Tag: Settler Colonialism

Enjoy your stat, Canada

The Reluctant AnthropologistLeave a comment

Today, I’m planning to do the same thing I strive for every day, although a bit more intentionally. It started off waking up at 6:05, like every day, but I didn’t get out of bed right away.

I whispered truths to my co-sleeping child about how smart, funny, kind and brave he is. I thanked him for choosing me to be his mama. I thought about my absolute privilege to be an Indigenous mother in 2025, and the beauty in filling my children up with goodness.

I laid in bed a bit longer, before getting up to make coffee, and starting peach cobbler that 2/3 children enjoy (the third eats cheerios, banana and milk every day).

I’m just going to be slow and intentional today, me: a little love light burning for all Indigenous people and mothers and children fighting for sovereignty and the ancestors by existing, thriving, loving and living.

Each moment with my children today will be an intentional prayer for every child who never made it home, and for those parents and communities who miss them, past and present.

Colonialism is system operating as intended, that Canadians continue to uphold and benefit from. I think today is simultaneously important and also at the same time a shallow, topical non-solution.

Future Ancestral Assemblages

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My Grandma Margaret loved to crochet. She taught me when I was young and she let me dig around in her yarn and craft supplies and I loved her for it. She also taught me to read patterns. She had patterns that she recieved handed down from Auntie Cassie, and she’d tell me about how Cassie didn’t read patterns, but a magnifying glass to count stitches. When Cassie was done she’d give them to my gramma who would follow the patterns and she marveled at. These pattern books are from the 80s and 90s.

Next, my Grandma would always rip the free patterns at the yarn stores, usually taking 2 or three. When I would visit, she’d make me sort them, take copies I wanted and pile up the doubles for her so she could redistribute in her networks. Here is my accumulation. 

The American Miniaturist belonged to my Grandma Raylene. She made miniatures, was in miniature clubs, and had friends all over the pacific northwest who also enjoyed this hobby. She too had a redistribution network, and I was often the final destination for some of these hobby magazines.

Somewhy I curated these things together in one place.

As an Indigenous archaeologist studying the lifeways of the ancestors through their material culture, I get embroiled in long drawn out thoughts about sensorality, life/thought energy and materiality in Ancestral objects and assemblages.

This collection is a present/future Ancestral assemblage. By curating these things together, in combination with my thoughts and memories about them, I have added my energy to the assemblage. I have cared for them for 15-25 years already.

Also present in the assemblage is a memory of each moment there was energy contact between people’s attention and the objects, and here in my reasoning I draw on Yannis Hamilakas’ work with sensorial assemblages.

I think when I extrapolate the ideas to apply to Ancestral assemblages of stone tools. I tend to reinterpret with my Xwelmuxw lenses to imagine all who have given the thoughts about the objects energy to be included in an assemblage, Ancestors witnessing stone tools; stone tools witnessing Ancestors; both stone tools and Ancestors witnessing me witnessing them.

Maybe when we die, our energy is just scattered, across everything we’ve ever held in our attention, objects and energy we have engaged or interacted with. And it remains there, forevermore, for connection with future moments.

Sometimes I wonder how I can simultaneously be so attached to this plane/terrified to physically leave it and the love I have here and also feel so confident that whatever is next is okay too. Mind boggling…

Self Isolation Diaries, Day 13

The Reluctant AnthropologistLeave a comment

Today the kids slept in until 7:45am!

We ate breakfast and then went outside to hoolahoop. In these weird, stressful and completely absurd times, (STOP SAYING UNPRECEDENTED, it’s annoying!) moving the body helps. We don’t need to be couch potatoes, we can maintain a social distance, no one is out as early as us anyway!

Phae can keep it up for about 45 seconds, while Fox had fun chasing a hoop around the parking lot. I am a bit rusty, but I impressed the kids and the neighbours with my pre-child hoolahooping skills, hahaha. The day revolved around meals and snacks. We put away laundry, it felt like an achievement. Phae and I did origami while Fox napped, she chooses complicated projects and I make them.

Origami has actually been a great distraction, in that it is a tiny momentary exercise in trust and faith, where I can surrender to outside instructions and have them work out as something cool and constructive and of value. Such a weird metaphor, I know. Today I made a little stationary storage multi-level box (Phae’s choice), a cactus in a pot, a diamond, a star and some weird triangle boxes with Tony.

We had an awkward conversation where I was frustrated with him about his choices with working. Like, he has some weird, patriarchy hang-up that AS A MAN, he needs to be working. If he was worried about money, I make more, but we’re certainly not going to argue about whose job is more important. In the face of a global pandemic, neither seems very essential. The job that is important is parenting, the kids need to be loved. I am the motherish, default primary parent and I am actively trying to choose connection. I am trying to surrender my capitalist slave mentality to just be present with my children and do some child-led and place based learning.

In our present reality while earth is in the throes of a global pandemic,
“real archaeology” (whatever that is), shitty settler developers, anthropology, my masters degree, it all seems pretty fucking inconsequential.

I love the land and the Ancestors, but I don’t really like my job, and it seems so fucking skewed to put the job before my family. I am letting the work at home stuff stress me out, and I’m barely keeping on top of my work emails. If I could manage more, (while juggling children, cooking and planning every meal, rationing the food we have, budgeting and trying to keep the household somewhat not a sty) I wouldn’t be making much of a contribution to the discipline. Yes, let’s write a boiler plate report for some questionable settler development so they can check their archaeology box on the list of requirements issued by settler colonial governments for a permit to destroy/redestroy/disregard Indigenous cultural heritage and territory.

So I worked my ass off for 8 years in post-secondary to get a couple of degrees, yay I achieved a couple of things valued by a few segments of settler society. I made many sacrifices to do it. I fucking did it. I joke about being the reluctant anthropologist, but truth be told, anthropology has ruined me.

Merry Christmyth!

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So, I try to engage in thoughtful discussion online, but this often turns into arguments and then I just get hulk-smashy.

This happened this morning, I shared a funny meme from Decolonial Meme Queens to an archaeology joke group on Facebook.

It is a legitimate commentary on the racist narrative psuedoarchaeology and ancient aliens! But it exploded, and people were upset and I was called a racist, so I shared a few questionable gifs (🤣🤣😇) then my post was deleted.

I’m not sure why I believed I could start a conversation about a legitimate concern 🤷‍♀️

It is frustrating. When I complained to my partner about how my post devolved into a dumpster fire of yt tears, in a group that contains other professional archaeologists, many of whom post memes upholding racist anthropological/white supremacist narratives ALL THE TIME, he was like: “This is why you’re in it, to change things, right?”