Strengths-Based Approaches in Indigenous Education - Indigenous Futurisms and Dreaming

 This book is an anthology with ten contributors. The editors, Marnee Shay and Grace Sarra, are authors or co-authors for eight out of the ten chapters. 

The first few chapters introduce strengths based approaches, including theories, philosophy, and practice. From there, subsequent chapters look at different projects where people have employed strengths based approaches including case study research and co-design. The final chapter focuses on strengths-based knowledge production in Indigenous education. 

Even though the book is an anthology with various contributors, the book has a nice, well-thought out logical flow. While it had internal variety, it did not feel disjointed. So kudos to the authors for that. 

Each chapter has its own DOI and one of the chapters has a QR code. There are some really cool visuals in the book including diagrams which illustrate what codesign with Indigenous people is and what it is not, and collaborative artistic expressions of strengths-based identity created by youth. 

Something that I particularly liked about this book is that it felt like the book was very connected to youth and the education of youth in their communities and classrooms. This connection made the book feel very alive. 

There are three themes from the book that I would like to highlight: strengths based approaches, research, and futurisms/dreaming. 

Strengths Based Approaches 

Introduction to Strengths-Based Approaches in Indigenous Education Research and Practice

Chapter 1 introduces the readers to the concept of strengths based approaches and why they matter in Indigenous education. The authors characterize research as a  "problem-based industry" (Shay & Sarra, 2026a, p.1). Within a problem based industry, sometimes Indigenous people are framed as the problem through specific slogans which appear in public policy. This is the ongoing colonial legacy of viewing Indigenous people through a deficit lens: "If you have lived in this country [Australia], you have absorbed deficit ideas about who Indigenous people are and what we are capable of. These deficit ideas are generated via the media, schools, policies, governments, legal systems, and social discourses." (Shay & Sarra, 2026a, p.2). 

The antidote/counter approach to a deficit approach is strengths based approaches. Strengths based approaches "have enabled us to contribute new ways of approaching old problems, resulting in new findings and knowledge that provide different Indigenous-centric understandings of various pervasive problems in education." (Shay & Sarra, 2026a, p.1-2). 

As an Indigenous person who works in education, sometimes I encounter people who wonder why I would work in education when it has a long and established legacy of being used as a tool of assimilation. This is especially true in Canada where Indigenous children were removed from their families under the guise of education. Some would even go so far as to say that those who work in the education system perpetuate and uphold colonial structures (obviously I don't say that... but it's been said to me). I am always interested to see how other Indigenous educators and scholars rationalize their participation in the education system.  "We acknowledge the ongoing impact of colonial educational institutions and how they can work against principles of Indigenous sovereignty... However, there are possibilities for improving Indigneous peoples' educational experiences and outcomes by interacting with these systems." (Shay & Sarra, 2026a, p.5). 

They take time to acknowledge successes in Indigenous education, but are careful not to gloss over the challenges. "We know how much more there is to do. But if we do not stop to see how much has changed for the better and where there are strengths to build from, we perpetuate a story of helplessness and pathology." (Shay & Sarra, 2026a, p.7). And they explain why hope is an important element in Indigenous education: "For our people, hope has kept the fire burning to keep advocating for change in the aftermath of colonisation. If we resign hope, the prospect of change dims. There would be no point in continuing the legacy of change-making that so many elders fought for." (Shay & Sarra, 2026a, p.8). 

"The fundamental premise of [strengths based approaches] is that things can change, including people and situations (McCashen, 2005). The presupposition, then, is that hope can play a role in facilitating such a change." (Shay & Sarra, 2026a, p.7). 

Theoretical Underpinnings for a Stronger Smarter Philosophy of Learning 

Chapter 4 outlines Dr. Chris Sarra's Strong and Smart approach, which is an example of strengths based approaches. The Strong and Smart approach has five meta-strategies: 

These strategies included: "acknowledging, developing, and embracing a positive sense of Aboriginal identity; acknowledging and embracing Aboriginal leadership in schools and school communities; having leaders who have high expectations of teachers, which in turn, have high expectations of students; innovative and dynamic school models in complex social and cultural contexts; and innovative and dynamic school staffing models."  These strategies encompass a believe that positive change is possible when Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students ar proud of their identity - who they are and where they come from, strong in their hearts, solid in their community and smart in the way they do things when they are focused on high expectations and achievement to succeed. (Sarra & Shay, 2026, p.45).

Thriving through Strengths: A New Generation of Indigenous Education Researchers 

Chapter 9 explores strengths based research approaches. For example, 

In his 2005 work, McCashen defines [strengths based approach] as a transformative philosophy prioritizing peoples' unique strength, inherent dignity, and right to self-determination. As outlined by Saint-Jacques et al. (2009 p. 454), the [strengths based approach] is founded on six key principles: 

1 every individual, family, group, and community possesses strengths, with a focus on these strengths rather than on pathology;

2 the community is viewed as a rich source of resources; 

3 interventions are guided by client self-determination;

4 collaboration is central, with the practitioner-client relationship being primary and essential;

5 outreach is employed as a preferred mode of interventions; and 

6 all people have the inherent capacity to learn, grow, and change. (Perkins, 2026, p.127). 

Research 

Theories and Strengths Based Approaches 

Chapter 2 contains a number of explanations of the theoretical foundation of the book including: standpoint theory, relationality, appreciative inquiry, asset based community development, funds of knowledge, and salutogenic theory. The authors do a really good job of outlining different theories and defining them as they go. For example, "Indigenist research has three core principles: resistance as the emancipatory imperative, political integrity, and privileging Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander voices." (Shay & Sarra, 2026b, p.16). 

A Theoretical Lens for Strengths Based Knowledge Production in Indigenous Education 

Chapter 10 was really interesting. The first few chapters explained what strengths based approaches are. Then the next few chapters provided examples of what strengths based approaches look like in education and education research. This final chapter focuses on strengths based knowledge production. 

I found the section on Indigenous research especially interesting. They ask, what is Indigenous research, and they provide some examples, including Close the Gap (p.147), which is a public policy campaign in Australia which they say promotes a deficit based approach. But according to them it is Indigenous research. Then, they share the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies (AIATSIS) code of ethics which says that Indigenous research is defined as research that is "concerned or impacts Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in any of the following ways" and provides examples such as research about Indigenous people, research in which Indigenous people are the target population, the target population contains a significant number of Indigenous people, separating out Indigenous people as a data sub-set, Indigenous communities are contributing to the research, new or existing data on Indigenous people is being used in the research and the research concerns Indigenous people's land and waters (p.149). The authors note that they have seen instances where researchers are engaging in these activities but avoid calling their work Indigenous research because they want to avoid adhering to Indigenous research ethics. 

As an Indigenous researcher, I always find it surprising that the definition of Indigenous research is not simply "research done by Indigenous researchers." Their definition of Indigenous research is defined by the subject of the research, not by how the research is carried out. In Canada, the definition of Indigenous research is less broad, and I would say, less broad. I think that this is in part because there is federal funding available for Indigenous research, and so both Indigenous and non-Indigenous researchers have to compete for funding based on objective criteria. If everyone categorized their research as Indigenous research, then Indigenous people would have to compete with a bigger pool of applicants. 

