Not Native Enough: The Pretendian Problem 2021-12-22
My great-great grandfather was a man identified by my grandparents and great-uncles as Indigenous and from the Dakota Territories. This is the history handed down through my family. My aunt and mother heard it from their parents, and my siblings, cousins and I heard it from them. Desiring to reclaim what we could (much was stripped away by devout Jehovah’s Witness immersion), my parents settled us for a few years in Muskwachees, where I still have cousins via marriage today. As someone born and raised elsewhere, and likely bereft of his own culture as a child, Cree teachings would have meant little to my great-great grandfather. But Central Alberta was where we lived, and it was important to our mother that we be raised within what we had access to at the time.
In 1981, my mother completed her PhD in cultural anthropology with a focus on Native Studies. Years after being encouraged by her father to honour our ancestry, my mother was advised by a Métis university professor to apply for métis (back then, simply “mixed-race”) status. She looked into the processes and did her due diligence, contacting multiple genealogical resources including Pine Ridge and various dioceses to track down as much information as she could about her great-grandfather. It was tedious work in the pre-Internet era.
Based on the genealogical sources available at the time, photographic evidence, family history, and the knowledge of who she was, my mother applied for and secured membership for herself and her children with South Island Métis Nation. Being Indigenous has always been a source of intense pride for my family. For us, securing membership in a métis nation was a way to honour our grandfather’s wishes and to immerse ourselves in a community we felt was our birthright.
A lot has changed since 1997, when my mother last looked in depth at our genealogy. “Métis” is now far more specific in its definition. Protectionism and scrutiny regarding Indigenous-based funding has increased by necessity. Publicly sourced digital family trees have become the norm. Back then it was different, and my mother did what she could with what she had and knew. There was no “pretence” on her part, and there certainly hasn't been any on the part of myself or my siblings. From our perspective we have always been aware of our Indigenous blood.
In 2004, I took the history that I knew – and the documentation that supported it – and applied for an Indigenous grant to go to film school. I got it. In 2006, I applied for funding as an emerging Indigenous filmmaker for a small documentary, and again, I got it. I used the same documentation based on the same evidence I had been provided all my life, in the knowledge of who I am. Both funders accepted this documentation, and either would have been satisfied had I simply self-declared my Indigenous identity.
My goal as a documentary filmmaker was to provide a platform for Indigenous women who didn’t otherwise have one, to prevent others from experiencing the disconnect from Indigenous culture that my family had endured, and to provide employment opportunities to other emerging Indigenous filmmakers in various capacities.
When I first applied for grants as an Indigenous student and then filmmaker, the resources at hand were relatively untapped. There was encouragement for folks with claims to Indigenous roots like mine to apply, as the funds were at risk of disappearing if they weren’t used. This changed dramatically as more and more emerging Indigenous filmmakers learned/were informed about the same funds and applied as well. Within a handful of years every Indigenous-based fund associated with the film or television industries was severely over-subscribed.
As I had no reason to question my own claim, yes, I put my hat in the ring a few times. Occasionally, I got funded. Often I did not. And when rumours started to circulate that so-called “Pretendians” were sapping these resources, I was as disgusted as the next Indigenous artist trying to scrape out a living.
A major point of contention in the Indigenous film industry today is the use of self-declaration of Indigenous identity or ancestry to trigger money. The complexities of being status or non-status, connected or disconnected, enfranchised or disenfranchised, are understood by these organizations: the paper trail to one's identity isn't always conveniently set out for them. Yet between 2014 and 2018, in the wake of Idle No More and other woke Indigenous movements, it became evident that this whole self-declaration thing was a festering albatross carcass in the making. While it's still the primary trigger for Indigenous funding at many outlets, it is not for others. In the aftermath of the stripping down of Joseph Boyden and Michelle Latimer, for example, Jesse Wente of the Indigenous Screen Office made it clear that if someone’s Indigenous status or connection was not crystal clear and vettable (by whom and based on what remains somewhat unclear to me), that person will not get funded by the ISO. Fair enough. Each funder is free to set its own rules of eligibility.
