(This article was originally published on Nia Tero’s website and has been reprinted with permission.)
Growing up as a child of the ’70s in the western United States, families like mine were rare. We were a spectrum of skin tones, languages, histories, let alone the lived experiences inherent to being people of mixed heritage. Our reality was constructed over multiple centuries, circumstances, and regions. We were different, and we were special — special because we were encouraged to embrace all our ancestors. I was raised to feel pride in the stories of Black resistance and Indigenous knowledge systems, and to know that this interweaving of our multiple backgrounds helped our family to survive.
Founded in 2017, Seattle-based yəhaw̓ Indigenous Creatives Collective launched their inaugural event two years later, in collaboration with the City of Seattle’s Office of Arts and Culture. Featuring over 200 Indigenous creatives representing over 100 tribal affiliations and Indigenous communities from across the globe, the exhibition included on-site events at King Street Station and off-site through additional programming and publications.
“There’s no right way to live. There are wrong ways to live, but there are many, many, many right ways to live, and you can’t find those insights by looking inward — just looking within your own culture for insights. The wheel doesn’t need to be reinvented, it’s [clear] all around us if we’re willing to pay attention.”
Since time immemorial, Indigenous people have celebrated storytelling as a way to connect the present to past lessons and future dreaming. Narrative sovereignty is a form of land guardianship, and Nia Tero supports this work through its storytelling initiatives, including the Seedcast podcast, as well as in this column for media partner the South Seattle Emerald.
Indigenous peoples often share that throughout the world, storytelling is a foundational part of culture and kinship, a way to express and share knowledge across generations and communities. Indigenous stories are also a form of environmental justice work. Stories are culturally and bioregionally rooted parts of knowledge-bearing systems that tell us about ourselves, each other, where we’ve been, who we are, and even where we may be going, as seen in a number of “futurism” movements. Stories can also shine a spotlight on histories and lineages, draw us into each other’s ways of being, and provide a guide for treating the Earth with respect.
Reciprocity Project, a series of seven Indigenous-made documentary short films, combines Native American storytelling with climate awareness and other intersectional movements rooted in Indigenous guardianship, social justice, and human rights. The first season of the project debuted on Oct. 10, and it’s already available to stream.
Since time immemorial, Indigenous people have celebrated storytelling as a way to connect the present to past lessons and future dreaming. Narrative sovereignty is a form of land guardianship, and Nia Tero supports this work through its storytelling initiatives, including the Seedcast podcast, as well as in this column for media partner the South Seattle Emerald.
I grew up as an artist. My parents made it so. When I was 6 or 7 years old, my teacher would give us what we called “ditto sheets.” They were copies of pictures for us to color on, and we had Christmas ditto sheets, Easter ditto sheets, ditto sheets for seasons, dittos for animals, dittos for everything. We were supposed to color the pictures with crayons or colored pencils, but to me, the pictures on the dittos alone looked so bare. So, I started drawing outside of the lines on my sheets. As my teacher walked around, she saw what I was doing. She bent down and asked me, “Denise, what made you think of doing that?” I couldn’t really explain it to her and said that it was just something I knew needed to be done. She was the first person who noticed that I was different and gave me room to make my art.
Since 2017, Indigenize Productions has been showcasing queer and trans Indigenous joy in different ways, from hosting variety shows to dance parties. Indigenize was founded after a group of Indigenous talents met through a burlesque and variety show called “Dear White People” with an all-BIPOC cast at the University of Washington Ethnic Cultural Theatre.
(This article was originally published on the International Examiner and has been reprinted under an agreement.)
Seattle Native American artist and writer Lawney Reyes, who documented his family saga and his tribe’s forgotten history in White Grizzly Bear’s Legacy: Learning to Be Indian, passed away on Aug. 10, 2022, at the age of 91.
Two writers and movement builders reflect on their new book, written as letters throughout the pandemic.
by Amanda Ong
This Wednesday, July 27, acclaimed writers, movement builders, and academics Leanne Betasamosake Simpson and Robyn Maynard will virtually visit Elliott Bay Book Company. The two are releasing a new book, Rehearsals for Living, a series of letters between the two written mostly over the pandemic. The book in itself is a dialogue between the two authors as they processed and reimagined life and liberation amid the pandemic.
Help the Emerald create more “ripples and sparks” throughout the community! I’m the publisher’s mother and an Emerald founding board member. I’ve lived in Seattle all my life. Over most of those 77 years, the brilliance, diversity, and beauty of our community lacked a constant spotlight — that was until the Emerald came along. I’ve seen my son and the Emerald team sacrifice sleep, health care, self-care, and better salaries elsewhere to keep the Emerald shining a light on our community. I’d never ask anyone to make that kind of sacrifice, but I do ask to do what you can today to support the Emerald as a Rainmaker, or sustaining donor, during their 8th anniversary campaign, Ripples & Sparks at Home, April 20–28. Become a Rainmaker today by choosing the “recurring donor” option on the donation page!
—Cynthia “Mama” Green, The Publisher’s Mama & Rainmaker
Since time immemorial, Indigenous people have celebrated storytelling as a way to connect the present to past lessons and future dreaming. Narrative sovereignty is a form of land guardianship, and Nia Tero supports this work through its storytelling initiatives, including the Seedcast podcast, as well as in this column for media partner the South Seattle Emerald.
My mother is Maria Cruz, my grandmother is Eloisa Saavedra, and my great-grandmother is Isidora Saavedra. They are matriarchs of the Otomi people, an Indigenous group in Michoacán/Guanajuato, Mexico. I was the first member of my family to be born in the U.S., and I was raised in Anaheim, California. I currently live on occupied Duwamish Territory (Seattle, Washington). I am a queer Indigneous printmaker, a doctoral student, and the dean for Arts, Humanities, and Social Sciences at South Seattle College. I am also currently a Nia Tero Pacific Northwest Art Fellow.
