DECOLONIZING YOUR NEWSFEED
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Manoomin, September 2018, somewhere near White Earth Nation
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VULNERABLE BEINGS | 9.19.21
Three years ago this harvest season, I found myself in a sturdy canoe adrift a bed of elegant rice stalks on a day so still you could almost hear the ancestors; a day for manoominike, or wild ricing.
I had never riced before, but there I was, in what might have been the most peaceful lake in northern Minnesota. I had been invited by a local harvester from the White Earth Nation whom I had only met that day. He said he needed gas money to get out on the water; his take combined with rice sales would help feed his family for weeks. "I'll even give you a bag of grain," the young father
bargained. For me, it was a no-brainer.
We hopped into his black matte-painted sedan strapped with two spindly wooden poles atop the roof. They were long. From the front seat, you could see the V-shaped tips of those slender sticks reach past the hood of the car. I'm almost certain the same was true in the rear. I smiled
to myself wondering how we'd ever make it to the gas pump this way, but we did.
When we finally got out onto the water, it was as if time had stopped. Nudging our way with those poles through thick manoomin (the Anishinaabe word for wild rice), we both voiced our gratitude in that moment - for the generational gift of being among other beings: the rice, the water, the sun.
That year in 2018, it had been a particularly hard year for ricing because - climate change. A series of floods from previous years had compounded an already slow-brooding alteration of the wetlands. Warmer air, more moisture: it was a recipe for disruption, said the
scientists.
It was also the year that the Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission (GLIFWC) had released a new study. It found manoomin to be the region's "most vulnerable beings." The assessment took months of information gathering and oral history chronicling to make
sense of the traditional knowledge connected to the land. One key takeaway, other than concerns for manoomin, was whether young people, today, would ever be able to see a snowshoe hare in their lifetime. "Soon, they'll only be memories," one respondent worried.
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These issues were top of mind when, later that year, the three-member White Earth Nation Business Committee unanimously adopted an ordinance that gave legal rights to manoomin.
"Manoomin, or wild rice, is considered by the Anishinaabeg people to be a gift from the Creator," the resolution read. "We recognize that to protect manoomin and our people, we must secure their highest
protection through the recognition of legal rights."
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White Earth is not the first Native Nation in the United States to join the global Rights of Nature movement, a fundamental acknowledgement that animals, humans, and other living beings co-exist in a shared environment. But it made history last month when it enlisted manoomin as lead plaintiff in a case that, for the first time, is being heard in a tribal court.
In that dispute, manoomin is accusing the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources of an illegal water grab - a mass depletion of White Earth's treaty-protected watershed to help
build the Canadian-owned Line 3 crude oil pipeline. The State has been relentless in challenging the claims. On Monday, after a failed attempt to dismiss the case on jurisdictional grounds, the DNR filed with the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Eighth Circuit.
Such a shame. Here's why.
In 2018, something else happened in Minnesota: the election of then, the highest ranking Native American in public office, Peggy Flanagan, lieutenant governor to Tim Walz as governor. A mother, organizer, and citizen of the White Earth Nation, Flanagan became an early beacon of political progressivism in which Indigenous affairs, long-overlooked in politics, had gained overdue
visibility.
The Walz-Flanagan campaign website touted Treaty rights as "the supreme Law of the Land." Nowhere else had any high-level political race made such promises. And statewide, Natives took notice, notwithstanding swing voters of Mahnomen
County - White Earth Country.
A flip-flopping district, the county overwhelmingly supported Barack Obama in both of his elections, then swung red by the narrowest margin - 2.9% for Trump - in 2016. In 2018, voters flipped again in Minnosota's general election, giving the Walz-Flanagan ticket a solid 8 percent lead. But last year, Mahnomen County (absolutely named after the region's lush wild rice beds), went for Donald Trump, once more - adding to a sea of red.
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Statewide politics rarely give way to national, in terms of party loyalty. It's why what's happening in Minnesota is emblematic to the disappointment many are expressing over electing the "climate president" Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. Like the Walz-Flanagan ticket, the Biden-Harris plan for Indian Country vowed to "safeguard natural
and cultural resources." But so far, they are words that have fallen flat.
The common thread: Enbridge Line 3.
Nearly 90 percent complete, the reconstruction of the decades-old tar sands project has involved state-sponsored corporate collusion, violent, mass arrests on water protectors - and just this weekend, revelations of a mini-disaster: a 24 million gallon groundwater leak.
