Author: kwetoday

A note from my personal journal #LdnOnt

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July 7 (No year but I am assuming it is 2007 since the entry before this day is dated 2007) “Here I am on a greyhound bus off to London. I still don’t know if this is the right or wrong thing or a good or bad decision.” 

Now, it is April 30, 2014 and I have returned home to Garden River First Nation. In my dreams, I always return home. I have been quite busy as of lately. Literally packed and moved my apartment in 24 hours and then unpacked the moving truck in another 24 hours. I just finished filing my taxes (the usual me–leaving things for last minute).

The last few years I spent London, Ontario. I moved to London with no idea what the hell I was going to do or what was going to happen to me. All I knew was that I was going to work at one of the clubs in London. I didn’t know anyone when I first moved there and I didn’t really have a place to live (save for the dancer house which is a house supplied by most clubs for girls who tour to their club or who are dancers from out of town). But a diploma, a degree, new friendships, and lifelong memories … I can say it was a move worth taking…

This summer I will be moving out to Saskatoon to attend a pre-law program! I can’t wait! I love the west!

But I will also be moving again in the fall 😉 To Ottawa (I can’t wait for that too)!

 

On Belonging, Indigeneity, and Education @ #WesternU

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In An Unsettled Feminist Discourse, Notisha Massaquoi posits that the Canadian identity is based on “what we are not” (p. 75). For Massaquoi, becoming Canadian means to ignore race and ethnicity (p. 76). Massaquoi engages in a discussion on identity, belonging, and citizenship, and briefly mentions that these labels, within a Canadian context, are “based on [Canadians’] ability to subjugate the history of Aboriginal peoples’ marginalization” (p. 78). While her discussion is centred on Black women’s experiences, I would like to explore this statement by Massaquoi in detail from an Indigenous feminist’s perspective.

Massaquoi parallels belonging to citizenship and immigration. However, this concept of belonging, or identity, is complicated once Indigenous peoples are included in the discussion of what it means to be Canadian. Theresa Smith, in her chapter entitled, (Re)Turning Home: An Exploration in the (Re)Claiming of Identity and Belonging, states that “When Canada is mentioned, we are meant to imagine a White identity just as when Jamaican is mentioned we are meant to imagine Black” and continues, “your national/ethnic identity is reinforced by others” (p. 199). Frantz Fanon delineates this notion that one comes to know who they are by what they are not in his seminal work, Black Skins, White Masks—Black people know that they are Black because they are not White (Raza, 2014, p. 145). Massaquoi briefly examines this “knowing who you are by what you are not” in her discussion on foreignness and at homeness. From her experiences, becoming Canadian means to ignore race and ethnicity, which could translate to, for women of colour, forgetting their history or what Amalia Sa’ar (2005) describes as the liberal bargain. Sa’ar (2005) defines the liberal bargain when “some members of marginalized groups internalize liberal epistemology [to think white/think male] to maximize security and optimize their life options” (p. 681). Within this process, to think white/think male, members of marginalized groups negotiate their worlds by leaving behind parts of who they are and where they come from in exchange for maximizing security and optimizing their life options. If forgetting one’s history is part of becoming Canadian, or closer to Whiteness, then similar to Massaquoi’s earlier statement, a Canadian identity is based on subjugating Aboriginal people’s history. For Theresa Smith (2014), this Canadian identity erases Indigenous identity, both literally and figuratively (p. 197). Utilizing an autoethnographic method, I will investigate the concept of belonging for Indigenous students in academia, which I define as the processes involved in the production of knowledge. More specifically, I will investigate the concept of belonging from my experiences as an Indigenous student at Western University, an international-focused institute that is bordered by multiple First Nation communities. This autoethnographic approach will also utilize an anti-racist and anti-colonial inquiry that is centered on decolonization. Raza (2014) puts forward the question, “How can we work with Aboriginal peoples so that we do not exclude them from anti-racist, anti-colonial work?” (p. 145). I will explore Massaquoi’s earlier statement that Canadianness depends on the subjugation of Aboriginal people’s history and in doing so, seek to answer Raza’s question on how to work with Aboriginal peoples to include them within anti-racist, anti-colonialist work, especially within academia, a site of knowledge production.

On anti-racism education, George J. Sefa Dei (2014) writes, “anti-racism is about human action and institutionalized social practices. Our social world can and ought to be more equitable” (p. 2). Sefa Dei highlights that “resisting and challenging racist hegemonic practices is key” (p. 2). Similar to Tsalach (2013), the autoethnographic method is the resistance and challenge to racist hegemonic practices within academia. Raza (2014) expands on the anti-colonial framework as a space to “disrupt the taken-for-granted notions of power, privilege, imposed knowledge and the categories of good (colonizer) and evil (“Other”)” (p. 136). My experiences as an undergraduate student at Western University are informed by these racist hegemonic practices, from racist remarks from other students due to lack of accurate historical education both before and during post-secondary education to racist remarks from colleagues on an Indigenous research team, wherein I was the only Indigenous person employed. An autoethnographic approach is useful then for this conversation on belonging, Indigeneity and education seeking to disrupt the unquestionable structures of power, privilege, and imposed knowledge.

In her piece exploring postcolonial approaches to autoethnography, Archana A. Pathak (2010) writes, “Autoethnography calls to me because it allows me to make sense of the world I have lived in. Autoethnography also gives voice to my life in a way that never seems to be articulated in the academic writings in which I have searched for myself” (p. 2). Autoethnography, for me, is making sense of my experiences in academia, and where exactly do these experiences fit within the larger political, social, and cultural context of belonging for Indigenous identities in academia. Pathak (2010) questions whether her story is worth telling. I do not question whether my story is worth telling. I question what it means to be Indigenous in academia and question whether my story belongs within the larger political, social, and cultural context of Indigenous identities in academia.

On (re)claiming identities, Smith (2014) outlines that individuals must acknowledge the sociohistorical context that shape identities, especially when some are “void of sociohistorical context” (p. 198). Smith (2014) claims a Black identity, for her, is a term that carries a political identity (p. 201). Indigenous, as an identity, acknowledges the sociohistorical context it is situated in, and this in itself is a political act. Throughout my numerous years in education, the history of Canada rarely acknowledges Indigenous peoples, and if they do, it is done so in a manner that erases or at minimum marginalizes their present existence. Lawrence and Dua describe this marginalization or erasure when speaking about Indigenous nationhood. Lawrence and Dua (2005) write, “If Indigenous nationhood is seen as something of the past, the present becomes a site in which Indigenous peoples are reduced to small groups of racially and culturally defined and marginalized individuals drowning in a sea of settlers-who needn’t be taken seriously” (p. 123). Lawrence and Dua acknowledge this colonialist history as “continually re-enacted,” (p. 122) and highlight that colonialism continues to “target [Indigenous peoples] for legal and cultural extinction” (p 125). This colonial project to “Get rid of the Indian problem” is ongoing and not a thing of the past (Lawrence & Dua, 2005; Raza, 2014; Leslie, 1978). It is not by accident that the majority of students who enter university at the undergraduate level do not know what residential schools are or are learning about them for the first time. Raza (2014) even postulates that “colonization is an ongoing process and that schools are one of the key institutions in the success and perpetuation of this project” (p. 36). My (re)claiming of Indigenous as an identity, especially within academia, is to associate it with the sociohistorical and political context for Indigenous peoples in Canada.

Defining Indigenous or Indigeneity is consequential to understanding what it means to belong in academia as an Indigenous student. The concept of Indigenous, within a Canadian context, is sometimes referred to as a “cop-out,” as my (ironically) race, class and colonialism professor put it plainly in a seminar class. He was referring specifically to the individuals who submitted papers speaking on Indigenous issues, and I was one of those individuals. For me, Indigenous as an identity is a political, cultural, and social label. My (re)clamation of Indigenous as an identity is not what I would refer to as a cop-out. Erika Sarivaara, Kaarina Maatta, and Satu Uusiautti (2013) outline the difficulties with defining members of Indigenous groups. For Sarivaara et al., the difficulties arise because of “the assimilation process, history of colonization, or complex legislation regulating membership in an indigenous people” (para. 2). Legislation relegates my legal and political identity as an Indian and an Aboriginal, or more specifically as First Nations member, as per the Indian Act, 1867and the Constitution Act, 1867-1982, respectively (Indian Act, 1867; Constitution Act, 1867-1982). My cultural identity is Anishnaabe, which is my nation—the very identity that colonizers sought to destroy. Sarivaara et al. describe that Indigenous as a definition can “be used for bringing out important common and topical issues of Indigenous peoples, such as social, cultural and political questions” (para. 3). For me, Indigenous as an identity is not a cop-out to the discussion of what it means to be Indigenous in academia. Rather, employing Indigenous as an identity is to attend to the social, cultural, and political questions that come with being Indigenous in academia, as a site for ongoing colonization, as suggested by Raza, and as a site for knowledge production. Historically, legislation dictated that Indians, as defined by the Indian Act (like myself), had to give up their legal and political identity in order to attend university, this informs me that I am not supposed to be here. My (re)clamation of Indigenous as an identity speaks back to this historical reality.

