DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG – “TELL ME A STORY”: SKIDEGATE HAIDA LANGUAGE REVITALIZATION THROUGH TRADITIONAL STORYTELLING by Yahlnaaw / Aaron Grant BA., First Nations Studies, University of Northern British Columbia, 2018 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS IN FIRST NATIONS STUDIES UNIVERSITY OF NORTHERN BRITISH COLUMBIA December 2021 ©Yahlnaaw / Aaron Grant, 2021 DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 2 Abstract This Indigenous-led master’s thesis re-search focuses on my journey of Skidegate Haida language revitalization through Traditional storytelling. Framed by my Skidegate Haida conceptual framework, Ts’uu K’waayGa – “Cedar Sister”, I draw from Jo-Ann Archibald’s (2008) Storywork methodology with the methods of autoethnography and the Mentor Apprentice (MAP) guidelines to articulate my journey. From this, thirteen audio recorded stories (five in my Nanaay’s – Grandmother’s – voice and eight in my own voice) have come from my re-search. These stories are restricted to members of my Skidegate Haida community. Through this reflective re-search, four key themes emerged: “Language Learning is Hard” is an Understatement; Displacement, Discomfort, Relentless Questioning, and Self-Discovery; Your Mind and Spirit Need Time Alone to Reflect; and It is your Responsibility to Fight for your Ancestors. Keywords: Skidegate; Haida; Indigenous; Language Revitalization; Storytelling; Indigenous Knowledges; Ancestors; Worldview; Epistemology; Ontology; Axiology DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 3 Gaa uu hll Kil ‘láa – “You I thank”: Acknowledgements The incredible beings who have aided in guiding me through this living and language learning journey deserve the greatest Haawa (Thank You)’s. It is because of the guidance I have received, the relationships I have built, and the valuing of my own experiences that this work comes to be. I would like to begin by saying Haawa to my committee, Dr. Tina Fraser, Dr. Deanna Nyce, and Dr. Jessie King for their knowledges and support within the institution. Haawa to Dr. Megan Lukaniec for coming on during their leave as my external examiner and Haawa to Ed sdi (Dr. Judith Thompson) for supporting my work from the very beginning. Haawa to my friend, Zola Kell, for their incredible writing and editing support. Haawa to Isobel Hartley for their friendship and guidance with figuring out institutional ethics. I would also like to say Haawa to my first-year undergraduate professors, Dr. Heather Smith, Dr. Lisa Dickson, and Dr. Tracy Summerville for showing me that I could navigate the institution and create change from inside. I did not believe that I was capable of academic work until these three women provided me with the understandings that I could. Haawa to my Band, Lax Kw’Alaams, alongside all the scholarships and bursaries I received to financially support this journey. A special Haawa to the staff and community of Two Rivers Gallery, whom I was employed under for most of the writing of this work for their support, flexibility, and love. Haawa to my friend, Keith Kerrigan, who helped me bring my words to life. Haawa to the Skidegate Haida Immersion Program and my Skidegate Haida Nation for their love, language resources, recordings, books, and our fluent speakers who evaluated and provided feedback during my Mentor Apprentice Program language panels. Haawa to the DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 4 Mentor Apprentice Program through First Peoples Cultural Council for their resources, support, and encouraging words when language learning entered difficult times. Haawa to my dear friend, Savanna, for her undying support and love from afar while she studies medicine in Dublin, Ireland. I encountered many health issues along this journey and Savanna was my front and center support in my recovery. A beautiful Haawa to my precious family: my mother, Jaskwaan, my father, Bruce, my sister, Giidahl Guuhl.aay, and my fiancé, Lucas. Without their encouragement, holding me up when I was unable to myself, and remining me to rest, this work would not exist. Their love and support are held central in my life. Haawa to my two sweet pups, Beuella and Pepe who ultimately were the ones who saw me at my lowest points during this journey and did nothing but radiate love. Most importantly, the greatest Haawa to my Nanaay, T’aawgiiwat, for telling me that this work needed to be done. Without my Nanaay’s knowledges, wisdoms, guidance, and incredible skills, I could not be situated in this work which became central to who I am, where I come from, and where I hope to continue to go. I may have put this re-search together for my thesis, but this work ultimately comes from my Nanaay and my Ancestors. Haawa to my Ancestors who visit me in my dreams and continuously remind me that they are cheering me on, holding my hand, and are proud of me. Haawa to my uncle Ernie, who gave me my name, whose smile is a permanent image in my mind that reminds me that difficult times bring beautiful teachings. I remain in a state of disbelief that I am capable of such work. I have come to learn that I am not capable of this work without the beautiful beings listed above. As I continue into the rest of my living and learning journey, I know that my greatest supports will be present from both my current world and the spirit world. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG Haawa. Kil ‘laa dluu gam gina kuuya Gang han.nuu dii ChinGa dii gii suu gang giini – “Thank you. My Grandfather used to tell me there is nothing more precious than thank you”. 5 DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 6 Table of Contents Abstract ................................................................................................................................ 2 Gaa uu hll Kil ‘láa – “You I thank”: Acknowledgements ........................................................... 3 Table of Contents .................................................................................................................. 6 List of Tables ......................................................................................................................... 8 List of Figures ........................................................................................................................ 9 Diigii hla K’aaygang ............................................................................................................ 10 Taadsxwa.....................................................................................................................................10 Dii gii hla k’aaygang.aay – “I’m going to tell you a story”: Introduction .......................................10 Epistemology (Ways of Knowing) ..................................................................................................... 13 Ontology (Ways of Being) .................................................................................................................. 15 Axiology (Values)............................................................................................................................... 16 Gandll K’aadllga – “Clear Water”: Definitions and Notes to the Reader.........................................17 Ts’uu K’waayGa – “Cedar Sister”: Conceptual Framework ..................................................... 19 Kaadll dal Kwaan – “Many Journeys”: Theoretical Framework....................................................22 Gina Sk’aadGa Diigii Stahl Ga – “I Want to Learn Something”: Re-search Question.....................30 Gwii HlGang.gulxa – “Work Towards”: Re-Searcher Goals .............................................................. 31 Ts’uu K’waayGa ...........................................................................................................................33 Land (Where we come from) .............................................................................................................. 33 Roots (Cultural Knowledges).............................................................................................................. 35 Trunk (Self as Central)........................................................................................................................ 37 Bark and Sap (Diverse Ways of Searching for Knowledges) ............................................................. 41 K’uujii – “Thick Outer Bark”: Methodology...................................................................................... 42 Gin – “Sap”: Methods ........................................................................................................................ 47 - Phloem: Autoethnography .......................................................................................................... 47 - Xylem: Mentor Apprentice Program Guidelines ........................................................................ 50 Branches (Language Learning Journey Processes)............................................................................. 51 1) Leave English Behind ................................................................................................................. 52 2) Make Yourself Understood with Nonverbal Communication ..................................................... 54 3) Teach in Full Sentences .............................................................................................................. 58 DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 7 4) Aim for Real Communication in Your Language of Heritage..................................................... 59 5) Language is Also Culture............................................................................................................ 60 6) Focus on Listening and Speaking ............................................................................................... 62 7) Learn and Teach the Language through Activities ..................................................................... 63 8) Use Audiotaping and Videotaping .............................................................................................. 64 9) Be an Active Learner .................................................................................................................. 67 10) Be Sensitive to Each Other’s Needs; Be Patient and Proud of each other and Yourselves.... 68 Cones (Lessons Learned):................................................................................................................... 69 “Language Learning is Hard” is an Understatement ........................................................................ 75 Displacement, Discomfort, Relentless Questioning, and Self-Discovery............................................ 76 Your Mind and Spirit Need Time Alone to Reflect .............................................................................. 79 It is your Responsibility to Fight for your Ancestors .......................................................................... 79 Environment (Academic Context): ..................................................................................................... 80 K’aas – “Pitch”: Resistance............................................................................................................... 82 SiGa – “Gathering Important Things”: Results....................................................................... 85 Gud gii T’alaang gii da – “We all Share”: Discussion ............................................................. 87 Adaptability..................................................................................................................................89 Barriers .......................................................................................................................................91 Gina ‘Waadluxan Gud ad Kwaagid – “Everything Depends on Everything Else”: Ethical Considerations..................................................................................................................... 93 Yahguudang – “Respect” .............................................................................................................96 Tll yahda – “Make it right” ..........................................................................................................96 Gina ‘waadluxan gud ad kwaagid – “Everything depends on everything else”. ..............................97 ‘Laa guu ga kanhllns – “Responsibility”.......................................................................................98 Aaw tluu asgaay asing kunjuu – “This journey is not over, but that is all the sharing for now”: Concluding Thoughts ........................................................................................................... 99 References......................................................................................................................... 102 Appendix 1: Audio Recorded Stories................................................................................... 108 Appendix 2: Oral Consent Recording .................................................................................. 109 Appendix 3: Oral Consent Script......................................................................................... 110 Appendix 4: REB Not Required ........................................................................................... 111 DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 8 List of Tables Table 1. Audio Recorded Stories and Recording Information pertaining to Appendix 1……… 85 DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 9 List of Figures Figure 1. Uncle Ernie and I (own photo)................................................................................ 10 Figure 2. Nanaay and I (own photo)..................................................................................... 14 Figure 3. Visual representation of Ts’uu K’waayGa. Artwork created by Haida Artist, Keith Kerrigan (2021). Digitization and text completed by Roxanne Heroux-Boulay (2021). ........... 20 Figure 4. Uncle Percy playing the saxophone and myself playing the harmonica at a family gathering on the beach in Skidegate (own photo). ............................................................... 36 Figure 5. Balance Rock (own photo). .................................................................................... 53 Figure 6. Nanaay at Jungle Beach (own photo). ................................................................... 61 Figure 7. Nanaay and I playing a game where one of us describes something (e.g., a monster, human, animal) in our language and the other must draw it based on the description. These were often very comedic language learning sessions (own photo)........................................ 63 Figure 8. Some of the remains of the village of K'uuna (Skedans) (own photo).................... 101 DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 10 Diigii hla K’aaygang Taadsxwa Taadsxwa translates to “Welcome” in regard to someone welcoming either an old or new friend into their home. The components of this re-search are a prominent part of my ‘home’ and I welcome you in. Dii gii hla k’aaygang.aay – “I’m going to tell you a story”: Introduction I felt warm. Not the kind of warm where you feel heat around you – but that type of warmth that seems to radiate from within you. The kind of warmth that provokes that unexpected warm feeling of, “I don’t even need a sweater even though its windy out. I always need a sweater when its this windy!”