Exploring Turtle Island
So I'm trying a thing. As I explore what it means to be a settler ally on Turtle Island (the indigenous name for North America - for Lanape, Iroquois, Anishinaabe and others) I want to practice learning more about the first peoples who have lived, and continue to live, on this land. And so as I explore the majesty and beauty of this continent in my regular travels and journeys, I want to commit to learning whose land I am visiting, the the Indigenous names for places I only know the English name for, and hopefully some of their stories and history.
I'm inspired in this by the recent travels of a friend of mine and a comment he made on Facebook about using and learning Indigenous names of places you visit. You can find more of his story here: https://www.nationsandvoices.com/. (He has some amazing pictures you should check out!)
I've made a facebook album to post pictures, names and peoples - but I thought I might also blog here, among my many thoughts and rambles about personal growth, about what I learn as I undertake this journey of self education and allyship.
I'm on the beginning of this journey of learning what it means to be a settler ally. I want to be humble about my limited knowledge and the mistakes that I'm sure to make as I learn more and reflect. I invite you to journey with me, challenge me, or correct me as I explore Turtle Island and it's history in this way.
And so, my reflections on the Seneca and Erie traditional land in what is currently Western New York State:
As I watched the water fall, with majesty and power, over the one of the largest waterfalls in the world, my eyes caught on a statue. The first white European (and man), a priest if I am correct, to have glimpsed Niagara Falls. And I wondered "What of all the non European's who gazed with awe and amazement at these falls long before this man came here? Where are their stories?" The eastern side of the Niagara River at the falls (the US side if you think about current borders) is accessible through a state park. It's a pretty walking trail. A chance to see the falls through trees, as opposed to the over commercialism on the Western/Canadian side. Which helped me to wonder about how these falls appeared before paved walking trails. How did they fit into the life of the First Nations peoples who lived on their shores? And how can I learn that story?
Later, when I looked up the Indigenous name for the falls, and the peoples and nations who made that area their home, what I found was the colonizers version of nations at war, wiping each other out in competition for the fur trade. Nothing on the role the falls played in their lives, how the Seneca and Neutral (Atiquandaronk) people interacted with the majesty of nature. Maybe I didn't look hard enough.
Later, driving down the coast of Lake Erie, we stopped for gas at what I think was a reservation owned gas station. And I noted the increasing images of Native Americans on store fronts or logos as we drove. My driving companion commented on how she was surprised that there was so much Native imagery this far east. I was caught for a second - reflecting on how my own awareness of First Nations People, and ongoing colonialism, has awakened since moving to Ontario two years ago. A sad reminder of how we can be surprised to see markers of the Indigenous history, and ongoing presence, on this land. A sobering thought.
The next day, at another set of falls and another state park, these ones on the Genesee River, I thought about the importance of protecting natural waterways - and the role of state parks in doing that. But now, as I reflect, I wonder about how state parks might also restrict access in unhelpful ways. And how by creating a space that is for observation, but not for dwelling among nature, they erase the reality that people lived in these places. These rivers and lakes and falls were the live blood of communities - communities that could live there and not destroy them. What might we learn from that? And the story of Sehgahunda, or Vale of the Three Falls, as it transferred from the Seneca Nation to private/state ownership (Treaty of the Big Tree in 1797) and then transformed into Letchworth Statepark in the early 20th century is one of grief and legacy forgotten.
I'm inspired in this by the recent travels of a friend of mine and a comment he made on Facebook about using and learning Indigenous names of places you visit. You can find more of his story here: https://www.nationsandvoices.com/. (He has some amazing pictures you should check out!)
I've made a facebook album to post pictures, names and peoples - but I thought I might also blog here, among my many thoughts and rambles about personal growth, about what I learn as I undertake this journey of self education and allyship.
I'm on the beginning of this journey of learning what it means to be a settler ally. I want to be humble about my limited knowledge and the mistakes that I'm sure to make as I learn more and reflect. I invite you to journey with me, challenge me, or correct me as I explore Turtle Island and it's history in this way.
And so, my reflections on the Seneca and Erie traditional land in what is currently Western New York State:
As I watched the water fall, with majesty and power, over the one of the largest waterfalls in the world, my eyes caught on a statue. The first white European (and man), a priest if I am correct, to have glimpsed Niagara Falls. And I wondered "What of all the non European's who gazed with awe and amazement at these falls long before this man came here? Where are their stories?" The eastern side of the Niagara River at the falls (the US side if you think about current borders) is accessible through a state park. It's a pretty walking trail. A chance to see the falls through trees, as opposed to the over commercialism on the Western/Canadian side. Which helped me to wonder about how these falls appeared before paved walking trails. How did they fit into the life of the First Nations peoples who lived on their shores? And how can I learn that story?
Later, when I looked up the Indigenous name for the falls, and the peoples and nations who made that area their home, what I found was the colonizers version of nations at war, wiping each other out in competition for the fur trade. Nothing on the role the falls played in their lives, how the Seneca and Neutral (Atiquandaronk) people interacted with the majesty of nature. Maybe I didn't look hard enough.
Later, driving down the coast of Lake Erie, we stopped for gas at what I think was a reservation owned gas station. And I noted the increasing images of Native Americans on store fronts or logos as we drove. My driving companion commented on how she was surprised that there was so much Native imagery this far east. I was caught for a second - reflecting on how my own awareness of First Nations People, and ongoing colonialism, has awakened since moving to Ontario two years ago. A sad reminder of how we can be surprised to see markers of the Indigenous history, and ongoing presence, on this land. A sobering thought.
The next day, at another set of falls and another state park, these ones on the Genesee River, I thought about the importance of protecting natural waterways - and the role of state parks in doing that. But now, as I reflect, I wonder about how state parks might also restrict access in unhelpful ways. And how by creating a space that is for observation, but not for dwelling among nature, they erase the reality that people lived in these places. These rivers and lakes and falls were the live blood of communities - communities that could live there and not destroy them. What might we learn from that? And the story of Sehgahunda, or Vale of the Three Falls, as it transferred from the Seneca Nation to private/state ownership (Treaty of the Big Tree in 1797) and then transformed into Letchworth Statepark in the early 20th century is one of grief and legacy forgotten.
Comments
Post a Comment