Even though Australia and Canada were both subjected to British colonialism, the ways that we engage in decolonization reflect our unique social, historical, and cultural contexts. Some ideas are portable, but not all ideas are  perfectly portable. While the direction of broadening the application of Indigenous research ethics is a good direction, I'm not sure that expanding the definition of Indigenous research to all of the items listed in the Australian context is the best strategy in a Canadian context.

Anyhow, the authors created core tenants for ethical Indigenous education research, and I do like their core tenants: 

Six core tenets for a theoretical lense in Indigenous education research:

• 1 strong Indigenous voices 
• 2 Indigenous leadership 
• 3 Indigenous agency 
• 4 Strengths-based knowledge 
• 5 Community strengths 
• 6 Reimagining Futures (Shay & Sarra, 2026c, p.150).

Futurisms/Dreaming 

Chapter 3 was very interesting. The authors included the work of Indigenous scholars such as Linda Tuhiwai Smith. And they put Indigenous scholarship in conversation with European/continental philosophers such as Simone De Beauvoir, Spinoza, Félix Guattari, Gilles Deleuze, Heraclitus, Ernst Bloch, and Antonio Gramsci. I relied on Bloch in my dissertation. His work on utopia is a good fit with Indigenous futurisms, which was my topic. I wish that this book had been available when I was writing my dissertation because it would have helped me create my foundation for studying Indigenous speculative fiction. Here is what the authors say about utopias: 

Our interest in the role of desire in education was sparked initially by E.P. Thompson's (1976, p.27) reading of the French philosopher Miguel Abensour's (1939-2017) comment on Utopian thought in the work of the poet, designer, artist, and political activist William Morris (1834-1896). Abensour addressed the criticism that Utopian thought was wedded to model-building or the production of the blueprint of an ideal society and so could be quite restrictive and oppressive. The kind of Utopian thinking that has been rejected is that thinking that concentrates on the form rather than the function of Utopias (Levitas, 2013). The critics of Utopian thought went so far as to argue that the eventual end of the Utopian impulse was the emergence of the dystopia (Mumford, 1962; Nadir, 2010). Such criticism of immature abstract Utopian thinking is easily criticized. But as Bloch (1986) points out, there are dangers in abandoning the Utopian longing to the "way-of-the-world-philistine" ... the "fat bourgeois and the shallow practicist" (p.186). For Levitas (2013), the critics of Utopian thinking were operating from a "pro-capitalist ideological position" and they were "too cautious, [and] insufficiently Utopian" (p.122). A notorious instance of what can happen if we abandon Utopian longing is, surely, Fukuyama's (1989) proclamation of the end of history and his confident assertion of humanity's inability to imagine anything beyond the present (Webb, 2009). (Sarra, Shay, Maclennan & Mackie, 2026, p.31). 

The authors link this idea of utopian thinking with research, and specifically, research which supports Indigenous futures: 

A key feature of [appreciative inquiry] is ensuring distinct processes that allow for reimagining the current situation or status quo (Willoughby & Tosey, 2007). In developing our Strength-Based Theory for Indigenous Education Research, we looked to further scholarship incorporating Indigenous worldviews. As Indigenous education researchers, we know that there can be a narrow lens of emphasis on the past and present when discussing Indigenous education. The emphasis on the past and present is inherently a deficit way of conceiving our work in Indigenous education. It is underpinned by colonial discourses that continue to overlook Indigenous strengths and aspirations for better futures. Indigenous futurity can be seen as a form of resistance to the ongoing imaginings of Indigenous people in the past (Teuton, 2018). The reimagining futures tenet of our Strengths-Based Theory for Indigenous Education Research should allow for Indigenous perspectives on reimagined futures or alternative futures and solutions. The inclusion of reimagining futures will contribute to the development of Indigenous-informed, future-oriented data that is currently very limited in the corpus of literature. (Shay & Sarra, 2026c, p.155). 

I am working on a project right now which I have in my head framed as strengths based, but I was grappling with how to explain the concept of strengths based in my specific context. This book is fully of theories and scholarship which outlines the parameters of strengths based. I think that it is a valuable contribution and I am sure that I will rely on it in the future. 

Works Cited 

Shay, M. &  Sarra, G. (2026a). Introduction to Strengths-Based Approaches in Indigenous Education: Research and Practice. In (M. Shay & G. Sarra, Eds.) Strengths-Based Approaches in Indigenous Education: Research and Practice (p.1-11). New York, New York: Routledge. 

Shay, M. & Sarra, G. (2026b). Theories and Strengths-Based Approaches. In (M. Shay & G. Sarra, Eds.) Strengths-Based Approaches in Indigenous Education: Research and Practice (p.12-26). New York, New York: Routledge. 

Sarra, G., Shay, M., Maclennan, G., Mackie, I. (2026). Theoretical Underpinnings for a Stronger, Smarker Philosophy of Learning. In (M. Shay & G. Sarra, Eds.) Strengths-Based Approaches in Indigenous Education: Research and Practice (p.27-43). New York, New York: Routledge. 

Sarra, G. & Shay, M. (2026). Applying SBA in Research and Practice. In (M. Shay & G. Sarra, Eds.) Strengths-Based Approaches in Indigenous Education: Research and Practice (p.44-55). New York, New York: Routledge. 

Perkins, R. (2026). Thriving through Strengths: A New Generation of Indigenous Education Researchers. In (M. Shay & G. Sarra, Eds.) Strengths-Based Approaches in Indigenous Education: Research and Practice (p.125-143). New York, New York: Routledge. 

Shay, M. & Sarra, G. (2026c). A Theoretical Lense for Strengths-Based Knowledge Production in Indigenous Education. In (M. Shay & G. Sarra, Eds.) Strengths-Based Approaches in Indigenous Education: Research and Practice (p.144-158). New York, New York: Routledge. 

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

Beyond the Glittering World: An Anthology of Indigenous Feminisms and Futurisms

 Darcie Little Badger is a Lipan Apache author of science fiction, fantasy, horror, and comics. 

Based on a recommendation from a colleague, I read her books Elatsoe and A Snake Falls to Earth. One of the things that I loved about A Snake Falls to Earth is that the book is not driven by a will-they-or-won't-they romantic subplot. I found it refreshing. It's a wholesome story about friendship, community, and books. There is so much kindness in the book. And the main character is so tender hearted. I also loved the intergenerational connections/family responsibility elements of the story. I relied on one of Darcie Little Badger's short stories in order to conclude my dissertation (now available through the ERIC database). 

I was very surprised to learn that her books have appeared on book ban lists in the US. Here is a site which contains a number of Indigenous books banned in the US if you would like to support authors of banned books by purchasing their books. 

Anyhow, Darcie is one of the editors of this new anthology, Beyond the Glittering World: An Anthology of Indigenous Feminisms and Futurisms. 

I was listening to a podcast for the launch of the book, and in the podcast Darcie talked about how the people who put her books on a book ban list did so because of the asexual characters in the book, and the people who banned her books did not even read them. In the podcast she also talks about her recent experience where she was slated to speak at a post-secondary institution, but then shortly before the event they gave her a list of banned words/concepts that she could not use in her presentation, and she cancelled the event. She posted the list and her cancellation on social media, and the media picked it up. The newspaper articles are behind a paywall, but this article from Inside Higher Ed is free. 