. I was not entirely sure where I was – but judging by the ocean and gargantuan Western Red Cedar trees, I must have been on Haida Gwaii. A familiar face emerged from within the cedar trees. This face belonged to my Uncle Ernie (see figure 1) who had passed in 2009. There was no way I could forget his smile. He was barefoot but wearing jeans, a plaid button up shirt, and a headdress that I often saw him wearing in old photos that Nanaay kept in worn, buckled suitcases. He approached me, touched my shoulder, and looked me up and down several times. “You look different”, he said. “When I saw you last, you were a cute little boy. Now you’re a beautiful Figure 1. Uncle Ernie and I (own photo). DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 11 woman”. My chest felt tight and I could not respond to him – only stare. After a few moments of silence, he grabbed me by both shoulders and said, “I am so proud of you. Please do not give up. We need you. You are not alone – we are always watching, guiding, and cheering for you. Listen for us”. I kept staring as he gave my shoulders a tight, little shake and said, “You are living up to your name, Yahlnaaw. I gave you this name because, ever since I saw you as a newborn, I knew you were going to have a life of hard work ahead of you”. I still could not say anything as I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I wanted to ask who this ‘we’ was he was referring to – but a part of me knew that he meant my Ancestors. I squeezed both of his hands as he walked away and said over his shoulder, “I am always here. We are always here.” I woke up, feeling lost, and like an emotional wreck. The stresses of my master’s courses and the chaos that seemed to engulf my life swarmed me. I looked around at our tiny house on wheels that my fiancé, Lucas, and I worked so hard for. I looked at my precious pups, our horses outside, and Lucas who was snoozing away. I climbed down from our loft bed and into the kitchen. I pulled out my laptop and deleted my letter intended to be sent to the First Nations Studies Department and the Office of the Registrar indicating that I was withdrawing myself from my master’s education. Thomas King (2003), a Cherokee scholar, has told us, “The truth about stories is that’s all we are” (p. 2). King further states, “For once a story is told, it cannot be called back. Once told, it is loose in the world… So you have to be careful with the stories you tell. And you have to watch out for the stories that you are told” (p. 10). No stories are the same – not in any capacity. The words can change, the cadence of the storyteller’s voice can change, and, obviously, the storyteller can change. The experiences we hold alter how we see and interact with our world. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 12 My dream experience with my uncle Ernie changed how I saw my world and the importance of living up to my name. If Thomas King’s words are true (and I believe them to be) – that stories are all that we are and that they can never be called back – I want my story to be a good one. Yahlnaaw Uu.iijii! – “It’s Yahlnaaw!”: Situating Myself Jah! Xaaydaga ‘las! Yahlnaaw han.nuu dii kii Ga ga. HlGaagilda Xaayda Gwaii sda.uu hll iigiing. L x Kxeen sda.uu hll na.uu dii gan. Way.yad.uu ‘Nizdeh Nekeyoh Hohudel'eh Baiyoh’, Lheidli T’enneh guu.uu hll naa.uu dii ga. T’aawgiiwat han.nuu Naanga kiiGa ga. Jaaskwaan han.nuu dii awGa kii Ga ga. Bruce han.nuu dii Gung.Ga kiiGa ga. GiidahlGuuhl.aay han.nuu dii dawGanas kiiGa ga. Lucas han.uu dii k’uuga kiiGa ga. Hey! Wonderful People! My name is Yahlnaaw. I am from Skidegate, Haida Gwaii. I was born and raised in L x Kx̱een, also known as Prince Rupert, B.C., on Ts’msyen territory. I am attending post-secondary education at the University of Northern British Columbia on Lheidli T’enneh territory in what is also known as Prince George, B.C. I am a member of the Raven clan and my family have many crests as we are from a Chief’s family. My Grandmother’s name is T’aawgiiwat, my mother’s name is Jaaskwaan, my father’s name is Bruce, my younger sister’s name is GiidahlGuuhl.aay, and my fiancé’s name is Lucas. Situating myself in my work is an overarching component of what makes my work, my work. By doing so, you, the reader, will be able to understand why I chose this re-search topic, my position on the learnings I have gathered, and, as Opaskwayak Cree scholar Shawn Wilson (2008) says, to build relationships with my readers. I am continuously repeating that “I am my work because my work would not exist without me” (Yahlnaaw, 2019, p. 8). Fyre Jean Graveline (2000) in her work, Circle as Methodology: Enacting an Aboriginal Paradigm cites Raymond DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 13 (1985) stating that, “We cannot pretend that we do not care. We look at our subject with passion because we are our subject” (p. 362). Therefore, it is important for the readers to understand who I am and where I come from. I am a Skidegate Haida, Queer, Transgender woman navigating what feels like a limb stretched into many worlds due to these intersecting identities. I aimed to bridge these different epistemologies (ways of knowing), ontologies (ways of being), and axiology (values) into my master’s work to set the stage for my learning journey. These lived realities are major contributing factors which aid in shaping how I see and interact with the world. Epistemology (Ways of Knowing) Walter and Anderson (2013) in their work, Indigenous Statistics: A Quantitative Research Methodology state, “Epistemology explores theories of knowledge or, more pragmatically, ways of knowing. Research, concerned with the generation of new knowledge, is at its core. Its epistemological base must also, therefore, be core to the ‘what’ and ‘how’ of that new knowledge” (p. 47). They also state, “Epistemological theory concerns itself with understanding how the (mostly unwritten) rules about what is counted as knowledge are set – what is defined as knowledge, who can and cannot be “knowledgeable,” which “knowledges” are valued and, by extension, which are marginalized” (p. 48). Further, Margaret Kovach (2009), a member of the Pasqua First Nation, in her work, Indigenous Methodologies: Characteristics, Conversations, and Contexts, states, “Identifying one’s epistemic positioning makes visible how this positioning guides the research” (p. 46) because “epistemology means a system of knowledge that references within it the social relations of knowledge production” (p. 21). My epistemology opens up my worldview as a Skidegate Haida, Queer, Transgender woman and DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 14 marks the starting point for this re-search grounded in my Haida social relations of knowledge production. Growing up, my Nanaay (Grandmother), T’aawgiiwat (see figure 2), would tell me our Traditional Haida stories and teach me pieces of our Skidegate Haida language. However, as a young and easily influenced child raised in a colonial educational system, I did not see the critical importance of these knowledges and wisdoms. I thought, “These will be available to me later” – which was not the case at all. In 2014, I began to audio record our Haida stories from my Figure 2. Nanaay and I (own photo). Nanaay. These stories are not just stories – they are our hi/story, our future, and depict a way of life which has been battling eradication since colonial contact. During a trip to Skidegate in the spring of 2017, I enrolled in a University of Northern British Columbia (UNBC) course entitled FNST 223 – First Nations Language Immersion facilitated by Ed sdi / Dr. Judy Thompson. The course used the same format as the Mentor Apprentice Program (MAP) through First Peoples Cultural Council, a program based on the Master Apprentice Program model, developed by linguist Leanne Hinton and her colleagues, Matt Vera and Nancy Steele (2002). MAP is “a method of learning a language where a fluent speaker of the language (a master) teaches a learner (an apprentice) through language immersion” (First Peoples’ Cultural Council, 2012, p. 3). This “Master- DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 15 Apprentice Language Learning Program is based on the theory that adults can learn language informally, through listening, speaking, and eliciting language from a native speaker, and mainly doing activities together in which the language is used” (Hinton, Vera, & Steele, 2002). Essentially, this encompassed engaging within the epistemological structures embedded in one’s language. After finishing this language course, Nanaay and I applied to the MAP and were accepted. This led to another trip to Skidegate in the fall of 2018 to continue immersing myself in my language. Since that time, my Nanaay and I have been working on our 1000+ hours of language immersion – primarily focusing on stories. It was through these stories that I was able to begin learning my language later in life. Through this learning, I have come to know how important, precious, and endangered our language is – in multiple respects. These epistemological processes led to the creation of new knowledges. Therefore, the “what” (language learning) and the “how” (grounded in Haida social relations of knowledge production) of these valuable knowledges and myself possessing my intersecting identities situated within emerged. Ontology (Ways of Being) Walter and Anderson (2013) tell us that, “Ontology is concerned with the nature of being and the categories that we use to make sense of social reality. An ontological frame refers to how people perceive and operationalize a conception of that reality; how they “be” within their social world; and the relationship among themselves, others, and the constitutive entities of that world” (p. 52). My ontology is directly concerned with how I possess my intersecting identities situated in my world and therefore the relationships and existences that create my world. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 16 The Skidegate Haida culture relies heavily on voice and oral teachings – especially within our Traditional Haida stories. As our Elders pass into the spirit world, we lose our stories and vast amounts of knowledges and understandings along with them if they have not been passed down and/or maintained. Stories and our language work in tandem. We cannot have stories without our language because that is how we should tell our stories – in our Haida language. We cannot have language without our stories because our stories and hi/stories are where our language comes from. Our worldviews are grounded in our language, so when language is eliminated from our worldviews, our understandings become lost in translation and therefore skewed from what our Ancestors intended us to learn. From these understandings, my master’s thesis slowly began to emerge from what felt like a jumble of ideas, diagrams, conceptual frameworks, and methodologies, with my thesis topic forming as Skidegate Haida language revitalization through Traditional storytelling. Axiology (Values) I have learned that “axiology refers to the theory of extrinsic and intrinsic values” (Walter & Anderson, 2013, p. 49). I believe these extrinsic and intrinsic values to be motivating factors with one engaging in re-search and learning processes. I see extrinsic values pertaining to goals and feelings relating to one’s learning journey whereas intrinsic values pertain to the embedded value that the learning journey holds within itself. In the case of my re-search, intrinsic values exist only within the value of language learning. Considering how one’s worldview shifts, and thus how one’s goals and feelings will undergo change when engaging in the language learning process, these are the extrinsic values. I have a responsibility to myself, my culture, my people, and my Ancestors to do this research. Our stories were intended to be passed down through generations to transmit DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 17 knowledges. These knowledges are intended to help shape our worldviews as we live in diverse, ever-evolving societies. I am a Skidegate Haida woman working to revive and reclaim our language which has been reduced to a handful of fluent speakers. It is crucial I do this re-search. Not only is it valuable in itself as a part of my lifelong language journey, but my capacity to hold my own perspective as central in this re-search will involve unbroken emotional involvement and dedication to make this worldview shift. Gandll K’aadllga – “Clear Water”: Definitions and Notes to the Reader To provide you, the reader, with clarification on the terminology I use in my re-search, I will discuss how I use these terms. This section also sets forth why my work differs in structure from the standard colonial expectations of academic research. M ori scholar, Linda Tuhiwai Smith (2012), asserts that Indigenous Nations have their own naming systems for re-search. It is stated that, “This form of naming is about bringing to the centre and privileging indigenous values, attitudes and practices rather than disguising them within Westernized labels such as ‘collaborative research’” (p. 128). However, the reality is that “…indigenous researchers have to meet these [colonial] criteria as well as indigenous criteria that can judge research ‘not useful’, ‘not indigenous’, ‘not friendly’, ‘not just’” (p. 142). Smith also states that, “In all community approaches process – that is, methodology and method – is all highly important” (p. 130). These words resonate with me as I grapple with my thesis in naming processes that are congruent with my own collective worldview. I do not want to force my work into a colonial framework, however, I do need to be mindful to, as Smith (2012) discusses, cover the colonial criteria. With this in mind, my work includes Haida words, phrases, and sentences as titles and sub-titles to better articulate my learning journey. However, DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 18 the components required for a standard colonial thesis are covered – just presented in a culturally appropriate way. I have chosen to capitalize Indigenous, Elder, Nation, Ancestors, and Traditional throughout my thesis, unless they appear differently in referenced work. This signifies my respect for these words which stem from powerful peoples and practices. It is important to respect these powerful components because they provide us with knowledges to aid us on our learning journeys. The terms and definitions below help articulate these processes. 1) ‘Canada’: I will often refer to ‘Canada’ in this way because the land we currently call ‘Canada’ was not always ‘Canada’. It is Indigenous land which was stolen through violent and/or political strategies for colonial domination by settler peoples arriving on this land. Further, ‘Canada’ has various names in numerous Indigenous languages. 2) Indigenous peoples: I use the term ‘Indigenous peoples’ to refer to the original inhabitants of the land we now call ‘Canada’ or ‘Indians’ when historical reflection and/or emphasis is present/needed. First Nations, Aboriginal, and Indian will be used when referencing other work in which Indigenous people are labelled as such. Métis and Inuit will be labelled as such unless cited differently in referenced work. 3) ‘Death’ / ‘die’ / ‘dying’: This refers to the ‘death’ of Indigenous languages. ‘Death’, ‘die’, or ‘dying’ are written as such because, as Rick Harp (2017) explains, “none of these so-called ‘dying’ languages got where they are today by accident. Far from being ‘lost,’ our mother tongues have been under constant attack – what some call premeditated linguicide – by forces hell-bent on their destruction” (para. 3). Harp is stating that ‘dying’ is a natural process. The elimination and destruction of our Indigenous languages was/is nowhere near a ‘natural’ process – it was/is a mass genocide. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 19 4) Worldview: Worldview is a body of cultural knowledges and wisdom in which one draws upon to shape, view, and interact with their world. Worldview can be viewed as the “roots” of one’s culture – something discussed in my Ts’uu K’waayGa – “Cedar Sister: Conceptual Framework section (below). The roots are where the knowledges our Ancestors have passed down to us rests – waiting to be drawn upon to sustain one’s journey. 5) Re-search: I use the term re-search over research because, as Anishinaabe kwe scholar from Flying Post First Nation, Kathy Absolon (2011) states, “We are being given the task to re-write and re-right our own realities and truths” (p. 27). The re-search I am conducting is not new and unknown knowledge needing to be researched. These knowledges are knowledges that have been stolen, repressed, and/or outlawed. I am researching for these knowledges to bring them back to their rightful place through the rewriting and re-righting of my own realities and truths. 