My reaction to my professor, who referred to the Indigenous label as cop-out, is revealing. It was the last day of class, and I was set to present on Indigenous identity, multiculturalism, and racism. Specifically, the presentation sought to answer whether Canada’s multiculturalism policy was racist. This was a question that my group and I were assigned and we were most likely given this topic because of the forms we filled in on the first day of classes. I did not respond to the professor’s naming the use of Indigenous as a label to discuss Indigenous issues as a cop-out. I remained silent. Silence, as Tsalach (2013) describes “is more complex than merely a form of avoidance” (p. 78). My decision to remain silent was premised on the fact that I was the only visibly Indigenous person (from Canada) in the room, and knowing that if I spoke up, that I may be the only one to attend to my professor’s comments as a visibly Indigenous student, taking up this particular Indigenous identity. When employing an autoethnography, and similar to Tsalach (2013), the silences employed by marginalized groups are “pushing what was private to the public eye, as an act of resistance to oppression” (p. 78). This is not to say that professor was oppressing me with his statement that we were “cop-outs.” Rather, I utilize this discussion of my silence as a site of resistance and opposition to constructions of what it means to be Indigenous in academia, especially when being told that the label Indigenous is a cop-out. It is not a cop-out. Utilizing Indigenous as a label calls to the political, social, and cultural contexts that it presents especially within the discussion of racism and colonialism, such as occurred in this class.

Sometimes being the only visibly Indigenous person in all of my classes or seminars, my professors call on me to answer questions relating to “Indians” or “Aboriginals.” As one Indigenous professor outlines the dual role of Indigenous people in the classroom, we are expected to be both students and teachers (Fehr, in personal communication, November 28, 2012). At the beginning of my undergraduate experience at Western University, I used to grow enthusiastic and excited when the lessons and discussions for the week, in both my online and offline courses, were centered on Indigenous issues. Yet, these feelings quickly changed to feelings of anxiety and stress.

During my first online course experience, one professor asked students to discuss why Aboriginals in Canada face high rates of poverty, with no historical context to the experiences of Indigenous peoples in Canada. One student put it plainly that maybe Aboriginals have smaller brains than the rest of the Canadians. Another student suggested that Aboriginals were lazy and did not work as hard as other Canadians. The rest of my peers agreed wholeheartedly. It is not without accident, as I stated earlier, that many of my peers do not know about the complex history of colonialism and racism in Canada, specifically for Indigenous peoples. To answer Raza’s question, anti-racist theorizing in academia must begin to question why people who attend university do not know about these historical realities, but are still expected to comment on them from an educational or critical perspective.

This was not the only course who failed to include a historical context of Indigenous peoples in Canada as to why they experience higher instances of poverty or higher crime rates. In fact, the only time I encountered a partial history lesson was in high school. The discussion of residential schools only went as a far as to describe these schools a sites of education, not sites of forced assimilation or the forms of abuse that occurred. If Canadian, or white, history tells students that residential schools were meant to educate Indian children, and Indigenous peoples today experience higher poverty rates, then it is only logical (from the uncritical mind) that we must have smaller brains or that we are lazier—we just didn’t work hard enough. Sa’ar’s discussion on liberal epistemology is omnipresent within these experiences of what it means to be Canadian, but more importantly, what it means to not be Canadian, and Indigeneity is always the latter. Yet, these discourses and discussions which lack any sort of context that tell my peers I have a smaller brain, that I am lazy, and ultimately that I am stupid, serve to sustain these dominant discourses—I am not supposed to be here, let alone be present in academia. Colonialism, like Raza postulates, is an ongoing project.

When it comes to this anti-Indigenous racism within education, autoethnography calls attention to the (re)claiming that Indigenous students engage in to resist the hegemonic discourses designed to marginalize and segregate them to particular spaces. During my first year at Western University, I was continuously asked two to three questions in succession of one another, “Are you Native?” followed by, “Oh you must be taking First Nations Studies?” or “Do you get free education?” I am set to graduate this year from the honours specialization in criminology program (my main module) with a minor in women’s studies. Looking back onto my experiences in classroom discussions, both online and offline, within my main module, there were plenty of discussions and lectures on the plight of Aboriginals in Canada. However, there was no context given for Indigenous communities and peoples. Lawrence and Dua (2005) argue that to achieve antiracism education, it must be centered on lives and experiences of Indigenous peoples. They also critique antiracism theorizing in academia to highlight the point that Indigenous issues are only taken up during one week—a token recognition (Lawrence & Dua, 2005, p. 133). I recall my first year political science class spending no more than twenty minutes on the discussion of the rights of Indigenous peoples in Canada and this was lumped into the same topic of animal rights—Indians and animals, they are practically one in the same. In the tutorial for this same class, my peers continuously argued that Indigenous peoples need to stop receiving “hand outs” from the government. I sometimes left class early and in tears.

In 2005, years before my first day at Western University, our campus prized student newspaper published an article entitled, “Canada has done enough for its Aboriginals” and the author of this article outlined how Aboriginals receive too much assistance from the government, and argued that our problems are personal, rather than systemic or institutional (Mathieu, 2006). My friend, who is also Indigenous, responded to this article by describing his experiences, eerily similar to my own, as demoralizing to the point of wanting to drop out (Mathieu, 2006). The decision to remain enrolled and to attend classes may seem trivial to some. But for Indigenous students at the receiving end of direct and indirect anti-Indigenous racism, it is an act of resistance. While Raza (2014) argues that education is a site of ongoing colonization, she also states that it can be used to disrupt the colonial process. Indigenous students in academia are doing just that—resisting and reclaiming what it means to be Indigenous in academia.

Throughout this discussion on belonging and Indigenous identity in academia, I have described situations where I choose to remain silent. However, this was not always the case. For Massaquoi and Tsalach, the way the politics of silence is taken up diverges for both scholars. On one hand, Massaquoi (2007) states that for black feminist theorists, they “must, however, acknowledge, that it is both our silence and the act of silencing us that talks us out of place” (p. 88). On the other hand, Tsalach outlines how autoethnographies are critical to “breaking the dichotomy between those who are silent and those who silence them” (p. 78) especially for people of colour in predominantly white institutions, like academia. But what happens when it is another person of colour engages in silencing another racialized person’s experiences? When Lawrence and Dua (2005) argue that Indigeneity sometimes “receives only token recognition” (p. 133), I can relate especially throughout my experiences working on a research team one summer.

During my second summer at Western University, I reached out to a researcher on campus after I read about his work in the local newspaper. He was doing research on Aboriginal communities in northern Ontario. I emailed him and set up a time to talk about his research. Within that meeting, he discussed the opportunity for me to work part time with the team on a new project recruiting southern Ontario First Nation communities. I was unsure how to interpret my first day in the office—I was the only Indigenous person on the “Indigenous Research Team.” That summer, I gained experience in learning how to write proposals and grants, and how to abide by research policies and protocols set out by Indigenous communities. However, I also learned how to (re)act to efforts to silence me.

The first time the racist comments from one my co-workers happened, I brushed them off as, what Tsalach (2013) describes, as background noise (p. 74). Tsalach writes, “ignoring something does not mean just not paying attention to it” (p. 74). Rather, ignoring something could translate to what “we conventionally perceive as worthy of our attention and what should be ignored and dismissed as background noise” (p. 74). This silence, or choosing to ignore something, is an exhibition of “asymmetrical power relations” (Tsalach, 2013, p. 75). I was new to the team, and I was only a part-time worker, so the racist and ignorant comments made by my phenotypically (god forbid I homogenize this group) Asian Canadian co-worker could not be obviously racist. When I complained to my supervisor about her comments towards me and the Nations we were attempting to recruit, my complaints were brushed off as nothing more than a misunderstanding on my part (of course). Tsalach (2013) outlines how “the dominant social rules in multicultural societies perceive it is inappropriate or tactless to engage with differences in public spaces” (p. 78). When individuals do engage with differences in public spaces and experience moments of otherness, they are usually “accused of exaggerating, being too sensitive, making a fuss about nothing, or simply misunderstanding the situation” (Tsalach, 2013, p. 78). I disrupted this social order by not remaining silent and not remaining in my token position as the only Indigenous person on the so-called Indigenous research team.

My supervisor continued on by specifically stating that because both she and the co-worker in question were visible minorities, just like me (her words), that these comments could not have been understood in the way I interpreted them. This idea that visible minorities are the same as Indigenous peoples ignores the history of colonization in a Canadian context. This dismissal of my experiences was also an attempt to silence me, put me back in my place, as the Indigenous token on the Indigenous research team attempting to recruit new Indigenous communities. As I look back on these experiences and these comments, I am reminded of Sa’ar’s liberal bargain, and question what visible minorities, especially those who are women like my supervisor and my co-worker, dismiss as background noise or simple misunderstandings in order to belong within academia. My decision to bring these comments to the human rights and equity department on campus, and then to communicate directly with the principal investigator was a direct resistance to the attempts to silence me, and an act of (re)claiming my Indigenous identity as something more than a token in academia. I was not willing to give up my Indigeneity in exchange for a part-time summer job as the token Indian. Reclaiming Indigenous as an identity, for me, means to speak back to those who silence me and those discourses that seek to relegate Indigenous bodies to specific positions within academia, like the token Indian.