The banned words/concepts are: 

• equity, diversity & inclusion 
• anti-racism 
• bias 
• Critical Race Theory 
• implicit bias 
• oppression 
• intersectionality 
• prohibited discriminatory practices 
• racial privilege 
• promoting stereotypes based on personal identity characteristics

In the podcast, co-editors of the collection also reflect on the list of words, and also the general political climate right now. I accessed it for free. 

I provide all of this background as context. The publisher's description of this book is this: 

Rooted in visions of Indigenous futurisms, Beyond the Glittering World proclaims and celebrates a rising generation of storytellers.The collection brings together twenty-two emerging and established women, two-spirit people, and people of marginalized genders who immerse readers in poems, stories, and worlds that challenge and delight. From a museum heist 177 years in the making, to lyrical explorations of love and loss, to a tale where language itself becomes the force that saves the land, this boundary-breaking, genre-bending anthology illuminates the power of Indigenous voices.

In the context of book bans and banned word lists, the act of imagining a different future is a critical and important act. I really commend the editors and authors for doing this work within a political context where there is active structural hostility towards this work. They model how to respond to oppression with creativity and hope. 

The book begins with a foreward by Natalie Diaz. She reflects on the Mojave language and how it informs her understanding of the future, and her relationship to the future. She says, "My responsibility as a human, is to not sit and wait for it but instead to meet is, through my makings and labors of sleep or dream, or running wild in the night." (Diaz, 2025, p.1). She explains that the title of the book comes from Native stories such as, "the Mojave glittering or sparkling world is a time when the world was still wet, after a flood or deluge, or after the original waters we came from had receded." (Diaz, 2025, p.II). She explains that the glittering world is where we live. "In this glittering world we are also taught to dream. We have become those dreams. And we have yet to become those dreams." (Diaz, 2025, p.II). And she comments on how the authors in this anthology honour the idea of the glittering world through their work.

I think that the glittering world is a beautiful concept. I have heard different flood stories from different places, but the glittering world is new to me. I will think of the glittering world when it rains (as it does often in Vancouver). I also love that the concept entails the impetus to dream.

The book contains an introduction written by the editors. They review the history of Indigenous anthologies and celebrate some of their favourite Indigenous authors who came before them. Regarding how their own cultures informed the work of editing the book they state, "Our traditional conceptions of gender and sexuality take on a subversive role as they challenge oppressive patriarchal structures. Women, Two-Spirit people and people of marginalized genders can be incredible leaders and story tellers; in the vein of futurisms, this has been, is, and will always be true." (Denetsosie, Drake & Little Badger, 2025, p.VI). And they explain that in this anthology, "each piece in its own way, answers the question: What lies beyond this Glittering World?" (Denetsosie, Drake & Little Badger, 2025, p.VI).

I love the strengths based stance that the editors take towards Indigenous stories, and also the way that they celebrate the act of storytelling as important work. 

The book includes many authors who are Indigenous to the southwestern United States. It also includes authors who are Indigenous to other regions of the United States, Mexico, Samoa, and Canada. The authors who are Indigenous to Canada are jaye simpson and Arielle Twist. 

The book is compact (204 pages) and features over twenty contributors, so the works are short. Some of the poems are only one to two pages long. I like short pieces. I think it's interesting to see what people can do in a small space. I read this just before the holidays. I did not take too many notes and I was not in an analytic mode. I just kind of existed inside of the book and it was nice. 

One story which stood out to me was Sky Woman Rising: A Memoir by Moniquill Blackgoose. In the story, humans are trying to leave earth. They need to live in space for awhile in order to let earth recover. But the scientists can't get it right. Indigenous people drew lessons from the story of Sky Woman in order to inform how to build their space biome, and they are successful. What I love about this story is that it presents Indigenous knowledge and science as complementary and overlapping. I often get annoyed when people make charts comparing Indigenous people and non-Indigenous people. Generally I think it's not a compelling persuasive strategy because it's an overly broad approach which everyone can find something to disagree with. Anyhow, sometimes in those comparisons, people will put science in the non-Indigenous column, as though Indigenous people did not have our own systems of knowledge and inquiry. I dislike categorizing science as being a non-Indigenous thing because I think it has the potential to lead to Indigenous people being marginalized in science and it also runs the risk that we will marginalize ourselves by avoiding science. What I love about this story is that Indigenous Knowledge literally helps save the world, and it does so by informing a scientific problem which western science on its own could not solve. Indigenous Knowledge, encoded in stories, has an important role in the present and the future. 

I'm currently in a period in my life where I have gone through a period of grieving my aunt, my uncles, and my cousin. As such, the story Sandstone ballad by Danielle Shandiin Emerson really moved me. In the story, the mother dies. But the one of her children finds a statue which looks like her, and it is kind of alive. The story navigates the unease of this mother statue with the longing that comes with grief. It's not horror. It's something else. 

The Oklahoma Ocean by Chelsea T. Hicks was one of my favourite stories. At twenty-seven pages it's one of the longer works. I have no rationale for liking it other than the fact that it was easy to immerse myself in the story. Two friends journey to the Oklahoma Ocean (fracking collapsed aquifers leading to a salinated body of water in Oklahoma) in order to meet a third friend. Everything is uncertain. 

Overall, I would highly recommend this book. I will probably read it again soon. 

Works Cited 

Denetsosie, S.S., Drake, K. & Little Badger, D. Introduction. In (S.S. Denetsosie, K. Drake & D. Little Badger, Eds) Beyond the Glittering World: An Anthology of Indigenous Feminisms and Futurisms (p.III-IV). Salt Lake City, Utah: Torrey House. 

Diaz, N. (2025). Foreward. In (S.S. Denetsosie, K. Drake & D. Little Badger, Eds) Beyond the Glittering World: An Anthology of Indigenous Feminisms and Futurisms (p.I-II). Salt Lake City, Utah: Torrey House. 

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

Dazhindamang Ge-Izhi-Bimaadiziyang: Talking about how we will be living in the future

 Patty Krawec is an Anishinaabe social worker, podcaster, and author. I was very intrigued that she references bad Indians in her book title. It is a historical reference to American President Theodore Roosevelt who said that the only good Indian is a dead Indian. Over the years, various Indigenous creatives have responded to that quote by declaring themselves bad Indians.

Before picking up the book, I listened to some podcasts with Patty in order to help me decide whether or not to read the book. In this one, I learned that she wrote her first book because she was listening to a sermon, and she had a reaction to something said in the sermon. Then I listened to this podcast, where several people are in conversation about Daniel Heath Justice's book Why Indigenous Literatures Matter. One of the guests is Daniel Heath Justice himself. Janet Marie Rogers is also a guest. Another one of the guests is a non-Indigenous guy from Texas who studies theology and writes about religious themes. He randomly mentions seminary in the podcast. What struck me most about the podcast that I listened to was the way that people from different backgrounds were able to find common ground through books. 