In all of this, Acting Assistant Secretary of the Army for Civil Works, Jaime Pinkham who is Nez Perce, could stop Line 3 tomorrow. "A Niimíipuu citizen himself, Pinkham has spoken out about destructive pipelines and the need for meaningful tribal consultation in the past," said Red Lake Band of Chippewa Chairman, Darrell G. Seki Sr. in a recent Op-Ed. But
now that Pinkham is in a position to call for a full Environmental Impact Statement (akin to Standing Rock five years ago), he has refused to act, Seki added.
Perhaps the biggest blow, though, comes from Minnesota in how it's responded to the White Earth Nation.
More than anything, Manoomin vs. DNR, is symbolic litigation, that even met with a victory in tribal court, on its own, still wouldn't be able to overturn the federal permits that are draining, en
masse, their riverbeds.
What it does do, though, is something we all should be supporting: testing the efficacy of the Rights of Nature - not some antiquated pipeline. It harkens back to what I wrote about in my
last newsletter about kin theory - how we all are interconnected in our responsibility for our shared planet.
For all the political progressiveness that 2020 brought, these are the concepts lost in the American struggle to decolonize.
"Native voters make a lot of difference," reminded Raymond Auginaush, Sr. at a recent press conference addressed at Walz and Flanagan. The White Earth Nation District 1 Representative and Assistant Chair of the 1855 Treaty Authority called on the lieutenant governor to intervene. For Flanagan's part, she posted a public statement on Twitter opposing Line 3 but otherwise claiming there was little else she could do.
"While I cannot stop Line 3, I will continue to do what is within my power to make sure our people are seen, heard, valued, and protected," the lieutenant governor wrote.
Flanagan did not respond to a request for comment about the State of Minnesota's aggressive appeal filed Monday against the nation of which she belongs, White Earth.
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| For the most visible and vocal activist of the White Earth Nation, Winona LaDuke has a word she shared recently with the New York Times
about politicized overpromises: "Betrayal."
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There's also these links that stood out for me:
This weekend we say goodbye to another moon cycle, the Manoominike Giizis or the Wild Rice Moon and welcome in Wabaabagaa Giizis the Changing Leaves Moon on September 20. If there were trees here in the North Arctic from where I write, I'd feel more aligned with the Anishinaabe
calendar. For now, I'll channel lower 48 autumn vibes from afar and wrestle with slow wifi, too (reasons for which this newsletter has arrived on a Sunday, rather than a Saturday.)
There may be a few lags here and there this fall as I immerse myself into my reporting across Alaska. The one thing that is most predictable is the unpredictable, right now. But I have all intentions to keep on pace. This newsletter community is growing and I am so humbled and honored that you're here. Dawaa'e, thank you to those who've shared this newsletter among friends.
Til next time,
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Total gallons of spilled oil from Enbridge Line 3 in 1991, the largest in US history:
1.7M
Amount Enbridge must escrow to restore land damage from a groundwater spill: $2.7M
Total amount in gallons of groundwater leaked: 24M
Number of treaties White Earth Nation says protects their right to regional rice beds: 3
Total White Earth Committee members favoring the Rights of Manoomin Ordinance: 3
Total who opposed it: 0
Number of states where Manoomin is no longer growing: 3
Estimated number of jobs per year supported by the harvesting of Manoomin: 278
Estimated number of water protectors arrested along Line 3 routes as of August: 700
Total recorded lethal attacks in 2020 on land and water activists, worldwide: 227
Average number of environmentalists murdered each week: 4
Margin of victory percentage for Trump in Mahnomen Co, MN, 2016 (White Earth): 3%
Percentage for Obama in the same county, 2012: 18%
Total video views of Gov. Tim Walz recently booed off stage by Line 3 protestors: 85.2K
Number of days for White Earth Rice Camp 2021: 2
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- Like the Anishaanabe, manoomin has its own creation story. It came to the people in a dream. It also has its own history of enduring colonization. Manoomin met encroachment by conglomerate agriculture in the 20th century, a little-known trend involving genetically-modified rice that only started to wane just a few years ago.
- It's what makes Honor the Earth's "Pipeline Free Manoomin" so much more than an item you mark of your grocery list. Simply purchasing a bag - or a box, even - is a truly an act of decolonization.
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- It's unclear just how long these "Pipeline Free" packs of rice will be on sale 😞. But you can order the 2020 harvest right here, right now. Proceeds go towards the struggle.
- And once you get our shipment, save this simple manoomin recipe that's been paired with the heartfelt story of a Native physician who grew up embarrassed to rice, but lived to reclaim it.
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"Your weeklies are always a highlight of my inbox."
Eric, Očeti Šakówiŋ (Sioux), Anishinabe Waki Treaty Lands
So flattered by this feedback, Eric. If there's something that speaks to any of you, don't be shy. Drop
me a line. Love hearing from you.
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