After the Case Study Project

I found myself getting very emotional during the course of my research for our group case study.  I summarized the effects of colonialism on the culture of the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe and I tried to condense more than 300 years of abuse, oppression, and desecration of the Klallam people into 1,500 words. I knew it would be impossible for me to do it justice.

Meanwhile, I acknowledge that I am part of that same colonial structure that continues to oppress the First Peoples of Canada and the United States. I live on the Saanich Peninsula, which is home to four Coast Salish First Nations groups (Pauquachin, Tsartlip, Tsawout and Tseycum). I live a few of blocks away from the ocean and a long stretch of expensive waterfront homes. What was on the land before they were built? I don't mean the modest mid-century bungalows that were on those lots a couple decades ago. What was the history of the land I take for granted? I have heard from my best friend that the beach down the road from me was once littered with stone tools. When her grandfather was a boy, he found a partially constructed dugout canoe in a pile of driftwood on that same beach, and if his stories are to be believed, him and his friends vandalized and sank it in the bay. My husband tells me that when the sewage pump station was constructed down the road from his mother's house, human remains of First Nations origin were found. I have tried to find news stories and reports that I could read on this, but I haven't been successful in my search. It's not too hard for me to imagine that the familiar structures around me were similarly built on top of the remains of villages and cemeteries.

The university I attend is built on unceded First Nations land. As a university student, I am part of the power structure that controls knowledge, the avenues of access to that knowledge, and what sources of knowledge are legitimized and respected. As an anthropology student specifically, I have to be aware of the highly colonial origins of this field of study. And as I work towards graduation, I must ask myself, What sort of anthropologist will I be? I have heard fellow students state that the pursuit of knowledge is more important than unquantifiable things like the feelings of the people and artifacts we study. There is a long history to this type of thinking. There is a history of anthropologists studying cultures, but devaluing the thoughts, words, opinions, and feelings of the very people they study. But I don't want to be that sort of anthropologist. I don't want to elevate my own voice above the voices of already marginalized people. Instead, I would like to be like a loudspeaker; an instrument that amplifies the voices of others so their stories can be heard. I feel that as archaeologists and anthropologists, we have a responsibility to respect voices of both the living and the dead.

Here is a video from the Lower Elwha Klallam of band members performing their traditional Welcome Song to a returning canoe. It kind of cheered me and helped me to process some of the emotions I had after working on this project. I hope for a better future.