4 Questions to Ask Yourself When Acknowledging The Land You’re On
Because personal is always better than rote repetition.
A land acknowledgement is a statement of recognition of the Indigenous nations and communities who traditionally stewarded the land before the onslaught of colonization.
Land acknowledgements do not exist in the past tense, nor an historical context: colonialism is a current ongoing process, and we need to build our mindfulness of our present participation.
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission has recommended land acknowledgements as the first step in the process of reconciliation with Indigenous peoples in what is currently Canada.
Since then, unfortunately, land acknowledgements have become rote regurgitations of a swift Google search to find out about the traditional stewards of the place you’re in.
That quick search IS a great first step, as you’ll see below, but I want to challenge us all to go deeper in our reflections and in our gratitude, and hopefully then we’ll start to get activated to do the rest of the work of reconciliation.
After the recent finding of a mass grave of 215 Indigenous schoolchildren at an old residential school in British Columbia, the issue of Indigenous reconciliation is at the forefront of the collective consciousness. My hope is that deeper reflection will inspire us all to act on the 94 calls to action already outlined for us to follow.
I am always in awe of the introductions performed by Indigenous folks at any meeting, and I’d like to follow their example in crafting a more personal, more sincere acknowledgement of the land I live on.
(Note: It’s best to include mention of the context and time in addition to place when delivering a land acknowledgement, but we’ll keep it simple for now)
I’ll share my own in a second, but first, here are the guiding questions I ask myself when coming up with a land acknowledgement. Hopefully you find them helpful:
1. Whose land are you on?
A quick visit to native-land.ca will show you a map of the Indigenous territories and boundaries around the place you call home.
Write them down, then look them up. Learn how to pronounce their names. Learn something about their culture and traditions.
What did they call those lands? How did they come to share or lose those lands? Is there a treaty in place? Have the terms been honoured?
2. How did you get there?
Are you a first-generation Canadian/American/anywhere else? Fourth generation? Fifth? Think about your own arrival story.
When did your family first arrive where you are? What were the conditions that made that possible? What were the privileges they enjoyed? What were the hardships they faced?
3. How do you connect to land?
What are the practices or reflections that help you connect to the land? To your place in Nature? Where do you go to clear your head, and find peace?
What images immediately come up for you? If you’ve never really thought about it before, now is a great time to try.
4. How will you honour the privilege of your place?
You’re on stolen land, and you got here however you got here.
And you benefit from your place on this stolen land, so how do you honour those traditional caretakers that made your home possible? How do you support their plight? How to you reconcile?
How do you take care of this land?
And now, I share mine:
The land I’m on
I am grateful to live, work and play in what is currently Toronto. I acknowledge that Tkaronto — “the place in the water where the trees are standing” — is the traditional territory of the Anishnabeg nation, the Haudenosaunee Confederacy, the Mississaugas of the Credit Nation, Chippewa, the Huron, and the Wendat peoples. It is the place of the Dish With One Spoon wampum belt covenant between these First Nations, as well as the later Treaty 13 with the Crown.
Tkaronto is now home to diverse First Nations, Inuit and Metis people from across Turtle Island with whom I am grateful to share this place.
How I got here
Though I came into the world on these lands, I spent my formative years living, learning and playing in what is now Trinidad and Tobago. In honour of my first home, I also acknowledge that the islands of Trinidad and Tobago are the traditional territories of the Carib and Arawak Taino peoples, as well as the Warao people. Their stories are rarely told, and often mixed into the multicultural tapestry that is Trinbagonian folklore.
I am grateful to the Indigenous peoples of Turtle Island, whose advocacy, activism and resilience have made me more consciously aware and grateful for the traditional caretakers of my own homeland.
Most of my own ancestors arrived in the Americas via the Transatlantic slave trade.
My Indigenous African ancestors were torn from their traditional territories, trafficked, branded, exploited and denigrated to work on stolen land. Without payment, without dignity, without choice.
Their lands, names, culture, language and so much more were stolen from me.
I honour them by honouring the rights of all Indigenous peoples worldwide.
My connecting practices
In my connection to land, my mind is first drawn to the mountains of the Maracas valley that bore witness to so much of my life, and those of my more recent ancestors. I think of silk cotton trees, that Afro-Indigenous Trinidadian mythology recognize as the portal to the spirit realm of the ancestors. I think of the hummingbirds that the islands are known for, believed to be the spirits of the ancestors on land.
In the urban environment I now inhabit here in Toronto, I think of the return of the songs of birds and the sight of green leaves in the springtime, that remind me that there is life all around. (And reassure my tropical disposition of warmer days ahead). I take forest baths and nature walks
How I honour the land and its traditional stewards
I promise to listen and amplify the voices of Indigenous people.
To support the calls for transparency about the grave sites of many more Indigenous children lost to colonization.
To amplify the calls to find the numerous missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls and two-spirit folks.
To read, learn and do the work of Reconciliation.
Professionally, to highlight the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People every time I talk about sustainable development.