6) Hi/story: When you break the word ‘history’ down, it becomes ‘his-story’ – dripping in patriarchal ideologies and understandings of past life events. I prefer to create a divide emphasizing the importance of eliminating the patriarchal lens colonization has made so many people view hi/story through. Ts’uu K’waayGa – “Cedar Sister”: Conceptual Framework In the Haida culture, my Elders frequently tell me how cedar is a valued and sacred resource. Oftentimes, these knowledges are told to me in the form of story. Cedar is used to make things from clothing to canoes to houses. A prominent Haida saying that one will often see/hear is, Ts’uu K’waayGa – “Cedar is Sister” or “Cedar Sister”. An important note to make here is that this piece of cultural knowledge is not owned by a single person and therefore I DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 20 cannot cite where this cultural knowledge has come from. This knowledge is held within my Haida community, however, the translation from “Ts’uu K’waayGa” to “Cedar Sister” is from Golie Hans at the Skidegate Haida Immersion Program (SHIP). It is “referring to the fact that cedar is “every woman’s elder sister,” providing for all of our material needs” (Skidegate Haida Immersion Program, 2016, p. 158) – and in this case, all my conceptual needs (see figure 3). Figure 3. Visual representation of Ts’uu K’waayGa. Artwork commissioned by Haida Artist, Keith Kerrigan (2021). Digitization and text commissioned by Roxanne Héroux-Boulay (2021) (own photo). DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 21 In Sharon M. Ravitch and Matthew Riggan’s (2017) work, Reason & Rigor: How Conceptual Frameworks Guide Research, they state, “A conceptual framework both shapes the design and direction of your study and guides its development” (p. 4) and “is not simply a visual or verbal presentation of your ideas; it is the actual framework of ideas and commitments that are informing and guiding your study” (p. xii). My Haida conceptual framework is a metaphorical framework using Ts’uu K’waayGa to describe my language learning journey and therefore the framework of ideas and commitments that inform and guide my journey. Shawn Wilson (2008) states, “Stories and metaphor are often used in Indigenous societies” (p. 17) and I aimed to do just this – incorporate story and metaphor as foundational components of my Haida conceptual framework, Ts’uu K’waayGa. My conceptual framework has been influenced by Kathy Absolon’s (2011) flower petal methodology from her book, Kandossiwin: How We Come to Know. I first met Absolon in the fall of 2016 in the FNST 300 – Research Methods course with Ed sdi. We discussed her flower petal methodology and her processes of coming to know this methodology. Absolon (2011) states, “The flower is rooted in the earth, yet is moved by the wind and rain. It is an exquisite example of how something so concrete can be flexible and fluid at the same time” (p. 49). My Ts’uu K’waayGa conceptual framework is also rooted and simultaneously flexible and fluid. Although both Absolon’s methodology and my conceptual framework are similar due to the nature of the plants we have chosen, they serve different purposes. Absolon’s serves as a methodology describing how to find other Indigenous methodologies, their importance, and relevance whereas Ts’uu K’waayGa serves as a conceptual framework to structure my re-search and learning journey. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 22 My theoretical framework is embedded within my conceptual framework. In Ravitch and Riggan’s (2017) work, they state, “Your conceptual framework is a lens, or better, a set of lenses, for making sense of things, and most often used when it incorporates complimentary theories that capture different aspects of your subject” (p. xii). My theoretical framework consists of these complimentary theories that capture different aspects of my subject. Further, my theoretical framework also includes “not only the relevant literature, but also empirical findings of prior research and the researcher’s own experimental knowledge, beliefs, commitments, and values” (p. xi). Therefore, my theoretical framework “sees the conceptual framework as a way of linking all of the elements of the research process: researcher interest and goals, identity and positionality, context and setting (micro and macro), formal and informal theory, and methods” (p. 5). Kovach (2009) states, “Researchers have the task of applying conceptual frameworks that demonstrate the theoretical and practical underpinnings [theoretical framework] of their research, and, if successful, these frameworks illustrate ‘the thinking’ behind the ‘doing’” (p. 39). Below, you will find the bulk of the formal and informal theory component of my theoretical framework – encompassing ‘the thinking’ before the ‘doing’. However, it must be noted that components of the theoretical framework are also woven throughout the entire conceptual framework because the theoretical framework, as stated, aids in linking the various components of the conceptual framework. Kaadll dal Kwaan – “Many Journeys”: Theoretical Framework I chose the title, Kaadll dal Kwaan – “Many Journeys”, for my theoretical framework. My theoretical framework is the literature review of formal and informal theory which, as aforementioned, links together pieces of gathered knowledges to unify the conceptual DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 23 framework. My work is about my journey – and I believe so many other Indigenous academic’s work revolves around their journeys as well. I am not just reviewing their work, words, and voices – I am being guided through their journeys. As a young Indigenous academic within the colonial institution, it easy to feel alone, isolated, and forlorn. Carolyn Kenny (2000), a Choctaw scholar, in her work, A Sense of Place: Aboriginal Research as Ritual Practice, states, I believe that our search for a “sense of place” is fundamental to our experience as human beings. And as Aboriginal people, we rely on a sense of place, our connection to the land to know home, to belong. For the Aboriginal scholar and researcher, finding this sense of place is not easy (p. 143). Like other Indigenous scholars, there are times when I have felt like I belong within the institution, and other times where I felt far from belonging. In Kathy Absolon’s (2011) work, she discusses “Fences and Gatekeepers” (pp. 140-148). She states that, “As Indigenous re-searchers nudge their way toward empowering Indigenous theories and methodologies, “old order” power holders of western forms of knowledge production may become aggravated, irritated and annoyed” (p. 140). Thus, “Fences are erected, and gatekeepers vigilantly stand guard to maintain the power and privilege of who can know and how this knowledge comes to be” (p. 140). Essentially, when one’s work and knowledges are beyond the comprehension of the gatekeeper, they become apprehensive. As my proposed re-search revolves around story, an aspect not widely accepted within colonial academia, the resistance from gatekeepers of my re-search and how I want to do my research often becomes spirit breaking. There came a time when I was ready to vacate the toxicity of a colonial education and retreat to my community. Upon telling my parents this, my father said, “If you leave school, the colonial institution has won” (Personal Communication, Grant, DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 24 2018). I replied, “But has it really? If I leave, it means that the colonial institution has failed at its mission: to colonize Indigenous peoples – to colonize me. I am refusing to be further colonized and I am taking my precious knowledges with me”. Jack D. Forbes (1998), an Indigenous scholar, in his work, Intellectual SelfDetermination and Sovereignty: Implications for Native Studies and for Native Intellectuals and Vine Deloria Jr. (1998), a Standing Rock Sioux scholar, in his work, Intellectual SelfDetermination and Sovereignty: Looking at the Windmills in our Minds, speak to what I told my father. Forbes (1998) states that, as a co-founder, the D-Q University was “to train younger [Indigenous] people in such a way that they would be able to return to their communities and lead the intellectual and creative struggle for liberation, always in conjunction with the traditional elders” (p. 13). In response, Deloria states, “I honestly fail to see how Forbes’s program will produce a generation of Indian intellectuals” (p. 28). In my opinion, what this means is that sending Indigenous peoples to be educated within the institution could maybe result in creating a ‘colonial Indian’ who would go back to their community and further push western knowledge over Indigenous knowledges. Forbes calls these Indigenous peoples ‘Native Intellectuals’ – and both Deloria and I disagree with this ideology. Deloria states, “We encouraged people who wanted to study “culture”, “religion”, “spirituality”, and “environment” to go back to Indian communities and elders to learn from them” (p. 30) – therefore gathering knowledges from where Indigenous youth’s knowledges should come from – not within the colonial institution. Thus, I believe my response to my father was adequate: if I left the colonial institution, perhaps I could avoid becoming a ‘Native Intellectual’ (a ‘colonial Indian’) and going back to my community to further colonize our knowledges. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 25 In contrast, Jo-ann Archibald (2008) in her work, Indigenous Storywork: Educating the Heart, Mind, Body, and Spirit, states that, “Many First Nations People are encouraged by Elders and local community to “get more education”. But becoming educated in mainstream institutions can create a chasm between the person who is university-educated and others who are not educated in this way” (p. 40). I began to feel as though, by continuing in my university education, colonialism was going to further corrupt my already crumbling Haida worldview which I was trying so hard to piece back together. Alongside so many other Indigenous youth, I felt stretched in so many directions. Do I continue with my institutional education and risk further colonizing my community’s knowledges alongside creating a possible chasm between myself and my community? Do I stay situated within my community and only gather our knowledges? My Elders continuously tell me that I need to stay in school – but staying in the institution oftentimes does not feel right. As my work progressed, I began to feel that I was not alone. Indigenous academics and their Kaadll dal Kwaan who have carved through the cold, hard walls of academia have restored hope in myself that maybe I need a new plan of action beyond leaving the colonial institution. Absolon (2011) states, To continue to force such assimilative standards into Indigenous knowledge quests is unethical, racist and colonizing. We need to refuse assimilative standards and to make strategic decisions to not only include and assert Indigenous knowledge, but to be aware of what, how and why we include certain knowledge. Thinking strategically is a state of mind. We carry an attitude to work against colonialism. The defiance of colonialism and attempted annihilation of our lives, families, culture and land permeates Indigenous research agendas. Colonialism has contaminated our minds and this abuse must stop” (p. 130). DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 26 It was at this moment that I knew it was my responsibility to not leave the toxicity of the colonial institution and, as I always say in times of dire distress, “put on my battle dress” and be ready to continue carving through the stone, cold walls of the institution. Perhaps I need to dig a hole under the fence while the gatekeeper is not looking and fight from a different angle – within the colonial institution rather than from outside it. I refuse to become a ‘Native Intellectual’. These processes prompted me to think further about my community – my Nation. The “Skidegate Haida Immersion Program (S.H.I.P) was founded in 1998, following a 10 day extremely popular Skidegate Haida Immersion Summer Session… S.H.I.P. has been recording Skidegate Haida Language and produced over 70 CD-ROM’s for use at home” (SHIP, 2009, p. 7). Now there is not only a dictionary with the written language, but also the preservation of the strict oral language that has been brought to life by means of audio recordings. Although these audio recordings are widely distributed among my Nation, I agree with Blackfoot scholar, Darrell Kipp (2008), in that “a large part of our communication is non-verbal. Interactive skills such as turn-taking, nonverbal confirmations and body cues must be included in the transfer of our languages to children, and immersion schools excel in this aspect” (p. 3). We not only need recordings, we also need our youth to learn with our Elders – to be immersed in our language, culture, and worldviews. In the article, Indigenous Language Immersion Schools for Strong Indigenous Identities, by Jon Reyhner (2010), it is stated that, “…immersion programs are vital to healing the negative effects of colonialism and assimilationist schooling that have disrupted many indigenous homes and communities” (p. 138). Although I disagree with many views Reyhner describes in his work – primarily how he discusses/views Indigenous peoples as a non-Indigenous person – one thing we agree on is the importance of language as healing. The article, Aboriginal Language DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 27 Knowledge and Youth Suicide, by Hallett, Chandler, and Lalonde (2007), speak to this crucial topic. Their report describes “a preliminary investigation into how community-level variability in knowledge of Aboriginal languages relate to “band”-level measures of youth suicide” (p. 392) in British Columbia. 