Latest news with #Kainai
CBC
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- CBC
Why did this outfit by a Blackfoot designer lead to controversy… and what does she think about it?
A Blackfoot designer says she was shocked when her latest collection received backlash online over sexualization of Indigenous women and inappropriate use of traditional medicines. Melrene Saloy-Eaglespeaker, a member of the Kainai (Blood Tribe) Nation in Alberta, said the collection, which was designed for Santa Fe's Native Fashion Week last month, was inspired by the healing she finds in design and creativity, as well as her respect for traditional medicines. "I just wanted to bring these two amazing elements together," she said. Saloy-Eaglespeaker, who grew up in Calgary, said she used sage, cedar and sweetgrass to create the collection. The clothes also featured leather, satin and black sheer elements — a fixture of her work. "I have always kind of used very out there, very contemporary [ways of] showcasing of the female form in many of my prior collections," she said, adding her work aims to reclaim Indigenous women's sexuality. Despite previous designs appearing at fashion shows in Milan and Paris, she said she's never experienced criticism like this before, although she knows that using traditional medicines "in a contemporary way can be shocking." Still, she said she was surprised that so much of the criticism said the model was sexualized due to the amount of skin that showed and that using sacred medicines in revealing clothing was wrong. Saloy-Eaglespeaker rejects that idea. "I would think that a woman's body would be the most sacred space to have these medicines," she said. Following Blackfoot teachings Before beginning her work, she said, she consulted with multiple family members and elders about the idea. She, along with other family members, harvested the medicines for the collection using protocols such as leaving tobacco and only taking what was needed. When negative reactions to the collection poured out online — commenters also accused her of vanity and behaving like an "unconnected" person — she was hurt. Saloy-Eaglespeaker said she believes the fact that she's biracial (her mother, who raised her, is Blackfoot and her father is Creole) and grew up in the city could be a factor in some people's reaction to her work. "Like because I am biracial, then I'm not Native enough to be able to use and do things with [medicines]," she said. Linda EagleSpeaker, Saloy-Eaglespeaker's maternal aunt, said she thought the idea was "amazing," and added that she's proud of all the work Saloy-Eaglespeaker has done in her career. "We never hold our children back to be creative, and to express themselves in a good way," said EagleSpeaker, who works as an elder involved with child welfare in Minnesota. "They don't know her, they don't know how she was raised, they don't know our family." She said that Saloy-Eaglespeaker consulted multiple elders and family members before beginning the collection in order to be respectful. She called criticism of her niece "pitiful" and said concerns over modesty and sexualization do not align with traditional values. "We didn't look upon ourselves as being naked from the waist up and we didn't look at ourselves as being sexualized… and we were honoured by our men, our people," EagleSpeaker said of past ways of dressing. The collection will not be for sale as Saloy-Eaglespeaker said she was taught that medicines are not to be sold. She said she took other steps to ensure she followed Blackfoot teachings throughout the entire process. "Prior to [fitting] each model, I made sure none were on their cycles because as Blackfoot women, we cannot smudge or be around medicines," Saloy-Eaglespeaker said. EagleSpeaker said she advised her niece to stand strong in the face of criticism and not respond to disrespect. "[Then] you make a circular motion and everything that they've said to you, you take it and you throw it over your back," she said. Collection well-received Amber-Dawn Bear Robe, a member of the Siksika Nation in southern Alberta who now lives in Santa Fe, organized Native Fashion Week where the medicine collection was first displayed. She said, as a Blackfoot woman herself, she never expected it to be controversial. "What I see is fear. What I see is uneducated, uninformed, knee jerk reactions," she said. Bear Robe said she thought the collection touched on the connection between the land and human bodies in a way that she found interesting. "From a curatorial perspective, I think that the pieces were brilliant," she said, adding the collection was well-received on the runway. She said she hopes the backlash doesn't lead designers away from taking risks, especially as Indigenous fashion theory is still in its infancy even if other art forms have been around, and appreciated, for decades. "I feel like we're going back 50 years when people are knocking Indigenous designers for celebrating women, men and non-binary people's bodies." Of the 30 designers at fashion week, this was not the collection Bear Robe expected to spark controversy. "I thought the one collection that was going to have a reaction was the blatant F--k Trump collection …. Instead it's sweetgrass? Give me a break," she said. Having worked in contemporary art for decades, Bear Robe said it's important for artists to be able to push boundaries. "Materials are used in different ways to explore artistic, creative expression, and that should not be dictated by others," she said. "It's an internalized racism and a white anthropological view on what Native art should be." Bear Robe added she hopes to be able to display the medicine collection again if Saloy-Eaglespeaker is willing.