Something that Patty is very forthright about in her podcast is the fact that she was not raised by her Indigenous family. She thought that she was "the last dodo" because she didn't have any exposure to other Indigenous people and as a young person she learned about Indigenous people from Little House on the Prairie and Bonanza. And she emphasizes that it is important to keep that in mind. In many ways, we as listener are joining her on her own ongoing identity exploration. What I appreciate about her work is that she is very enthusiastic about Indigenous literature. 

Having listened to a few podcasts, I decided that yes, I would buy her book. The cover art is by NiCole Hatfield. 

A lot of the chapters are inspired by related podcast episodes, however, the podcast did not have an episode on Indigenous futurisms, so this chapter contains entirely new content. The podcast is called Ambe. The premise of the podcast is that she spends a year reading Indigenous books and bringing people together to talk about them. So then the title of the book, Bad Indians Book Club, is reflective of the fact that she has been running this book club (podcast) for a year, and is now putting her thoughts on paper. 

The book's introduction contains summaries of the chapters. Here is the summary of the Indigenous futurisms chapter: 

We end with chapter 8, titled "Dibaadodamaang Ge-Izhi-Bimaadiziyang," which means us talking about how we will be living in the future - through speculative fiction or stories about our realities. When Bad Indians write our own speculative fiction and fantasy and science fiction - when we create, as Justice calls them, "wonderworks" - we are able to imagine ourselves there, imagine ourselves having a future on our own terms, not some space colony DEI project. (Krawec, 2025, p.43). 

She begins by grounding this chapter in an Anishinaabe story, and a discussion on how many Indigenous cultures have stories about worlds ending and worlds beginning. Then she references Daniel Heath Justice: 

Justice also makes the intriguing observation that writing about the future asks us to think about what kind of ancestors we will become. As future generations walk backward into the future, what will they see when they fix their eyes on us? (Krawec, 2025, p.190). 

Following that, she briefly touches on Afrofuturisms, including the work of Octavia Butler and adrienne marie brown. 

The texts that she talks about include:

• A Snake Falls to Earth 
• Prey 
• As Many Ships as Stars 
• Thor: Ragnarok 
• A Short History of the Blockage: Giant Beavers, Diplomacy, and Regeneration in Nishnaabewin
• Buffalo is the New Buffalo 
• Moon of the Crusted Snow 
• Moon of the Turning Leaves 
• Marrow Thieves 
• Star Wars - A New Hope 
• Sword Stone Table 
• Moonshot 

I was pleased that she talked about two books that I had not heard of (Sword Stone Table and As Many Ships as Stars) which I plan on adding to my reading list. A strength of her writing style is that she puts the books in conversation with each other. She will talk about an idea that she likes in one book, and then that will lead her to talk about an idea that she liked in another book, and so on. So it doesn't feel like she is just listing books. She is connecting the books with each other. 

I was also pleased that she put Thor: Ragnarok on there, because it doesn't get enough love. Also, I started a Disney Plus subscription just to watch Prey. Highly recommend. But I'm also going to cancel my subscription soon.

Overall, I really enjoyed this chapter. 

In terms of the book overall, her style of writing is very much the style of talking that is in podcasts. Reflective, touching on the zeitgeist, kind of organic, very personal. For example, sometimes she will just randomly start talking about a meme that she saw on social media. I find a lot of podcasters are big on non-conformity and being contrarian . Whatever material is in front of them, they have a "yeah but" quip or they have a hot take on a commonly accepted sentiment. Patty's podcast adheres to that podcast convention. For example, in one of her podcasts someone responds to a tweet and they take issue with the word Indigenous and the idea of identity. But you kind of have to take these hot takes with a grain of salt. A lot of Indigenous people put a lot of time and effort into UNDRIP and the UN definition of Indigenous, so to randomly just declare it to be inappropriate of whatever is ahistorical and not really a studied approach. Similarly in BC, Indigenous educators have formally communicated through the First People's Principles of Learning that exploration of identity is important. In terms of all the fights that one could take on in the world, why choose the word Indigenous or the concept of identity? But that's what podcasters do sometimes because it is entertaining - they spontaneously take a contrarian approach to random things. It's a Seinfeld-esque qualify of the medium. It would not be a very long or interesting podcast if someone said, "what do you think about the word Indigenous and the concept of identity?" and the other person said, "let me think about it, read about it, consult people that I trust who know a lot about the history of the word, and I'll get back to you." Sometimes in the book she refers to things without citing them. For example, she said that the Maori have a saying that they walk backwards into the future with their eyes fixed on the past. It's a beautiful saying, but it's not cited. With Indigenous knowledge, I think it is important to say where you got your information. So for those reasons, while I do find this book entertaining, I would probably not use it in the classroom unless I had done some front end loading around Indigenous Knowledge/research ethics in advance of using the text.

That being said, as a fan of Indigenous literature, I did find the book to be a worthwhile way to spend some time. 

Works Cited 

Krawec, P. (2025). Bad Indians Book Club: Reading at the Edge of a Thousand Worlds. Fredericton, New Brunswick: Goose Lane Books. 

Perspectives on Indigenous speculative fiction

 Many of the collections I read included forewords written by editors of collections of Indigenous speculative fiction anthologies of short stories. For me as a reader, these thoughts from the people who brought these collections together helped orient me to the genres within speculative fiction; thus, I put their words forward to orient you to the genres as well. As editors of Indigenous futurisms, and sometimes as authors of Indigenous futurisms, these individuals have helped to shape Indigenous speculative fiction by virtue of assembling these collections and commenting on their significance. Their introductions speak to the ways that Indigenous speculative fiction helps open up readers’ perceptions of possibilities for Indigenous futures. 

In the introduction to Walking the clouds: An anthology of Indigenous science fiction (2012), Grace Dillon opens with reference to a Drew Hayden Taylor play in which one of the characters is an Indigenous science fiction writer who resists their writing being limited to a mechanism to educate non-Indigenous Canada about Indigenous people, and instead just wants to follow their own creative impulses while also making a living (p. 1). Encountering the concept of an Indigenous science fiction writer through Drew Hayden Taylor’s work, Dillon is inspired to ask herself the question "Does s[cience] f[iction] have the capacity to envision Native futures, Indigenous hopes, and dreams recovered by rethinking the past in a new framework?" (p. 2). She answers her own question when she says that this anthology “weds s[cience] f[iction] theory and Native intellectualism, Indigenous scientific literacy, and western techno-cultural science, scientific possibilities enmeshed with Skin thinking" (p. 2). 

She says, "The stories offered here are thought experiments that confront issues of 'Indianness'” (p. 2) and also describes the stories as a "mindscape" (p. 3). The parameters of the mindscape are described through the names of the sections in the book: “Native Slipstream; Contact; Indigenous Scientific Literacies and Environmental Sustainability; Native Apocalypse, Revolutions, and Futuristic Reconstructions of Sovereignties; and Biskaabiiyang, ‘Returning to Ourselves’: Beyond the Shadow-Worlds of Postmodernity and the (Post)Colonial." (p. 3). She doesn’t explain these titles. In the actual sections themselves she does not use these full section titles, which only appear in the introduction. Nevertheless, I find the titles intriguing, particularly the description of postmodernity and postcolonial spaces as shadow-worlds. 