As Massaquoi highlights, Canadianess depends on the subjugation of Aboriginal people’s history. This Canadianness, like Smith states, erases Indigenous identity, both literally and figuratively. For Mohanty, in Towards an Anti-Imperialist Politics, she argues that we need to be asking the right questions when it comes to citizenship. If Massaquoi considered citizenship parallel to belonging and identity, then who remains complicit in this erasure of Indigenous identities from Canada’s history, and who benefits from the discourses that serve to maintain the systems that subjugate Aboriginal people’s history, like academia? Raza put forth the question, “how can we work with Aboriginal peoples so that we do not exclude from anti-racist, anti-colonial work?” Feminist theorizing needs to begin to include Indigenous peoples in anti-racist and anti-colonial work at the beginning and not something as a weak appendage to the discussions around race or colonialism, especially within courses that formulate feminist theorizing. As a graduating student at Western University, I would like to see mandatory courses on Indigenous history, similar to the course that I attended last term, which was centered on Indigenous political and legal systems and taught by an Indigenous professor. For women’s studies and feminist research on campus, I would like to see an entire course dedicated to understanding colonialism and racism, how it works within a present day context in academia, including feminist theorizing. So it isn’t a question of whether my story belongs within the larger political, social, and cultural context of Indigenous identities in academia, it is a question of whether these stories will stop from having to be re-told year after year.

 

REFERENCES

Constitution Act. (1867). Retrieved from the Justice Laws website: http://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/CONST/page-1.html. 88278

Indian Act. (R.S.C, 1985, c. I-5). Retrieved from Justice Laws website: http://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/acts/i-5/.

Lawrence, B., & Dua, E. (2005). Decolonizing antiracism. Social Justice, 32(4), 120-143.

Leslie, J. (1978). The Historical Development of the Indian Act, second edition). Ottawa, ON: Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development.

Massaquoi, N. (2007). “An Unsettled Feminist Discourse.” In N. Massaquoi and N.N. Wane (eds.), Theorizing Empowerment: Canadian Perspectives on Black Feminist Thought, pp. 75-94. Inanna Publications and Education Inc.

Matheiu, E. (2006). “Cultural insensitive?” The University of Western Ontario Graduate Program of Journalism: The Online Reporter. Retrieved from: http://www.fims.uwo.ca/olr/feb806/aboriginal.html.

Pathak, A. A. (2010). “Opening my voice, claiming my space: theorizing the possibilities of postcolonial approach to autoethnography.” Journal of Research Ethics, 6(1), 1-12.

Raza, A. (2014). “Multiculturalism: The Missing Bodies and Voices.” In G. Sefa Dei & M. McDermott (Eds). Politics of Anti-Racism Education: In Search of Strategies for Transformative Learning. (pp 135-148). Retrieved from http://download.springer.com/static/pdf/417/bok%253A978-94-007-7627-2.pdf?auth66=1396450215_69d4146237f51096e0e7a9e37351745c&ext=.pdf

Sa’ar, A. (2005). “Postcolonial Feminism, the Politics of Identification, and the Liberal Bargain.” Gender & Society, 19(5): 680-700.

Sarivaara, E., Maatta, K., & Uusiautti, S. (2013). Who is indigenous? Definitions of indigeneity. European Scientific Journal, 1 SE, 369+. Retrieved from http://go.galegroup.com.proxy1.lib.uwo.ca/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA360994850&v=2.1&u=lond95336&it=r&p=AONE&sw=w&asid=a2fb4fb5ebf940700997daec1e07ff90v    

Sefa Dei, G. J., & McDermott, M. (2014). “Introduction to the Politics of Anti-Racism Education: In Search of Strategies for Transformative Learning.” In G. Sefa Dei & M. McDermott (Eds). Politics of Anti-Racism Education: In Search of Strategies for Transformative Learning. (pp 1-11). Retrieved from http://download.springer.com/static/pdf/417/bok%253A978-94-007-7627-2.pdf?auth66=1396450215_69d4146237f51096e0e7a9e37351745c&ext=.pdf.

Smith, T. (2014). “(Re)Turning Home: An Exploration in the (Re)Claiming of Identity and Belonging.” In G. Sefa Dei & M. McDermott (Eds). Politics of Anti-Racism Education: In Search of Strategies for Transformative Learning. (pp 191-210). Retrieved from http://download.springer.com/static/pdf/417/bok%253A978-94-007-7627-2.pdf?auth66=1396450215_69d4146237f51096e0e7a9e37351745c&ext=.pdf

Tsalach, C. (2013). “Between Silence and Speech: Autoethnography as an Otherness-Resisting Practice.” Qualitative Inquiry, 19(2): 71-80.

On #multiculturalism, #diversity and the Canadian identity: “I am Canadian”

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Valerie Knowles, in Strangers at Our Gates: Canadian Immigration and Immigration Policy, 1540-1997, assumes the following:

The prehistoric ancestors of Canada’s present-day Indians and Inuit become this country’s first immigrants when they journeyed to America by way of the Bering Strait, at a time when a land bridge, now vanished, still connected Asia and America. Centuries later, according to an unconfirmed hypothesis, Irish monks visited Newfoundland (p. 12).

Within Knowles’ assumption that all descendants within North America, or more specifically within Canada, originate from some other foreign region, one must examine who benefits from these kinds of dominant discourses. Judy Iseke-Barnes (2005) critically examines this Bering Strait “theory” and how these discourses seek to invalidate Indigenous peoples’ knowledge and truths as merely stories and beliefs (p. 151). Iseke-Barnes (2005) outlines that this Bering Strait theory “is often accepted as fact” (p. 151) and the intentions behind these discourses are concealed. Though rarely critiqued, the Bering Strait theory accepts the reasoning that “all those living on this land arrived from somewhere else and have equal rights to this land” (Iseke-Barnes, 2005, p. 153). It is this same reasoning that upholds the Doctrine of Discovery.

Overtime, the Doctrine of Discovery has lost its original meaning. But the hidden assumptions and intentions of this doctrine are omnipresent within Canadian discourses. Tracey Lindberg (2010), in Discovering Indigenous Lands, argues “that the Doctrine of Discovery has lost that meaning—of a first encounter—and that it has become subsumed in an understanding of ‘finding’ of land is difficult to understand unless you consider the intent and role of the Doctrine” (p. 94). As such, this paper will explore the intentions of the Doctrine of Discovery and its role in constructing a particular Canadian identity, and how the construction of this identity reinforces dominant discourses about Canada. Specifically, I will examine how immigration policies control the construction of particular identities across and within Canadian borders and how these policies have produced a specific identity at the expense of other identities, including Black and Indigenous identities. In closing, I will conclude the discussion in the importance of including various historical narratives, including oral histories, as a tool of resistance against these dominant discourses. Within an anti-colonial framework, this paper will contribute to the scholarly discussion of the importance of dismantling the dominant discourses and question the underlying motives in maintaining and sustaining a specific Canadian identity.

The notion that present-day Indigenous peoples are descendants from Asia needs to be critically analyzed. The Bering Strait theory, which is taught in both elementary and high school history classes, assumes that Indigenous peoples discovered America, by crossing over a land bridge, now vanished. Yet, this assumption also informs the premise of the Doctrine of Discovery. The Doctrine of Discovery is based on a “largely racialized philosophy: those who were superior had superior rights to those who were inferior” (Lindberg, 2010, p. 94). Central to this notion of superiority is the positioning Indigenous beings as savages and following this assumption is the justification of settler invasion, including all of its concomitant violence (Lindberg, 2010, p. 95). The Doctrine of Discovery, in a broader context, also legitimizes the Bering Strait theory at the expense of invalidating Indigenous knowledge. It justifies colonialism, and thus, legitimizes the colonizer’s actions.

In the quotation within the introduction, Knowles posits that the Bering Strait theory is factual knowledge by defining Indigenous peoples as immigrants. But at the same time, Knowles dismisses other immigrants, like the Irish monks, as both unconfirmed and speculative. Ayla Raza (2014) highlights that an anti-colonial framework “among many things, looks to disrupt the taken-for-granted notions of power, privilege, imposed knowledge, and the categories of good (colonizer) and evil (“Other”)” (p. 136). The construction of the Indigenous identity as an immigrant, and then as a savage, seeks to marginalize Indigenous bodies in Canadian society and positions the Indigenous identity as the evil/“Other.” Essential to the construction of the Canadian identity, the Indigenous identity is displaced and eventually erased.

