell You When I'm Ready. The film is 14 minutes long and available to stream here, and here is an interview with jaye about the film. In the film, jaye processes the grief of being seperated from her late mother, the significance of publishing her first book, and what her drag personanna means to her. And jaye reflects on how being in Vancouver helps her to feel close to her mother. The film includes spoken poetry and is poignant and beautiful. 

jaye's book, a body more tolerable, can be found wherever fine books are sold. Their short story The Ark of a Turtle's Back can be found in Love After the End: An Anthology of Two-Spirit & Indigiqueer Speculative Fiction.  


Summary

The protagonist of this story is introduced as someone who is "iwkekaazo, pretending to be a woman." (simpson, 2020, p.63). Her sister helps her obtain hormones. She takes care of children with her partner. She is unsure about whether or not she ever can or should have a baby of her own, and so she acts as though she is unsure about her partner. 

Her sister arrives and says they all have to leave quickly. They are in danger if they do not leave the planet, and the sister has found a way for them to leave the planet as part of a mass exodus. If they leave the planet, the main character will be able to have surgery in order to be able to have children. But the energy required for the exodus to leave earth would cause its core to cool, turning it into "the new Mars." (p.69).

The main character is very upset when she hears this. 
"Our people wouldn't leave her, and you know it. We would stay until her last breath and go with her. We are the caretakers, and if she dies, we die too." (p.69)
They leave earth. The main character has her surgery and also goes through an intense grieving process for earth. And then she does a ceremony with her partner and they prepare for their new life. 

Reflection

While I was reading this, I felt a lot of gratitude for my cis-het privilege of being able to conceive without medical intervention. I imagine it would be very difficult to want to have a baby and not be able to have a baby. I'm glad that the main character was able to have her surgery. 

When I was doing my PhD, someone asked me whether or not I found it depressing to reading about Indigenous science fiction, and I think they meant specifically cli-fi. I do not find Indigenous cli-fi depressing. 

I find actual climate change depressing. I used to live in Lytton, and one year I had to move to Lillooet. We were under evacuation alert and we were trying to get the moving truck packed before it turned into an order. Then when we got to Lillooet, we had to hurry, because there was a fire there too and we didn't know whether or not it would shut down the road back to the town where I had rented the truck from. And then later that summer, we could not go to our family fishing camp because of fires. That was over fifteen years ago, and since that time, I have been mentally grappling with the reality of climate change. I was on the road coming home from Alexis Creek during the atmospheric storm in 2021, and that is when my brain really started to rewire itself. Things are not like they used to be. Things will never be like they used to be. Things I took for granted, like fishing camp and quick trips to the interior, are no longer always within easy reach. We are beyond the "is climate change real?" phase. We are in the adapt phase of climate change. 

I find Indigenous science fiction, including cli-fi, comforting. When the main character in this story expressed emotional concern for earth as one does for family, she was voicing something that I feel inside of me, and something that is missing in mainstream coverage of climate change. I grieve climate change, and it's not all one big grief, it's ongoing. I am pretty sure that all of humanity feels some grief, even if it is pushed down. But I think that Indigenous people experience it differently because of the connection to land which is present in many Indigenous cultures. So when I read Indigenous cli-fi, I feel less lonely about what we are collectively going through. 

I also think that these stories which involve earth becoming uninhabitable also in a way hopefully push us all in society towards conversations about mitigation. 

My attitude towards Indigenous cli-fi reflects my attitude about stories generally. Stories are important. Stories play an important role in helping us understand the world around us. Stories can incite transformation. And so yes, sometimes stories talk about serious things. 


Works Cited 

simpson, j. (2020). The ark of the turtle's back. In J. Whitehead (Ed.), Love after the end: An anthology of Two-Spirit & Indigiqueer speculative fiction (pp. 9-16). Vancouver, British Columbia: Arsenal Pulp Press.  



Friday, December 19, 2025

mari kurisato's science fiction story in which sentient robots claim Indigenous identity

Today’s post is about a short story by mari kurisato. Her story is included in the anthology Love After the End: An Anthology of Two-Spirit & Indigiqueer Speculative Fiction. According to the bio on the publisher website: 

mari kurisato is the pen name for a disabled, LGBTQIA, tribally enrolled Cote First Nation Ojibwe woman who lives in Denver, Colorado, with her wife and son.

The challenge of someone having a pen name and writing as an Indigenous author is that Indigeneity is inherently relational. The United Nations definition includes being identified by a community as being part of Indigenous identity. An Indigenous author with a pen name is, to use Joanne Barker's phrase, a kinless Indian

However, the one thing that she has in her favour is that Joshua Whitehead, by virtue of including her in his collection, implicitly vouches that she is being truthful about her claim to Indigenous identity. 

In 2016, a different author had her story published in Love Beyond Body Space and Time: An Indigenous LGBTQ Sci-Fi Anthology. In 2020, a group of Indigenous authors (Alicia Elliot, Terese Mailhot, Nazbah Tom, Joshua Whitehead, and Tyler Pennock) wrote an open letter  asking that she clarify her identity claims. So Joshua Whitehead is no stranger to dealing with complex identity issues in publishing, so I am assuming that when mari approached Joshua with a story, Joshua did not just accept her word that she was who she said she was. But... you know... who knows. It's so hard to tell these days what is real and what is not. In situations such as this, Kim Tallbear says that rather than not citing people we should recontextualize them (Cornell, Barnes & Tallbear, 2022). So, I am contextualizing what it means when someone claims Indigenous identity under a pen name. 

If someone were to ask me, "does this meet the criteria of a First People's text for English First Peoples?" I would say "I don't know." With that being said, let's talk about the story. 

Story Summary 

Mari’s story opens with our protagonist being injured. The premise is that due to solar activity and industrial activity, the planet is becoming uninhabitable. People are escaping. Some scientists are staying behind to try to fix the problem. People who can't afford to leave earth stay on earth. And there are synthetic humans who are not allowed to escape earth. 

The main character is a synth who disagrees with the policy of synths being prohibited from leaving earth: 

"It wasn't just because I was the recreated mind of an Anishinaabe scientist, housed in an artificial body that had no 'human' flesh at all. Nor was it because I was transgender, or niizh manidoowag, a carrier of sacred healing medicines of the Anishinaabe peoples.”

(kurisato, 2020, p.140).

It turns out that she is injured because she is in an armed conflict with people who are attacking her, and she fights back. It turns out that the reason she is fighting so hard is because she is trying to help children get to a ship to escape earth. All members of the group are synths except one human. They get to the ship, escape earth, and find home on a refugee ship for synthfolks.

Reflection 

This story opens up a number of interesting questions. First and foremost, if you are a robot who was shaped in the image of an Indigenous person, does that make you Indigenous. I say obviously not. The United Nations definition of Indigenous Peoples is very clear that Indigenous identity applies to people. Robots are not people, thus they cannot be Indigenous people. 

