My first pow-wow
Today is National Indigenous Peoples Day in Canada. It is celebrated on what is commonly the longest day of the year with proclamations as well as various celebrations in Indigenous communities.
This past weekend, I finally made it to my first pow-wow. I say finally because I have been invited every summer for years. Some of those invitations have been official, some personal, and some have been an open invitation from my Indigenous neighbours to the wider community. Every time, I have let them pass by. Sometimes the timing didn’t work, or my social anxiety kicked in. Most of the time, though, it was simply fear. I felt ill-prepared. I didn’t know the etiquette. It felt like a big landmine full of embarrassing questions, stepping in the wrong place and causing offense. What if, God forbid, I got invited into the dance? I would just embarrass myself.
One of the things I have learned about myself is my fear of offending others is very closely connected to my fear of being embarrassed. I say, “I don’t want to ask this question because I am afraid of offending a person.” Really, what I am feeling is, “I am afraid if I ask this question or say this thing I will be told I am in the wrong and I will be embarrassed.”
And if there is one thing I share with 95% of white people, it is that I hate being embarrassed, especially when I feel out of place because, as a white woman, I am rarely out of place.
This weekend’s pow-wow, in Kjipuktuk (Halifax), on the unceded territory of the Mi’kmaq people, was primarily a dance competition. Dozens of people of all ages in regalia dancing traditional—and some untraditional—dances. I stayed for the couples’ contest. It was an open contest, which means anyone can participate, not just dancers in regalia. No, I did not dance.
The master-of-ceremonies told the dancers he wanted them to tell the story of how they met. Some were more obvious than others. Two women started apart and, as they went round and round, danced closer to each other. One man started moving around making motions as if driving a car, while his partner danced on the spot with her thumb out. A couple not in regalia (although she wore a ribbon skirt) were less traditional, demonstrating meeting at a bar, dancing at a club, and working out at the gym. An elderly man in multi-feathered regalia danced around his partner as she sat in a chair, waving his feathers as if he were a peacock.
As I watched this display of love and affection, even from my spot far away from and above the action, I was swept up in the romance. Then, there it was. I looked around. I felt like a sore thumb, sticking out in the crowd. Should I be laughing? Well, others are laughing. Should I be moved? Am I making a spectacle of myself?
I took a deep breath, and looked around again. What is really happening, I asked myself, not what I think is happening? Of course, not a single person was looking at the short settler lady standing on the walking track. Why would they, when there is this amazing dance going on?
I left when the couples’ dance contest was done. The couple who met at a bar won. Even though I felt so conspicuous—white, one of the few people wearing a mask, not talking to anyone—I’m pretty sure nobody noticed me at all. And that’s fine by me.
The presence of orange t-shirts and flags with the phrase, “Every Child Matters,”* made whiteness present in a way that, actually, made me feel more comfortable. I was not invading a joyful celebration with my whiteness. The legacy of my ancestors was already present. How could it not be? And so they danced, filling the sportsplex with joy, music, and laughter. I did not have to represent, apologize, defend, or centre myself in any way. I just had to be present, accepting the invitation of my neighbours**, my hosts on this land that I now call home.
*A phrase related to the legacy of Canada’s Indian Residential Schools and Indian Day Schools.
**Pow-wows and other Indigenous gatherings are different in each region depending on the people and the occasion. Read the gathering information carefully and, if you have questions, contact the organizers before attending.