For Simms (1993), the ability to take up a Canadian identity functions on both legal and psychological levels (p. 335). Simms (1993) argues that statements like, “I am Canadian” suggest “the speaker subscribes to a certain set of values and even to a particular way of seeing the world” (p. 335). When imaging Canada, Theresa Smith (2014) is quick to highlight that one does not visualize an Indigenous identity; rather, one sees a White identity (p. 199). Raza delineates that “the concept of Whiteness is premised on dominance and aggression; without power and domination, Whiteness is threatened” (p. 145). To maintain this Canadian identity, one must maintain power and domination. To maintain power and domination, as a central to the concept of Whiteness, this defines who is included, Whites, and who is excluded, non-Whites, in the construction of the Canadian identity. Though the Canadian identity maintains this concept of Whiteness, one might argue Canada is a multicultural country that embraces diversity. But a closer examination reveals the contradictions within the construction of a Canadian identity, or the ability to unequivocally claim, “I am Canadian.”

In Knowles’ (2007) discussion on the Royal Proclamation of 1763, she attempts to describe the failures with the Proclamation by positioning it as an immigration policy. Knowles (2007) writes, “Canada saw little immigration in the years immediately following the Treaty of Paris and the issuing of the controversial Proclamation” (p. 35). Situating the Proclamation as an immigration policy ignores the contradictions within the policy itself. John Burrows (1994) highlights that the Proclamation was meant to resolve conflict between settlers and Indigenous nations, and “convince First Nations that the British would respect existing political and territorial jurisdictions” (para 27). However, all this is done at the expense of undermining Indigenous sovereignty (Burrows, 1994, para. 27). From an anti-colonial perspective, the intent behind the Proclamation was to “increase political and economic power relative to First Nations and other European powers” (Burrows, 1994, para. 27). Dismissing this intent behind the Proclamation and situating it as a failed immigration policy seeks to maintain the intentions behind the Doctrine of Discovery, invalidating Indigenous authority and sovereignty.

By 1867, the racist discourses within immigration policies became more prominent (Knowles, 2007, p. 69). At this same time, the confederation of Canada occurred under the Constitution Act of 1867 at the expense, again, of marginalizing Indigenous nations via the Indian Act, 1867 through forced assimilation into Canadian society—a discussion completely dismissed by Knowles. Then, on January 1, 1870, the Immigration Act was enacted and following this, immigration offices were established in the United Kingdom and Europe (Simms, 1993, p. 336). These offices’ mandates, however, were to prevent “paupers or destitute immigrants” from immigrating to Canada (Simms, 1993, p. 336). Establishing immigration offices in the United Kingdom and Europe with the intent to explicitly exclude poor or destitute immigrants is a direct connection to maintaining a Canadian identity centered on Whiteness. While there were numerous other policies enacted, this construction of the Canadian identity, centered on Whiteness, was sustained by such policies as above.

Following these immigration policies that focused on overseas recruitment, the Canadian government turned its attention to the south, the United States of America. William Duncan Scott, former Immigration Minister and also former Indian Affairs Minister, directed Immigration branches in the United States to “continue to solicit white only farmers” (Knowles, 2007, p. 118). Scott’s obsession in maintaining Canada’s Whiteness is concentrated on eliminating the evil/ “Other.” When the Other is located within colonial discourses, he/she is usually seen as a problem (Smith, 2002, p. 91). For Scott, he perpetually defined the Other as a problem: the negro problem, the Indian problem (Knowles, 2004; Leslie, 1978). These racist ideologies and construction of a Canadian identity are at the expense of both Black and Indigenous identities are rarely ever recognized within the history of Canada as much as the Bering Strait theory is acknowledged.

The construction of the Canadian identity has evolved from explicit to implicit aims of maintaining Canada’s identity of Whiteness. Canadian, for Gupta (1999) is defined as “white, middle or upper class, and Anglo or Francophone” (p. 191) and everyone else is an immigrant or non-Canadian, non-white. Then, in a lame effort to homogenize diverse Canadian identities, Prime Minister P. E. Trudeau enacted government policy specifically relating to multiculturalism in 1971 (Gupta, 1999, p. 192). To honour Canada’s effort to become more tolerant of its racial differences, the Ontario Advisory Council on Multiculturalism and Citizenship chose to publish “a collective reflection on the question: What is a Canadian citizen?” (1987, p. x). A brief examination of these letters affirms Canada’s unseen racism when themes such as tolerance, assimilation, or homogenization of identities are revealed (Kong, 1987). Simms (1993) notes “when the concept of racism clashes with that of citizenship, racism, not citizenship, emerges victorious” (p. 339). Even when the discourses attempt to describe Canada as a multicultural country, racism is still a central tenet to maintaining the Canadian identity which is centered on Whiteness.

As I stated earlier, theories, like the Bering Strait theory, that have been undeniably accepted as fact, need to be critical examined. Specifically, what are the intentions behind these facts or truths? Iseke-Barnes (2005) states that the intention behind such truths “is to deny Indigenous peoples their history in this land” (p. 152). When discourses that inform the Canadian identity deny Indigenous peoples their history, one must question what other histories, and the identities attached to those histories, are being denied. Both Black and Indigenous identities, along with their histories, are sacrificed at the expense of maintaining this Canadian identity centered on Whiteness, and thus, the continued dominance and aggression over Black and Indigenous identities. One way to resistance such narratives, like the Bering Strait theory, is to include different types of truths. For Black and Indigenous peoples, oral history was central to the survival of both groups in a colonial context. Education, within a contemporary context, can seek to include oral histories, like Indigenous creation stories which are passed down orally from generation to generation. As Raza highlights, without the power and domination associated with the Canadian identity, Whiteness is threatened. Canada claims a stake in maintaining its identity when statements like “I am Canadian” conjures up images of Whiteness. Nevertheless, sites of knowledge production, like educational institutes, can attempt to include truths that resist these narratives of dominance and aggression.

 

REFERENCES

 Burrows, J. (1994). “Constitutional Law From a First Nation Perspective: Self-Government and the Royal Proclamation.” 28 Univ of British Columbia L. Rev 1-47, para 4 http://www.quicklaw.ca.

Gupta, T. D. (1999). “The Politics of Multiculturalism: ‘Immigrant Women’ and the Canadian State.” In Scratching the Surface: Canadian Anti-Racist Feminist Thought. (pp. 188-207). Toronto, ON: Women’s Press.

Iseke-Barnes, J. (2005). “Misrepresentions of Indigenous History and Science: Public broadcasting, the Internet, and education.” Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 26(2), pp 149-165

Knowles, V. (2007). Strangers at Our Gates: Canadian Immigration and Immigration Policy, 1540-1997. Toronto: Dundurn Press.

Kong, S. L. (1987). “Canadian Citizenship~Reflections.” The Ontario Advisory Council on Multiculturalism and Citizenship.

Leslie, J. (1978). The Historical Development of the Indian Act, second edition). Ottawa, ON: Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development.

Lindberg, T. (2010). “The Doctrine of Discovery in Canada.” In R. J. Miller, J. Ruru, L. Behrendt, & T. Lindberg (Eds). Discovering Indigenous Lands: The Doctrine of Discovery in the English Colonies. (pp. 89-125). Oxford, NY: Oxford University Press.

Raza, A. (2014). “Multiculturalism: The Missing Bodies and Voices.” In G. Sefa Dai & M. McDermott (Eds). Politics of Anti-Racism Education: In Search of Strategies for Transformative Learning. (pp 135-148). Retrieved from http://download.springer.com/static/pdf/417/bok%253A978-94-007-7627-2.pdf?auth66=1396450215_69d4146237f51096e0e7a9e37351745c&ext=.pdf

Simms, G. P. (1993). “Racism as a Barrier.” In W. Kaplan (Eds). Belonging: The Meaning and Future of Cnadian Citizenship. (pp. 333-348). Montreal, QB: McGill-Queen’s University Press.

Smith, Linda T. (2002). “Research Adventures on Indigenous Land.” Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous People. London & New York: Zed Books Ltd.

Smith, T. (2014). “(Re)Turning Home: An Exploration in the (Re)Claiming of Identity and Belonging.” In G. Sefa Dai & M. McDermott (Eds). Politics of Anti-Racism Education: In Search of Strategies for Transformative Learning. (pp 191-210). Retrieved from http://download.springer.com/static/pdf/417/bok%253A978-94-007-7627-2.pdf?auth66=1396450215_69d4146237f51096e0e7a9e37351745c&ext=.pdf

 

Crime Control, Social Order, and Prostitution

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Garland’s article entitled, Crime Control and Social Order, presents the arguments the criminal justice system is “part of a larger system of ideological regulation reflecting the sociocultural order of late modernity” which influences crime control policies (p. 297). The crime control policies and practices are then an extension of “criminological, cultural, political, and economical conditions of the social world” (p. 297). He calls these reactionary politics (p. 301). Initiating these reactionary policies to crime is the “insecure character of today’s social and economic relations” (p. 302). Garland posits that there exist new social relations along with a new political culture within the field of crime control (p. 304). He also argues that crime control policies over emphasize the politics of choice and responsibility when controlling for crime (p. 304). Contributing to these new social relations, political culture and crime control policies is the neoliberal state and “widening of the gap between the rich and the poor” (p. 305). Garland’s also states that government policies to crime control views criminals not as disadvantaged but as different (p. 304).

