This book was published in 2016 by Theytus, an Indigenous owned publishing house in Penticton, BC.
It has a lot of familiar names in it like Cherie Dimaline, Eden Robinson, and Lee Maracle. There's a lot of diversity in the types of stories in here. I would say my favourite is Harold Johnson's Spaceman, which is both fun and funny. If you have siblings, I think you'd enjoy Spaceman. As an educator, Okienkwaon:we was my favourite, as it speaks to the decisions that Indigenous youth make when planning their education and careers. Old Man from the South had a moment so poignant that I actually had to stop reading and just sit with it for a bit. But what's weird is that I didn't actually understand the larger story itself. Anyhow.
mitewacimowina: Indigenous Science Fiction and Speculative Storytelling was published in 2016 by Indigenous owned publishing house Theytus Books. Neal McLeod, editor, explains the title of the book in the introduction. It is a Cree word with two roots: mitew and acimowina. “The stem mitew refers to someone who has spiritual power, and someone who does thing beyond the ordinary – and perhaps beyond explanation. acimowina, simply means ‘stories.’ This collection involves two elements which overlap with one another: science fiction and speculative storytelling.” (p.4). He notes that science has been “used in the project of colonialism” (p.4) and that “within some streams of Indigenous science fiction, there might not be so much a celebration of the possibilities of science, but rather a critique of science, and how science and technology have been used to propagate colonialism.” (p.4). With respect to the theme of space exploration, he notes that some stories focus on “the space of the mind and the imagination. Space is not only the terrain of the physical world, but also the terrain of the soul… the stars within us, and within our bodies.” (p.4). He notes that some of the stories in the collection reimagine history and “explore Indigenous history and experience.” (p.5). He notes that some of the stories “bend time another way – by drawing on the past, our understanding of the present is amplified.” (p.6). He concludes the introduction by stating that Indigenous science fiction and speculative storytelling “provides a means for reimagining Indigenous political and social situations. These narratives provide a way to reshape Indigenous futures and also to reshape understandings of the past,” and that he hopes that “the publication of this volume will encourage the flourishing of this trajectory of Indigenous literature.” (p.7).
Neal McLeod taught at Trent and the First Nations University of Canada. In 2017 his work was slated to be part of an anthology, but several women who were part of the anthology said that they did not want his work included because he had been charged with domestic violence in 2014 and pled guilty. The book publisher said that he believes in redemption and noted the Neal had undergone therapy. Neal withdrew his work and explained his decision in an open letter. This is part of a larger conversation around Me Too in the publishing world. Neal's case is actually unusual in comparison to many others because he was formally held accountable through the courts. It leads to the question - is there a path back? If so, what does it look like? Who is involved? And who decides? The focus on individual wrong doing should not obscure a larger question, though, which is what are the structural factors in place in Canadian society which make women vulnerable to violence? If you would like to explore that question in depth, I recommend reading the Red Women Rising report.
Neal's writing has been influential in shaping my own thinking. For example, his essay Coming home through stories (2001) helped shape my thinking early in my career. When I encounter a situations such as this, I go back and revisit the earlier work, and ask myself "is there anything in here that is potentially harmful which I have internalized?" We all grow and change over time, so it never hurts to look back at early influences and ask "does this still ring true to me?" In terms of the politics of citation, if there is an idea which shaped one's thinking, do we throw just throw the idea away? A different way to approach it (which I have seen done) is to kind of mention the idea but not cite it, but that is a little too close to plagarism for me. Another way to approach it is to find someone else who has done something else with the idea, and reference them instead. But sometimes that distorts both the concept and the logic behind it. To say "I will never cite anyone who has participated in gendered violence, racialized violence, abuse of power..." is like trying to do scholarship with one arm tied behind your back. Once you pull that thread, it all starts coming apart. For now, my approach is to name it, surface the messy questions, but not let it stop me from using the ideas in ways that serve my own projects.
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