Another interesting topic is an exploration of the science fiction theme of sentient robots. I think robots can be designed to act as though they are sentient, but are never actually sentient. Thanks to the rise of large language learning models like ChatGPT, topics like these are important to discuss. The rise of AI induced psychosis highlights the need for all of us, not just the nerds, to discuss the difference between AI acting as though it is human as opposed to AI just doing what it was programmed to do. I think it would be worthwhile to have a class discussion on the science fiction theme of sentience. Not just for entertainment value, but to develop critical thinking skills around AI. 

Another fun discussion would be on the laws of robotics. Asimov's three laws of robotics says, 

A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

Asimov later added a zeroth law: 

A robot must not harm humanity.

When the main character was fighting humans in order to save a human, was her behaviour consistent with the laws of robotics? If there were only synths in the group and no humans, would the main character's actions be consistent with the laws of robotics? Do you think the author considered the laws of robots when she chose to include a human in the group? Why or why not? Would you have experienced the story differently if a human were not involved? 

Works cited but not linked 

Cornell, G., Barnes, B., & Tallbear, K. (2022, March 21). Opening remarks [Conference session]. Minnesota State University Department of English, Unsettling Genealogies, Minneapolis, Minnesota.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyY0egN0cd4

kurisato, m. (2020). In J. Whitehead (Ed.), Love after the end: An anthology of Two-Spirit & Indigiqueer speculative fiction (pp.135-146). Vancouver, British Columbia: Arsenal Pulp Press.  

***

This is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/

Wednesday, December 17, 2025

Uatan - A short story which illustrates Indigenous youth in the future who love their culture

 Josephine Bacon is a poet who writes in both French and Innu-aimun. I visited her website and it was in French so I used the magic of the internet to translate it. Here is an example of her poetry: 

I made myself beautiful

so that people would notice

the marrow of my bones,

survivors of a story

that is not told.

Her poetry is so beautiful when translated into English. I feel sad that I don't even know how beautiful it must be in French and Innu-aimun. 

Kim O'Bomsawin, Abenaki, recently created a documentary about Josephine Bacon. Here is the trailer. 


I found Josephine Bacon's short story Uatan, a beating heart in Wapke, which is an Indigenous science fiction short story anthology from Quebec. I admit that in my mind, I sort of just think of Quebec as basically Ontario but French. Wapke helped me get a better sense of the distinct people who are Indigneous to Quebec as well as a greater appreciation for the beauty of the land in Quebec. 

Summary

A youth wakes up from a dream. It's 2070 and he is in his homelands, which his people have returned to. They use modern technology like greenhouses, and seem to be thriving. He tells his father about his dream and they spend the day together. He goes to sleep again, and dreams that someone is creating a bag for his drum. He wakes and tell his father, and his father tells him that his drum is not for decoration and that he should ask for a bag to be made for it. At the end of the story it's revealed that "All drum players must have had three dreams about the teueikan before they can make use of it." (p.150).

Reflection

 A lot of stories within the genre of Indigenous futurisms deal with what many consider to be dark topics: zombies, apocalypse, dystopias, and so on. This story is an example of a light story that just feels good to read. 

It is nice to imagine that in the future Indigenous youth will have everything that they need. And in the future these Indigenous youth will want to participate in their culture and the adults around them will support them as they take on cultural roles and responsibilities. 

Similar to 2091, this short story also envisions a period of justice where Indigenous people are able to have more agency over their lives and able to actually just be modern while also having an Indigenous relationship to their homelands. 

The story is a hopeful portrayal of the future of Indigenous youth, families, and communities. And as Chelsea Vowel says, “having some space to cast ourselves as far into the future is vital and potentially emancipatory” (p. 20).

This story is very, very short (three pages). I personally love short fiction. I also love concise writing. The first time I read this I thought, "hmm not sure what that was." It was so short that it almost got lost among the other, longer stories. But the story stuck with me, and so I visited it again. Something that I appreciate about short fiction is the way that it requires the author and the reader to attend carefully to every word. This story would be good to share in a creative writing class along with the inquiry question, "how does the author accomplish characterization, setting, and plot within a very tight word count?" 

Works Cited 

Bacon, J. (2021). Uatan, a beating heart. In M. Jean (Ed.), Wapke: Indigenous science fiction stories (pp. 148-150). Holstein, Ontario: Exile Editions Ltd.

Vowel, C. (2022). Buffalo is the new buffalo. Vancouver, British Columbia: Arsenal Pulp Press.

***

This is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, December 16, 2025

Welcome to your authentic Indian experienceTM - the commodification and theft of Indigenous identity and culture

 Rebecca Roanhorse is a science fiction/fantasy author. I especially loved her novel Trail of Lightning. I haven't seen her series Echo yet, but it's on my list. I don't have Disney plus and I am not keen to subscribe to yet another service. But I will subscribe to it for a month or so soon. I also plan to watch Prey (not by Roanhorse but also on Disney Plus), which people have told me is also good. 


What I like about Rebecca Roanhorse's stories is that they are lively, funny in unexpected ways, and smart. She is smart. She has studied theology and law at Yale and the University of New Mexico. She was a clerk at the Navajo Supreme Court and then became an attorney. Even though her work is fantasy and science fiction, I think that her work offers interesting contributions to conversations about real world political issues.

Summary

Rebecca Roanhorse’s 2017 Welcome to your authentic Indian experienceTM features an Indigenous man named Jesse who works as a virtual tour guide providing non-Indigenous people with one-on-one virtual vision quests (p. 2). Here is a snippet of his life:

You change in the locker room and shuffle down to the pod marked with your name. You unlock the hatch and crawl in. Some people find the pods claustrophobic, but you like the cool metal container, the tight fit. It’s comforting. The VR helmet fits snugly on your head, the breathing mask over your nose and mouth.

With a shiver of anticipation, you give the pod your Experience setting. Add the other necessary details to flesh things out. The screen prompts you to pick a Tourist connection from a waiting list, but you ignore it, blinking through the option screens until you get to the final confirmation. You brace for the mild nausea that always comes when you Relocate in and out of an Experience.

The first sensation is always smell. Sweetgrass and wood smoke and the rich loam of the northern plains. Even though it’s fake, receptors firing under the coaxing of a machine, you relax into the scents. You grew up in the desert, among people who appreciate cedar and piñon and red earth, but there’s still something home-like about this prairie place.

Or maybe you watch too much TV. You really aren’t sure anymore. (Roanhorse, 2017, p.5)

Jesse has the best sales numbers but his wife does not approve of his job. He understands that tourists “don’t want a real Indian experience. They want what they see in the movies” (p. 2), so he studies and imitates mainstream representations of Indigenous people (p. 3). 

At work, the company is adding an experience which is demeaning to Indigenous women. Jesse does not protest the new experience even though he knows his co-worker wants him to speak up (p. 4). Jesse begins an experience with a new tourist, and the tourist looks sad and lost (p. 7), and when Jesse does his usual introduction the tourist expresses disappointment, saying he was hoping for “something more authentic” (p. 9). Jesse gives the tourist a ceremonial Indian name and the tourist leaves without completing the entire experience (p. 10). 

