Active History

This is the third and final article in a series that places the Justice for Our Stolen Children camp in Regina into historical contexts of tipi camps and settler responses to Indigenous presence on the prairies. The previous two articles can be found (here) and (here). 

In direct contrast to the opposition to the Justice for Our Stolen Children camp, a tipi sits on display on the Saskatchewan Legislature grounds one year earlier, as part of Canada 150 celebrations.
(Photo by computer_saskboy on Flickr. Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Part Three: The Legacy of White Hegemony and the Future of Reconciliation

By Stephanie Danyluk and Katya MacDonald

As the previous essays in this series have established, Indigenous people in tipis on public lands is nothing new. Nor is it a new phenomenon when settlers seek to have Indigenous presence or absence conform to our own short-term goals. The Justice for Our Stolen Children camp was set up as a way for participants to claim agency and representation in important contemporary issues, but these issues hold deep historical roots.

The final report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in 2015 called on settlers to help foster reconciliation and address these past and present wrongs. But as we are reminded by requests to display tipis at celebratory events, these well-intentioned efforts at inclusion do not automatically fulfill goals of reconciliation. As political scientist Rita Dhamoon has argued, multiculturalism, as a Canadian value, has in fact served to regulate non-white society, because it ignores questions of power and racism.^[1] Without the historical contexts for tipi camps, the tipis remain the same ahistorical symbol of nationhood they were expected to be during invited events like Pion-Era, or more recent Canada Day celebrations. A deeper understanding of Indigenous experiences of tipi camps reveals that settler and Indigenous goals for these spaces have often been different, yet the public narrative has been driven largely by settler interests and understandings.

Indigenous comedian Ryan McMahon has emphasized that decolonization is ultimately about land.^[2] The tipi encampments at the Saskatchewan legislature reinforce that idea on both micro and macro levels. Continue reading →

This is the second post in a series that places the Justice for Our Stolen Children camp in Regina into historical contexts of tipi camps and settler responses to Indigenous presence on the prairies. You can check out the first article in the series (here). The third and final article will be available next Friday.

In direct contrast to the opposition to the Justice for Our Stolen Children camp, a tipi sits on display on the Saskatchewan Legislature grounds one year earlier, as part of Canada 150 celebrations.
(Photo by computer_saskboy on Flickr. Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Part Two: Prohibit and Exhibit: A History of Prairie Tipi Encampments

By Stephanie Danyluk and Katya MacDonald

For the Indigenous people who called the plains home, encampments were central to their everyday cultural, social, spiritual, and political lives. Cultural and spiritual meanings associated with the tipi and encampments are deep and complex; this includes the elements, design, position of the tipi, their ownership, their ceremonial role, and the organization of the camp, to name just a few.^[1] Of course, the specific cultural and spiritual meaning and practices associated with tipis and encampments differ among the diverse First Nations of the plains. This article seeks to situate responses to the Justice for Our Children Camp on the grounds of the Saskatchewan Legislature within the historical context of reducing “tipi villages” to ahistorical symbols of Canada’s nationhood. This context is placed vis-a-vis Indigenous perspectives on these camps as sites of cultural, social, and political gathering apart from settler interests.

For early settlers coming into contact with Indigenous plains peoples, tipi encampments were primarily remarked upon for their form and function. Although often ignorantly defined as “primitive,” it is clear that these were autonomous, self-determined, complex spaces.  In the late 1860’s, HBC apprentice clerk Isaac Cowie describes a gathering of ”three hundred and fifty large leather lodges” of Cree, Saulteaux, Assiniboine, and a small group of Metis, “containing a mix population of probably two thousand five hundred or three thousand.”^[2] Cowie’s description of the camp and its purpose make it clear that these Indigenous groups had diverse and complex reasons for gathering. Among these, Cowie lists buffalo hunting, the Sundance ceremony, a gathering of the Warrior’s lodge, and military protection from the Blackfoot. Cowie notes the inhabitants of the camp had varied and divergent interests and were “very far from agreeing on other matters amongst themselves.”^[3] In other words, they were diverse cultures with diverse needs, and sought to be treated as such.

After the signing of the Numbered Treaties on the Canadian prairies, settler colonial forces tightened their grip on First Nations with the forced relocation of First Nations onto reserves. As well, increasing controls and colonial violence were perpetrated through the Indian Act with the the banning of cultural gatherings and with the pass and permit system. As colonial controls increased, so too did settler anxiety and fear associated with these encampments, as they symbolized and facilitated the mobility and autonomy of Indigenous peoples. The reactions to a gathering of approximately 3000 Indigenous peoples at Fort Walsh in the spring of 1881–which was to be one of the last gatherings of this kind–provides a stark contrast to Cowie’s account. Continue reading →