{"id":567,"date":"2019-09-06T11:08:47","date_gmt":"2019-09-06T19:08:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/denalisunrisepublications.com\/?p=567"},"modified":"2020-01-13T05:29:25","modified_gmt":"2020-01-13T14:29:25","slug":"book-review-tanya-talaga-seven-fallen-feathers-all-our-relations","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/denalisunrisepublications.com\/book-review-tanya-talaga-seven-fallen-feathers-all-our-relations\/","title":{"rendered":"While Nanabijou Sleeps: Tanya Talaga on racism and survival of Indigenous youth"},"content":{"rendered":"

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W<\/span>hen I first heard about Seven Fallen Feathers: Racism, Death, and Hard Truths in a Northern City<\/a><\/em>, by journalist Tanya Talaga, \u00a9 2017, House of Anansi Press, I recalled my observations when passing through the township of Armstrong, Ontario, in 1996. An unincorporated area with fewer than 200 residents, three hours north of Thunder Bay, Ontario, Armstrong had several large new homes situated on a rise above the town, each with a law enforcement vehicle parked in the driveway. Below these houses, most of the community lived in older, smaller, rundown homes. I wondered about the relationship between these officers in “Armstrong Heights” and the rest of the community, given the number of law enforcement officers, their geographic location, and clear differential in standard of living.<\/p>\n

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\"Seven<\/a><\/p>\n

Learn More or Buy<\/a><\/div>\n
<\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Understanding racism in the North<\/h3>\n

Racism: It’s much more pervasive than a set of conscious attitudes and beliefs. Both of Talaga’s recently published books, Seven Fallen Feathers<\/em>\u00a0and All Our Relations: Finding the Path Forward<\/em> break down the topics of racism and colonialism in ways that Alaskans will find both relevant and familiar. Read these books to further community conversations about how to address ongoing epidemics of abuse, assault, disappearances, and deaths of Indigenous youth and young adults. Read these books to learn how segregation and discrimination continue to harm Indigenous peoples. Read these books to develop empathy and think about complicity. Read these books to protect and nurture the next generation.<\/p>\n

Beyond discrimination<\/h3>\n

Racism is part of the fabric of daily life for those who endure it, often invisible for those who don’t. The battle to end overt housing and educational discrimination, fought early in Alaska (see our review of Fighter in Velvet Gloves, about Alaskan Civil Rights heroine Elizabeth Peratrovich<\/a>), is only a first step in dismantling racism.<\/p>\n

Building empathy for lost youth<\/h3>\n

Talaga wrote Seven Fallen Feathers<\/em> about the families of seven of Ontario\u2019s rural Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) youth who disappeared and died while attending Dennis Franklin Cromarty School in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Talaga, a journalist living in Toronto, with rural Ontario Indigenous and Polish roots, shares candidly her own surprise at just how complex, extensive, and underreported the losses were. Through stories and the use of Ojibwe language, diligent investigative reporting, and interviews, Talaga builds empathy for communities who have lost so many of their youth.<\/p>\n

While Nanabijou sleeps\"Fall<\/h3>\n

The book opens with a definition of cultural genocide, and takes us in the prologue through the legends of the giant Nanabijou, in which we learn that he fell asleep and the Anishinaabe lost his protection when someone betrayed him. Talaga writes about her struggle to bridge the multiple cultures she comes from, until she understands the significance of the deaths of the seven youth in light of Anishinaabe traditional stories. After introducing the book in this way, she moves into more formal journalistic reporting. The disappearances of the youth in Thunder Bay, we learn, must be understood through both the traditional stories, and the complicated lens of history that includes segregation, lack of cultural awareness from the beginning, coupled with historical and continued inequitable funding and staffing of education and health services for Indigenous children.<\/p>\n