After work Jesse goes to the bar for a drink and afterwards encounters the tourist (p. 11). Jesse explains that he’s not supposed to fraternize with tourists and the tourist says he just wanted to apologize for what happened in the virtual experience (p. 12). The tourist says he had a great grandmother who was Cherokee. Jesse makes a mental note that this is often a claim made by people who fraudulently claim Indigenous identity. Jesse ends the interaction and goes home (p. 13). 

The next day at work, the same tourist returns for another virtual experience and just wants to talk (p. 14) as he needs a friend, so they arrange to meet at the bar after work (p. 15). They talk at the bar until last call and make plans to meet up again (p. 16). They quiz each other about representations of Indigenous people in the media, and the tourist stumps Jesse with a movie quote, saying “Looks like I know something you don’t” (p. 17). The two become friends, spending two evenings a week together for months (p. 17), until Jesse gets sick and misses several days of work (p. 18). Jesse has no way to contact the tourist to let him know he won’t be at the bar so he sends his wife to deliver a message and she stays out late (p. 19). 

When Jesse returns to work, he finds out there is a new hire (p. 20). The manager says the new hire is more authentic than Jesse, and Jesse is fired (p. 20). Jesse goes to the bar and runs into the tourist who is with one of Jesse’s co-workers, but the tourist is dressed in a ribbon shirt and wearing a bone choker (p. 21). He acts like he doesn’t even know Jesse. Jesse is upset and stays out for a few days, then goes home and finds the tourist in his kitchen. As he talks with the tourist he realizes that the tourist is the one who took his job (p. 24). Jesse finds a note from his wife breaking up with him and realizes that the tourist had been telling his wife bad things about him and that the tourist has moved in with his wife. The tourist asks Jesse, “did you ever think… that maybe this is my experience, and you’re the tourist here?” (p. 25). 

Reflection 

The beginning of this story reminded me of the poem “I am not your princess” in the book Not vanishing by Chrystos, a poet of Menominee descent. In the poem, Chrystos directly address a non-Indigenous reader. The poem begins “Sandpaper between two cultures which tear/ one another apart I’m not/ a means by which you can reach spiritual understanding or even/ learn to do beadwork” (Chrystos, 1988, p. 35). Chrystos goes on to say “Look at my heart     not your fantasies     Please don’t ever/ again tell me about your Cherokee great-great grandmother” (p. 35). The poem ends with a plea to “Let me rest/ here/ at least” (p. 36). 

The poem speaks to the demands made upon Indigenous people to act out settler fantasies of Indigenous identity for the pleasure of settler individuals. Chrystos’ poem was published almost 30 years before “Welcome to your authentic Indian experienceTM”, which speaks to the longevity of this trend. 

While Chrystos’ poem demonstrates how tiring and demeaning these demands can be, the main character in “Welcome to your authentic Indian experienceTM" embraces the opportunity to make a living by fulfilling these settler fantasies. In the story, once Indigenous identity is commodified, the forces of the market begin to erode its integrity. As an individual, the main character does not resist this erosion. Instead, he embraces it. This erosion of integrity, combined with the individual profitability of identity, leaves the main character vulnerable to having his identity stolen. The tourist befriends him, becomes familiar with the various areas of his life, and then proceeds to encroach upon them. The tourist demands authenticity, and the main character responds by allowing the tourist to breach professional boundaries. The main character thinks the tourist is a friend, and so chooses to relax his privacy as one does with a friend, but the more the tourist knows about the main character’s life, the more he can steal.

Fraudulent Indigenous identity claims are all too common outside of fiction. A high-profile example is Carrie Bourassa, who claimed Indigenous identity and took on a role at the Canadian Institutes of Health Research administering the distribution of funds to Indigenous health projects (Leo, 2022). She was dismissed from that project when her fraudulent claims were exposed (Leo, 2022). Her employer, the University of Saskatchewan, hired Metis lawyer Jean Teillet to do an investigation into whether or not Carrie Bourassa was making a false claim, but then Carrie Bourassa resigned before the findings of the investigation were released (Leo, 2022). 

As Jean Teillet had already done a great deal of investigative work on the topic, the university had her write a public report on the general topic of Indigenous identity fraud (Teillet, 2022). Teillet identifies tactics that fraudsters use to deceive their employers, illustrates the harmful impact of fraudsters, and recommends strategies that post-secondary employers can use to avoid being deceived. Following the report, the University of Saskatchewan adopted and implemented a more robust Indigenous verification identification process which includes the participation of Indigenous community members (University of Saskatchewan, 2023). 

The issue of identity fraud is not limited to the University of Saskatchewan nor employment. For example, Dalhousie University’s Faculty of Medicine Indigenous admissions pathway warns potential applicants that “Fraudulent behaviour will be investigated and treated in accordance with university policy” (Dalhousie University, n.d.). These real-world examples illustrate what is at stake in economic and material terms with respect to Indigenous identity fraud. 

What Roanhouse's story illustrates, though, is the emotional and spiritual hunger behind false identity claims. The sad and lonely tourist is seeking an authenticity that he presumably cannot obtain himself. Does he have no other avenue through which he can find spiritual fulfillment? Why must his fulfillment rest on the dispossession of another? 

Chrystos' poem also addresses identity fraud, with her line about the Cherokee great grandmother. The issues identified in her poem persist. 

Works Cited 

Chrystos.(1988). Not vanishing. Vancouver, British Columbia: Press Gang Publishers. 

Dalhousie University. (n.d.). Indigenous admissions pathway: Keknu’tmasiek Ta’n Tel Welo’ltimk (We are learning to be well). Dalhousie University. https://medicine.dal.ca/departments/core-units/admissions/education-equity/indigenous-admissions-pathway.html 

Leo, G. (2022, June 1). Carrie Bourassa, who claimed to be Indigenous without evidence, has resigned from U of Sask. Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/carrie-bourassa-resigns-1.6473964

Roanhorse, 2017. Welcome to your authentic Indian experienceTM. Apex Magazine 99 [as this story appears as one long page on the website, page numbers used for in-text citation reflect page numbers of webpage when printed]. https://apex-magazine.com/short-fiction/welcome-to-your-authentic-indian-experience/

Teillet, J. (2022). Indigenous identity fraud: A report for the University of Saskatchewan. University of  Saskatchewan. https://indigenous.usask.ca/documents/deybwewin--taapwaywin--tapwewin-verification/jean-teillet-report.pdf

University of Saskatchewan. (2023, March 2). USask implements Indigenous membership/citizenship verification policy. https://news.usask.ca/articles/general/2023/implementation-of-the-deybwewin-taapwaywin-tapwewin-indigenous-truth-policy-at-usask.php 


***

This is an adapted excerpt from my dissertation, Singing into the Machine, p.109-111

This blog is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/


Utiqtuq - An Inuit zombie short story


I found this story in Taaqtumi: An anthology of Arctic horror stories

I love horror set in the north. True Detective Season 4: Night Country was my second favourite True Detective season. And who can forget 30 Days of Night

I also love Inuit stories. Arctic Dreams and Nightmares by Alootook Ipellie is one of the most fascinating books I have ever read. 



