A Land Acknowledgement About the Trouble with Land Acknowledgements
Sarah Green, EdD Student
University of Calgary
Shé:kon, All –
I’m honoured to offer a Land Acknowledgement as we find ourselves together in community. I gather with you as a Kanyen’kehà:ka woman of the Turtle Clan on the Territory of Tyendinaga:
We are all thankful to our Mother, the Earth, for she gives us all that we need for life.
She supports our feet as we walk about upon her.
It gives us joy that she continues to care for us as she has from the beginning of time.
To our Mother, we send greetings and thanks.
Now our minds are one.
(Ohénten Kariwatékwen: Words Before All Else)
The land is the heartbeat of the earth. I believe we are born knowing that heartbeat in our blood. We move in the same rhythm, and that vital heartbeat mirrors our own. And then something happens; something shifts. We begin to disconnect, losing sense of our anchoring rhythm, until the sound is a mere echo in the distance. Just as the cord is cut separating us from our mothers, so too is our connection severed from the land. As I reflect on how this disconnect has manifested in my own life, I ask myself, Skennenkowaken: are you at peace?
Connecting with one another through story is how we might find our way back to the land as well as to each other. Robin Wall Kimmerer (2013), author of Braiding Sweetgrass, shares these wise words:
The story of our relationship to the earth is written more truthfully on the land than on the page. It lasts there. The land remembers what we said and what we did. Stories are among our most potent tools for restoring the land as well as our relationship to land. We need to unearth the old stories that live in a place and begin to create new ones, for we are storymakers, not just storytellers. (p. 341)
It is in this spirit that I share that my ancestors’ roots were planted on the Tyendinaga Mohawk Territory — the birthplace of Dekanahwideh, the Great Peacemaker, in 1784 — and they continue to grow and thrive there today. My sixth great grandfather, Annosothkah (Sampson) Green, was the first appointed Chief of our territory. He was also a residential school Survivor. The first of many in my family. As part of my doctoral work, I’ve been pouring over archives of Annosothkah’s letters to the Crown dating back to 1879 where he thoughtfully advocates for educational advantages for the Indian child who, in his words, “expresses a growing desire for learning” (Government of Canada, p. 3). I often wonder what Annosothkah would think about where we are today in our ever-so-slightly robotic and ritualistic way of honouring the land. I imagine the conversations that might unfold between us as I voice the questions that weigh heavy on my heart:
Dear Annosothkah,
How do we honour the spirit of the land?
Do our words inspire a call to action?
Where is the reciprocity?
As I dig deeper into the unknowing, I’m finding more and more tension with the offering and receiving of Land Acknowledgements. Since they have become a common practice in educational settings in recent years, their effectiveness is coming into question. Nobly intended to recognize and honour the Indigenous peoples who have lived on and cared for the land for centuries, Land Acknowledgements aim to raise awareness about the history of decolonization and the ongoing struggles faced by Indigenous communities. As they seek to disrupt the dominant narrative of settler colonialism, Land Acknowledgements encourage reflection on the ways in which land theft and dispossession have shaped the present-day landscape.
Dear Annosothkah,
I fear we’ve lost the thread of our connection to the land.
How do we weave our way back?
A concern on the rise is that Land Acknowledgements can easily slip into the realm of performative gestures, devoid of substance or meaningful action. Simply reciting a Land Acknowledgement without any follow-up actions or commitments to Indigenous communities can be seen as tokenistic and insincere. Another growing concern is that the language used in Land Acknowledgements can be vague or sanitized, glossing over the violence and injustice of colonization. By framing colonization as a historical event that happened in the past, rather than an ongoing process with enduring impacts, Land Acknowledgements can obscure the true extent of Indigenous oppression. Contextualization is critical to shed a stark light on the ongoing effects of colonialism.
Dear Annosothkah,
We have absolved ourselves of responsibility to the land.
How do we shift our apathetic mindset?
Land Acknowledgements are complex and complicated. An offering crafted from one Indigenous community’s viewpoint might unintentionally overshadow or distort the history of others. The composition of Indigenous groups who have historically inhabited and nurtured this land has evolved over time, making it challenging to accurately identify and collectively honour today. Land Acknowledgements run the risk of reducing diverse Indigenous cultures to a monolithic entity, overlooking the complexities and nuances within Indigenous communities. We must be mindful to avoid essentializing Indigenous identities and instead promote a more nuanced understanding of Indigenous experiences, histories, and perspectives.
Dear Annosothkah,
We have become siloed in our ways of being.
How do we move outside of ourselves and take in each other?
Where does this leave us when we’re asked to prepare and offer a Land Acknowledgement? Embracing discomfort, admitting our unknowing, and creating brave spaces for conversations around land dispossession, environmental degradation, and the erasure of Indigenous cultures and languages are a few ways in. It might also be that uncovering and interrogating our own stories are solid places to start:
Where do we come from?
How did we arrive here?
What is our relationship to the land?
What implications come with residing on Indigenous land in the contemporary context?
As we move forward in our efforts to authentically acknowledge and honour the land and our respective relationships to it, I offer the words of Tom Sakokwenionkwas Porter (2006) — member of the Bear Clan of the Mohawk Nation at Akwesasne — for comfort and inspiration:
Some day we will return. Some day our children and great grandchildren will go back to the Mohawk Valley and they will rekindle the fires and the fires will burn bright again. And the Great Law will be reinstated, the Clan System will be reinstated, the Four Sacred Rituals will be reinstated again, the wonderful thing the Creator gave to us will be reinstated again. One day they will go home. (p. 40)
With gratitude, Nia:wen.
References
Government of Canada. (1879). Tyendinaga reserve — Dispute over the proposed trip of Chief Sampson Green to England to collect subscriptions for the establishment of a school on the reserve. Library and Archives Canada. https://recherche-collection-search.bac-lac.gc.ca/eng/Home/Record?app=fonandcol&IdNumber=2064045&q=SAMPSON&ecopy=e002610519
Kimmerer, R. W. (2013). Braiding sweetgrass. Milkweed Editions.
Porter, T. S. (2006). Kanatsiohareke: Traditional Mohawk Indians return to their ancestral homeland. Bowman Books.