Employing Garland’s theory of crime control and social order presents a contradiction when paralleled with the crime of prostitution.[1] The reasoning to police prostitution is often that prostitutes do not have a choice and that they are victims, as emphasized most recently by Justice Minister Peter MacKay.[2] If all other criminals are allowed to determine the choices they make and are to be held liable for their actions, then the argument follows that they need to be held liable. However, this argument falls short when, as I stated, prostitutes and prostitution are substituted into the argument. If prostitutes are victims and do not choose to enter the trade freely, then they should not be held liable for their choices. Unfortunately, this same argument is utilized to say that policy must criminalize clients of prostitutes. This argument is premised on the assumption that all prostitution is violence against women and that prostitutes are victims. It also states that prostitutes can engage in selling sex but they should not be paid for their sexual services wherein these policies are argued to ultimately prevent exploitation of prostitutes. Further, this argument presents the same inconsistencies of the original argument as it is still holding prostitutes liable for the choices they make–as they are unable to be paid for their services, if they engage in prostitution then they are liable for putting themselves into poverty or into the pathway of violence. One might argue that prostitutes do not make a free choice to enter into the trade. However, the approach that all prostitutes are victims (who don’t make choices) and all prostitution is violence (because who makes that choice to put them in the pathway of violence) further relegates prostitutes to the margins of society and detracts from the real violence that women experience.

Additionally, the government is so obsessed with policing and regulating prostitution and preventing prostitutes from earning an income, but at the same time it is benefitting from the income of prostitutes. Canada Revenue Agency even has an industry code for prostitutes to utilize when filing their taxes. This presents a conundrum: If the government can benefit from the income of prostitutes, why can’t prostitutes benefit from their own income?

The Bedford v. Canada decision outlined inconsistencies within the Criminal Code of Canada (CCC) when it came to the sections policing prostitution. Chief Justice in her decision stated that the objectives (of the laws that were struck down) were to prevent community nuisances and to also prevent prostitutes from exploitation.[3] However, the evidence presented demonstrated that the laws actually contributed to the exploitation of prostitutes. When we return to the argument that all prostitutes are victims and that we need to protect them exploitation, we return to the original objectives of the laws that were struck down. The government runs the risk of re-creating the same unsafe conditions for prostitutes if they base their argument on preventing exploitation of prostitutes by not allowing them to be paid for their sexual services. In fact, the Government increases the risk of violence committed against prostitutes.[4] As was demonstrated by Wally Oppal’s Missing Women Inquiry, Governments and police should prevent rapes or murders of prostitutes.[5]  There are also existing laws within the CCC (human trafficking) whose objectives are to prevent the exploitation or coercion of all individuals in any trade. Are prostitutes really a special class of people that they deserve their own laws whose main objectives are to prevent exploitation? The Government’s approach to prostitution still perceives prostitutes as different—as the Other. There is nothing new to this policy to criminalize the trade, whether it is criminalizing the buyers or sellers of sexual services. While, on one hand, Garland’s argument that the criminal justice system is “part of a larger system of ideological regulation reflecting the sociocultural order of late modernity” which influences crime control policies is correct, on the other hand, when we substitute the crime of prostitution it falls short. In closing, with respect to the social relations and political culture, nothing has changed in response to the policing of prostitutes or prostitution within the context of Canada’s anti-prostitution laws.

 

[1] Within this post, I utilize the term prostitution/prostitute as a legal term.

[2] http://www.torontosun.com/2014/04/07/tories-prepare-new-prostitution-bill-for-this-spring

[3] http://scc-csc.lexum.com/scc-csc/scc-csc/en/item/13389/index.do

[4] http://www.aidslaw.ca/publications/interfaces/downloadFile.php?ref=2193

[5] http://www.missingwomeninquiry.ca/obtain-report/

Speaking notes from “Missing and Murdered Women: What can the law do?” #MMIW

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Speaking notes from “Missing and Murdered Women: What can the law do?” panel at the Law Union of Ontario Annual Conference (March 2014).[1]

From an Indigenous Feminist approach, my perspectives are informed by my experiences in politics as the VP women’s representative for Aboriginal People’s Commission with the Liberal Party of Canada. During this term, I drafted a resolution which was adopted unanimously by the party at their last convention. A previous resolution was drafted by the National Women’s Liberal Commission which assumed violence only occurs in the home and that violence is a private issue that happens only to mothers and their children which is problematic in and of itself. What about single Indigenous women with no kids, like myself? The current government also assumes that Indigenous women are the most vulnerable in Canadian society. Yet, Sherene Razack (1998) argues that feminism needs to question how their responses are complicit in maintaining systems of domination. One such system of domination includes colonialism. Further, Razack (1998) highlights the problems with focusing on the vulnerability of women instead of the systems of domination that increase this vulnerability. Mainstream (white) feminists often label indigenous women as the most vulnerable and their movements usually call for increased policing. Yet, at the same time, mainstream feminism often ignores how these efforts indirectly criminalize Indigenous women. Also, Cynthia Enloe and Carol Cohn highlights that “Feminists have taught us to be very, very careful before we adopt a response to grief, loss, and anger that is a state response, especially a militarized state response” (p. 1204). This article also argued that “we (women) should be on high alert; they’ll (the state) put it (gender issues/women’s issues) back on the shelf just as soon as it no longer serves their longer-range purpose” (p. 1203)[2]— this informs my critique in using a state response to the MMIW issue. The state will use the MMIW issue until it no longer serves their longer range purposes–wherein history has informed us that Indigenous peoples are not supposed to be here…the systems are designed to do exactly what they are designed to do–to get rid of the Indian problem. The state assumes that violence only occurs in the home (domestic violence). This is evident with the pro-arrest policies of the 1980s which were advocated heavily for by feminist organizations and research has shown that it had the opposite effect in protecting women from violence.[3] The policies actually increased the criminalization of women (and from my experience, criminalized Indigenous women)

There are contradictions present in these reports by the government – we (Indigenous women) are vulnerable yet still delinquent, and that society needs to be protected from and they need to be protected from their own communities/homes but that they don’t require protection themselves; that perpetrators take advantage of this vulnerability; the state takes advantage of this vulnerability (by not naming the heart of the issue: colonialism) and by ignoring the fact that the state is complicit in this violence.

The report, “Invisible Women: A call to action”[4] is indicative of who gets to be heard and who is silenced. Also, the Invisible Women report only names residential schools, poverty, homelessness, racism, failure of services, jurisdictional barriers – but it doesn’t name colonialism. The report names “lack of continuous police presence” as a challenge to protecting victims; yet, sometimes Indigenous women face violence at the hands of police. Increased policing does not equal increased protection. The fact that the Indian Act was enacted before the Criminal Code of Canada (CCC) is demonstrative of the logically pathway to criminalization of Indigenous peoples. For instance, the definition of a gang is 3 or more people gathering/organizing to commit crime. This definition was adopted first by the Indian Act but explicitly used the words “Indians” in place of gang. When it comes to Indigenous sex workers, their criminalization is heightened through the CCC and the history of these laws show us that they originated in the Indian Act. One of the recommendations in the report was to collect ethnicity variable for violence against Aboriginal women—funny thing is the police already do this but only when they are criminalized. The report also recommended that the state protect Indigenous women against violence in prostitution when Chief Justice already said in her decision,

“The prohibitions at issue do not merely impose conditions on how prostitutes operate. They go a critical step further, by imposing dangerous conditions on prostitution; they prevent people engaged in a risky – but legal – activity from taking steps to protect themselves from the risk.” (para 60)[5]

The report that Peter Mackay threw on the ground just outlined all the accomplishments–for lack of a better word– by the Conservative government–including the enactment of The Truth in Sentencing Act and The Safe Streets Act, and increasing “offender accountability” just to name a few.[6] This outlines the contradictions with how the government treats Indigenous issues, and the safety of Indigenous people, including Indigenous women—it says the state needs to increase policing powers, create mandatory sentencing, create limits for granting credit for time served–all of which increases criminalization and prison population.

The prison is the new residential school.