If you are able to, I encourage reading Arctic Dreams and Nightmares before reading Taaqtumi, as doing so would enhance your experience as a reader. 

Summary of Utiqtuq 

Utiqtuq opens on a teenage girl, Aliisa, keeping watch while her family sleeps. She nods off, and when she comes to she is being approached by a zombie. She shoots the zombie and her family wakes. Ittuq, a man who took her in after her family turned into zombies, wakes up because of the noise. He stands beside her and helps her process the emotional trauma of being put in a position of having to kill something which used to be human. 

A helicopter appears. Anirnuq, a small child who Ittuq also rescued, pokes his head out of the tent. A doctor and pilot come out of the helicopter and explain that they are from the government, they have developed a vaccine and a treatment, and they have come to take the three to a camp where they will receive the vaccine. Ittuq is wary due to his experience with residential schools, but Aliisa wants to return to normal life and find out whether or not her family received the treatment. Anirnuq cannot talk, so he does not express any opinion. 

The doctor explains that the pilot was a zombie and he was treated. Now he gets two shots a day and he's fine. The doctor notices the time, and mentions that he it is time to give the pilot his shot. He looks at the medicine and says that it looks different, but delivers it anyhow. 

Ittuq does not want the children to go. The doctor informs Ittuq that since he is not a parent, he does not have the ability to say no. And that if he does not give up the children, the proper authorities will be back to take the children. The doctor says that they have to leave right away in order to fly during daylight. 

So Aliisa and Anirnuq get in the helicopter. As Aliisa gets into the helicopter, the doctor takes her rifle away, saying that she doesn't need it since they will keep her safe and the doctor also says that she should not have a rifle because she is thirteen. Ittuq does not go with them.

As they are flying away, the pilot begins to turn into a zombie and the plane crashes. 

Thoughts 

This story is so interesting to me. It is a zombie story. But the zombies are not the problem. Using their hunting skills and knowledge of land, this little family is able to survive in spite of the zombies. Aliisa is able to have the skills to contribute to the family by taking on a watch shift, and she is diligent and capable. Even when she makes a small mistake (nodding off) she is able to recover from her mistake. 

It turns out that in the midst of a zombie outbreak the government is actually the real threat. The representative sent from the government values expediency and efficiency over relationship. He does not recognize Aliisa's ability to keep herself safe, rather, he has a paternalistic attitude towards her. He does not recognize their family structure, rather has a conventional and rigid understanding of family structures. He does not take a trauma informed approach to the adult in the group. And he does not obtain true consent, as he rushes the decision and threatens to involve law enforcement. 

Even if the pilot had not turned into a zombie, the government's approach was not respectful. This story was written before the pandemic, and so I really want to emphasize that when Ittuq was expressing concern, his concern was not with the medical intervention itself. Rather, his concern was with the service delivery model. He refers to residential schools, which is another government policy which required separation from land and family in order to receive a public service. The service delivery model is also reminiscent of the Indian hospitals

TRC 57 calls on the government to "provide education to public servants on the history of Aboriginal peoples, including the history and legacy of residential schools, the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Treaties and Aboriginal rights, Indigenous law, and Aboriginal–Crown relations. This will require skills based training in intercultural competency, conflict resolution, human rights, and anti-racism." And TRC 23 calls for the government to "Provide cultural competency training for all healthcare professionals." I wonder whether Indigenous literature has a role to play in this training. 

In the book S'TENISTOLW: Moving Indigenous Education Forward, Evalyn Voyageur and Joanna Fraser illustrate examples of community based, culturally competent, trauma informed health care delivery. Imagine if a group of learners read that chapter (or watched a powerpoint summarizing the chapter) alongside this short story, and then collaboratively wrote a critical incident report answering the following questions: 
  • What happened? 
  • What were the contributing factors?
  • What could be done differently in the future to prevent this from happening again?
  • What steps can be taken now in order to address the harm? 
  • Are there any larger policy/practice implications?
I note that Utiqtuq ended on a cliffhanger. The plane was crashing, but we don't know what happened to the children. I kind of wrote my own happy ending in my imagination where the children survived the crash and Ittuq was able to find them and help them. Perhaps there will be a sequel. 

Works Cited 

Kabloona, Gayle. (2019). Utiqtuq. In N. Christopher (Ed.) Taaqtumi: An Anthology of Arctic Horror Stories (pp.105-124). Iqualuit, Nunavut: Inhabit Media. 

Voyageur, E. & Fraser, J. (2020). A story of nurses living and learning with First Nations. In T. Ormiston, J. Green & K. Guirre (Eds.) S'TENISTOLW: Moving Indigenous Education Forward (pp.130-141). Vernon, British Columbia: JCharlton Publishing. 

***

Note: this blog is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/


 

Monday, December 15, 2025

Slash/Back - An alien invasion story and a celebration of Indigenous girlhood

Slash/Back is an alien invasion film written by Nyla Innuksuk (Inuk) and Ryan Cavan, and directed by Nyla Innuksuk (2022). It begins with Maika as a small girl in a small boat. Her father is teaching her to shoot. Six years later, Maika is at home with her father and he goes to ask her for help, but she declines to help and rushes out of the house to see her friends. The friends, a group of Inuit teenaged girls, are hanging around town and they see Maika’s dad standing outside of a store selling meat. Maika is embarrassed by her dad. The girls decide to take his boat for a joyride.

They dock in an isolated area. One of the girls tells a story: 

Uki: You know the Kattuk boy that went missing last spring?

Leena: Yeah.

Uki: Well, Brenda was talking to Billy Mike, and Billy Mike was talking to a fisherman from Iqaluit, and he said that he saw the boy playing by the water. And then, like, a fog rolls in. And out comes a grey head, with long black hair. And you know what happens next?

Leena: What?

Uki: He snatches the boy and drags him into the water. 

Leena: Qalupalik.

Maika: Get out of here with that silly Inuk shit.

While on the land, they encounter a strange bear which they shoot. They return to the village. As all of the adults in the village prepare to go to a dance, the girls secretly plan to go to a house party. While at the house party, Maika expresses disdain for Inuit visual culture. Meanwhile, one of the girls returns to the area where they shot the bear and learns that the strange bear was not really a bear, it was an alien in disguise and there are other aliens which kill animals and then wear their skins in order to disguise their alien nature. She rushes back to the village to tell the other girls but they think she is making up silly stories, as she is known for telling Inuit stories. But then an alien attacks the party. 

