TRIBAL WORLDS: CRITICAL STUDIES IN AMERICAN INDIAN NATION BUILDING
Brian Hosmer and Larry Nesper, editors
Strong Hearts, Native Lands
The Cultural and Political Landscape of
Anishinaabe Anti-Clearcutting Activism
Anna J. Willow
Published by State University of New York Press, Albany
2012 State University of New York
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Willow, Anna J.
Strong hearts, Native lands : the cultural and political landscape of Anishinaabe anti-clearcutting activism / Anna J. Willow.
p. cm. (Tribal worlds : critical studies in American Indian nation building)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-4384-4203-7 (hardcover : alk. paper)
1. Ojibwa IndiansOntarioKenora RegionPolitics and government 2. Ojibwa IndiansOntarioKenora RegionSocial conditions. 3. Ojibwa IndiansOntarioKenora RegionEthnic identity. 4. ClearcuttingOntarioKenora Region. 5. Forest protectionOntarioKenora Region. 6. Indian activistsOntarioKenora Region. 7. EnvironmentalistsOntarioKenora Region. 8. Protest movementsOntarioKenora Region. 9. English River Indian Reserve No. 21 (Ont.)Environmental conditions. 10. Kenora Region (Ont.)Environmental conditions. I. Title.
E99.C6W56 2012
977.004'97333dc23
2011023185
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Illustrations
Preface
Social science is a form of storytelling, and the way we tell stories largely determines who will hear them.
Julie Cruikshank, Life Lived Like a Story: Life Stories of Three Yukon Native Elders
M any stories could be told about the Grassy Narrows First Nation blockade. Some stories have made their way into the media record. Perhaps the most important blockade stories are those that continue to be retold and reimagined by the blockade's participants. This book presents my own account of the Grassy Narrows blockade and what made it possible. The events of the blockade, like the lives and motivations of the Anishinaabe activists who instigated it, are complex. The story of the Grassy Narrows blockade is a story of convergences. It takes place where cultural, political, and environmental dimensions of Anishinaabe anti-clearcutting activism intersect; where history and contemporary challenges combine with future aspirations to inspire action. I recount this multifaceted tale to the best of my ability; without question, others' interpretationslike the stories they tellwill differ from my own.
In the mid-1980s, sociologist wrote the following of her time in Grassy Narrows over the previous decade:
I could never escape the feeling that I had been parachuted into a voida drab and lifeless place in which the vital spark of life had gone out. It wasn't just the poverty of the place, the isolation, or even the lack of a decent bed that depressed me. I had seen worse material deprivation when I was working in squatter settlements around Santiago, Chile. And I had been in worse physical surroundings while working in war-devastated Ismailia on the project for the reconstruction of the Suez Canal. What struck me about Grassy Narrows was the numbness in the human spirit. There was an indifference, a listlessness, a total passivity that I could neither understand nor seem to do anything about. I had never seen such hopelessness anywhere in the Third World.
Eager to draw public attention to Grassy Narrows First Nation's plight, Shkilnyk may have been moved to hyperbole. And, to be sure, Grassy Narrows today is not without its share of problems. But the hopelessness Shkilnyk described is no longer so pervasive. Hope, determination, and perseverance now stand strong within the First Nation community. The contrast between Shkilnyk's gloomy outlook and my own reflects, first and foremost, the many positive changes that have taken place at Grassy Narrows in the twenty-five years separating our time there. But it was also catalyzed by First Nation members' resentmentmade pointedly clear to meat seeing their community portrayed in such a pessimistic light.
When any story is told, many choices must be made. Certainly, it would have been possible to craft an account of Grassy Narrows life that highlighted the harsh social realities so many Native Canadians experience firsthand. Colin Samson, for example, respectfully describes the culturally catastrophic results of Canada's extinguishment policy in order to advocate for Innu rights, arguing that sustained efforts to transform and to impose external authority upon Native peoples carry with them consequences that demand to be accounted for (2003: 11). My decision to downplay the internal disagreements and social problems that exist at Grassy Narrows today should by no means be taken to excuse the generations of injustice that underlie them. But this is not how activists at Grassy Narrows choose to think about their past, present, and future. By thriving, they make a powerful statement about the inability of colonialism to complete its intended task.
Ultimately, the way I wrote about the blockade was guided by a conversation that took place during my first month of full-time fieldwork. Feeling homesick and anxious, I asked respected Grassy Narrows blockade spokesperson, trapper, and business owner J. B. Fobister if he had any suggestions for how I could give back to the First Nation community. J. B. did not offer an immediate answer. Gradually, though, over the course of an hour-long conversation, he returned to my question. He described the lack of self-respect and community pride he saw in many of Grassy's young people and, without missing a beat, asked me about the writing I planned to do. Giving has to come from within, J. B. said, when you do it and feel good about it you will know that you have given back in the right way. Finally, it seemed, J. B. had answered my question. The message I took from this conversationthe idea that I might be able to give back by writing in a way that inspires and honors the youth of Grassy Narrowsstayed with me through every page.
Acknowledgments
W ithout assistance from many people, this book could not have been written. I am eternally grateful for the time, patience, and friendship of activists and community leaders at Grassy Narrows First Nation (especially Judy DaSilva, Barbara Fobister, J. B. Fobister, Steve Fobister, Roberta Keesick, Andy Keewatin, and Chrissy Swain). Many thanks are also due to Bobbie Harrington, members of Christian Peacemaker Teams, and Friends of Grassy Narrows for assistance and friendship during my time in northwestern Ontario. The direction and encouragement offered by Paul Nadasdy, Larry Nesper, and Marilyn Runge (both my mother and my most devoted editor) have been extremely valuable throughout the long process of writing and revising this work. Finally, I offer my love and appreciation to Ryan, Evan, Aaron, and Autumn for their patience and understanding.
