Author Drew Hayden TaylorSara Cornthwaite/Supplied
Nobody wants to be the gatekeeper, but on occasion the gate does need to be kept.
Recently, I was fortunate enough to have been asked to be the Indigenous writer in residence this spring for a prominent university. I’ve done such gigs before, but this time the invite came with something new: an added layer of cultural bureaucracy.
I was e-mailed a document informing me that: “The Honorable Murray Sinclair, former Chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, has recently stated that the time has come for all universities to recognize that relying solely on self-identification processes with respect to determining who has the right to take up Indigenous opportunities is no longer sufficient. Indigenous Peoples, their communities and respective Nations are calling upon universities to develop more robust processes for validating claims to Indigeneity.”
It’s always good to be validated. But this request meant – and I am paraphrasing – “put up or shut up.” This large educational organization wanted proof that my ancestors had once run with the beavers – specifically in the form of one of the following: a status card, a letter from a Chief and band council, a Haudenosaunee passport or two sworn affidavits from family members that clearly identified my nation, community and, if applicable, the reason why I was not connected to my Indigenous community.
It was bound to happen. Like when you’re trying to get into a very exclusive club and you say you’re a VIP, you’ve got to provide the bona fides. In this case, VIP means Very Indigenous Person, and the club is Indigenous society. Enough unwanted incursions and, well, security has to be beefed up to keep out those who would rudely scarf down all the cultural appetizers.
After all, an abused system should be allowed to try to limit the abusing, and it seems the wild turkeys have finally come home to roost. So, I photocopied my status card and e-mailed it off to take my proper place at this site of higher learning, as I’m sure my ancient ancestors had been doing since time immemorial.
This was not an isolated instance, as I know that other universities across the country have begun to institute similar hiring requirements. (All the time I’m asking myself: Wasn’t there a similar way in which Indigenous kids found themselves in residential schools?)
Regardless, it’s easy to see the growing need for such vigilance. There has been an increasing urgency among First Nations and Indigenous organizations to regulate their/our own identity, as the issue of “pretendians” has been going on for years.
Both the past and the present are ripe with examples of people who have, for one reason or another, wanted to dance the Indigenous dance without the proper regalia.
During the Boston Tea Party, in order to hide who they were, American patriots dressed up as Mohawk warriors as they dumped chests of tea into the harbour. Had there been proper authentication of those warriors, the Revolutionary War might have ended differently – and one would assume there’d be no need for a 25-per-cent tariff between Canada and the States.
Last November, prominent Liberal employment minister Randy Boissonnault was accused of misleading the public with his claims of having Cree ancestry. Add him to the long list of writers, directors, academics and singers recently under suspicion of the same. (Oddly enough, I’ve never seen the spotlight shone on butchers, bakers or even candlestick makers.)
Evidently, it’s an issue that will still be battled with in the future. The character of Chakotay on Star Trek: Voyager is one of the most famous non-Indigenous Indigenous figures on television, next to Iron Eyes Cody (better known as “the Crying Indian” with a single tear on his cheek). Chakotay has the distinction of being a double whammy in the world of pretendianism. First of all, he’s played by a Latino actor, Robert Beltran. Second, author Jamake Highwater, who claimed to be Cherokee, was hired as an Indigenous consultant for the show and specifically for that character. But, it turns out, he was in actuality of Eastern European Jewish ancestry. Oy vey!
I wonder whether Starfleet required Chakotay to submit the 24th-century equivalent of a status card?
Many of today’s powwows, which are celebrations of Indigenous cultures, are adopting comparable requirements. I’ve met vendors wanting to sell T-shirts, dreamcatchers, Indian tacos (for those not in the know, a tasty combination of chili served on fried homemade bread, dripping in lettuce, cheese and hot sauce), bone carvings and other essential Indigenous paraphernalia who are now required to offer proof that those porcupine earrings have honest origins. I believe dancers and drummers must also offer up proper authentication before their shawls and feathers can fly.
Indigeneity continues to get increasingly more bureaucratic. That’s one of the lesser-known reasons pretendians are so annoying. But we don’t mind doing the paperwork. Checking the box on some form just won’t cut it any more – you never know who’s wielding the pen.