Dillon references Indigenous scholars who may be familiar to those engaged in Indigenous studies, invoking Gerald Vizenor's Survivance (p. 6), Lawrence Gross's concepts of post-apocalyptic stress syndrome, aakozi (Anishinaabemowin for being out of balance), and returning to bimaadiziwin (being in a state of balance) (p. 9), and Linda Tuhiwai Smith's approach to decolonization, which Dillon describes as "changing rather than imitating Eurowestern concepts" (p. 10). She doesn’t go into depth about the work of these scholars, but I interpret this gesturing as a signal to the reader that reading these stories can be a scholarly activity. Sometimes people think of science fiction as light entertainment. By connecting Indigenous science fiction to the work of Indigenous scholars, she signals that studying science fiction can be serious work. She says, "In the end, Walking the Clouds returns us to ourselves by encouraging Native writers to write about Native conditions in Native-centred worlds liberated by the imagination" (p. 11). I note that this book is part of a series, Sun Tracks. The editorial board for Sun Tracks includes Indigenous scholars such as Joy Harjo, Simon J. Ortiz, and Leslie Marmon Silko.

A few years later, in 2016, Drew Hayden Taylor published a book of his own science fiction short stories, Take us to your chief: and other stories. This is especially fun because it was his play that Grace Dillon was watching when she was inspired to create the term “Indigenous futurisms.” He doesn’t characterize his work as Indigenous futurisms, but I generally think of Indigenous science fiction as being in the realm of Indigenous futurisms, and thus, I think of his as Indigenous futurism. It is a playful book. Taylor says, “I wanted to take traditional science fiction characteristics and filter them through an Aboriginal consciousness,” (p.viii). A prolific author in a number of genres, he says “I’m an old hand at hybridizing” (p.viii). Regarding the goals of his work, he says “Part of my journey in this life both as a First Nations individual and as a writer is to expand the boundaries of what is considered Native literature. There is more to Indigenous existence than negative social issues and victim narratives” (p.ix). With respect to why he chose science fiction, Taylor says:

Some critics might argue our literary perspective is a little too predictable—of a certain limited perspective. For example, a lot of Indigenous novels and plays tend to walk a narrow path specifically restricted to stories of bygone days. Or angry/dysfunctional aspects of contemporary First Nations life. Or the hangover problems resulting from centuries of colonization. All worthwhile and necessary reflections of Aboriginal life for sure. But I wonder why it can’t be more? (p. ix).

mitewacimowina: Indigenous science fiction and speculative storytelling was published in 2016 by Indigenous-owned publishing house Theytus Books. Neal McLeod, editor, explains the title of the book in the introduction. It is a Cree word with two roots: mitew and acimowina. “The stem mitew refers to someone who has spiritual power, and someone who does thing beyond the ordinary—and perhaps beyond explanation. acimowina, simply means ‘stories.’ This collection involves two elements which overlap with one another: science fiction and speculative storytelling” (p. 4). He notes that science has been “used in the project of colonialism” (p. 4) and that “within some streams of Indigenous science fiction, there might not be so much a celebration of the possibilities of science, but rather a critique of science, and how science and technology have been used to propagate colonialism” (p. 4). 

With respect to the theme of space exploration, he notes that some stories focus on “the space of the mind and the imagination. Space is not only the terrain of the physical world, but also the terrain of the soul… the stars within us, and within our bodies” (p. 4). He notes that some of the stories in the collection reimagine history and “explore Indigenous history and experience” (p. 5). He notes that some of the stories “bend time another way—by drawing on the past, our understanding of the present is amplified” (p. 6). He concludes the introduction by stating that Indigenous science fiction and speculative storytelling “provides a means for reimagining Indigenous political and social situations. These narratives provide a way to reshape Indigenous futures and also to reshape understandings of the past,” and that he hopes that “the publication of this volume will encourage the flourishing of this trajectory of Indigenous literature” (p. 7).

Hope Nicholson (2016) wrote the "letter from the editor" for Love beyond body, space & time: An Indigenous LGBT sci-fi anthology. As a non-Indigenous person, she speaks to balancing the tension between her own desire to share stories and Indigenous and LGBT individuals’ right to privacy (p. 7). She notes, for example, that there are reasons why Indigenous people restrict certain stories to their community and there are reasons why transgender people “do not discuss aspects of their transition” (p. 7). She says “I selected the genres of speculative fiction, science fiction, and fantasy for this collection as it is my belief that there is a tendency to restrict Indigenous stories to one time, one place, and force culture to be something to be looked at from a distance. I hope that by having stories unburdened by time, place, or space, that it creates connection” (p. 8). She says that all of the authors identify as Indigenous and most of them identify as queer, bisexual, lesbian, transgender, or lesbian (p. 8).

Grace Dillon (2016) also wrote a foreword to Love beyond body, space & time: An Indigenous LGBT sci-fi anthology. She asserts “colonial gender-binaries and sexual regimes” were “imposed by the legacy of nineteenth-century white manifest destinies,” and that Two-Spirit stories are “refashioning ancestral traditions in order to flourish in the post-Native Apocalypse” (p. 9). She says:

SF [science fiction] survivance stories are not about survival. SF survivance stories are about persistence, adaptation, and flourishing in the future, in sometimes subtle but always important contrast to the mere survival, or the self-limiting experience of trauma and loss that often surrenders the imagination to creeds of isolation and victimhood, the apprehension of hopelessness, helpless entitlement to an extirpated past. SF survivance stories project near and far futures where Indigenous peoples reclaim sovereignty and self-determination. (pp. 9-10)

Niigaan Sinclair (2016) also wrote a foreword to Love beyond body, space & time: An Indigenous LGBT sci-fi anthology. He begins with historical non-Indigenous reactions to a two-spirit person from the 1800s (p. 12-13). Then he discusses contemporary use of the term “two-spirit” and their roles in historical and contemporary Indigenous communities (p. 14-15). He points out that LGBTQ and two-spirit Indigenous individuals experience double oppression—racism and homophobia, and he claims that some scientific theories have been used to uphold racism and homophobia (p. 16). He says:

I would add that science has been the predominant foundation for arguments supporting colonial hatred and fear of Indigenous LGBTQ and two-spirit traditions. Arguments based in biased and Darwinian understandings of science, constructing what is ‘normal,’ ‘civilization,’ and ‘order’ formed the basis for Christian ideas of ‘natural law’ and legal principles that legislated and justified hate. These systems perpetuated violence against Indigenous peoples and created cycles that undermined community principles, divided families and clans, and constituted not only ‘cultural genocide’ but actual, physical genocide. (p. 16)

He notes that writing (fiction, laws, media) has been used to misrepresent Indigenous LGBTQ and two-spirit identities. He also notes that over the course of three centuries, some Indigenous people have internalized these oppressive narratives. However, “Indigenous two-spirit community members continue to gift us one of the longest and most extensive stories of revolution and agency in North American history. Indigenous two-spirit artists have been using love to overcome hate across time and space—and even beyond it” (Sinclair, 2016, p. 17). He says that this collection is “a recognition of Indigenous LGBTQ and two-spirit traditions,” but “none of these stories are solely about history. These narratives are about the future, time-travel and other worlds. They are visions and re-visions of a complete and full Indigenous tomorrow” (p. 17). He notes that this collection takes these tools of oppression – fiction and science – and “re-makes them” (p. 19). The stories “gift us ways of seeing reality beyond that which we have inherited and see science and fiction of what it always should have given us” dreams, hope, and possibilities beyond what we think we see” (p. 17).