We need to take into consideration how justice looks and feels to various communities. Justice for one community may not be calling an inquiry when for another community they would like to push harder for that inquiry. We also need to look at how the government, conservative or not, has treated previous reports and inquiries. Yes, the Missing Women Inquiry was conducted to address the missing and murdered women in Vancouver’s downtown east side but it told us that the lack of response from police.[7] The Invisible women report also stated the same thing. The inquiry may take a long time to begin and to end. It may not be satisfactory to some and they will still demand justice. Specifically, the national inquiry is set up formally and its jurisdiction is established by legislation (we already know how legislation plays out in favour of Indigenous peeps—NOT); its set duration established in terms of reference (ToR). This means that the inquiry “can be short, medium or long” (oh the excitement!). The inquiry can be headed by one or more Commissioners (with legal and supporting staff hired). It is often open to public including documents, process, hearings, and final report may be posted on the internet (kind of like this 150+ page document here). Some organizations like to say that the inquiry’s relationship to the government is independent but this is contradictory in itself because it is established by the government–because it really isn’t independent. The costs can be high (for all the bullshit reasons that we need an inquiry in the first place). The structure is dependent on the ToR, the process is dependent on the ToR, and the activities include “generally intended to advise or investigate” and “may call subject matter experts, witnesses, etc.” This is where only certain voices and bodies matter to the inquiry. Just think about who is going to be called to be a witness and who isn’t? What differential power relations are at play here? Where will the hearings be held? How will the witnesses be able to get there? As for the big kicker, future actions? These are at the discretion of the governments that established the inquiry (which won’t be done by Harper I will tell you that much and that includes if the government who established the inquiry remains in power after the inquiry is over). Additionally, participation is only granted by Commissioner at hearings and maybe, just maybe written submissions may be accepted (probably in English, which ultimately views Indigenous languages as inferior—you know the usual). Oh, but don’t forget, all of this is non-binding (translation: the government can do what it has done before in other inquiries, ignore it).[8]

 

But what does justice look like?  A lot of people support restorative justice responses but we need to also look into the issues with restorative justice. A response to the inadequacy to restorative justice is transformative justice approaches. Andrea Smith, on her blog writes, “Hence the ‘transformative’ justice model builds on restorative justice to hold that our goal is not to restore a community to a state that was structure by oppression but to create and transform communities so that are less oppressive.  In addition, whereas restorative justice models generally operate through the state through sentence diversion programs, etc – transformative justice models operate outside the legal system all together.” which advocate, as Smith highlights, for community based responses. Relying on police presence or policing initiatives may have the opposite response–like criminalization of victims themselves especially in domestic violence cases. One suggestion listed by Smith in her list of transformative justice strategies is creating a neighbourhood check in program as opposed to a neighbourhood watch program–this shows that everyone is connected to the community and builds positive relationships as opposed to the neighbourhood watch approach which assumes everyone you don’t know or who looks suspicious is an offender.

REFERENCES

Razack, S. (1998). “From Pity to Respect: The Ableist Gaze and the Politics of Rescue.”Looking White People in the Eye: Gender, Race, and Culture in Courtrooms and Classrooms,” 130-156. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

Cohn, C. and Enloe, C. (2003). “A Conversation with Cynthia Enloe: Feminists Look at Masculinity and the Men who Wage War.” Signs, 28(4): 1187-1207.

[1]Speaking notes edited for blog post—not exact words as spoken in the video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8JBhYStfkc

[2]Text in brackets not in original quote and added for clarification

[3]http://socialsciences.uottawa.ca/sites/default/files/public/research/eng/documents/HJohnson_WorldIdeas.pdf.

[4] http://www.parl.gc.ca/HousePublications/Publication.aspx?DocId=6469851&Language=E&Mode=1&Parl=41&Ses=2

[5] http://www.pivotlegal.org/canada_v_bedford_a_synopsis_of_the_supreme_court_of_canada_ruling

[6] http://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/news-nouv/nr-cp/2013/doc_32844.html

[7] http://www.missingwomeninquiry.ca/

[8]The above information is taken from a previous blog post entitled “So you want a national inquiry?” and the source of the information is taken from NWAC—an organization who aggressively advocates for an inquiry AND also for the criminalization of the sex trade.

“Bedford marks a victory in the struggle against colonialism and colonial structures for Indigenous sex workers. When we begin to understand the history of Canada’s anti-prostitution laws, and the policing of Indigenous bodies and identities, we understand how the construction of these identities and bodies serve to sustain colonialism and all its tools. The criminalization of the sex trade is the criminalization of certain bodies and identities, because we all know that it isn’t white men who get arrested for prostitution related crimes on a daily basis. In the end, decriminalization of the trade is decolonization of the trade, and thus the Bedford v. Canada decision is a step toward decolonization.”

Read more at “Prostitution Laws: Protecting Canada’s Crackers Since 1867”

So they can’t afford to search for missing and murdered Indigenous women but they’ll be damned if they let an Indigenous feminist/university student activist go unmonitored. I mean, seriously?

My friend reacting to a policing agency approaching me after a public speak I did on missing and murdered Indigenous women.

I didn’t feel this was a genuine approach to reach out to me. I felt this way because the officer didn’t present himself as an officer. He stated, “I just wanted to let you know we are reading your blog.” I was a taken back by this random person (or what seemed as a random perseon) coming up to me to inform me they are reading my blog. He proceeded to say, “We are listening.” But I am not certain they are listening. I then asked him who was and who was with (given the fact that he used plural pronoun, “we”). He was with the policing agency. He stated he wanted me to come speak for a group of people (not entirely sure who it was and did not receive a reply to my email to ask for clarification). I asked for his card to follow up. Surprise! He didn’t have one. But he did give me his email and I did follow-up. Now, silence. Do I feel that it was a form of intimidation to silence me? I most certainly do. It’s too bad, like my friend points out, that they can’t focus their resources on seeking justice/protection for the families and friends of missing and murdered Indigenous women.

The reality is…

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Congratulations! You’ve been admitted to law school.

Then reality hits in, and you realize that it is hella-mutha-fuckin expensive.

I am struggling right now and I know I should just finish my final year and my final semester with a big bang! But I can’t. I just can’t…I have been struggling to accept this reality as of lately. I know I am not alone in this reality. I just wish more people would talk about it. Undergraduate school is fuckin expensive…now law school?! Fuck.

When I first started researching the application process for law school, I remember reading all these blogs about how hard the LSAT would be. I didn’t read one blog on how much it actually cost. At the time, I was living and working in northern Alberta so that cost to write the test wasn’t that bad. I mean, it was still quite high. All I could think about was other students who might not have a job or extra funds to even write the test.

One step down.

I didn’t do as well as I thought I would on the test but I did better than what I was doing in my practice tests. So, it wasn’t that bad. After receiving my LSAT results back, I still applied to two law schools. I wish I could have applied to more, even as others provided the advice, “apply to as many law schools as you can.” Two law schools was all I could afford. What my research into the application process didn’t tell me was that the more law schools you apply to you, the more expensive your application becomes.

Two steps down.

Today, I am sitting here at school and I literally just want to give up. Why? The reality is that law school is fuckin expensive. I am struggling to finish my last month of my undergraduate degree. I mean, I am in a good position to make a decision to either give up or to continue on. I mean, if I give up, I can always go the MA route. It isn’t that bad of a situation to be in. I struggle with these decisions as of lately, MA route vs. law school. I wonder sometimes if it would have been better for me to take the route that offered me a summer job and guaranteed funding. Sounds pretty easy doesn’t it? I guess I should say, I’ve been in worse decisions and this isn’t the worst place to be in. But I am struggling.

It isn’t by accident that these barriers exist, not just for me but for others like me. I struggle having to think about what I am supposed to do next. I thought to write this post because I felt that in my research none of the blog posts talked about this—the reality that law school is fuckin expensive including the application process. There were plenty of blog posts on how hard the LSAT was, how to improve your score, how to study better, how to write your statement for your application, etc. etc. Maybe we should also begin conversations around this reality: how expensive law school actually is including how expensive it is to just apply to law school.

Yes, you might cry while preppin for your LSAT. Yes, you might cry during the actual test. Yes, you might cry over your final LSAT score. Yes, you might cry because you are applying on the final day to submit your OLSAS (law school application service) application. Yes, you might cry when you realize you completed the hardest steps. Yes, you might cry because you received your letter (and you either got in or you didn’t). But truth is, you might also cry because you are in a situation where you don’t know what the hell you are doing with your life because the reality is, law school is fuckin expensive (just as expensive as the application process is).

In closing, I will say this, people have been asking me what I am doing in the fall and it’s stressful too. I don’t know what I am doing in the fall. I am working on finishing graduating first because I won’t be able to go anywhere unless I graduate first–I guess I didn’t have this dream for nothing.

 

Note: Please use this post as a cue to reach out to others who have attended law school (or who are currently attending law school). There are people that want to help you and if it wasn’t for the people that have helped me along the way (up until this point), I probably would be struggling a lot more than I actually am. I am thankful for those people. ❤

#WomenOnlyExcusesForPaikin My thoughts…

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Oh darn you womenz! Why do you have to be so snarky toward men seeking answers to solve the issues relating to inadequate  representation of women in mainstream media (MSM)?

This past Sunday, Steve Paikin wrote a blog post, “Where, Oh Where, Are All the Female Guests?” You can take a moment to read that post because it forms the premise for #WomenOnlyExcusesForPaikin.

Paikin hosted a panel with four guests, three women and one man which discussed this issue (one of the women in attendance, it was her first time on the show–Paikin couldn’t recall if she had been on a previous show or not either). Initially when I started tweeting with #WomenOnlyExcusesForPaikin, I only read the blog post (I was on my way home from school and wanted to wait until I was home to watch the video). Many others have tweeted their contempt toward the blog post sans hashtag. After I finished reading it, I had to re-read it to ensure I didn’t misinterpret anything that was written.