The girls outfit themselves with modern and traditional hunting weapons. “Nobody fucks with the girls from Pang,” they state, as they bring out a felt marker pen to adorn themselves with traditional face markings. The girls have a series of skirmishes with the aliens in various locations. They follow one of the aliens to Maika’s house where her dad is attacked by an alien in the kitchen. Maika has a quick flashback moment from six years ago where her father showed her a blade, and told her that it was her great-grandfather’s blade. Her great-grandfather was the greatest hunter in Pang, and someday the blade would be hers. As the father is pinned down by the alien, Maika uses her great-grandfather’s blade to attack the alien and saves her father. The girls successfully fight aliens to the point that aliens leave earth. One month later Maika and her father are running a traditional food stand together and are very happy. 

I enjoyed every minute of this movie. The aspect of it that I appreciate the most is its representation of Indigenous girlhood. According to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, residential schools imposed colonial gender roles onto Indigenous people, and these gender roles negatively impacted the role that women traditionally played in Indigenous families and communities (Truth and Reconciliation Commission, 2015, p. 147). My grandmother did not go to residential school. Her childhood was on the land. She got married young. She was a full contributor to her family through hunting and fishing. When I saw this movie which features female hunters who were capable and determined, I felt proud of the role of women in my family and our history. The idea that women are capable and fierce is one of the gifts that my ancestors have given me. 

The most powerful moment for me was when Maika’s dad was trapped, unable to help himself, and Maika took her grandfather’s hunting weapon and used it to save her dad. He taught her how to hunt, and she used that knowledge to save him. It was a transformative moment of connection. Earlier in the movie she had expressed shame and embarrassment about her culture. She wished to distance herself from it. Nonetheless, it was there when she needed it. She exercised it as a way to save herself, her family, and her community. She contributed to the world and demonstrated leadership through culture. And this transformed her, bringing her closer to her father. Early in the movie, when her father was selling meat in front of the store, she was embarrassed by him. But later in the movie, when they have a food stand together in front of the store, she is proud and happy. 

Sometimes trying to hide from one’s identity can seem like a logical choice for survival. Here’s the mental shortcut that her character may have taken: “My family is struggling financially. Perhaps the cause of our struggles is our Indigenous identity. Perhaps if I distance myself from being Indigenous, my life will get easier.” But then, she is put into a position where her identity, and specifically the cultural knowledge her dad has taught her, is a resource. This moves her from a place of shame to pride. This arc is not unique to Slash/Back. Literary scholar Mandy Suhr Sytsma says Indigenous young adult texts

do tend to be strongly focalized through individual young Native protagonists who mature as they move from rebellion against, to reconciliation with their Indigenous communities, these protagonists experience an increase rather than a decrease of personal agency as a result of that reconciliation. Furthermore, their rebellion against colonial ideologies do not diminish but instead intensifies as the narratives draw to a close. (2019, p. xxvii)

Within Slash/Back, the alien invasion is the catalyst for this maturing. It provides an opportunity for the girls to exercise leadership and responsibility, and in doing so, facilitates a sense of accomplishment. And it also provides the group with an experience where they are able to contribute to the well-being of their community through their hunting knowledge, and as such, transforms their sense of belonging within the community. Maika’s transformation from shame to pride is a reminder to be kind, because you never know what kind of trials someone has gone through in order to arrive at a place where they claim their Indigenous identity with pride.  


Works Cited 

Innuksuk, N., & Cavan, R. (2022). Slash/back [Film]. Mixtape VR, Red Marrow Media, Scythia Films & Stellar Citizens. 

Suhr-Sytsma, M. (2019). Self-determined stories: The Indigenous reinvention of young adult literature. East Lansing, Michigan: Michigan State University Press. 

Truth and Reconciliation Commission. (2015). The final report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada: Volume 5. Winnipeg, Manitoba: Truth and Reconciliation Commission. https://ehprnh2mwo3.exactdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Volume_5_Legacy_English_Web.pdf

***

This is an adapted excerpt from my dissertation, Singing into the Machine, p.92-96

This blog is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/

Lost in space - A short story about being a good and proper Native astronaut

I first encountered Drew Hayden Taylor's work when I was a young adult. I'm pretty sure my mom had a copy of Funny you don't look like one: Observations of a blue eyed Ojibwe. I thought his writing was clever. 

He is incredibly prolific. He has authored 22 books, and edited 5 collections. And he continues to write for The Globe and Mail. You can read about his impressive body of work on his author website

Overall, I am a fan. However, I kind of have mixed feelings about a small fraction of his work because some of it leans too heavily on trauma tropes. I remember a colleague telling me that the thought the short story Boy in the ditch was a good read, but I found it disturbing. 

In this collection, I would avoid using Mr. Gizmo. It made me uneasy. I don't mind being uneasy as long as there is some kind of redeeming underlying purpose to making me uneasy, but I could not find the purpose within Mr. Gizmo. For entertainment value, I found Superdisappointed to be a funny read. And I thought Petropaths would be fun to teach. I tried to include a range of works in my dissertation, and so I challenged myself to pick only story from this collection. The story I chose to reflect on was Lost in space

Mitchell had been hovering effortlessly, drifting both in the gravity vacuum of space and, more interestingly, in and out of consciousness. Small tethers from the right shoulder and left pant cuff of his jumpsuit anchored him to opposed bulkheads. This was to make sure he didn’t bump into the walls of the ship and ruin his fun. His mind had no such restrictions and had meandered back and forth between alpha, beta, delta, and all remaining brain-wave frequencies. The small room was dark and the temperature was neutral. A sort of purgatory. Additionally, the oxygen in this hyperbaric chamber had been reduced to the minimum, allowing for a more recreational time alone. In other words, he was mellowing out in the twenty-first century version of an improvised isolation tank. (Taylor, 2016, p. 46-7)
Ojibway author Drew Hayden Taylor’s 2016 short story “Lost in space” begins with the protagonist, Mitchell, using oxygen deprivation to put himself in an altered state (p. 47). He is on a spacecraft mining the asteroid belt, and his only company is the ship’s artificial intelligence, Mac (p. 48). Mac informs him that his grandfather has died (p. 48). His grandfather was his only Indigenous grandparent and inspired his love of space (p. 49). He recalls a conversation with his grandfather, where his grandfather reflected on the connection between Indigenous identity and the land, and how his grandfather told him, “I can’t help wondering if it’s possible to be a good, proper Native astronaut” (p. 51). Mitchell reflects on the barriers to expressing his Indigenous identity in space, including not being able to burn sage because of fire suppression technology; no dawn to greet; no Four Directions to honour; the complexity of honouring Mother Earth and Father Sky while being “closer to the backside of Mother Mars” (p. 52); and no drumming due to the calibration of technology on the ship (p. 53). Mac locates a video of his grandfather drumming, and as Mitchell watches it, he reflects on how his grandfather encouraged him to “represent” (p. 55). “Song after song made him realize that even though he was only one quarter Anishinabe, he could be fairly confident he was the only Anishinabe out here in the asteroid belt, possibly the only one outside of Earth and the three space stations. This was the only drum music for millions and millions of kilometers. This was a responsibility. As his grandfather used to say, he’d better step up and represent, because he was a hell of a long way from home” (p. 55).