(To be clear, I’ve never applied for funds where First Nations, Métis or Inuit status was a criteria; even with my card, I identify as non-status Indigenous as clarified in Daniels v. Canada [2016; S.91(24), Constitution Act, 1982], and not with the definition of status Métis established through R. v. Powley (2003; S.35, Constitution Act, 1982). In other words, I do not identify as Métis, but as non-status Indigenous.)
Throughout my career, I was all for the establishment of an organization such as the ISO, because I believe very much in holding space for Indigenous voices that would not otherwise get adequate resources or airplay. I acknowledge I have experienced privilege based on my primarily European roots. I also recognize I no longer fit the criteria of the ideal candidate for these funds regardless of my Indigenous identity - which is why I haven’t applied for them for the past few years. Resources set aside for Indigenous voices should be allocated to those who have not yet had the opportunity to be heard and seen.
Other organizations have taken it a step further, ensuring that if anyone has ever received support from any funder based on the claim of Indigenous identity with anything less than the criteria used by, say, the anonymously-run Pretendians For Hire, that person will be outed on social media as a fraud, a poser, a Pretendian - without the benefit of any proof of their findings. As such, this discourse, while important in nature, has evolved into an unethical, immoral witch hunt impacting potentially hundreds of lives and careers, many of whom do not deserve it. This breaches any protocol that I was taught, exposed to, or heard from any nation or elder. It’s a class-action defamation lawsuit in the making.
On December 19, 2021, just before the Christmas holiday, a high-profile member of the Indigenous film community sent me a screenshot via Facebook Messenger indicating I had made #50 on the Pretendians for Hire Twitter feed. She demanded I answer her questions about my ties to the Dakota Territories right now or else, implying my “inability” to do so was making her question her decision not to share the post further. Not declaring my great-great grandfather’s name to her in this context was not an inability but a choice, as I was put off by her approach not only to me but to others; based on her tendency to engage on this issue as she does online, I simply don’t trust her, and told her so in that exchange. Ultimately, it wouldn’t have changed anything anyway. Last I heard, a former student had shared the post as well, accumulating over 50 vitriolic responses. It's surreal to watch people I've known for years (and others I've barely met) engage in this way. The post has since gone viral.
I would expect to see accountability on the part of Pretendians For Hire and other such groups and individuals who support their methods and message. Who are they? Who are their sources, and what qualifications and community connections do these sources have? There must be some basis for why so many social media users take what they have to say for granted.
Regardless of P4H’s intentions, it seems to have escaped their notice that by mid-2020, I had already transitioned from the film industry into full-time work as an administrative assistant, and more recently, as a research assistant. I’m not competing for the limited funds available within the Indigenous film production resource pool, and haven’t for years. The only film I remain attached to in an above-the-line capacity is as a minority (25%) shareholder on a documentary already in post-production, and as a writer of my own works with no further claims of eligibility for Indigenous funding. As I’ve pulled away from the industry, I now limit my roles to those of support in the capacity of part-time screenwriting instructor, story editor, and co-writer-for-hire. This was a decision I made on my own two years ago. As already stated, the only funding I've accessed throughout my career has been based on the criteria set down by those administering it, for which I was and continue to be eligible. I’m proud of the work that I've done.
I will not say this conversation shouldn’t happen - identity politics are ever-changing and people are realigning themselves accordingly. I will, however, caution against using colonial tactics while accusing those who have never intentionally deceived anyone about their identity of “pretending to be Indian.” Leave room for acknowledgement of new information, a safe space to share it, and maybe don’t rush to the destruction of lives and livelihoods. Reserve the term “Pretendian” for the actual fraud artists who are completely aware they don’t have Indigenous roots of any kind, and who continue to access funds to which they know they are not entitled. But be damned sure you have your facts straight before making those accusations.
I am also concerned about how this clandestine movement will impact monies provided to Indigenous funders in future. Government contributions in particular are based entirely upon statistics. Last year, 4.9% of Canadians identified as Indigenous. I was one of them. The more people like me this movement drives away or deems ineligible for those funds, the more those funds will drop to reflect that sub-demographic's eligibility. A smaller pool will be competing for that money, yes, but the amount of money itself (at least, the publicly funded portions) will inevitably shrink to match it. Will that ultimately leave the Indigenous film industry in a stronger, healthier place? The situation will need to be monitored closely as it plays out.