Nope. I read what I had read. Just like this post says about Paikin’s show, this post is something you cannot un-notice. According to Paikin, his show lacks women guests for some of the following reasons:

  • Their roots are showing (you know ladies, a bad hair day!)
  • It might be in their DNA (kind of like of Darwinism — survival of the fittest!)
  • They have kids (and they are, more often than not, the sole bearer of childcare responsibilities in society… no really they are…universal childcare anyone?)
  • They will recommend someone else if they can’t (you know how nice Canadian women are… well except, you big meanies using that hashtag!)

As for the menz? They apparently just can’t say no! They will even say yes and read up on the issue just to say yes and be on the show!

Herein lies the major problem with the misogynistic post: Paikin is saying women can’t say YES OR NO! Without being at fault for gender issues. It’s a lose, lose situation for women. Well, no wonder why women don’t want to be on your show!

When it comes to addressing these gender issues (including lack of representation of women in the media–it’s not by accident that women are the minority in MSM), women are always the problem and this post is demonstrative of this which is a part of the larger issue relating to a society that upholds patriarchal values (and relegates women, or particular kinds of women in society). He put out to his viewers by asking what can they do over at The Agenda to help alleviate the issue?

Well, Paikin, you can listen to your guests that you had on your panel. However, as a woman myself, I will question some of the things that the guests were saying (or more importantly weren’t saying). Armin Yalnizyan said one of the crucial things said at the top, and she said, “most women don’t want to be appropriating a voice they don’t have… or appear a fool…it’s hard work.” Yes, because women are judged a lot more harshly when it comes to their opinions in MSM (and this should be simple enough to understand but really some people *ahem* men just don’t get it). However, Kathy English, says she has had to chase women to “find the good women.” What exactly is this “good women”? I mean, if they are looking for a certain type of women to write pieces in MSM, then that speaks volumes to the problem with lack of representation of women on panels in MSM or in MSM in general. Shari Graydon even answers Paikin’s question eloquently by saying, “Go to different lakes, and streams, and oceans. Graydon expands on the fact that human beings “are interested in seeing our own lives reflected” and the fact that women only make up 20% of management positions in media is demonstrative of men wanting to see their own lives (issues that matter to them) reflected in MSM. Graydon continues to say that “…as long as women don’t see ourselves on op-ed pages we are less inclined to go there.” But you know what Paikin went and did in his blog post? He writes, “So already you’re fishing in a lake where the odds are stacked against you.” Darn you women! Stop swimming in the lakes Steve is not fishing at! Sheesh! Graydon also states that women, “just don’t want to stick their head up and part of that frankly, if you are a woman and if you do stick your head up, you will get shmuck back down…” Hello patriarchy!

The women in the video even talked about the difficulties for women (in general) online, you know, with respect to online, anonymous trolls. These trolls tend to be a lot more aggressive and harsh toward women in online forums (where it is much easier to remain anonymous). Then, they also state that women guests may not understand the importance of sound bites which are short clips of a longer recording (where MSM will edit out the pieces they find less useful which may distort the larger message). This is a real fear because MSM doesn’t play nice especially when it comes to the opinion’s of marginalized voices, like women. Graydon also describes the burden that is placed on women who speak in MSM, “because we are such a minority that we are seen representing our team… so nobody expects Jordan or you, Steve, to represent all men. But when women speak, we are seen as reflecting on intelligence and capability of all women…” I would agree to a certain extent for women who are a part of the dominant group, you know, white. Once you factor in race, a racialized woman is expected to be an expert on race AND gender issues (but more likely race). The discussion touched a bit of race near the end. But Paikin made it clear at the beginning that this was about gender and not diversity which begs the question, how is gender different from diversity when the majority of the guests are males? Maybe this just spoke to the reality that there is an issue with inadequate of representation of women in MSM.

The guests also touch a bit on the emotional labour and/or unpaid labour that (namely) women are left to do. In fact, Jordan Peterson went to describe that his wife cares more about the family dog because “I care less about the dog more than my wife.” I wouldn’t say that is indicative that women do more care labour. However, when you factor in children, women are left with doing much of the unpaid labour with respect to childcare both in the home and outside the home (like picking the kids up from school). Yet, the guests do not go as far to say that women bear the burden of having to do the majority of the unpaid labour in society. Yalnizyan even highlights the fact that she is trying to work with her colleagues and students in “bringing the next voices up…” (both male and female). She comments that this might be more of a woman thing. However, maybe this is where men need to step up to the plate type thing–stop relying on women to take on this role. Do some men take on mentoring roles? Maybe. But maybe this is also demonstrative of Paikin’s laziness in finding female guests… because they are not all playing hide and go seek!

In spite of all this, Paikin wants to really address the heart of the issues, women’s roots. Paikin continues to ask the female guests what their thoughts are when women give the excuse about “roots.” English highlights the fact that women need to consider the reality of “Am I going to be judged more about my looks or what I say?” Graydon further replies, “TV is a lot more punishing for women than men.” Graydon also draws a comparison to how Hilary Clinton is treated by MSM. She points out the fact that Clinton “has the highest approval rating in the northern hemisphere [and that] she gets dissed all the time for her hair, pant suits, her failure to wear makeup.” She exclaims, “Give the woman a break! But we know that’s what we are up against!” Still, Paikin wrote his horrible blog post. Still, Paikin ignored everything his women guests said about lack of women representation in MSM (on panels in particular). Even more problematic Paikin wrote, “many many more men like doing television and make themselves available to do television than women. [emphasis in original]” He suggests that women don’t like doing television or that women don’t make themselves available. This completely disregards Graydon’s statement that saying “we do not want to be at the table is just flat out wrong … it’s a number of complex issues…” So we have to ask ourselves, does Paikin really want to address the issues relating to inadequate representation of women in mainstream media (MSM), specifically live panels?

white, anti-rape movements at odds with Indigenous sovereignty

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In her article entitled, Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide, Andrea Smith critiques white, anti-rape movements from an anti-colonial, Indigenous feminist perspective. Smith (1999) argues that the white-dominated, anti-rape movements “fail to consider how rape also serves as a tool of racism and colonialism” (p. 32). Her critique is based on the premise that the white-dominated, anti-rape movements view rape as “a tool of patriarchal control” (Smith, 1999, p. 32). Patriarchy assumes that only “pure” bodies can be raped and that the “rape of bodies that are considered inherently impure or dirty does not count” (Smith, 1999, p. 35). Colonialism and racism, for Smith (1999), assumes that Indigenous bodies are threats to white society, because the aim of colonialism is “not only to defeat Indian people but to eradicate their very identity and humanity” (p. 13). Thus, within a colonial context, the sexual violence that Indigenous women experienced and continue to experience is a direct “attack on Native sovereignty itself” (Smith, 1999, p. 32). Smith calls for both an anti-racist and an anti-colonist response to end violence against women, especially Indigenous women.

Smith presents the problems in mainstream (white) feminism, whose sole focus is to eradicate patriarchy, while simultaneously ignoring the history of colonialism in the United States. Though Smith does not provide a clear definition of colonialism, a definition can be adopted from her argument overall. Colonialism, as stated earlier, can be characterized as the complete erasure of Indigenous bodies and Indigenous identities from society (Smith, 1999). Utilizing Ann Stoler’s definition of racism, Smith (1999) highlights that racism is “a permanent part of the social fabric” (p. 32) and it is a “means of creating ‘biologized’ internal enemies, against whom society must defend itself” (p. 32). For Smith, rape, both as a tool of racism and colonialism, is a means to destroy Indigenous nations and to attack and undermine Indigenous sovereignty. Although the oversight does not undermine her argument, Smith does not clarify what she means by Indigenous sovereignty.

Through reading Smith’s article, one can assume that Indigenous sovereignty is Indigenous peoples’ current occupation of land or access to land. This access to land for Indigenous peoples, however, only includes access to the lands they currently occupy. In contrast, from an Indigenous nation’s perspective, Indigenous sovereignty is derived from prior occupation of traditional lands, which may include surrounding lands outside state-form Reservations. Christina Yui Iwase (2012) writes, “Aboriginal peoples understand Aboriginal rights as stemming from their prior occupation of their traditional lands (i.e. Aboriginal sovereignty)” (p. 99).[1] Yet, the Canadian state does not even acknowledge an Indigenous nation’s prior or current occupation of their traditional lands. With some of Canada’s major resource development projects taking place on Indigenous traditional lands, sometimes these projects trigger long legal disputes (Bennett, 2013). At the heart of these disputes include the Canadian government approving and supporting projects without consulting Indigenous nations who may lose access and control over their lands (Bennett, 2013). This is the complete erasure of Indigenous bodies on Indigenous lands.