Prophecy of the Seven Fires<\/h3>\n

“Every Anishinaabe person knows the prophecy of the seven fires,” writes Talaga. Each fire refers to a prophecy, a period of time of the history of people. The first three fires refer to the time prior to European contact. The fourth fire refers to the time of the arrival of light-skinned people, and poses two possible outcomes. The fifth fire refers to war and suffering along with the promises, and risks, of Christianity. The sixth fire refers to sickness of spirit and body, and the grief of disconnection between elders and youth. The seventh fire refers to young people rising up to find their own way, with many of the Elders no longer able to help. Success is not a guarantee, but could result in “. . .a rebirth of the Anishinaabe nation. But if they were to fail, all would fail.” We are left to understand that these are the times we live in now.<\/p>\n

Segregation originates and persists<\/h3>\n

The description of segregation in Thunder Bay and rural Ontario is uncomfortably familiar. During the 1990s, I lived about an hour south of Thunder Bay, in rural northeast Minnesota. I would go to this city of over 100,000 people, to shop for groceries. I heard about, and saw firsthand, the division of the city, explained in the prologue of Seven Fallen Feathers: <\/em>the more affluent Port Arthur, the \u201cwhite face,\u201d and Fort William, the \u201cred face,\u201d reflect the history of segregation. Most of the Indigenous working class of Thunder Bay still reside in Fort William. A similar pattern of stark segregation endures in other parts of the province.<\/p>\n

Racisms kills<\/h3>\n

Talaga describes the history of overt racism including specific, racially motivated assaults which injured and killed Anishinaabe people living in or near Thunder Bay. She documents in detail the history of residential schools, whose purpose was to disintegrate Indigenous culture through disrupting the transmission of cultural values and identity from one generation to the next. She describes again and again, the failure of law enforcement and the health care system, to respond to the plight of the youth at this Thunder Bay residential school. Because of these multiple failures to respond and investigate, families had no closure regarding cause of death. Finally, she analyzes the way pervasive funding inequities set up the tribally run school for failure, leading to this human rights tragedy.<\/p>\n

Residential schools disrupt families for generations,<\/h3>\n

Across North America, survivors of residential schools observed and experienced hunger, disease, sexual and physical abuse, and emotional neglect. Repercussions of this still reverberate. The last federally run Canadian residential school shut down in the 1990s. However, rural community schools remain underfunded and inadequate, many ending at grade 8. The Northern Nishnawbe Education Council started the Dennis Franklin Cromarty Residential School in Thunder Bay to help address the higher education needs of these youth left with the option of ending their education or moving to town. This school faced multiple obstacles from the beginning. Youth from previously traumatized rural communities moved to an urban community to live in other people’s homes who were not close family. Historical prejudices and segregation in the community of Thunder Bay, along with provincial funding inequities, put the school at risk from the beginning. Thus, when students started to disappear, it became evident that the school was inadequately equipped to protect them. Additionally, the lack of connection between the Native community, local law enforcement and medical personnel contributed to delays in communication, investigation, and sharing of information after each disappearance.<\/p>\n

And lack of empathy leads to different standards of care.<\/h3>\n

At least ten Indigenous youth have died since 2000, most of them later found in local rivers. Indigenous search parties, not local law enforcement, led the way in locating the missing. While law enforcement was slow to investigate disappearances, often violating their own policies, they were quick to report that no foul play was suspected, at times even before a coroner report had been issued. Coroner investigations and reports were also delayed in multiple instances, putting their accuracy into question. Ultimately, an inquest into seven of the deaths was granted, but with no fresh leads as to cause of death, there was little closure for the families of the deceased. Multiple protocols were violated and funding inequities and injustices identified. The inquest made 145 recommendations in 2016, which are still in the process of implementation and in some cases subject to annual funding allocation.<\/p>\n

Seventh Fire<\/h3>\n

It’s impossible for families and communities to quantify or even fully verbalize the impact of the losses, spiritually, emotionally, economically, of losing their youth. In this context, art becomes a most powerful means of telling a story. One of the affected families includes the Morrisseaus, artists famous throughout Ontario. Christian Morrisseau, the father of one of the youth, painted the artwork used on the book’s cover. A page of his website<\/a> is dedicated to this book, the artwork on the cover, and his son.<\/p>\n