152 of B.C.’s almost 200 distinct communities were involved in this study. Results depicted that, “those bands with higher levels of language knowledge (i.e., more than 50%) had fewer suicides than those bands with lower levels. More specifically, high language knowledge bands averaged 13.00 suicides per 100,000 (well below the provincial averages for both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal youth), while those with lower language knowledge had more than six times the number of suicides (96.59 per 100,000). These differential rates reflect the fact that, between 1987 and 1992, only one youth committed suicide from within those 16 bands that had the language factor while, from the remaining 136 bands, 84 youth committed suicide during this same 6-year period” (p. 397). As can be observed, Indigenous language knowledge/competency within Indigenous Nations drastically decreases rates of youth suicide. As I continuously emphasize throughout my work – language holds our worldviews. Archibald (2008) states, “Losing the “eyes”, or the understanding, of a worldview embedded in Aboriginal oral traditions, particularly in the stories, is strongly linked to the legacy of forced colonization and assimilation during the missionary and residential-school eras and then through the public school system” (p. 13). Without our worldviews, we are lost – we have no identity. So many Indigenous youth are committing suicide because they do not know who they are, where they come from, and therefore do not know where they need to go. The loss of our languages ultimately results in the loss of our peoples. Hul’q’umi’num’ scholar, Xwaay’Waat / Deanna Daniels (2016), in her master’s thesis, Xwi’xwi’em’: My Hul’q’umi’num’ Storytelling Journey, has taken a very similar approach to her DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 28 work as I have with mine. Xwaay’Waat discusses that her project “explores how one researcher’s personal journey utilized a storywork approach to connect to her cultural identity and language by telling four of her personal stories in Hul’q’umi’num’, a Salish language of British Columbia” (p. 1). The methodology of Storywork originated from Stó:l scholar Jo-ann Archibald’s (2008) work. Xwaay’Waat incorporates Storywork elements such as reciprocity, responsibility, respect, reverence, holism, interrelatedness and synergy values, beliefs, morals, hi/story, and life skills into her research methods. Xwaay’Waat states that, “Combining both the storywork and the language provides an intimate study within which I am able to gain knowledge through a unique learning process. As with the traditions of the past, my personal stories have also become valuable tools in this journey” (p. 2). As Xwaay’Waat states, I believe that with the loss of our languages, Indigenous storytelling systems are being lost as well. She discusses the importance of working with our Indigenous storytellers to continue in the transmission of knowledges to create training programs. Xwaay’Waat uses this research journey to help her “gain a deeper understanding of the key aspects of storywork” (p. 2). Xwaay’Waat shares these stories in both her Hul’q’umi’num’ language and the English language. Patricia Rosborough and Lyla Rorick (2017) in their article, Following in The Footsteps of The Wolf: Connecting Scholarly Minds to Ancestors in Indigenous Language Revitalization, states that, “Indigenous communities in Canada are undertaking considerable work to revitalize their languages and to privilege the knowledge that our ancestors cultivated – knowledge systems that have been under attack for a century and a half and have been misrepresented in racist and inaccurate ways within education in this country” (p. 2). Further, they acknowledge some challenges that accompany this work: DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 29 - “few fluent speakers available to teach the language, - the passing of elder speakers who hold specialized cultural and grammatical knowledge, - limited availability of languages resources, and - social-emotional barriers resulting from colonization and assimilation policies and practices” (p. 2). All these challenges affect me directly – and they add immense pressure in learning my language. My Nanaay is the only fluent Skidegate Haida speaker within a minimum of eight hours of where I was living upon starting this language learning journey. When she passes into the spirit world, if I want to continue becoming fluent in my language, I will have to go back to my community. However, by going back to my community, continuing my education within the colonial institution will be extremely difficult due to geographical and financial constraints. Rosborough and Rorick (2017) continue to discuss that using a worldview and knowledges that strengthen cultural and spiritual connections when reviving Indigenous languages is crucial: “there is a growing community of practice and scholarship in the field of Indigenous language revitalization as we work to better understand effective approaches to recovering our languages” (p. 2). Stories are a language learning avenue that connect us to our ancestors, our culture, and our spirituality. Our stories are the voices of our Ancestors – gifts from our Ancestors. They give us insight into where we come from, who we are, and help form our identities. I need to stay within the colonial institution but gather my knowledges from my Nation. I am not within the institution to learn what the institution thinks I need to learn (e.g., becoming a ‘Native Intellectual’); but instead I am here to make space for my knowledges – and other young Indigenous academic’s knowledges in the upcoming future. My Elders are telling me to stay in DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 30 school not to learn the ways of the colonizers – but to make space for our knowledges that have been repressed and/or eliminated through various colonial institutions such as universities. My staying within the colonial institution is an act of resistance – an act of reclamation. I am using a power structure – colonial institutions – which were once and still are used to destroy Indigenous knowledges and altering this power structure into something to revive Indigenous knowledges, languages, and ways of being. With Audry Lorde’s (1984) work in mind, The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House, one can dismantle the master’s house with the master’s tools – one just has to use these tools differently and start from the inside. Gina Sk’aadGa Diigii Stahl Ga – “I Want to Learn Something”: Re-search Question My theoretical framework embedded in my conceptual framework “informs [my] research questions and methodological decisions” (Ravitch & Riggan, 2017, p. xii). Throughout my re-search, as aforementioned, I have decided to make my section titles in my Skidegate Haida language to demonstrate my learning and understandings of my Skidegate Haida worldview. I wanted to learn something – and if I was going to write down what should be strictly oral, I wanted to at least learn and organize my gathered knowledges from this oral worldview. The question I aim to answer through this re-search is: how does learning stories in my Skidegate Haida language contribute to my language learning journey and how can these processes be adapted for other second language learners? My data collection – my SiGa – “Gathered Important Things” – consists of gathered stories in an audio and digital format stored on a USB drive (see Appendix 1) to accompany this written thesis of Diigii hla K’aaygang – “Tell me a Story”: Skidegate Haida Language Revitalization through Traditional Storytelling which describes my language learning journey. Some of these stories are told in my voice, and some of these stories are told in my Nanaay’s DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 31 voice. I chose this avenue of incorporating both of our voices so one can hear Nanaay, a fluent speaker, tell the stories alongside a second language learner, myself, still learning to perfect my speech, cadence, and pronunciation. It is from these stories that I am able to learn my language later on in life as a second language learner. These stories are oral stories and I aim to keep them that way, therefore, I will not be transcribing these stories. In addition, my Nanaay has told me that most of these stories, when told in full, are restricted to audiences of those who belong to our Skidegate Haida Nation. Therefore, these audio recordings are not available to the public. As stated previously, it was in 2014 that I began to take initiative to audio record these stories. These stories were gathered prior to beginning my master’s with no intent of them being used in any re-search project because Nanaay wanted our stories recorded as soon as possible due to her increasing age. The original intent of these audio recordings was only to preserve them and for me to learn our language through these Traditional stories. Upon starting my master’s program, Nanaay told me that I needed make the stories we had been working on the central component of my re-search. This re-search will be gifted to the SHIP on a USB drive as per their request for preservation and to aid in teaching second language learners in my community. I have been told that many of the stories Nanaay has taught me were once thought to be lost from our language. The SHIP Elders have told me that they are ecstatic to receive this re-search. Gwii Hl Gang.gulxa – “Work Towards”: Re-Searcher Goals Throughout this re-search process, both personal and overarching goals emerged. As I began engaging in this re-search, the goalS at the forefront of my mind were to learn my Skidegate Haida language, how it contributed to my language learning processes, and how other Indigenous peoples may use these processes within their own language learning journeys – as per DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 32 my re-search question. However, I quickly came to learn that an overarching goal that stems from this re-search question was demanding the understanding, acceptance, and value of Indigenous epistemologies, ontologies, axiology and therefore Indigenous re-search, methodologies, methods, frameworks, paradigms, and worldviews within colonial academic contexts. I entered this learning journey knowing that the entire process, from learning my language to navigating colonial re-search structures, would be difficult, however, I did not expect it to be nearly as difficult as it was to have this re-search understood and accepted within the colonial institution. Colonial powers dictate that re-search processes that stray from colonial research processes are simply not valid. It should be noted that Indigenous re-search does not require colonial validation to be considered actual research. However, given the demand for the understanding, creation of distinct space for these sacred ways of knowing and being to be used in re-search should be at the forefront of institutions if they truly mean to engage in reclamation, decolonization, Indigenization, and reconciliation processes. Simply put, my overarching goal that extends beyond the immediate goals of my research question is to ensure that future Indigenous peoples may use their sacred and Ancestral research processes to engage in re-search within the institution without battling colonial powers to be allowed to conduct said re-search. I aim for this thesis to be a meaningful and positive step towards advancing Indigenous re-search initiatives so that one day our future generations are not only able to use their sacred and Ancestral re-search practices, but to also have Indigenousspecific re-search processes, methodologies, methods, and frameworks accessible to them. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 33 Ts’uu K’waayGa I am now going to guide you through the metaphorical component of Ts’uu K’waayGa (See figure 3, page 20) which encompasses the methodology and methods while also being directly influenced by my epistemology, ontology, and axiology as outlined in my Yahlnaaw Uu.iijii! – “It’s Yahlnaaw!”: Situating Myself section (above). Land (Where we come from) Understanding where we come from is a central factor of re-searching from within an Indigenous worldview. In my section above, Yahlnaaw Uu.iijii! – “It’s Yahlnaaw!”: Situating Myself, I situated – located – positioned – myself in my work for and with you all. In Michele Moffat’s (2016) work, Exploring Positionality in an Aboriginal Research Paradigm: A Unique Perspective, they state, “Understanding that all things in life begin with self, it seems appropriate to start this research process with a deeper explanation of who I am personally, professionally, emotionally, and spiritually” (p. 752). I situated myself, who I am, and where I come from as I delved into this re-search. I now feel compelled to also situate Ts’uu K’waayGa, who she is, and where she comes from. Ts’uu K’waayGa is a living conceptual framework. She is not only a metaphorical framework I designed to guide my re-search. In Haida musician, author, activist, artist, and lawyer, Terri-Lynn Williams-Davidson in partnership with Florence Davidson’s (2019) book, Magical Beings of Haida Gwaii, Cedar Sister is described: “She is the older sister to women and the ally to warriors. She exists DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 34 in every part of our lives. She protects us, provides for us, and teaches us to draw strength from our community, so that we can always give back. She teaches us to listen for the voices of our ancestors, so that we remember their teachings, Always” (p. 13). Wilson (2008) tells us that, “Identity for Indigenous peoples is grounded in their relationships with the land, with their Ancestors who have returned to the land and with future generations who will come into being by the land. Rather than viewing ourselves as being in relationship with other people or things, we are the relationships that we hold and are a part of” (p. 80). Ts’uu K’waayGa tells us to listen for the voices of our Ancestors because they are where our teachings come from – through the relationships we are with them. Language and stories have a direct connection to the land because they are teachings embedded in our relationships with our Ancestors who have returned to the land. We are able to DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 35 strengthen these relationships and listen for the voices – the teachings – of our Ancestors through the roots of our culture. Roots (Cultural Knowledges) The roots of the Ts’uu sustain the rest of the tree. The land around the roots dictates how the tree will grow, the health of the tree, and where the tree is located. This depicts how my Haida cultural knowledges sustains myself, my growth, my health, my language learning journey, and determines where I am situated within my culture. I view the roots as my worldview because this is where I gather cultural knowledges which shape how I view and interact with my world – through knowledges, teachings, practices, and ways of being passed down through the voices of my Ancestors. When my uncle Ernie entered the spirit world in 2009, my Nanaay and I went to Skidegate for the burial and potlatch. At the potlatch, stories were shared with us about Uncle Ernie, his life, and his legacy. My Uncle Ernie loved to fish. When approaching his home, you would more often see a sign that read, “Gone Fishing” as opposed to finding him there. He was a skilled fisherman who would go out on the water by himself in a little skiff. We listened to stories of his life, his kind heart, and his love for his family. I began to realize that Uncle Ernie often used his life and both cultural and personal stories to teach his children. These stories were always directly tied to the land because that is where my Uncle Ernie came from and has returned to – the land. I think about my Uncle Ernie when I am learning my language through stories. I think about how he told stories and therefore provided us with knowledges that we did not know we even needed – especially when I was very young. Uncle Ernie’s stories were my first introduction in understanding how stories were/are told and taught to children as a child myself. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 36 One story I remember vividly took place on Front Beach of Skidegate in 2004. Uncle Ernie and myself played our harmonicas together and my Uncle Percy played the saxophone while our family gathered for an evening Figure 4. Uncle Percy playing the saxophone and myself playing the harmonica at a family gathering on the beach in Skidegate (own photo). on the beach (see figure 4). I found a large piece of sea glass and proudly showed it to Uncle Ernie. He told me that the sea glass was not quite ready yet and that I should put it back and come find it the next time I visit Skidegate. He then shared with me a story about sea glass, trade beads, and how the beings in the ocean use them. I wish I had been old enough (I was only 8 at this time) and possessed the understanding to know that this story was valuable. I cannot remember it in full, however, what I do remember is that it taught me that patience allows knowledges and teachings to come to you when they are supposed to; one cannot forcefully seek out these knowledges but only be attentive, prepared, and ready for them. If one seeks knowledges with no patience, you will not be ready for these teachings and you will have to put them back – just like the sea glass. Each time I visit Skidegate, I search for this large piece of sea glass. I know that it must be broken down into smaller pieces by now, however, I will know when I find a piece of it. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 37 The very last time I saw my Uncle Ernie while he was still with us was during this same trip to Skidegate in 2004. We were at a community gathering the day before we went home to Prince Rupert and I was asked to play the harmonica for everyone. When I finished playing, I heard a loud, startling cheer from my Uncle Ernie as he held his own harmonica up high in the air. He was so proud of me for learning to play the harmonica – an instrument he held near and dear to his heart. I am grateful for our relationship and therefore his continued teachings as one of my Ancestors contributing to the roots of our culture and therefore the health and growth of my language learning journey. Trunk (Self as Central) The trunk of the Ts’uu connects the roots to the rest of the tree. This part represents myself (the Ts’uu trunk) situated as central in my re-search. The trunk of the Ts’uu stems directly from the roots that nourish and sustain it, just as I grow from the cultural knowledges that sustain me and my language learning journey. Relating myself (as central) to the trunk of the Ts’uu aids in my understanding that storytellers learned from being connected to the land – and therefore our Ancestors. Holding myself as central in my work and sustained by my cultural knowledges (like the ts’uu roots) also holds my Ancestors as central in my work. They sustain the Ts’uu – my learning journey – with cultural knowledges and therefore the land in which the Ts’uu trunk (self as central) is situated. Each story I have learned from my Nanaay, which she learned from her Elders, which have been passed down from our Ancestors, has been situated on the land. Whether it be the story of Gandll Guusdll xid – “The Flood” or Xuuya ad Táay.yii – “The Raven and the Salmon”, the land is held as a central component. In Xuuya ad Táay.yii, the land is held so central that when Raven visits two stranger’s home, Raven finds an entire land-based ecosystem embedded DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 38 within that sustains the two beings who reside in this home. The story, in my opinion, could portray how so many Indigenous peoples in today’s colonial era are forced to conform to colonial norms but continuously try to embed cultural practices and ways of being in their lives in spaces that are safe and secluded from colonial powers. With the development and implementation of the Royal Proclamation of 1763, the foundation of how colonial powers would dictate Indigenous peoples in centuries to come became apparent. The legal onset of banning Indigenous practices and ceremonies such as the Potlatch, Powwows, and the Sun Dance were incorporated into the Indian Act in 1884. However, it must be noted that with the original creation of the Indian Act in 1876, Indigenous governance structures, and therefore identity, cultural practices, and education were already being replaced with colonial structures (Henderson, 2006). Eventually, the Gradual Civilization Act (1857) and the Gradual Enfranchisement Act (1869), which were both aimed at the obliteration of Indigenous rights with the goal of assimilation became part of the Indian Act. The Indian Act also made it illegal for Indigenous peoples to engage within the legal systems regarding land claims against the government without their consent in 1927. From the Indian Act, residential schools emerged in 1894 and the Pass System was implemented to dictate and restrict the movement of Indigenous peoples in the 19th and 20th centuries (Henderson, 2006). It was these beginning steps of the Indian Act that are foundational components of the racism and discrimination Indigenous peoples face today – especially regarding engaging in cultural practices and ceremonies. Humans are conditioned to listen to and trust our leaders. In Liisa Välikangas and Akihiro Okumura’s (1997) work, they state that, within United States ideology, “leadership was based on the assumption that a “right” agency (in terms of utility sought or values held) will DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 39 result in the “right” consequences” (p. 313). When the leaders of the colonial world proudly displayed their hatred for Indigenous peoples and therefore implemented laws to assimilate Indigenous peoples (‘proving’ that what they are doing was right), settler people followed, listened, and passed on these racist attitudes towards Indigenous peoples through generations to come. Robin Kimmerer (2013), a Potawatomi scholar, in her work, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants, presents us with landbased teachings through stories. She shares with us what her relation, Lena, told her: “The most important thing to remember is what my grandmother always said: ‘If we use a plant respectfully it will stay with us and flourish. If we ignore it, it will go away. If you don’t give it respect, it will leave us’” (p. 157). I believe the same understandings are embedded in language learning through stories: if we ignore our language and stories, they will go away. If we do not respect our language and stories, they will leave us. However, if we respectfully use language and stories while understanding their direct connection to the storytellers, land, and therefore our Ancestors, they will flourish. The barriers and racism that comes with intergenerational trauma that force many Indigenous peoples to practice their ways of knowing and being in hidden places is not respectful to our languages and stories. These processes need to take place on the land – not hidden away from colonial powers. The issue at the forefront of this, however, is the discrimination many Indigenous peoples face while publicly reclaiming our culture and therefore languages and stories due to, for example, the effects of colonial powers such as the Indian Act. These barriers, discrimination, and intergenerational trauma are what recent Indigenous generations are facing head-on. We are aiming to dismantle these barriers, use education to tackle discrimination, and DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 40 reclaiming our cultures and identities to halt the continuing affects of intergenerational trauma so our children do not have to take on this painful and tedious task of reclamation. After making the realization of the centrality of land connection to language and story learning, Nanaay and I scheduled our trip to Skidegate in the spring of 2017 for four weeks to continue in my language learning journey on our traditional land. The eight-hour ferry ride to Skidegate is one of my favourite parts of the trip. It reminds me of our trips to Skidegate when I was younger with my aunts, uncles, and cousins who also resided in Prince Rupert. We were always thrilled to explore the ferry, watch the featured movie, and sit on the deck and look at the stunning surroundings that are part of the west coast. Nanaay and I booked a room with a window so we could look out. She started asking me questions in Haida about what we were seeing out the window. Due to this only being one of the few first serious language lessons we had, I remember feeling anxious and I struggled greatly to produce adequate replies. Nanaay, as always, was patient and helped me by adding more context and hints to what she was referring to – primarily using colours as this was something we had previously worked on. It felt as though the second we drove onto the ferry, English was a thing of the past and Nanaay primarily spoke Haida to me. This is when I knew that the next few weeks were going to be hard – but also so rewarding. The language course I was enrolled in to help frame my language learning journey at that time, FNST 223 – First Nations Language Immersion, facilitated by Ed sdi, only required approximately 10 hours per week in language learning immersion sessions as per the MAP guidelines. My language learning hours throughout this trip averaged at 10 hours per day. Our days consisted of staying with my Aunty Lyndale, attending the SHIP every weekday, and then language learning sessions with Nanaay outdoors when the weather allowed DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 41 us to on the weekends. At a week and a half into our trip, I developed the hiccups. I thought nothing of it until it had been an entire day and they had not gone away. After 48 hours of hiccups, no sleep, and muscle stress, we called 8-1-1 to ask for medical advice. It is so embarrassing to tell a nurse that you cannot get rid of your hiccups at age 21… I was told it was likely diaphragm stress from the complex movements it had been doing from learning a language that I had not been speaking since birth. Shortly after hanging up with the nurse, my hiccups went away. I still notice hiccups emerging when I have been doing language work for extended periods of time – thankfully, no recent episodes have lasted 48 hours! Understanding where I come from, the ongoing colonization of the land we now call ‘Canada’ and the resulting weight and shame that Indigenous peoples hold, and implementing important avenues such as learning my language situated on the land it comes from is pivotal in properly holding myself as central in this re-search. Bark and Sap (Diverse Ways of Searching for Knowledges) On the Ts’uu, there is bark that frames and protects the Ts’uu. I use the bark of the Ts’uu to represent the diverse ways I have of searching for knowledges to aid in framing my re-search. My methodology, as will be discussed in my K’uujii – “Thick Outer Bark”: Methodology section (below), is being informed by my methods, discussed in my Gin – “Sap”: Methods section (below), which protect my work by framing the necessary architecture I have used to articulate my language learning journey. My methodology protects my work by framing and constructing the methodological processes required to articulate my journey. Ts’uu bark often has sap on it. Sap is a substance that flows within the Ts’uu that helps it distribute water and nutrients. Similarly, my methods reflect how I distribute these essential nutrients for my thesis: using diverse ways of gathering scattered pieces of knowledges and DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 42 putting it in the right place for tangible work. It is important to note that the bark and sap (diverse ways of searching for knowledges) are on top of the trunk (self as central). Therefore, the bark and sap (diverse ways of searching for knowledges) and the trunk (self as central) work together to effectively sustain and protect the rest of the learning journey. K’uujii – “Thick Outer Bark”: Methodology For my methodology, I used components of Jo-ann Archibald’s (2008) Storywork methodology from her book, Indigenous Storywork: Educating the Heart, Mind, Body, and Spirit. I provided an overview of her work as outlined in my Kaadll dal Kwaan – “Many Journeys”: Theoretical Framework section (above) pertaining to my theoretical framework; however, this section aims to depict the exact components of Storywork that are forming my methodology. Archibald is an Indigenous scholar, writer, and advocate from the Stó:l Nation who has dedicated much of her career to studying the aspect of story. Indigenous Storywork is the result of Archibald’s re-search with Elders to bring storytelling into educational contexts. Patricia Rosborough (2012), from Kwakiutl First Nation, adopted a similar methodology. Rosborough “sought a methodology that would put story at the heart of [her] study” (p. 14) – and I aspire to do something very similar. As I have stated before, stories should be told in our language and our language tell us about our stories. If our languages ‘die’, our stories ‘die’, and therefore our culture ‘dies’. David Truer (2008), an Ojibwe scholar, in their article, If They’re Lost, Who Are We?, states, “At some point (and no one is too anxious to identify it exactly), a culture becomes an ethnicity – that is, it changes from a life system that develops its own terms into one that borrows, almost completely, someone else’s” (para. 6). Without our Indigenous languages, we become ethnicities due to the ‘death’ of our cultures. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 43 As discussed in Xwaay’Waat’s (2016) work above, Archibald’s (2008) work builds on the seven principles of respect, responsibility, reciprocity, reverence, holism, interrelatedness, and synergy that form a framework of understanding for the characteristics of stories, appreciating the process of storytelling, establishing a receptive learning context, and engaging in holistic meaning-making. Archibald also discusses learning about Storywork from Stó:l Elders, the power of story to educate the heart, Storywork pedagogy, and Storywork in action. Archibald begins her discussion on Storywork in action by stating, “If Coyote [a metaphorical being Archibald often uses to guide the readers through her work] with the mismatched eyes had spent time with the Stó:l and Coast Salish Elders, he would have learned that to see clearly from the eye of oral tradition, he needed to understand the cultural ways that stories were told and taught to children, that storytellers learned the stories not only from master storytellers but also by being closely connected to land, that stories become a teacher, and that we can live life through stories” (p. 101). I used this Storywork methodology to aid in describing and understanding my language learning journey within my conceptual framework: Ts’uu K’waayGa. Through reading Archibald’s (2008) work, I consistently drew connections between Archibald’s Coyote and my Skidegate Haida Clan: Raven. Through transmissions of knowledges from my Nanaay, my community, and the stories encompassed in this work, I have come to know that Raven is a genderless, spiritual being that guides us through our living and learning journeys. Raven does not identify as male nor female and therefore, referring to Raven with “they/them/theirs” pronouns as opposed to “he/him” pronouns (as colonial culture has depicted Raven in poor translations of our stories), is the correct way. Raven often presents teachings by being a trickster – which often results in them being caught in the middle of a trick and therefore receives a ‘punishment’ in which Raven learns a lesson that we may adapt into our own life situations. I write ‘punishment’ as such because, in our Skidgeate Haida stories, these DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 44 ‘punishments’ are often humorous and sometimes vague which provokes the listeners to really think deeply about the possible individualistic teachings at hand. In one of my Nanaay’s stories, K’uudang Xuuya Gaw Guu da gan – “The Raven Lost it’s Bill”, which is allowed to be shared in a condensed form publicly, Raven tries to trick an old, blind fisherman named Waaswaanang who was fishing in a dugout canoe. Waaswaanang was using devilfish on a kelp fishing line as bait and Raven wanted to eat the devilfish – it was their favourite. When Raven tried to snatch the devilfish off the line, Waaswaanang thought he caught a fish and yanked up so hard that he broke Raven’s bill right off! Waaswaanang took Raven’s bill home not knowing what it was and asked his daughter to put it on a stick on their house so the owner may find it. Raven then transformed into a human but kept their tail feathers and wings so they could fly. Raven went to Waaswaanang’s house and took their bill back. As Raven flew away, the bill fell off their face and dangled from their chin. Raven was not able to reattach it again. This story came to me at a time in my life when I felt overwhelmed by the amounts of both colonial and Indigenous knowledges I was trying to retain within the colonial institution as an undergraduate student. I wanted to dedicate my living and learning journey to my Nanaay, her stories, and my community. However, if I wanted to share my skills and knowledges on a larger scale in a way that would be adaptable for other second language learners – which is a central component of my re-search question – I had to remain within the colonial institution and achieve a colonial degree (as discussed in my Kaadll dal Kwaan – “Many Journeys”: Theoretical Framework section above). I realized that by trying to gather these various forms of colonial knowledge: colonial methodologies, theoretical