Legal scholars also critique how Aboriginal title and Aboriginal rights are legally acquired or asserted within a Canadian context. Under Canada’s Constitution, Aboriginal title is derived from Crown sovereignty, and not Indigenous sovereignty, thereby negating Indigenous sovereignty altogether (Iwase, 2012). Rauna Kuokkanen notes the contradictions within Canada’s Indigenous land claims and self-governance systems as well. Kuokkanen (2011) highlights that this system “is premised on the extinguishment of Aboriginal rights and Aboriginal title in exchange for the right rights included in the new settlement or agreement” (p. 287). Both Kuokkanen and Iwase call attention to the problems surrounding how Aboriginal rights and Aboriginal title are asserted or claimed within a Canadian context—arguing that these processes further legitimize the colonial state.

Similarly, Smith’s critique of white, anti-rape movements includes the undermining of Indigenous sovereignty by mainstream feminists. These movements tend to call for increased policing in Indigenous nations. Increased policing might reinforce colonialism, including all of its violence, under the premise that it is necessary for increased protection and safety for Indigenous women. Smith (1999) writes, “relying upon the criminal justice system to end violence against women may strengthen the colonial apparatus in tribal communities that furthers violence while providing nothing more than the illusion of safety to survivors of sexual and domestic violence” (p. 48). To further complicate matters, Indigenous nations, in both the states and Canada, are managed at Federal levels. While the United States’ criminal justice system is managed at a state level, the Canadian criminal justice system is managed at the Federal level. The bifurcation of legislation in the United States creates additional difficulties for white, anti-rape movements in Indigenous nations since tribal nations are controlled by Federal legislation and not state legislation—any adequate criminal justice response is thereby null and void.

For the United States, the drawback of this bifurcated-colonial response is illustrated by the murder rate of Indigenous women on-reserve, which is ten times the national average, and by the fact that over eighty-eight percent of perpetrators of violence against Indigenous women are non-Indigenous men (Chekuru, 2013). Prior to the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act in 2013, Indigenous nations were unable to adequately address this violence committed on-reserve by non-Indigenous men since Indigenous nations did not have jurisdiction over crimes committed by non-Indigenous men (Indian Law Resource Center, n.d.). Before 2013, non-Indigenous men were literally protected by the Federal state for the violence that they inflicted against Indigenous women, almost a “get out jail free” card. Only time will tell us if there are any benefits with the state providing protection through policy like the VAWA for Indigenous women. Akin to Smith, I question why mainstream feminists ignore state-supported violence when addressing sexual violence in Indigenous communities. Still, I question why Smith did not raise these points as it could have strengthened her argument that an increased policing or colonial-state response to anti-rape movements is at odds with Indigenous sovereignty.

Based on the above, I will assume that Indigenous sovereignty is the Indigenous people’s occupation of traditional lands. From this assumption, following Smith’s argument, rape, as a tool of colonial and racism, is intended to eradicate Indigenous bodies on Indigenous lands, and a tool to attack Indigenous sovereignty. In response to her critique of white, anti-rape movements, Smith (1999) calls for an anti-colonial, anti-racist response to help stop violence against women. It is important to highlight this anti-colonial response to ending violence against women since many feminists ignore the history of colonialism in both the United States and Canada. For instance, in The Politics of Culture, Racism, and Nationalism in Honour Killing, Shahrzad Mojab (2012) argues that honour killings are a form of violence against women and that they should be acknowledged as a Canadian problem. As part of her solution to these honour killings, she calls for state prioritization responses to violence against women (Mojab, 2012). However, by arguing that honour killings, as a form of violence against women, should be acknowledged as a Canadian problem legitimizes the colonial-state and ignores the history of colonialism and all of its violence committed against Indigenous peoples, specifically Indigenous women. Smith (1999) also calls attention to the fact that (sexual) violence was rare in Indigenous communities and that Indigenous nations were largely matrilineal and matrilocal. Mojab’s argument that violence is a reproduction of male rule is a direct subordination of Indigenous systems, which placed Indigenous women at the center. As a result, without an anti-colonial and an anti-racist response to eradicating violence against women, mainstream feminists responses risk threatening Indigenous systems and risk further subjugating Indigenous women. A more appropriate response to eradicating (sexual) violence against Indigenous women would aim to support community-based responses centered on Indigenous women. Anti-rape movements would also seek to understand the history of colonialism and how colonialism still effects Indigenous peoples, especially Indigenous women, today. In her blog entitled “Transformative Justice Strategies For Addressing Police/Vigilante/Hate/White Supremacist violence,” Smith offers some practical responses to addressing violence. Some of which include focusing on transformative justice as opposed to restorative justice. In Canada, the criminal justice system adopts a restorative justice approach in response to the overrepresentation of Aboriginal offenders. However, I have previously critiqued the restorative justice system for re-victimizing women, especially Indigenous women, who turn to the state for protection.

In a much broader context, Smith’s examination of feminists and feminisms attempts to eradicate violence against women presents the contradictions inherent in supporting state responses, including increased policing. One example of this increased policing includes the pro-arrest policies of the 1980s. The pro-arrest policies, which were heavily advocated for by feminist organizations, were an attempt to address inadequate criminal justice response to domestic violence in Canada (Johnson, 2012). However, the pro-arrest policies produced a negative outcome, including the indirect criminalization of women who experienced domestic violence (Johnson, 2012). For example, due to these pro-arrest policies, I was criminalized after I attempted to defend myself against my abuser, who was a white male. From this criminalization, I was displaced from my housing because I was remanded and the court felt it was safer for me to be in jail. Once a spot became available at the single Indigenous women only shelter, I lived there for approximately three months. Therein lies one major contradiction with utilizing a colonial system in seeking justice. Even if they are victims of abuse, Indigenous women are still treated as offenders. These pro-arrest policies also assumed that violence against women is a private issue and ignored (sexual) violence as a tool of colonialism and a tool of racism.

Sherene Razack (1998) argues that feminism needs to question how their responses are complicit in maintaining systems of domination. One such system of domination includes colonialism. Further, Razack (1998) highlights the problems with focusing on the vulnerability of women instead of the systems of domination that increase this vulnerability. Mainstream (white) feminists often label indigenous women as the most vulnerable and their movements usually call for increased policing. Yet, at the same time, mainstream feminism often ignores how these efforts indirectly criminalize Indigenous women. In the end, one might argue that there is something inherently wrong with our criminal justice system given that there are over 600 missing and murdered Indigenous women and that Indigenous women’s prison populations increased by ninety percent since 2001 (CBCNews, 2012). However, if the aim of colonialism is to conquer Indigenous peoples on Indigenous lands and the criminal justice system is an extension of the colonial state, then the system is designed to do what it was always meant to do— eliminate Indigenous bodies on Indigenous lands.

REFERENCES

Bennett, C. (2013, November 14). “’See You In Court’: An Expensive, Time-Consuming Wrong-Headed Strategy.” The Huffington Post. Retrieved from http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/hon-carolyn-bennett/aboriginal-litigation-canada_b_4273893.html.

Blanchfield, M. (2013, February 13). “Mounties raped, abused B.C. aboriginal girls, rights watchdog alleges in report.” The National Post. Retrieved from http://news.nationalpost.com/2013/02/13/mounties-raped-abused-b-c-aboriginal-girls-rights-watchdog-alleges-in-report/.

CBCNews. (2012, February 25). “Aboriginal women imprisoned in soaring numbers.” CBCNews Canada. Retrieved from http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/aboriginal-women-imprisoned-in-soaring-numbers-1.1143093.

Chekuru, K. (2013, March 10). “Violence Against Women Act Includes New Protections for Native American Women.” The Huffington Post. Retrieved from http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/03/10/violence-against-women-act-native-americans_n_2849931.html.

Indian Law Resource Center. n.d. Violence Against Native Women Gaining Global Attention. Retrieved from http://www.indianlaw.org/safewomen/violence-against-native-women-gaining-global-attention.

Iwase, C. Y. (2012). “Fiduciary Relationship as Contemporary Colonialism.” The Arbutus Review, 3 (2): 98-115.

Johnson, H. (2012). “No-Drop” Policies are Harming Some Women.” Social Sciences Research at University of Ottawa. Retrieved from http://socialsciences.uottawa.ca/sites/default/files/public/research/eng/documents/HJohnson_WorldIdeas.pdf.

Kuokkanen, R. (2011). “From Indigenous Economies to Market-Based Self Governance: A Feminist Political Economy Analysis.”  Canadian Journal of Political Science, 44(2): 275-297.

Mojab, S. (2012). “The Politics of Culture, Racism, and Nationalism in Honour Killings.” Canadian Criminal Law Review, 16(2): 116-134.

Oppal, W. (2012). Forsaken: The Report of the Missing Women Inquiry. Retrieved from http://www.missingwomeninquiry.ca/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/Forsaken-ES-web-RGB.pdf.

Razack, S. (1998). “From Pity to Respect: The Ableist Gaze and the Politics of Rescue.”  Looking White People in the Eye: Gender, Race, and Culture in Courtrooms and Classrooms, 130-156. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

Smith, A. (1999). “Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide.” Journal of Religion & Abuse, 1(2): 31-52.

[1] The term “Aboriginal” is employed here since it is the term used in the Canadian constitution and in a legal context.