Read, listen, tell: Indigenous stories from Turtle Island (2017) is a critical reader edited by a group of Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars: Sophie McCall, Deanna Reder, David Gaertner, and Gabrielle L’Hirondelle Hill. In the introduction, the authors explain that one of the goals of the reader is to “resist categorization,” (p. 2) including breaking down the “false duality that is sometimes assumed between ‘stories’ and ‘literature,’ particularly in the context of university study, which confers greater prestige on ‘literature’” (p. 2). They hope the reader teaches people “to engage with those writers and against naturalized colonial world views and hermeneutic tools” (p. 3). They provide a number of examples of Indigenous literary theory by Craig Womack, Deanna Reder, Harold Cardinal, and Leslie Silko. 

They state, “We demonstrate ways that readers can approach the stories through Indigenous contexts, epistemologies, and ways of knowing, all the while appreciating that there is no one way to interpret a story” (p. 3). The introduction outlines the structure of the reader, which contains works by authors from Canada, the United States, and Mexico, and includes scholarly introductions to each section and each work. The section on Indigenous fantasy and SF states that “Indigenous authors have composed stories in any number of genres, including (but not limited to) fantasy, science fiction, erotica, and horror” (p. 325). They state that the authors in this section are “shaping, adapting, and indigenizing well-known literary genres to create some of the most innovative, provocative, and fun-to-read short fiction available” (p. 326). However, there is a caution that “an uncritical genre application risks mirroring colonialism: assigning top-down categorization instead of recognizing the author’s own unique forms of storytelling” (p. 326).

Joshua Whitehead wrote the introduction to Love after the end: An anthology of Two-Spirit & Indigiqueer speculative fiction (2021). He says, “these are stories that highlight a longevity of virology and a history of genocidal biowarfare used against Indigenous people across Turtle Island since the docking of colonial powers into our homelands” (p. 9). He says originally this book was going to be dystopic, but then a decision was made to turn it into a book about utopias, as “we have already survived the apocalypse—this, right here, right now, is a dystopian present. What better way to imagine survivability than to think about how we may flourish into being joyously animated rather than merely alive?” (p. 11). He refers to Sara Ahmed’s queer fatalism, where being queer is fatal (p. 11). As an example, he points to a historical example where an early American painter expressed that he would rather see Indigenous queerness “extinguished” rather than “recorded” (p. 11). As another example of Indigenous queerness as fatal, he points to “contemporary erasures and appropriations of the term Two-Spirit by settler queer cultures who idealize, mysticize, and romanticize our hi/stories in order to generate a queer genealogy for settler sexualities” (p. 11). 

Whitehead says, “utopias are what we have to build, and build now, in order to find some type of sanctuary in which we and all others can live” (p. 12). He invokes the nehiwawewin word “nikanihk” which means “in the future,” and “put her/him in front” (p. 12). As such, the anthology puts Two-Spiritedness in the front. 

He shares a story from one of his elders where she could not find medicine to harvest, and so she prayed and asked for it. And when she opened her eyes, it was there in front of her (p. 15). He extends her story to say it was a story “of how to find what we need when we need it” (p. 15). “So here, in this anthology, I, too put medicine down for you so that you may see the braids of Two-Spiritedness glowing the glaze of ink and paper. And I hear my Two-Spirited persona Jonny Appleseed reverberating in my thorax, itching to sing: ‘We are our own best medicine’” (p. 15). With respect to the other authors in the collection, he says that they “equipped themselves with beaded breastplates and dentalium earrings in order to tell you their stories,” and “now more than ever we need these stories: stories of Earth, mothers, queer love, trans love, animality, kinship, and a fierce fanning of care” (p. 15).

Chelsea Vowel's 2022 Buffalo is the new buffalo is her own collection of eight science fiction short stories. In addition to being an author of fiction, Chelsea Vowel is a scholar, blogger, and podcaster. Her podcast, Métis  in space, was established in 2014 and claims to be the world's only and most famous Indigenous science fiction podcast. My favourite Métis in space episode is an analysis of the Disney cartoon Lilo and Stitch (Vowel & Swain, 2016). Being a fan of the podcast, I was very excited when I saw that she had written this book. Each story in her book is followed by her own explanation of the story in order to help the reader understand the story. In her preface, she says “You don’t have to be Métis to get it!” (p. 13). She says that Métis/nehiyaw have their own story conventions, and she has integrated Métis conventions into these stories in such a way that may not be legible to non-Métis/nehiyaw readers. She says that she is “making space to respond to mainstream speculative fiction either by Métis-fying it (adding Métis literary conventions and allusions/history/cultural aspects) or subverting it by switching observer-subject roles” (p. 14). 

She says stories have power and her writing “seeks to engage in that transformation, making space for Métis to exist across time, refusing our annihilation as envisioned by the process of ongoing colonialism and questioning the ways we are thought to have existed in the past” (p. 14). As such, her stories “extend Métis existence beyond official narratives, beyond current constraints” (p. 14); they challenge “the divide between fact and fiction” (p. 14). She says Indigenous futurisms “are not synonymous with science fiction and fantasy,” and points to Tsilhqot’in filmmaker Helen Haig-Brown’s ?e?anx: The cave as an example of Indigenous futurisms being an expression of Indigenous ontologies. She gives a nod to Afro-futurisms, and asserts that “Whitestream science fiction insists that colonialism is inevitable” (p. 16). Additionally, she says that when Black people, Indigenous people, and people of colour create content, they “push back against the colonizing narrative of whitestream speculative fiction,” and with a nod to Walidah Imarisha, she says “it can also be a form of social justice organizing” (p. 16).

She defines herself as a “Métis-futurist” (p. 18). She says “accepting Métis cosmology and relationships as true, as science fact, offers alternatives to prescribed colonial roles for Indigenous peoples in the past, the present, and the near and far future. This opens up space and time to set goals for the future that do not privilege the colonial project without having to provide a step-by-step plan for how to achieve these futures” (p. 19). Additionally, she says:

Given the way in which indigenous peoples are so often forced to reactively hyperfocus on the present and on day-to-day survival, having some space to cast ourselves as far into the future is vital and potentially emancipatory. Setting these stories in contexts that explicitly reject anti-Blackness, heteronormativity, classism, ableism, patriarchy, and white supremacy is one way to think about how to overcome colonial logics. (p. 20)

Works Cited 

Dillon, G. (2015). Imagining Indigenous futurisms. In G. Dillon (Ed.), Walking the clouds: An anthology of Indigenous science fiction (pp. 1-14). Tuscan, Arizona: The University of Arizona Press.