Yahoo
27-01-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Carrying the spirit and intent of Murray Sinclair's vision forward in Treaty 7 territory
For nearly three decades, I have immersed myself in archival work to uncover the histories of my People, the Kainai (Blood Tribe) in Treaty 7 territory, in Alberta. What began in childhood as a search for photographs of my ancestors has evolved into a lifelong pursuit of understanding through records and Tribal narratives. Unlike my peers who had photo albums of their ancestors, I had none. Cameras were rare in Indigenous communities during the 1800s and early 1900s, leaving few family photographs. Instead, I turned to online archives, hoping to find even a single image. This archival work became a means of reconnecting with my ancestors. During my graduate studies at the University of Alberta, this passion for archival research deepened. As a research assistant for the Aboriginal Healing through Language and Culture project, I was part of a project that partnered with Roman Catholic Oblate missionaries to view historical records of Indigenous Peoples in the North West, which included my People. However, ongoing litigation related to the Residential School Settlement class-action suit limited my access. While I was granted permission to view specific materials, many documents remained restricted, and photocopying was often prohibited. This experience highlighted the persistent barriers Indigenous researchers face when reclaiming their histories and underscored the importance of equitable access to archival records. Growing up, conversations about residential schools were notably absent in my community. My family and fellow Tribal members rarely spoke of their experiences, and my public education glossed over their existence, perpetuating a widely held belief across Canada that residential schools were benevolent and necessary for Indigenous Peoples' 'advancement.' As the child of a residential school Survivor, I grew up with a profound sense of something unspoken yet deeply impactful in our collective history. Silence reflected the profound harm inflicted by the Canadian government and religious organizations operating these schools, leaving scars not just on individuals but across generations. Despite Survivors' efforts to share their truths, the dominant Canadian narrative continued to portray residential schools as positive contributions to the nation's development. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was pivotal in challenging this false narrative. By documenting Survivor testimonies and exposing the systemic abuses within these institutions, the TRC dismantled the myth of their benevolence. This was more than a historical reckoning; it was a vital step toward acknowledging the truth of Canada's colonial history and its lasting impact on Indigenous Peoples. Fifteen years ago this June, on the day the 94 Calls to Action were released, Murray Sinclair, former chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, stated: 'The Survivors need to know before they leave this Earth that people understand what happened and what the schools did to them.' Sinclair's words, coupled with one call in particular, ignited within me a deep commitment to create a program of work that would reclaim and document my Blood People's history — stories that had long been excluded from Canada's historical consciousness in favour of a whitewashed, generalized narrative. This commitment responded to Call to Action No. 78 which called upon Canada to commit funding to assist communities to research and produce histories of their own residential school experience and their involvement in truth, healing and reconciliation. The work I have been engaged in focuses on using archival records and partnering with Blood Tribe Elders, who are residential school Survivors, to together reinterpret these records. Together, we sought to tell our history through our own lens, using our voices to articulate the policies and experiences of the Stolen Children Era — the era covering over a century and a half where the Canadian government used multiple colonial models of schooling to assimilate Indigenous children. While conducting research in recent years leading up to an exhibit focusing on experiences of the Stolen Children Era, I noticed some improvements in access to archival materials, but significant barriers remain. Processes for accessing restricted documents vary widely, with some archives lacking clear pathways. Policies around documentation also differ — some allow photography under strict guidelines, while others prohibit duplication, limiting researchers to handwritten notes. These challenges, and others, underscore the ongoing need for systemic efforts to ensure Indigenous communities can reclaim their histories and preserve cultural narratives. Through my archival work, the intentions behind Canada's residential school system became clear. The education system for Indigenous children sought to create passive, obedient individuals stripped of agency and identity as Indigenous Peoples. Yet, within these oppressive records, I have found powerful stories of courage, resistance and resilience. These acts, combined with the wisdom of Elders, reflect the enduring strength of our People. Among the greatest examples of collective resistance and resilience is the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. I deeply admire the Survivors who broke the silence, initiating the class-action lawsuit that led to the TRC. Their bravery, along with the work of TRC leaders, resulted in powerful reports and the transformative Calls to Action. They remind us of the importance of reclaiming our power and affirm that we, as the Indigenous Peoples of this land, are deserving of dignity and justice. Among those I hold in high regard is the late Sinclair, whose leadership during the TRC was defined by clarity, strength and commitment. He spoke candidly about Canada's colonial policies and charted a clear path forward. In 1988, he became the first Indigenous judge in Manitoba. And he held those responsible for the operations of the schools accountable. His firm approach to justice and reconciliation inspires me, as an intergenerational Survivor, to confront challenges rooted in colonization with strength and resolve. As we move forward, let us band together with a shared commitment to treat all people with the dignity and respect they deserve as human beings. Reconciliation is not a solitary journey but a collective effort — a promise to do better and honour the truths of our shared history. Together, we must right the wrongs of the past, confronting injustice with courage and compassion. Let us carry the spirit and intent of Sinclair's vision forward, ensuring that the path of reconciliation becomes not just a goal, but a way of living that defines us as a nation. This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organisation bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Tiffany Dionne Prete, University of Lethbridge Read more: Looking for Indigenous history? 'Shekon Neechie' website recentres Indigenous perspectives Canada and churches have moral obligations for the reparations of missing and disappeared Indigenous children: Final Report National Day for Truth & Reconciliation: Universities and schools must acknowledge how colonial education has reproduced anti-Indigenous racism Tiffany Dionne Prete does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