In the meantime, I remain accountable to my mother, grandfather, and children above anyone else. I am not going to deny my Indigenous ancestry at the behest of an anonymous clutch of vigilante keyboard warriors. I will continue to respect my grandfather’s wishes of honouring our Indigenous ancestors, and my family and I will continue to meditate on what that means for us. We are consolidating all the documentation we have gathered for a professional genealogist to review, and we will undergo this process privately and as a family first. I continue to respect the choice of my family members to either embrace their Indigenous identity or to relinquish it based on the information we have.
Ultimately, it comes down to this: If I’m “not native enough” to work with by your standards, or if you are concerned about any potential backlash from any association you and I may have through the film or television industry, or if you are concerned about any implications you may face personally based on what you may have witnessed, shared or engaged with on social media, then don’t work with me. Unfriend me on social media, break all ties. Do whatever you feel is right, and safe, for you.
I will not take it personally.
If you have been unfairly targeted by P4H or anyone like it, my heart aches for you, as it does for others in our situation. Know that your identity is your own, and no one else can strip you of it based on their notions of blood quantum, degrees of disconnect, or their own limited set of criteria based on prejudices borne of the colonial mindset.
Take care.
TM
Links:
"In Canada, an Indigenous person is someone who identifies as First Nation, Métis, or Inuk (Inuit). This question is about personal identity, not legal status or registration." https://www.ic.gc.ca/eic/site/063.nsf/eng/h_97737.html#13
"Non-status: refers to people who can identify where their ancestral lands are, who are not registered under the Indian Act, due to ineligible registry requirements, or who have not applied for their status." https://p19cdn4static.sharpschool.com/UserFiles/Servers/Server_58369/File/Programs/First%20Nations/Good-SelfIdentify.pdf
"Any individual can self-identify as an Indigenous person if they believe they have Indigenous ancestry... The term Indigenous (is used) in reference to both the legal definition provided in Section 35(2) of the Canadian Constitution, which defines Indigenous peoples as Indian (First Nation), Métis, or Inuit, and in the spirit of this definition, to include any individual who has ancestry to, or is descended from, an Indigenous person. Any student, who believes that he or she meets either the legal definition, or the spirit and intent of the definition, is encouraged to self-identify."
https://www.confederationcollege.ca/negahneewin-student-services/indigenous-self-identification
UBC First Nations Studies: https://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/identity/Identity
In 1981, my mother completed her PhD in cultural anthropology with a focus on Native Studies. Years after being encouraged by her father to honour our ancestry, my mother was advised by a Métis university professor to apply for métis (back then, simply “mixed-race”) status. She looked into the processes and did her due diligence, contacting multiple genealogical resources including Pine Ridge and various dioceses to track down as much information as she could about her great-grandfather. It was tedious work in the pre-Internet era.
Based on the genealogical sources available at the time, photographic evidence, family history, and the knowledge of who she was, my mother applied for and secured membership for herself and her children with South Island Métis Nation. Being Indigenous has always been a source of intense pride for my family. For us, securing membership in a métis nation was a way to honour our grandfather’s wishes and to immerse ourselves in a community we felt was our birthright.
A lot has changed since 1997, when my mother last looked in depth at our genealogy. “Métis” is now far more specific in its definition. Protectionism and scrutiny regarding Indigenous-based funding has increased by necessity. Publicly sourced digital family trees have become the norm. Back then it was different, and my mother did what she could with what she had and knew. There was no “pretence” on her part, and there certainly hasn't been any on the part of myself or my siblings. From our perspective we have always been aware of our Indigenous blood.
In 2004, I took the history that I knew – and the documentation that supported it – and applied for an Indigenous grant to go to film school. I got it. In 2006, I applied for funding as an emerging Indigenous filmmaker for a small documentary, and again, I got it. I used the same documentation based on the same evidence I had been provided all my life, in the knowledge of who I am. Both funders accepted this documentation, and either would have been satisfied had I simply self-declared my Indigenous identity.
My goal as a documentary filmmaker was to provide a platform for Indigenous women who didn’t otherwise have one, to prevent others from experiencing the disconnect from Indigenous culture that my family had endured, and to provide employment opportunities to other emerging Indigenous filmmakers in various capacities.