Dillon, G. (2016). Beyond the grim dust of what was. In H. Nicholson (Ed.), Love beyond body, space & time: An Indigenous LGBTQ sci-fi anthology (pp. 9-11). Winnipeg, Manitoba: Bedside Press. 

McCall, S., Reder, D., Gaertner, D., L'Hirondelle Hill, G. (2017). Read, listen, tell: Indigenous stories from Turtle Island. Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfred Laurier Press.

McLeod, N. (2016). Introduction. In N. McLeod (Ed.), mitewacimowina: Indigenous science fiction and speculative storytelling (pp. 3-8). Penticton, British Columbia: Theytus Books.

Nicholson, H. (2016). Letter from the editor. In H. Nicholson (Ed.), Love beyond body, space & time: An Indigenous LGBTQ sci-Fi anthology (pp. 7-8). Winnipeg, Manitoba: Bedside Press. 

Sinclair, N. (2016). Returning to ourselves: Two Spirit futures and the now. In H. Nicholson (Ed.), Love beyond body, space & time: An Indigenous LGBTQ sci-fi anthology (pp. 12-19). Winnipeg, Manitoba: Bedside Press. 

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

Vowel, C., & Swain, M. (Hosts). (2016). Lilo and Stitch (Season 3, Episode 6) [Audio podcast episode]. In otipêyimsiw-iskwêwak kihci-kîsikohk, Métis in Space. Indian and Cowboy Media. https://soundcloud.com/m-tis-in-space/Métis-in-space-season-3-episode-6-lilo-stitch

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 excerpt from my dissertation, Singing into the Machine, p.48-54

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

 

Afro-futurisms and Indigenous futurisms

 The phrase “Indigenous futurisms” is often used to describe Indigenous speculative fiction. According to David Gaertner, Grace Dillon was the first to use the term “Indigenous futurisms” in 2003 (Gaertner, 2015, para. 13). Gaertner says “Indigenous futurism itself draws on Afrofuturism… In many ways Afrofuturism and Indigenous Futurism are pragmatic antidotes to contemporary reconciliation narratives, insofar as they look towards the future survivance of Indigenous peoples and people of colour within a system that, reconciled or not, continues to inflict violence against their bodies” (Gaertner, 2015, para. 14).

Mark Dery (1993), who created the term Afro-futurisms, says:

Speculative fiction that treats African-American themes and addresses African-American concerns in the context of twentieth century technoculture—and, more generally, African-American signification that appropriates images of technology and a prosthetically enhanced future—might, for want of a better term, be called ‘Afrofuturism.’ The notion of Afrofuturism gives rise to a troubling antinomy: Can a community whose past has been deliberately rubbed out, and whose energies have subsequently been consumed by the search for legible traces of its history, imagine possible futures? (p. 736)

Samual R. Delany, in an interview with Mark Dery, explains that Black people have been “impoverished in terms of future images” because during slavery his ancestors were systemically denied the ability to know and share their history,” (Delany in Dery, 1993, p. 742). Black history is a “violently contested area,” which limits the ability to have future images (p. 743). GregTate, also interviewed by Dery, says:

One of the things that characterizes science fiction is the somewhat didactic way in which instruction is given about the potential for catastrophe in a society when its members don’t pay attention to the paths that either a new technology or an aberrant life form may take. In that sense, SF parallels traditional mythology, which is full of cautionary tales. (Tate, cited in Dery, 1993, p. 764)

Dery also imagines science fiction as “philosophical inquiry and technological speculation” which leads towards self-knowledge (p. 766). He says self-knowledge is particularly valuable for Black readers and writers because for Black people self-knowledge “is not something that’s given to you, institutionally; it’s an arduous journey that must be undertaken by the individual” (Dery, 1993, p. 766).

If you would like to listen to an Afro-futurism short story along with a commentary on the significance of the genre I recommend the LeVar Burton Reads podcast episode on Octavia Butler (Burton, 2018). LeVar Burton was the star of a long-standing American children's education television series called Reading Rainbow as well as an actor on the Star Trek science fiction television series. Olivia Butler is one of the founding authors in the genre of what is now known as Afro-futurisms. Her work has inspired many, including the authors of a collection of short stories called Octavia's brood: Science fiction stories from social justice movements (brown & Imarisha, 2015). In the introduction, editor Walidah Imarisha (2015) says “All organizing is science fiction. Organizers and activists dedicate their lives to creating an envisioning another world, or many other worlds – so what better venue for organizers to explore their work than science fiction stories?” (p. 3). So, science fiction can be a method of orienting our lives and energy towards a better future. In a Simon Fraser University Below the Radar podcast where Imarisha discusses their book, she notes that utopia/dystopia may, at times, be contingent on perspective. As an example, she says that Portland may be seen by many as a progressive utopia. However, because legacies of racial exclusion endure in the region, it is a white progressive utopia, which means that for non-white people, it may be experienced as a dystopia (Johal, 2022).

Before I delve into Indigenous futurisms, I’d like to pause and set two parameters around the juxtaposition of Afro-futurisms and Indigenous futurisms. The first parameter is that while Indigenous futurisms draws inspiration from Afro-futurisms, the two are not interchangeable. Rifkin (2019) explains that Black and Indigenous struggles “emerge out of a ‘shared history’ of white supremacist violence, exploitation, and expropriation” (p. 1); however, their political struggles are “oriented in different ways,” which “does not mean understanding them as utterly dissimilar or as having no points of intersection of mutual imbrication” (p. 5). Rifkin discourages attempts to try to “force them into alignment” (p. 6) and instead says that acknowledging their differences “opens up the potential for acknowledging a plurality of legitimate, non-identical truth claims, none of which should be taken as the singular and foundational way that the real is structured” (p. 8). When writing about Indigenous Futurisms and Afrofuturisms, it’s important to respect their respective uniqueness rather than seeking homogeneity. It might appear expedient to collapse the two into one category for ease of reference; however, doing so erases rather than celebrates difference.

The second parameter is expressed in Chelsea Vowel’s comment that “I refuse to exclude the potential and real Indigeneity of black people, either implicitly or through omission” (Vowel, 2022). She does not elaborate on it, but I believe this is an acknowledgement of African Indigeneity. I also perceive it as an acknowledgement that some people are both Indigenous to North America and Black.

Indigenous futurisms is a term that is used to describe creative works and to some degree it is a way of engaging in the world, but I would posit that it is not fixed genre with identifiable parameters. Rather than thinking of it as a category, I think of it as a descriptor. Items which could be included in Indigenous futurisms could include video games, art, essays, utopias, dystopias, post-apocalyptic fiction, science fiction, slipstream, alternative histories, time travel, inter-dimensional travel, horror, and so on. I first learned about Indigenous futurisms through Kimiwan Zine’s special issue on Indigenous futurisms in 2014. Kimiwan Zine featured many First Nations, Métis, and Inuit contributors and was published by a Cree collective. Along with the launch of the special issue, they also collaborated with RPM Records to release an Indigenous futurisms mixtape (Kimiwan Zine & RPM Records, 2014).  