Drew Hayden Taylor’s story is fun. The question that his grandfather poses is an interesting one. Note that his grandfather doesn’t ask if it’s possible to be a Native astronaut, rather, he questions whether it is possible to be a good, proper Native astronaut. The main character reflects on cultural practices that he cannot do in space, the implication here being that being “good” and “proper” are expressed through cultural activities such as smudging and drumming. Ultimately, he decides that he is being a good and proper native by virtue of his commitment to “represent”, and he expresses his identity by celebrating his ancestor. What this story highlights is the fact that sometimes we are put in positions where there is no one around to affirm our Indigenous identity, and when we are put in those positions, we have to affirm ourselves.

After reading this story, I did have some questions. What exactly does it mean to represent? What are the unique responsibilities tied to being in a professional context where you are the only Indigenous person? How do you conduct yourself when you have no family present to help you navigate identity? These questions are especially relevant in the university environment, where Indigenous people are under-represented.

Works Cited 

Taylor, D.H. (2016). Take us to your chief. Madeira Park, British Columbia: Douglas & McIntyre. 

***

This is an adapted excerpt from my dissertation, Singing into the Machine, p.133-135

This blog is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/

Night raiders - Taming drones and toppling dystopia through Indigenous knowledge and innovation

Night Raiders was one of my favourite movies of 2021. I am sure that the first trailer that I saw involved Cree language being spoken while panning over trees. That early trailer is apparently nowhere to be found, but here is the official trailer. 

Taika Waititi was one of the executive producers. I loved his other movies like What we do in the shadows and Thor: Ragnarok. I thought that Hunt for the Wilderpeople was an extremely endearing coming of age film. And according to this film review, it's also a colonial critique of the judicial system. 


I'm less familiar with Danis Goulet's work. She is the director for Night raiders. According to IMDb she has a project that will be released on Netlfix soon so keep an eye out for that. 

Summary

Night raiders (2021) is a dystopian film written and directed by Danis Goulet (Cree-Métis). The film begins with a Cree voiceover with English text on the screen:

We knew that they would come for us. Like they always had before. We tried to warn the others that they would come for them too. Because we knew how far they would go. Four years ago, I was fasting in the bush. I saw that a swarm of giant mosquitos would be coming for us. I also saw that a person, a guardian, would come from the north to help us. We heard stories about this place called Bigstone. We thought this person could lead us there.

The first scene shows a pre-teen girl, Waseese who is poised to hit a bird with a slingshot. However, instead of killing the bird, she begins whispering to the bird in Cree. The bird flies away and her mother, Niska, asks her why she didn’t kill the bird. Waseese says she was listening to it, and Niska says "that won’t get us fed". Shortly after, Waseese is walking through the forest and looking up into the sky and she steps into a bear trap. Niska frees her from the trap but is unable to provide her with medical care. So, they leave the bush and go to an urban centre where Waseese is captured by The Regime and forced to go into the military academy so that she can train to serve The Regime. Through Niska, we learn that children who go into the academies never come home. 

Waseese excels in the academy. Meanwhile, Niska meets up with a camp of Indigenous resisters who smuggle children out of the academy. They agree to help rescue Waseese on the condition that Niska lead them and the children up north to a rumoured place of sanctuary. The escape is successful. However, when they return to the camp it is under attack by the military. The resisters fight back. Waseese asks “can’t you hear that?” and covers her ears. The sky fills with military drones. Waseese walks into the middle of the battlefield, holds her hand out, and begins speaking the phrase she used when speaking to the birds. She engages the assistance of the drones to chase the military away. A sniper tries to shoot Waseese, but Niska steps in front of the bullet to save her. Niska asks “how did you do that?” but Waseese does not tell her. Instead, they hold each other. The movie concludes with a Cree voiceover and English text: 

It was her mother that brought her to us. All the way down from the north. She came back to her people to protect us on that day. We call her the guardian.

Reflection 

The most powerful moment for me in this film was when Waseese talked to the drones. At first, I thought that the thing that had been immediately revealed to me was that sometimes the next generation does things that seem to make no sense. We can support them, encourage them, and guide them. But we also have to be open hearted and trust them. If we trust them, they might surprise us by knowing and doing things beyond our comprehension. I meditated on this initial revelation. Waseese’s action moved me in a way that was celebratory, yes. But the moment also provoked a sadness and melancholy that was more difficult to decipher. 

I related most to the character of Niska, the mother. She was trying her best, yet, due to circumstances, she was always on the edge of survival. She had found a strategy for sparing Waseese from suffering. And she was teaching Waseese about how to survive in the world. But then Waseese endangered them both through her carelessness, looking at the birds instead of paying attention to where she was walking. Niska was so focused on their survival that she didn’t really explore why Waseese was talking to the birds. She didn’t really understand, but she also didn’t scold her for being careless or discourage her from talking to birds. And it turns out that it was good that she didn’t discourage her from looking up and talking to birds, because it unexpectedly came in helpful later in the story. Thus, the second layer of what was revealed was that sometimes the actions of the next generation make no sense because our own generational wounds cloud our ability to see their gifts. Hence the emphasis on being open-hearted and trusting the next generation, even if we don’t totally understand what they are doing.  When Waseese stepped into the middle of conflict, it must have been frightening for Niska. However, if she had intervened and removed Waseese from the clearing, the story would have not have ended with Waseese being a hero. When I think about the story from the perspective of Niska, I feel inspired to support the younger generations in my family to pursue whatever goals that they desire, even if they are not goals that I would choose for myself. Likewise, as a professional, when people who are new to education enter the workforce with enthusiastic new ideas, I can try to keep an open mind. 

When I think of Waseese, I am inspired by the degree that she had self trust. She persists in talking to birds, even though she is not actively encouraged to talk to birds. Likely in her culture there are no traditional teachings on how to talk to drones, and yet, she figured out how to transfer her knowledge of talking to birds into the new context of talking to drones. She acted on her intuition regarding the right thing to do in the moment. She did not wait for permission or approval. She trusted her language and she believed in herself. May we all be so brave when encountering novel hardships. 

Works Cited 

Goulet, D. (2021). Night raiders [Film]. Alcina Pictures, Eagle Vision, Miss Concepion Films & Uno Bravo.


***

Note: this is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/


The boys who became hummingbirds - A short story about the transformative potential of love


Daniel Heath Justice is a professor at UBC and author of Why Indigenous Literatures Matter. I went to his book launch at the Gibson's library. He is definitely a subject matter expert with the ability to engage with complex concepts and abstract ideas. 



I first read his story, The boys who became hummingbirds, years ago in its comic form in Moonshot: The Indigenous Comics Collection, Volume 2 (2017). Both the comic and the short story versions are so beautiful that they have brought me to tears more than once, for reasons which I will talk about below. It would be a fun activity in class to compare and contrast the comic version and the short story version using the inquiry question, "how does the medium impact the message?" Students could reflect on their own subjective experience of both versions, and perhaps speak to the unique strengths that each medium offers. 