When I first applied for grants as an Indigenous student and then filmmaker, the resources at hand were relatively untapped. There was encouragement for folks with claims to Indigenous roots like mine to apply, as the funds were at risk of disappearing if they weren’t used. This changed dramatically as more and more emerging Indigenous filmmakers learned/were informed about the same funds and applied as well. Within a handful of years every Indigenous-based fund associated with the film or television industries was severely over-subscribed.
As I had no reason to question my own claim, yes, I put my hat in the ring a few times. Occasionally, I got funded. Often I did not. And when rumours started to circulate that so-called “Pretendians” were sapping these resources, I was as disgusted as the next Indigenous artist trying to scrape out a living.
A major point of contention in the Indigenous film industry today is the use of self-declaration of Indigenous identity or ancestry to trigger money. The complexities of being status or non-status, connected or disconnected, enfranchised or disenfranchised, are understood by these organizations: the paper trail to one's identity isn't always conveniently set out for them. Yet between 2014 and 2018, in the wake of Idle No More and other woke Indigenous movements, it became evident that this whole self-declaration thing was a festering albatross carcass in the making. While it's still the primary trigger for Indigenous funding at many outlets, it is not for others. In the aftermath of the stripping down of Joseph Boyden and Michelle Latimer, for example, Jesse Wente of the Indigenous Screen Office made it clear that if someone’s Indigenous status or connection was not crystal clear and vettable (by whom and based on what remains somewhat unclear to me), that person will not get funded by the ISO. Fair enough. Each funder is free to set its own rules of eligibility.
(To be clear, I’ve never applied for funds where First Nations, Métis or Inuit status was a criteria; even with my card, I identify as non-status Indigenous as clarified in Daniels v. Canada [2016; S.91(24), Constitution Act, 1982], and not with the definition of status Métis established through R. v. Powley (2003; S.35, Constitution Act, 1982). In other words, I do not identify as Métis, but as non-status Indigenous.)
Throughout my career, I was all for the establishment of an organization such as the ISO, because I believe very much in holding space for Indigenous voices that would not otherwise get adequate resources or airplay. I acknowledge I have experienced privilege based on my primarily European roots. I also recognize I no longer fit the criteria of the ideal candidate for these funds regardless of my Indigenous identity - which is why I haven’t applied for them for the past few years. Resources set aside for Indigenous voices should be allocated to those who have not yet had the opportunity to be heard and seen.
Other organizations have taken it a step further, ensuring that if anyone has ever received support from any funder based on the claim of Indigenous identity with anything less than the criteria used by, say, the anonymously-run Pretendians For Hire, that person will be outed on social media as a fraud, a poser, a Pretendian - without the benefit of any proof of their findings. As such, this discourse, while important in nature, has evolved into an unethical, immoral witch hunt impacting potentially hundreds of lives and careers, many of whom do not deserve it. This breaches any protocol that I was taught, exposed to, or heard from any nation or elder. It’s a class-action defamation lawsuit in the making.
On December 19, 2021, just before the Christmas holiday, a high-profile member of the Indigenous film community sent me a screenshot via Facebook Messenger indicating I had made #50 on the Pretendians for Hire Twitter feed. She demanded I answer her questions about my ties to the Dakota Territories right now or else, implying my “inability” to do so was making her question her decision not to share the post further. Not declaring my great-great grandfather’s name to her in this context was not an inability but a choice, as I was put off by her approach not only to me but to others; based on her tendency to engage on this issue as she does online, I simply don’t trust her, and told her so in that exchange. Ultimately, it wouldn’t have changed anything anyway. Last I heard, a former student had shared the post as well, accumulating over 50 vitriolic responses. It's surreal to watch people I've known for years (and others I've barely met) engage in this way. The post has since gone viral.
I would expect to see accountability on the part of Pretendians For Hire and other such groups and individuals who support their methods and message. Who are they? Who are their sources, and what qualifications and community connections do these sources have? There must be some basis for why so many social media users take what they have to say for granted.