Two novels which could be described as Indigenous futurisms were recently featured in an annual high-profile battle-of-the-books. Canada’s public broadcaster, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, holds an annual book contest. First, a longlist of books is released. Then a panel of five advocates is selected, with each panelist tasked with arguing that every Canadian should read their assigned book. The panelists participate in public debates with each other. At the end of each debate, they vote one book off of the list until only one book is left. That book is the winner. Each year there is a new theme. Métis author Cherie Dimaline’s novel The marrow thieves (2017) was on theshortlist for 2018, and the theme was “one book to open your eyes” (CBC, 2018). Anishinaabe author Waubgeshig Rice’s novel Moon of the crusted snow (2018) was on the long list for 2023, and the theme was “one book to shift your perspective” (CBC, 2023).

There are also scholarly titles which could be described as Indigenous futurisms. Otherwise worlds: Against settler colonialism and anti-Blackness (2020) is an anthology of interviews, essays, and visual art from Black and Indigenous thinkers. It was edited by Tiffany Lethabo King, Jenell Navarro (Cherokee), and Andrea Smith. In the introduction, the editors assert that Indigenous and Black people have a shared goal of decolonization, yet do not have consensus on how to achieve it. For example, they note that Black calls for land as reparations affirm the state’s right to distribute land (p. 7). However, Indigenous people assert their own sovereignty and question the existence of the United States, let alone the United States’ right to redistribute land (p. 7). The editors state that the collection was not intended to be prescriptive, but rather is an opportunity to ask questions about the relationship between Black and Indigenous peoples/studies (p. 21). “Indigenous futurisms” is an essay in the book by Cree-Métis-Saulteaux writer, scholar, and editor Lindsay Nixon. Nixon (2020) says “The future imaginary becomes a realm within which Indigenous artists express disconnection from kinship and land, a medicinal space to imagine new futures for Indigenous life” (p. 339). I note that they state that it is Indigenous people who express themselves through/in Indigenous futurisms, as opposed to including within the definition non-Indigenous representations of Indigenous people. In saying that it is a “medicinal space,” Nixon is implying that futurisms are not just a product. They are a way of interacting with the world. Those creating works within the realm of Indigenous futurisms create medicinal space for themselves and for those who read/view the works.

Rehearsals for living (2022) is a series of letters between Robyn Maynard and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson. They grapple with the problems of today and discuss Black and Indigenous futures from their respective standpoints as a Black scholar (Robyn Maynard) and an Indigenous scholar (Leanne Simpson). In the first letter, Maynard writes to Simpson, “I am writing to you a letter at the end of (this) world” (p. 14). In the last letter, Simpson writes to Maynard, “We are remaking the whole world” (p. 185). Her signoff says “hope is a practice. So is our continuous rebirth” (p. 186). Neither author uses the terms “Indigenous futurisms” nor “Afrofuturisms” and I am not sure if they would categorize their work as such, or if they would just say their work talks about the future.  

German scholar Kristina Baudemann (2019) writes, “Indigenous futurisms frequently revolve around Indigenous conceptions of time, revisit colonial history, and carve out sovereign Indigenous spaces within and across different discourses for the imagining of an Indigenous-centered future” (p. 151). Not all Indigenous futurisms are set in the future. It is possible to imagine an Indigenous-centered future through a story not set in the future. An example of a work which is set in the past, but could be categorized as Indigenous futurism, is Jeff Barnaby’s residential school revenge fantasy set in 1979, Rhymes with young ghouls (2013). In an interview, Barnaby explains that the question left to the characters at the end of the film is “how do we move forward into the future?” (DaCosta, 2014, para. 16). A futurist work set in the present, nehiyaw visual artist Joi Arcand’s 2010 photo series “Here on future Earth” contains photos of seemingly mundane buildings; however, the neon signage on the buildings is written in Cree syllabics. “Arcand wants us tothink about these photographs as documents of ‘an alternative present,’ of afuture that is within arm’s reach” (Belcourt, 2017, para. 7).

Works Cited 

Barnaby, J (Director). (2013). Rhymes for young ghouls [Film]. Les Films Séville.

Baudermann, K. (2019). Indigenous futurist film: Speculation and resistance in Jeff Barnaby's Rhymes for Young Ghouls and File Under Miscellaneous. In A.J. Ransom and D. Grace (eds) Canadian Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror (pp. 151-165). London, United Kingdom: Palgrave Macmillan.

Belcourt, B. (2017, August 29). The optics of the language: How Joi T. Arcand looks with words. Canadian Art. https://canadianart.ca/features/optics-language-joi-t-arcand-looks-words/

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.

Burton, L. (Host). (2018, April 3). “Childfinder” by Octavia Butler [Audio podcast episode]. Levar Burton Reads. Sticher. https://www.levarburtonpodcast.com/

DaCosta, J. (2014, February 1). Interview with filmmaker Jeff Barnaby on Rhymes for Young Ghouls. Muskrat Magazine. https://muskratmagazine.com/interview-with-filmmaker-jeff-barnaby-on-rhymes-for-young-ghouls/

Dery, M. (1993). Black to the future: Interviews with Samuel R. Delany, Greg Tate, and Tricia Rose. Flame Wars: The Discourse of Cyberculture 92 (4). Pp. 735-778.

Dimaline, C. (2017). The marrow thieves. Toronto, Ontario: Dancing Cat Books.

Gaertner, D. (2015). What's a story like you doing in a place like this? Cyberspace and Indigenous Futurism [Blog post]. Retrieved from https://novelalliances.com/2015/03/23/whats-a-story-like-you-doing-in-a-place-like-this-cyberspace-and-indigenous-futurism-in-neal-stephensons-snow-crash/#_ftn1

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

kimiwan collective. (2014, tākwākin). Indigenous futurisms [Special edition]. kimiwan zine (8).

kimiwan zine collective. (2015). Indigenous futurisms mixtape [Audio]. RPMfm. https://soundcloud.com/rpmfm/indigenous-futurisms-mixtape

Lethabo King, T., Navarro, J., & Smith, A. (2020). Otherwise worlds: Against settler colonialism and anti-blackness. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press.

Meet the Canada Reads 2018 contenders (2018, January 30). Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. https://www.cbc.ca/books/canadareads/meet-the-canada-reads-2018-contenders-1.4505780

Nixon, L. (2020). Visual cultures of Indigenous futurism. In T. Lethabo King, J. Navarro, A. Smith (Eds.), Otherwise worlds: Against settler colonialism and anti-Blackness (pp. 332-342). Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press.

Moon of the Crusted Snow by Waubgeshig Rice: A dystopian novel set in a small northern Anishinaabe community (2023, January 12). Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. https://www.cbc.ca/books/moon-of-the-crusted-snow-by-waubgeshig-rice-1.4761526

Rice, W. (2018). Moon of the crusted snow. Toronto, Ontario: ECW Press.

Rifkin, M. (2019). Fictions of land and flesh: Blackness, Indigeneity, speculation. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press. 

Simpson, L.B. & Manyard, R. (2023). Rehearsals for living. Toronto, Ontario: Penguin Random House Canada. https://www.penguinrandomhouse.ca/books/675719/rehearsals-for-living-by-robyn-maynard-and-leanne-betasamosake-simpson/9781039000674

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

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This is an excerpt from my dissertation, Singing into the Machine, p.54-58

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