In the far ancient days, when the boundary between worlds was thinner, and when transformation was an everyday truth of the world, not a doubt, a strange boy lived in a dying town. Food no longer nourished the People, who sat listless and grim in the shadows, hiding from the parching sun. Unhealthy waters flowed sluggish and mute in straining colours of orange, red, and brown. Plants had long ago withered and blown away, when the People thought the drought was at its worst, before it worsened further. The only beings left to share the town were half-starved-dogs and half-mad wildcats who had no place else to go. It was a place of daily cruelty, where laughter was only mockery, where touch was meant to hurt, where beauty went to die. (Justice, 2016, p. 54)
Cherokee author Daniel Heath Justice’s 2016 The boys who became hummingbirds begins and ends with the phrase “This is a teaching, and a remembrance” (p. 54, p. 59). It begins in a world where “people had turned against the world, one another, and themselves” (p. 54). There, a boy looks for beauty and tries to revive it by dancing, singing, and dyeing his clothes (p. 55). But his attempts to revive beauty are met with violence and eventually banishment (p. 56). While he is banished, a boy from town comes to meet him (p. 56). They embrace, and in doing so, become hummingbirds during the day, and return to human form at night (p. 56). They fly back to their town, and inspire others to become beautiful as well. But some people attack those who became beautiful.
Like iridescent lightening the Hummingbird boys led the way among their earthbound attackers, and where spearing beak and soft wing struck flesh, bright flowers bloomed. Rocks in clenched hands dissolved to glittering stardust, and soon the air thundered with the defiant song of a thousand bright hummingbirds, and the world came alive again in a loving beauty too long denied. (p. 58)
The Hummingbird boys “had restored their world” (p. 59).
Ever after, whenever someone heard the thrilling hum of soft wings in their breast, no matter how it came to be realized, no matter whether the quickening spirit was young or old, of all genders or none, the People now gathered together in love and welcome. For they understood once again, as they had long ago, that no one was expendable. No one was forgotten. No one’s beauty would ever again be shamed. For it was beauty, and two brave, loving hearts, that had brought them back to one another. (p. 59)
I really like Daniel Heath Justice's fiction. I think it's elegant and emotionally compelling. 

I admire the main character in this story because he has the courage to be himself, even when it is unpopular. In the midst of unfair treatment and hardship, he retains the ability to love. And he forgives his attackers. More than that, though, he cares for his attackers by showing them that life can be beautiful. They treat him as though he doesn’t belong. Somehow, though, just by being himself, he teaches them about beauty and belonging. When they tried to define him negatively, he responded by continuing to be himself, and eventually they came to see him differently. I admire the way that he responded to adversity with kindness and care, and in doing so, transformed his community. This story is an inspiring example of how to weather hardship. I suspect that reading this story has made me a kinder person.

Works Cited 

Justice, D. H. (2016). The boys who became hummingbirds. In H. Nicholson (Ed.), Love beyond body, space, & time: An Indigenous LGBT scifi anthology (pp. 54-59). Winnipeg, Manitoba: Bedside Press.  

Nicholson, H. (2017). Moonshot: The Indigenous Comics Collection, Volume 2. Iqaluit, Nunavut: Inhabit Education Books. 

***


This is an adapted excerpt from my dissertation, Singing into the Machine, p.121-122

This blog is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/








Context Specific Statement of Teaching Philosophy

In order to create this teaching philosophy, I relied on this handy list from SFU. I am just going to write bulleted responses under the guiding questions, and adjust the questions to the topic of this blog. 

What is your experience teaching through social media and online?

  • I have been a blogger for a long time. I try to use a blog as a friendly and approachable way to share information with people, including other educators. When I did a lot of pro-d, often readers would introduce themselves to me at events, and so the blog was not just online, it was part of my in real life social world as well.  I like this modality because I can do it whenever, and people can engage with it whenever. 
Describe a successful teaching/learning experience (either a teacher or learner). What made this a positive experience?
  • In terms of blogging - a successful experience is when someone discovers something that they love through my blog. Back in the day, before Twitter was toxic, often I would get feedback about what landed through Twitter. And it was often a reciprocal experience, where someone would say, "I love this book you shared, and it reminds me of this other book that I love." It was a positive experience because I was able to connect with someone else over a shared interest. This blog is a hobby. It is not work, it is one of the things that I do in my free time. So really, that is all that I am looking for from the blog - to connect with people over a shared interest. 
Under what conditions do you think blog readers learn best? Why?
  • I try to set a low pressure conversational tone for readers. I assume that they have not read the books that I am referring to, and they may or may not follow up by reading. I suspect a lot of my readers are people who wish they had time to read books, but just don't have time to read books. Yet, they want to keep up with conversations happening in and around books. The conversational tone provides me with an opportunity to express myself and provides readers with an opportunity to learn about books and conversations happening around books. 
  • The blog is not a credentialed learning experience. People are here because they have a little bit of time to read, and I want to really honour the fact that they are choosing to read this blog. I honour that fact by taking an appreciative stance towards readers and also by trying to make sure that they learn something new each visit. I also try to make it easy for them to connect to new resources by linking them to interesting information. 
  • In the early years of my sister blog, I tried to ensure that I recommended resources that were online for free. That approach would be too limited for this blog. However, I will still try to build in links to free information in this blog as well.
What is your main message for your teaching philosophy?
  • I believe in the power of stories to help us learn about the world and ourselves. 
  • I believe that Indigenous science fiction has the potential to inspire/encourage Indigenous people in our individual and collective journeys. 
  • I believe that learning Indigenous science fiction is a way that non-Indigenous people can increase their capacity to be anti-racist. 
Reflect on your teaching values and beliefs
  • The First Peoples Principles of Learning have shaped me as a teacher. I have learned about them through my work in curriculum development, through collaboratively developed and delivered professional development workshops, and through the excellent work of Jo Chrona. I respect the individuals who contributed to them and I respect the fact that they came out of an agreement between First Nations in BC, the provincial government, and the federal government. Even though this blog is not specifically for K-12 students, the FPPL influence the way that I create posts because I have spent enough time with them that they are just embedded in how I approach texts. 
  • "This we believe" and "Pedagogy of the oppressed" also shaped the way that I approach teaching. 
Describe your teaching context (e.g., students)
  • I don't have students. I have readers. I think my readers fall into several categories: Indigenous literature enthusiasts, K-12 educators, and people studying Indigenous literature. I assume that my readers are either Indigenous or have pre-existing knowledge about Indigenous people. And I assume that they are here because they like learning about Indigenous perspectives. I assume my readers do not have a lot of time because they are busy doing cool things in the world.  
  • I am not vetting these resources for use in K-12. Some of the things that I share might be a good fit for K-12, but I leave it to the individual educators to decide whether or not specific texts are a good fit for their teaching context. 
Articulate your goals for improving your own professional practice
  • I did just completed a PhD which studied Indigenous futurisms. But that was a very specific mode of reading and writing. I feel like I have a lot of pathways that I did not pursue. And I feel like what I included in my dissertation is only a fraction of some of the things that the literature inspired me to think about. And so I envision this blog as being a place where I broaden and extend my self guided inquiry around the question, "what might Indigenous futurisms teach me?" 