frameworks, conceptual frameworks… I was just one knowledge grab DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 45 away from having my own metaphorical bill yanked off without the option of having it properly reattached. I was worried that I would be swayed into colonial ways of knowing and being which would ultimately lead me to improperly conducting the re-search this master’s work aimed to do. As aforementioned, I did not want to force my Indigenous knowledges into a colonial format – and this is exactly what the colonial institution was trying to make me do. The colonial institution was allowing me to incorporate my Skidegate Haida knowledges within my work, however, ‘how’ I incorporated these knowledges was dictated by colonial powers determined to both repress and assimilate myself and my work in whatever ways it could. Raven taught me to learn slowly, cautiously, and to think before taking learnings – to examine before taking learnings. Raven aided me in navigating the final years of my undergraduate degree knowing that there were colonial hoops that I needed to jump through. However, Raven reminded me that I was allowed to dump copious amounts of colonial knowledge on the other side of those hoops as it was not going to benefit myself, my work, my Nanaay, or my community. Raven showed me how to keep my bill – how to navigate the colonial institution while maintaining my sacred, Traditional teachings in such a way to keep them from colonial harm. Archibald’s (2008) Coyote is my Raven. After a conversation with my committee member, Deanna Nyce, about these correlations, I realized that I am supposed to be Raven. This reminded me of a conversation I had with Ed sdi the year prior where she reminded me that I needed to really come to know Raven because I am supposed to embody Raven. I am supposed to spend time learning with my Elders to see clearly from the eye of oral tradition to understand the cultural ways stories were/are taught to children, that storytellers learn from other storytellers DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 46 and also from being connected to the land, that stories are a teacher, and that we can/do live life through stories (Archibald, 2008). This is my methodology. Further, Archibald (2008) states, “In addition to knowing cultural protocols and rules pertaining to the telling of stories, one must know how to make meaning with stories. It is important to appreciate the diversity among Indigenous cultures and to recognize that there are different story genres, purposes, protocols, and ways to make story meaning” (p. 83). This point is important to my re-search because, as my Elders have taught me, a story is not just told without reason. Stories are told to make meaning. Meaning does not imply an overarching ‘moral of the story’; it implies that the listeners “take what they need from the story depending on where they are in their life and the experiences they bring with them” (T’aawgiiwat, Personal Communication, 2014). This component is a building block of my Gina ‘Waadluxan Gud ad Kwaagid – “Everything Depends on Everything Else”: Ethical Considerations section (below) because the Skidegate Haida culture has protocols and rules pertaining to the aspect of storytelling and I must abide by these to, as one of Archibald’s seven principles depict, be responsible. This entails that one is intellectually, emotionally, physically, and spiritually ready to absorb and learn cultural knowledges (Archibald, 2008). My name – Yahlnaaw – is two different words put together. When together, the indirect translation is, “Leads an Exceptional Life”. When broken into two, Yahl means “Raven” in a spiritual sense (not the physical bird) and naaw means “dwelling”. When these two separate words are put together, the direct translation is “In the Raven’s Dwelling”, however, for one to be in the Raven’s dwelling, one must lead an exceptional life. It is my goal to lead an exceptional life through this current and future re-search to benefit my community, Indigenous Nations, and our second-language learners. Archibald’s DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 47 (2008) Storywork methodology showed me that I need to embody the spiritual essence of Raven (as per her Coyote) while setting off into my language learning re-search. Gin – “Sap”: Methods Ed sdi (2012), in her PhD Dissertation, Hedekeyeh hots’ih kahidi – “Our Ancestors Are In Us”: Strengthening Our Voices Through Language Revitalization From A Tahltan Worldview, states, “Once the Methodology has been chosen, the methods can be chosen” (p. 79). I aim to share my language learning journey through the methods of Phloem: Autoethnography and the Xylem: Mentor Apprentice Program Guidelines. Wilson (2008) states that, …our data, our knowledge and relationships are based upon empirical data that is observable by the five senses, just like mainstream linear research is, but it also includes other forms of non-empirical data. We are in research ceremony. We gain knowledge and power from the universe around us in various ways. You know, that knowledge can come to you from above, from a flash of inspiration, or as I see it, from putting form to a bundle of relationships that were previously invisible (p. 111). My journey, articulated through the methods of Phloem: Autoethnography and Xylem: Mentor Apprentice Program Guidelines, puts shape to the relationships I have built and processes I have gone through which have gotten me to where/who I need to be today. Phloem: Autoethnography and Xylem: Mentor Apprentice Program Guidelines are both encompassed within the methodology (described above) and I have used them to describe how I am situated within the components of Ts’uu K’waayGa. - Phloem: Autoethnography Phloem is a network of pipelines in which nutrients are passed through to the entire tree to sustain its life (Arbor Day Foundation, 2021). The Phloem represents my method – autoethnography – which is distributed throughout my research. These aspects, like nutrients, sustain me and help me to articulate my language learning journey throughout this thesis. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 48 Phloem (autoethnography) lives for a short time, dies, and turns to wood to help in creating the growth of the thick outer bark (methodology) of the Ts’uu (Arbor Day Foundation, 2021). In Van Bel’s (2003) work, The Phloem, a Miracle of Ingenuity, they state, “Phloem has been and still is a puzzling tissue due to its position and physiology. It is virtually out of experimental reach – it is deeply embedded into other tissues – and is very ‘touchy’– it shows a range of immediate defence reactions following any kind of manipulation” (p. 125). Further, “it was discovered that the phloem transmits alarm signals (systemic acquired resistance, SAR) from plant parts attacked by pests, chewing insects or herbivores to other unaffected parts” (p. 125). In other words, phloem is very observant, sensitive, and reactive. It observes/senses what is happening around it and transforms these observations into tangible signals which are used to communicate with the rest of the tree. In this way, my method of Autoethnography is also observant, sensitive, and reactive. It is what I have used to observe my language learning journey and has transformed it into words in which I am able to not only communicate it to you, the reader, but also so I can communicate in a self-reflective way throughout my language learning journey and processes embedded within Ts’uu K’waayGa. The word “autoethnography”, when broken down, means three things: 1) “Auto” = “self”. 2) “Ethno” = “culture”. 3) “Graphy” = “writing”. Paul Whitinui (2013), a M ori scholar, states that autoethnography is “a culturally informed research practice that is not only explicit to M ori ways of knowing but can be readily validated and legitimated as an authentic “Native” method of inquiry. Grounded within a resistance-based discourse, indigenous autoethnography aims to address issues of social justice and to develop social change by engaging indigenous DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 49 researchers in rediscovering their own voices as “culturally liberating human-beings”” (p. 456). Autoethnography allows Indigenous peoples and beyond to use their own voices and experiences as validated and legitimate forms of knowledge sharing and re-search. The method of autoethnography allows me to situate myself within my conceptual framework in such a way that the relationships with myself, my re-search, my culture, our language, our stories, the land in which gives us our stories through our Ancestors, and my Nanaay become apparent to those not directly involved in my re-search. Wilson (2008) tells us that relationships are central in our work, re-search, and identity as Indigenous peoples. Further, as aforementioned, he states that, “Rather than viewing ourselves as being in relationship with other people or things, we are the relationships that we hold and are a part of” (p. 80). This all ties back to my methodology – understanding the cultural ways stories were/are taught to children (through the land), that storytellers learned stories from other storytellers and by being closely connected to the land (and therefore our Ancestors), that stories become a teacher (gathered knowledges), and that we live life through stories (and therefore through our relationships). The phloem (autoethnography), as stated, dies and transforms into part of the bark (methodology) in order to protect the tree (conceptual framework). My method of autoethnography works with my methodology, Storywork, to protect my re-search embedded in my conceptual framework, Ts’uu K’waayGa, through these processes. My method of autoethnography is giving life to my conceptual framework. Wilson (2008) further states that, “Indigenous epistemology is all about ideas developing through the formation of relationships” (p. 8) and that “an idea can not be taken out of its relational context and still maintain its shape” (p. 8). The method of autoethnography is also maintaining the shape of the relationships I am which are embedded within my conceptual framework supported and DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 50 protected by my methodology. You, the reader, are provided insight into my language learning processes as I experienced, gathered, and began to understand them through the development of my conceptual framework by means of my method of autoethnography. - Xylem: Mentor Apprentice Program Guidelines Xylem is a form of tissue within cedar trees that brings water and select nutrients from the roots at the bottom of the tree to the leaves [or cones] at the top (BD Editors, 2019). This represents how my method of the MAP guidelines directs me towards using the cultural knowledges (roots) which are provided through the land (where we come from) from my Ancestors to influence the cones (lessons learned) via the trunk (self as central). The cones, which are described in detail in the Cones (Lessons Learned) section (below), are the fruit of tree (the lessons I have learned throughout my language learning journey). It must also be noted here that my methods of the MAP guidelines and autoethnography (above) are interwoven and interconnected at every step as we progress through each individual MAP guideline (below). These guidelines, described in detail in the Branches (Language Learning Journey Processes) section (below), are adapted from Leanne Hinton, Matt Vera, and Nancy Steele’s (2002) book, How to Keep Your Language Alive: A Commonsense Approach to One-On-One Language Learning. The foundations of this are the 10 points for successful language learning: 1) Leave English Behind 2) Make Yourself Understood with Nonverbal Communication 3) Teach in Full Sentences 4) Aim for Real Communication in Your Language of Heritage 5) Language is Also Culture 6) Focus on Listening and Speaking DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 51 7) Learn and Teach the Language through Activities 8) Use Audiotaping and Videotaping 9) Be an Active Learner 10) Be Sensitive to Each Other’s Needs; Be Patient and Proud of each other and Yourselves (pp. 10-19). It is these guidelines when used in combination with my other method of Phloem: Autoethnography that fully allowed me to not only describe this language learning journey within my conceptual framework, but also ensured that my learning was reflective, authentic, impactful, and meaningful while also ensuring that cultural knowledges (roots) are directly embedded in the lessons learned (cones). Both phloem and xylem work together to produce the sap (methods) which can be found on the bark of the Ts’uu or by safely harvesting the sap for human use. They each cannot produce sap on their own in the same way that only one of my methods can not properly guide and articulate this language learning journey. In the way the Ts’uu is willing to share its nutrients with those around it, my methods (sap) are meant to be shared with those who learn about them. Using methods such as autoethnography and the MAP Guidelines is often shamed within colonial education as they delve beyond colonial methods of re-search such as a case study or experiment. I encourage the use of these methods in areas such as language revitalization and beyond to further strengthen Indigenous re-search methods and their validity. Branches (Language Learning Journey Processes) In the same regard the Ts’uu roots sustain the trunk from the land, the trunk sustains the branches. My cultural knowledges (roots) provided to me by where we come from (the land) and therefore my Ancestors, sustains myself as central (trunk) in my work which guides me leading DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 52 to language learning journey processes (the branches). One of my methods, Xylem: Mentor Apprentice Program Guidelines (described in my Gin – “Sap”: Methods section above), as aforementioned, outlines the 10 points for successful language learning as presented in Hinton, Vera, and Steele’s (2002) work. These guidelines working in tandem with my other method, Phloem: Autoethnography, ensure that cultural knowledges (roots) are embedded in my lessons learned (cones) via holding myself as central (trunk) which creates the language learning journey processes (branches). 1) Leave English Behind Leaving English behind is the hardest part. Not only was it hard for me, but it was also hard for Nanaay – even though she learned Haida before learning English. I truly believe what Absolon (2011) states: “Colonialism has contaminated our minds and this abuse must stop” (p. 130) as discussed in my Kaadll dal Kwaan – “Many Journeys”: Theoretical Framework section above. It felt as though our brains were conditioned to default to English when I could not speak a word properly or understand what Nanaay was trying to tell me despite her non-verbal efforts. At the very start of our language learning, sometimes we would default to English without even realizing it until we had spoken a few words or sentences. We would laugh at ourselves when we defaulted to English without realizing it at first, however, an overwhelming sense of guilt would sweep over me as it only showed me how contaminated my mind was with colonialism. English was so embedded that using it possessed deep unconscious anchors in my mind that required conscious efforts to actively avoid defaulting to it. I had to frequently tell myself, “English is not easier – it is abusive. It can be easier to accept ongoing abuse as opposed to exerting the effort to tackle it. English is abusive”. I began to learn that understanding how colonized your own mind is and how that has influenced your DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 53 personal epistemologies, ontologies, and axiology is one of the hardest barriers to overcome in language learning. It is exhausting, degrading, and horrifying knowing how contaminated your mind is. Recognizing these revelations and coming to understand them in terms of how overcoming these barriers is essential in the shift of one’s Worldview from a colonial mindset to the goal of eliminating colonial ideologies in one’s Worldview is paramount – and this can be achieved through leaving English behind. Again – English is abusive. As our language learning sessions progressed, English began to surface less and less. I truly felt my Worldview shifting as I became immersed in the language and understandings of my Ancestors – seeing and interacting with my world in the ways my Ancestors intended me to. It was not until one evening, about two weeks through our trip to Skidegate in 2017, that I had a dream which was situated at Balance Rock (see figure 5) – a sacred location just down the beach from where my Aunt lived. I always walked there when practicing stories in my language on my own, so it was no surprise that was where my dream took place. I was surrounded by people who I did not recognize, however, I felt comfortable and safe around them. They were all speaking Haida. I immediately tensed up in fear that they would ask me something and I would not be able to reply adequately. A woman wearing old (perhaps 1930’s) colonial attire looked at me and asked why I was there with them. I replied without thinking, “kihlgang t’alang sk’aad Gadyas, id Gan tll dllawllda”. I felt shocked with what I said because I had not consciously learned these words Figure 5. Balance Rock (own photo). DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 54 before. I was asking this woman to make it easier for me to learn my language – for her to help me. She touched my face, nodded, and said nothing. 