Regardless of P4H’s intentions, it seems to have escaped their notice that by mid-2020, I had already transitioned from the film industry into full-time work as an administrative assistant, and more recently, as a research assistant. I’m not competing for the limited funds available within the Indigenous film production resource pool, and haven’t for years. The only film I remain attached to in an above-the-line capacity is as a minority (25%) shareholder on a documentary already in post-production, and as a writer of my own works with no further claims of eligibility for Indigenous funding. As I’ve pulled away from the industry, I now limit my roles to those of support in the capacity of part-time screenwriting instructor, story editor, and co-writer-for-hire. This was a decision I made on my own two years ago. As already stated, the only funding I've accessed throughout my career has been based on the criteria set down by those administering it, for which I was and continue to be eligible. I’m proud of the work that I've done.
I will not say this conversation shouldn’t happen - identity politics are ever-changing and people are realigning themselves accordingly. I will, however, caution against using colonial tactics while accusing those who have never intentionally deceived anyone about their identity of “pretending to be Indian.” Leave room for acknowledgement of new information, a safe space to share it, and maybe don’t rush to the destruction of lives and livelihoods. Reserve the term “Pretendian” for the actual fraud artists who are completely aware they don’t have Indigenous roots of any kind, and who continue to access funds to which they know they are not entitled. But be damned sure you have your facts straight before making those accusations.
I am also concerned about how this clandestine movement will impact monies provided to Indigenous funders in future. Government contributions in particular are based entirely upon statistics. Last year, 4.9% of Canadians identified as Indigenous. I was one of them. The more people like me this movement drives away or deems ineligible for those funds, the more those funds will drop to reflect that sub-demographic's eligibility. A smaller pool will be competing for that money, yes, but the amount of money itself (at least, the publicly funded portions) will inevitably shrink to match it. Will that ultimately leave the Indigenous film industry in a stronger, healthier place? The situation will need to be monitored closely as it plays out.
In the meantime, I remain accountable to my mother, grandfather, and children above anyone else. I am not going to deny my Indigenous ancestry at the behest of an anonymous clutch of vigilante keyboard warriors. I will continue to respect my grandfather’s wishes of honouring our Indigenous ancestors, and my family and I will continue to meditate on what that means for us. We are consolidating all the documentation we have gathered for a professional genealogist to review, and we will undergo this process privately and as a family first. I continue to respect the choice of my family members to either embrace their Indigenous identity or to relinquish it based on the information we have.
Ultimately, it comes down to this: If I’m “not native enough” to work with by your standards, or if you are concerned about any potential backlash from any association you and I may have through the film or television industry, or if you are concerned about any implications you may face personally based on what you may have witnessed, shared or engaged with on social media, then don’t work with me. Unfriend me on social media, break all ties. Do whatever you feel is right, and safe, for you.
I will not take it personally.
If you have been unfairly targeted by P4H or anyone like it, my heart aches for you, as it does for others in our situation. Know that your identity is your own, and no one else can strip you of it based on their notions of blood quantum, degrees of disconnect, or their own limited set of criteria based on prejudices borne of the colonial mindset.
Take care.
TM
Links:
"In Canada, an Indigenous person is someone who identifies as First Nation, Métis, or Inuk (Inuit). This question is about personal identity, not legal status or registration." https://www.ic.gc.ca/eic/site/063.nsf/eng/h_97737.html#13
"Non-status: refers to people who can identify where their ancestral lands are, who are not registered under the Indian Act, due to ineligible registry requirements, or who have not applied for their status." https://p19cdn4static.sharpschool.com/UserFiles/Servers/Server_58369/File/Programs/First%20Nations/Good-SelfIdentify.pdf
"Any individual can self-identify as an Indigenous person if they believe they have Indigenous ancestry... The term Indigenous (is used) in reference to both the legal definition provided in Section 35(2) of the Canadian Constitution, which defines Indigenous peoples as Indian (First Nation), Métis, or Inuit, and in the spirit of this definition, to include any individual who has ancestry to, or is descended from, an Indigenous person. Any student, who believes that he or she meets either the legal definition, or the spirit and intent of the definition, is encouraged to self-identify."
https://www.confederationcollege.ca/negahneewin-student-services/indigenous-self-identification
UBC First Nations Studies: https://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/identity/Identity