Go to FNESC.CA for full poster


2091 - An Indigenous utopian short story by Elisapie Isaac

Elisapie Isaac is an Inuk artist from Nunavic. She is a performing and recording artist. She sells her albums and merch on her website. Her album covers are striking and imaginative. 



You can find her music video, Quviasukkuvit, on youtube. It is an Inuktitut cover of Sheryl Crow's song If it makes you happy. 



Elisapie Isaac's short story, 2091, is nine pages long and included in the book Wapke: Indigenous Science Fiction Stories. According to the publisher, Wapke is "Quebec’s first collection of science fiction short stories by Indigenous writers." 

2091 begins with a tourism guide, Tayara, greeting a new group of tourists. Imak Tourism, his employer, is a government owned company created in 2030 which provides tourists with two-week cultural tours where among other things they learn about reclaimed place names and reclaimed family names (2021, p. 81). The guide explains that they are “celebrating the 50th anniversary of the renegotiation of the James Bay Agreement, which declared the independence of Nunavik as an autonomous province” (p. 83). Tayara talks about how shamanic practices were recovered after the potlatch ban and someone asks “how did the shamans re-establish themselves?” (p. 84). Tayara responds:

I’d say that renegotiating the agreement changed everything. We were coming out of the Great Sorrow, what some people also called the Great Silence. A rash of suicides had befallen our communities for at least three generations after the scandal of residential schools and colonization. Men no longer found the words. At the time, food was very expensive, we didn’t have drinking water, we had little or no resources for treating the psychological distress felt in all our communities. The need to take back control of our destiny grew very quickly. After the agreements, a return to the earth became natural. This was accompanied by a reappropriation of our cultural space, including shamanism. We simply put meaning back into our life. At the same time, there was great technological development implemented in the North by and for members of the Inuit community. We built our own universities and research centres. Wildlife management, the fight against global warming, agronomy, you name it. We also established community greenhouses and developed resistant vegetables that we grow for our markets. (pp. 84-5)

The story concludes with the tour guide silently reflecting on his role. “His old soul, borne by the experience of several generations, reminded him that he was the voyager, the translator, the bridge between people, the curious one” (p. 88). 

The agreement referenced in the story is the James Bay Hydro Agreement, which was first signed in 1975, and has since had two subsequent implementation agreements signed as well as an out of court settlement (Government of Canada, 2014). When I first read this story, I was curious about the author and editor’s decision to label it as science fiction. But then I remembered the way that Imarisha linked social justice organizing with science (Imarisha, 2015; Johal, 2022). In this case, on the surface the science in science fiction refers to the way that an Indigenous government redirected scientific research efforts so that science could be used to support the goals of Indigenous people. But through the lens that Imarisha provides, one could also see political science in the form of the renegotiated treaty as the science in this science fiction.

Joshua Whitehead (2021) says “we have already survived the apocalypse—this, right here, right now, is a dystopian present” (p. 10). Elisapie Isaac’s story takes us past the point where an Indigenous community is merely surviving within a post-apocalyptic dystopia, and dreams of a future where an Indigenous community has recovered and is thriving. In 2091, Isaac's characters are post-post-apocalypse. 

As an educator, what stands out to me is the role of Indigenous knowledge and Indigenous identity in this story. In Roanhorse’s (2017) short story Welcome to your authentic Indian experience, an Indigenous person acts out a caricature of Indian-ness for the entertainment of non-Indigenous people. It is undignified, and the commodification of Indigenous identity within a non-Indigenous governing structure leads to an erosion of the integrity of Indigenous knowledge. In Alyssa Jérôme's story Uapuch-unaikan, an Indigenous teacher within a non-Indigenous state is hired to share Indigenous knowledge with the White Elite, and her contract is not honored. She is exploited in order to extract Indigenous knowledge from her. 

These examples are stark contrasts from the tour guide in 2091, who is hired by an Indigenous state to provide tours to people not from that Indigenous community. This knowledge sharing takes place within the control of and at the behest of the Indigenous collective. By educating the outside world about their community on their own terms, this sharing benefits the Indigenous collective. The tour guide is not undignified or exploited. He is happy with the role that he has taken on as someone who educates outsiders about his community. Many stories, including Night raiders and Oienkwaon:we, explore the ways that Indigenous individuals make decisions about how the application of Indigenous knowledge within the context of ongoing and intensified settler colonialism. 2091 imagines what this could look like within the context of Indigenous sovereignty.

Works Cited 

brown, a.m. & Imarisha, W. (2015). Introduction. In a.m. brown & W. Imarisha (Eds.), Octavia’s brood: Science fiction stories from social justice movements (pp. 3-5). Oakland, California: AK Press.

Goulet, D. (2021). Night raiders [Film]. Alcina Pictures, Eagle Vision, Miss Concepion Films & Uno Bravo.

Government of Canada. (2014). The James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement and the Northeastern Quebec Agreement - Annual Reports 2008-2009 / 2009-2010. Government of Canada. https://www.rcaanc-cirnac.gc.ca/eng/1407867973532/1542984538197

Isaac, E. (2021). 2091. In M. Jean (Ed.), Wapke: Indigenous science fiction stories (pp. 80-88). Holstein, Ontario: Exile Editions Ltd.

Johal, A. (Host). (2022, September 13). Science fiction & social justice — with Walidah Imarisha (Episode 185) [Audio podcast episode]. In Simon Fraser University’s Below the Radar. SFU Vancity Office of Community Engagement. https://www.sfu.ca/vancity-office-community-engagement/below-the-radar-podcast/episodes/185-walidah-imarisha.html

Jerome, A. (2021). Uapuch-unaikan. In M. Jean (Ed.), Wapke: Indigenous science fiction stories (pp. 138-147). Holstein, Ontario: Exile Editions Ltd.

Roanhorse, 2017. Welcome to your authentic Indian experienceTM. Apex Magazine 99 [as this story appears as one long page on the website, page numbers used for in-text citation reflect page numbers of webpage when printed]. https://apex-magazine.com/short-fiction/welcome-to-your-authentic-indian-experience/

Smith, C. (2016). Oienkwaon: we. In N. McLeod (Ed.), mitewacimowina: Indigenous science fiction and speculative storytelling (pp. 55-68). Penticton, British Columbia: Theytus Books.

Whitehead, J. (2020). Introduction. In J. Whitehead (Ed.), Love after the end: An anthology of Two-Spirit & Indigiqueer speculative fiction (pp. 9-16). Vancouver, British Columbia: Arsenal Pulp Press.  

***

This is an adapted excerpt from my dissertation, Singing into the Machine, p.133-135

This blog is a sister blog to https://twinkleshappyplace.blogspot.com/

History of the New World - short story in which manatees/Mermaids express concern about interdimensional colonization

 Adam Garnet Jones is an author and filmmaker.  His film Fire Song won the ImagineNative Film Festival's Audience Choice Award and was a...