2) Make Yourself Understood with Nonverbal Communication Non-verbal communication feels embarrassing at first – especially when you are waving your arms around, making silly faces, and pointing to objects in public spaces. It feels safer to do this secluded in your own home or default to English. However, as aforementioned, language learning must take place on the land and using English is abusive. I began to learn that the anxiety and discomfort I felt when using non-verbal communication in public spaces was a similar anxiety and discomfort to what I felt when being with fluent speakers and not being able to fully understand them and therefore not being able to fully reply to them. My Nanaay did not teach my mother or her siblings Haida because of the fear of discrimination and therefore her children missing out on opportunities. Since my mother was not taught Haida and Nanaay feared teaching her children the language, I did not begin learning beyond small pieces here and there until I asked Nanaay about our language later in life. When my mother speaks of her childhood, she often mentions how Nanaay would ensure they always had nice, clean clothes, a clean face, and tidy hair before leaving their home because Nanaay did not want them to be seen as “dirty Indians”. When I was in grade 3 (2009), attending elementary education in Prince Rupert, a non-Indigenous student in my class came to school with dirty clothes, a dirty face, unkept hair, and no lunch on many occasions. We were simply asked to give a small portion of our lunch to this student which we were all happy to do. However, one class, an Indigenous student came to school looking unkept and without a lunch – which I had not noticed with this student previously. I expected that we would be asked to give a small portion of our lunch to them, however, instead they were ushered to the school’s DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 55 office. Soon after, rumours floated around the school about how there was an investigation into this student’s homelife. I had witnessed Nanaay’s worries that I gathered through my mother’s stories of her childhood. I saw firsthand what being an Indigenous child and not looking polished for just one day could result in. It was then that I really began to understand why my mother was so fussy about myself and my sister’s appearances before we left our home when we were younger. As all these bits and pieces came together in a convergence of understanding, I realized that these feelings of anxiety and discomfort regarding multiple aspects of language learning was intergenerational trauma. At the SHIP, there was a non-Indigenous woman who loved to join the lessons and learn the language as she was a resident of Haida Gwaii. I had always admired her efforts to learn the language because I felt it really demonstrated a central aspect of reconciliation – learning and understanding the ways of the land in which she was situated on. However, I often felt jealous of her because she could speak so well and she could learn so fast – and I could not. Nearing the end of our 2018 trip to Skidegate, I worked up the courage to ask this woman how she was able to learn the language so easily. I had spent the last two trips to Skidegate wondering how she could speak our language so well despite being a second language learner and I decided it was time to ask her. I asked, “Don’t you feel anxious speaking or trying to speak when you aren’t quite sure if you’re right?”. She looked confused and replied, “Why would that make me anxious?”. Her answer was so short and simple – and I realized that she could not have anxiety about speaking the language because her Grandmother and mother had not spent her childhood fussing over her appearances, actively avoiding their mother tongue, or worrying about their daughter’s identity affecting her future and opportunities. She did not come from DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 56 generations before her who had their language taken away, were punished for trying to keep their language and culture alive, suffering within legal systems designed to assimilate and murder Indigenous peoples, and having their children stolen with the likelihood of them never returning. She was not holding this weight and shame – I was. Amy Bombay, Kim Matheson, and Hymie Anisman (2009), in their work, Intergenerational Trauma: Convergence of Multiple Processes among First Nations peoples in Canada, states that, “…trauma may dispose individuals to further stressors, and increase the response to these stressors. It is further argued that the shared collective experiences of trauma experienced by First Nations peoples, coupled with related collective memories, and persistent sociocultural disadvantages, have acted to increase vulnerability to the transmission and expression of intergenerational trauma effects” (p. 6). Simply put, intergenerational trauma is when traumatic events are forced upon one generation of family, and this trauma is passed down through generations that come after due to a variety of factors. For example, intergenerational trauma can be passed from parent to child via physical abuse. Physical abuse was inflicted upon the parent through colonial avenues such as residential schools, and the parent comes to only know physical abuse as an avenue for power and control. Therefore, this is the default mode that dictates how they feel they need to control their own child. Their child then grows up with the understanding that teaching equates to physical abuse and inflicts this same physical abuse onto their children. This is how intergenerational trauma forms and grows. Further, “Research on brain-based effects of early trauma and work from the field of epigenetics may contribute other components to the understanding of complex, intergenerational impacts of multiple trauma contexts” (O’Neill, Fraser, Kitchenham, & McDonald, 2018, p. 173). Rachel Yehuda and Amy Lehrner (2018) speak to epigenetics. They state, “The term DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 57 “epigenetics” refers to a set of potentially heritable changes in the genome that can be induced by environmental events” (p. 246). They emphasize that these environmental events alter aspects such as the function of genomic DNA, but do not alter the DNA sequence. Essentially, traumatic environments/events biologically alter the function of one’s DNA and, in simple terms, how certain DNA genomes turn ‘on and off’ thus dictating components of our behaviour, ways of being, and how we interact with ourselves and the world. However, it does not mean that the DNA sequences are changed which dictate physical traits (e.g., eye colour). These changes in the function of genomic DNA are biologically passed down from parent to child upon conception. Intergenerational trauma is not just learned trauma from a parent, but also biologically embedded in the genomic DNA of the child. Intergenerational trauma is not just learned – it is inherited. I grew up very privileged on this front. I have astonishing parents who sacrificed so much to ensure myself and my sister were raised to the best of their abilities with safety, comfort, and the idealization of goals and success in life. I began to learn about intergenerational trauma and epigenetics while completing my minor in Psychology throughout my undergraduate studies. I made the assumption that I escaped the terrors that are intergenerational trauma until I began learning my language and working on this re-search. Language learning was something I foolishly overlooked within the realm of intergenerational trauma and I jumped right to aspects such as addiction or abuse as the only avenues of intergenerational trauma – things I did not have to deal with in my family life. I did not realize how intergenerational trauma not only impedes language transmission, but also one’s ability to learn the language later in life. Understanding the intergenerational trauma one holds within oneself – even when your Ancestors and parents battled it as much as they could to prevent the suffering of their children – is so central in coming to terms with various forms of shame we hold that impede learning DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 58 journeys such as language learning. By understanding where the feelings of my anxiety and discomfort surface from as outlined in the opening of this section, I am able to continue tackling this barrier and hopefully continue in dismantling the function of my genomic DNA in terms of my Ancestor’s trauma. Non-verbal communication in public spaces has become something I enjoy. I am thrilled when people ask (which will often happen) what I am doing because I can explain a bit of my journey, why I am doing this, and hope that they will take my words into the world and use what they need to for their own journey. 3) Teach in Full Sentences Teaching and learning in full sentences felt nearly impossible at first; but after learning my survival phrases (e.g., issing issing? – “Can you say it again?”), it became the only way of learning that made sense. Only learning fragments of your language (e.g., single words, phrases, or a few words strung together) makes it difficult later to learn how these fragments need to be pieced together to create a complete sentence. I found that conjunction words (e.g., “and”, “for”, “but”, etc.) are almost always lost when learning a language in sentences that are not complete. Learning where conjunction words fit into a sentence after learning the main content/key words of the sentence requires extra brain gymnastics that could easily be avoided by jumping right to learning full sentences. When I began to fall into this habit of not focusing on learning full sentences, it began to feel like my grade nine mathematics class. This was where I would learn an equation, think that I was doing it right, practice doing it, and then realize that I was missing a step in the equation. I had to force myself to re-learn the equation the right way. This was certainly harder to do than if I had just learned the equation right in the first place. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 59 Although learning fragments of sentences in the beginning may have felt easier, overall, it only made the learning journey more difficult. If I had known this from the beginning, I would have ensured to stray away from this tempting habit. 4) Aim for Real Communication in Your Language of Heritage Throughout my life thus far, Skidegate Haida sentences/phrases/expressions were used daily in our household – mostly expressions of (humorous) discontent with one another. We would never say these expressions in English to each other because there was no need – we simply understood what we were saying to each other. Alongside this, translating some of these expressions from Haida to English would be impossible because English does not have a wide enough vocabulary to translate them. Aiming for real communication in my language of heritage held this form of upbringing as central. It posits that embedding your language so deeply in everyday activities to the point where you default to responding/reacting in your language is crucial in eliminating the abuse English inflicts on your language learning processes. Hinton, Vera, and Steele (2002) state, “Aim at doing everything in your language. Once the apprentice can use some basic words, don’t start your sessions by saying in English, “What shall we do today?” Say it in your language” (p. 14). Further, “If you know how to greet each other in your language, never do it in English” (p. 14). If you know how to say something in your language to your mentor, even if you are not in designated language learning sessions, still only say it in your language. Rid the English version of it from your mind because you no longer need it. Although, as aforementioned, the MAP only requires 10 hours per week in language immersion sessions – meaning only your language is spoken during this time with the rest of the MAP guidelines guiding these processes. This guideline, aim[ing] for real communication in DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 60 your language of heritage, ensures that even when you are not in language immersion sessions, you still must use your language whenever/however you can as you go through the motions of your day. One cannot effectively learn their language by only using it in your immersion sessions. Immersion sessions are for learning new things while all other times of your life should encompass using what you have already learned whenever you can. Grasping this guideline in full for myself also helped in defaulting to Haida instead of English. During the Mentor Apprentice Conference in May 2018 (shortly before starting my masters re-search), Nanaay and were walking to our hotel room when she stumbled. I grabbed her and said, “Dang gwa ‘laa dii?” (Are you okay/well?). She humorously replied with, “Gaam!” (“No!”). One of the First Peoples Cultural Council (FPCC) team members was behind us and heard our brief communication. She walked up to us and said that it was beautiful that Nanaay and I used our language in settings where English could have been easier (a panicked moment), but instead we still communicated in our language. I did not even realize that we were communicating in our language until the FPCC team member had pointed it out to us. This was the first time that both Nanaay and I defaulted to Haida instead of English. 5) Language is Also Culture Being conscious of the fact that “your language is not just a translation of English” (Hinton, Vera, & Steele, 2002, p. 14) is valuable in not just learning your language in designated language learning immersion sessions at the kitchen table; but ensuring to learn about your culture’s customs, values, behaviours, and ways of being through your language. Nanaay and I love going to the beach. Depending on the season, we would peek under rocks and see what little creatures were living under them. Nanaay would then teach me about the creatures we saw, appropriate harvesting methods and seasons (if applicable), and other DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 61 related knowledges in our language. On one occasion, when Nanaay and I went to Jungle Beach (see figure 6), there was seaweed washed up on shore at low tide. Nanaay asked me to get some of it and bring it back to her. She taught me how to properly harvest it, Figure 6. Nanaay at Jungle Beach (own photo). how to get the little rocks out of it, how to dry it, and the uses for it beyond eating. She also told me to grab a strand of kelp and she told me about how these were once used as fishing lines. This is where Nanaay taught me the story, K’uudang Xuuya Gaw Guu da gan – “The Raven Lost it’s Bill”, outlined in my K’uujii – “Thick Outer Bark”: Methodology section (above). Coming to know that language is also culture allows an entire worldview of possibilities come into view for one’s language learning. You gather valuable insight into who you are and where you come from via the teachings and ways of knowing and being from your Ancestors. In my story above, you can see how in one language learning session, Nanaay taught me about components of our Traditional ecosystem and a story that was recorded and is now being used as part of the SiGa – “Gathering Important Things” section (below) (see Appendix 1) for this research. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 62 6) Focus on Listening and Speaking During my language learning journey, after spending 6 hours at the SHIP, some form of language learning before/after dinner (beach walk, car ride, etc.), and then some form of activity in the evening, I would feel exhausted. I often felt like my eyes were sore and I would be drinking water trying to alleviate a headache that I knew would only go away if I slept until morning. On nights like this, Nanaay would just speak to me – and I would just listen. At first, I was just listening to the sounds and the words themselves, however, the more I listened to her talking, the more I realized the intricate cadence and rhythm that our language has. I am unsure if I would have caught onto this cadence and rhythm if I had not spent time just listening to Nanaay speak. I never was able to comprehend what she was saying because she would talk so fast and talk about things I had not learned yet. To this day, I still do not know exactly what she would talk about during those late nights together – but it was in these moments that I knew I needed to become fluent enough to eventually learn exactly what she was saying. From this avid listening, I was able to improve my cadence, rhythm, and flow of our language. However, whenever I tell a story at SHIP, one piece of feedback I always receive is that I still need to work on the ‘flow’ of the language. I often worry that I will never quite get the ‘flow’ of it because it is not something I heard every day, all day from birth like I did with English. Babies learn a language by listening and observing their surroundings. Eve Clark (2009) states, “Infants are born into a social world, a world of touch, sound, and effect, a world of communication. They develop and grow up as social beings, immersed in a network of relationships from the start. It is in this social setting that they are first exposed to language, to language in use. This language forms part of the daily communication around them and to them. It regulates what they do. It tells them about the world, events, DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 63 actions, objects, and relations within, and presents them with affective attitudes to people and events. In short, language is a central factor in the social life of infants” (p. 21). Babies absorb their surrounds so quickly and repeat this language/behaviour when they have developed to a stage in which they are able to do so. Just listening to your language is paramount in coming to learn one’s language – it is as close as one can get to learning how we should have learned our languages: as a baby by listening and observing. It is from this listening to the cadence and rhythm of one’s language that focusing on speaking becomes easier. I aim to become fluent enough that I can raise my future children in our language so they do not have to undergo this task as a second language learner later in life. 7) Learn and Teach the Language through Activities Activities encompass everything from engaging in daily activities (e.g., cooking dinner, doing laundry, etc.) to playing games (see figure 7) or play acting. Play acting is when you “put yourselves into pretend situations and try to use the language to act them out. Play with hand puppets and act out a traditional story” (Hinton, Vera, & Steele, 2002, p. 16). Resources such as wordless books where you make up a story or putting the television on mute and discuss what you are seeing are also extremely helpful. Nanaay Figure 7. Nanaay and I playing a game where one of us describes something (e.g., a monster) in our language and the other must draw it based on and I began referring to this as “lazy the description. These were often very comedic language learning” because we found language learning sessions (own photo). DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 64 ourselves using these resources when we did not feel like acting things out or going for drives/walks and discussing what we were doing. Despite our name for it, this resource is important as it allows one to talk about things that they are seeing rather than what they are doing. This opens language learning to features such as tense, pronouns, and descriptive words when referring to other people. At the SHIP, on Fridays, we would often play a game called Dii Gwaay which broadly translates to “give it to me”. It resembles the game “Bingo” as one person calls out words that fit into categories such as medicine, nature, or locations. We would then use Bingo markers to mark off the words called that were on our cards within these categories. The first person to get a row (or whatever winning qualifications were decided at the start of the game), would yell out, “Dii Gwaay!” indicating that they had won. The SHIP would have a basket of prizes that the winner could choose from. There was a sense of friendly competition, an incentive (a prize), and fun involved in Dii Gwaay and therefore the SHIP attendees engaged seriously in this game. I really enjoyed playing it because it allowed me to hear other fluent speakers speak our language and touch on a variety of topics. Learning in the space of a community who has the same goal of language revitalization creates a sense of safety and comfort which is essential in navigating language learning as a second language learner. Learning through fun activities makes the process feel less tiring and more exciting – especially with friendly competition! 8) Use Audiotaping and Videotaping Audiotaping and videotaping are important tools in my language learning journey processes. It allowed me to listen to recordings of both myself and my Nanaay when we were not together. Thus, I was able to do independent language learning when I was on my own – such as DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 65 on my walks to Balance Rock to practice whichever story we were currently working on. The original intent of my walks to Balance Rock while practicing a story was to impress Nanaay at our next language learning session, however, I soon learned how vital it was to listen to recordings and repeat the language at my own pace. At the time of starting these audio recordings in 2014, Nanaay and I lived in different cities. I could only spend time with her when I went to visit my family in Prince Rupert or when my family would drive to Prince George. Without thinking about it, I defaulted to audio recording these stories from her so I could listen to them and begin to learn them while we were apart. We were able to engage in simple language learning sessions over the phone, however, it often was difficult for Nanaay to hear me and difficult for me to understand some components of pronunciation with sentences that I was not familiar with yet. From the recordings of my Nanaay’s stories, I was able to learn and record myself telling stories which are also the SiGa – “Gathered Important Things” for this re-search (see Appendix 1). Not only have I used these recordings for my language learning, but through embedding this in my thesis I have created a process to further aid in language revitalization/preservation. The SHIP will receive this written thesis alongside the audio recordings to aid in furthering language learning efforts in my home community. When using video recording, one can also gather a deeper understanding of the nonverbal communication that is embedded in one’s language and culture. Carola Surkamp (2014), in their work, Non-Verbal Communication: Why We Need It in Foreign Language Teaching and How We Can Foster It with Drama Activities states, “Non-verbal communication plays an important role in human social interaction” (p. 28) and that “no language learner can achieve communicative competence without having some knowledge of non-verbal phenomena, which DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 66 make communication authentic and serve numerous functions needed for communicative success” (p. 29). It must be noted here that this form of non-verbal communication is different from the second MAP guideline, Make Yourself Understood with Non-Verbal Communication (above) as this MAP guideline speaks to acting things out and pointing to objects to present an idea or some form of communication – similar to the game Charades. This form of non-verbal communication stems from the culturally embedded action-based communications such as physical reactions (e.g., blushing), outward appearance (e.g., physical appearance), movements of body parts (e.g., gestures, touching behaviour), movements of entire body (e.g., posture, distance), facial expressions, and direction of gaze (Rgyle, 1972/2002., Ekman & Friesen, 1969., Crystal, 1974., & Poyatos, 1983 as cited in Surkamp, 2014). Surkamp (2014) further states, “Observing such non-verbal phenomena in conversation plays an important role in the interpretation of meaning, for instance when it comes to assessing others, to the creation of closeness and distance or to understanding the relationship between conversation partners” (p. 31). When one is immersed in their language with fluent speakers, these forms of non-verbal communication are picked up unknowingly. For second language learners like myself who are not always immersed in my language with fluent speakers (and therefore immersed in their non-verbal communication), video recording my Nanaay and analyzing her non-verbal communication is an important tool in learning my language from a wholistic perspective. We are told that, “If we leave out the non-verbal dimension of communication in foreign language teaching, we are creating artificial situations, which do not reflect real-life encounters between speakers of the foreign language. Students do not learn to coordinate word and action, language and gesture, neither in the reception of the foreign language or its production” (Surkamp, 2014, p. 32). DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 67 Therefore, if one wants to truly and wholistically situate themselves from within the language learning worldview of their culture, learning and understanding non-verbal communication cannot be left out. Unfortunately, there can be barriers with video recording. Nanaay allowed me to video record her for means of my own learning processes, however, these video recordings contain stories that could not be shared. The original intent of recording these stories was to be in video format, however, Nanaay told me that this had to be done in just audio recorded format. Therefore, the stories encompassed within the SiGa – “Gathered Important Things” (see Appendix 1) are only in an audio recorded format. I asked Nanaay out of curiosity why these stories could only be used in an audio recorded format and explained the importance of nonverbal communication. Nanaay simply reiterated that they could only be in an audio recorded format. I am unsure of the possible cultural significance behind Nanaay’s request, however, I needed to respect Nanaay’s preferences when going about gathering these stories. 9) Be an Active Learner Hinton, Vera, and Steele (2002) state that, “The master does not always have to take charge of deciding what, how, and when to teach. The master is the expert who knows the language and a vast store of cultural knowledge that goes with it, but in many cases, the apprentice may know more about teaching. The apprentice should feel free to guide his or her own learning experiences as much as it suits the relationship and the situation” (p. 18). I found that having an equal balance of both Nanaay and I deciding what, how, and when to teach was ideal in maintaining satisfaction and mutual understanding in the language learning/teaching processes. Sometimes Nanaay would call me into a space and say something along the lines of, “Lets drive to Tlell and I’ll tell you a story about the bears in the forest”. Sometimes I would walk into Nanaay’s room at night and say, “Dii gii hla k’aaygang” (“Tell me DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 68 a story”) and this is where I would just listen to her speak as outlined in the Focus on Listening and Speaking section (above). The equal contribution of ideas and guiding of the learning experiences fills in gaps that could be missed when only either the mentor or apprentice are deciding the what, how, and when of the language learning. Each MAP relationship is going to be different and require communication to figure out the best avenues forward, however, the entire processes is completely collaborative and involves a mutual understanding of where each other are coming from and the knowledges and experiences each bring with them. 10) Be Sensitive to Each Other’s Needs; Be Patient and Proud of Each Other and Yourselves There were always days where I felt like I was not learning as much as I needed to – and many days where Nanaay expressed that she was worried that she was not teaching me as well as she could be. This notion of always achieving perfection within language learning sessions hindered us more than it helped us. On one specific night near the end of our trip to Skidegate in 2018, I became frustrated with our language learning session as I was struggling to remember so many things we had gone over since our arrival. Reflecting on this, I believe it was due to the constant brain work and little rest, however, at the time it felt like I simply was not retaining everything I felt I needed to be. This triggered Nanaay to become frustrated as well – not only with myself but primarily with herself. At one point she said, “You should know this by now!” and at another moment she said, “I am worried I am not teaching you as well as I should be in order for you to become a fluent speaker!”. This ultimately led us to cutting our language learning session short as we were both feeling sad and frustrated. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 69 The next morning, I crawled into bed with Nanaay and we chatted about what happened the night before. We agreed that nothing about this process has been as smooth as we could have hoped and this was just another one of the many difficult hurdles to overcome in language learning as a second language learner. We also agreed that forcing language learning when our minds, bodies, and spirits were not prepared for it will result in frustration. Communicating this to each other, coming to a mutual understanding, and having a feeling of comfort forward when situations like this arise greatly and positively impacted my language learning journey. I wish I had come to learn sooner that every little piece of learning I gathered was greatly contributing to the overall learning process. I want to emphasize for all other second language learners that being patient with yourself and ensuring your mentor is patient with themselves is going to make the language teaching/learning journey less stressful and turbulent. Do not fret about not being able to absorb as much as you did on the previous day – be grateful that you still have the privilege of learning today. Patience, pride, and a strong communicative relationship are important in this process of being sensitive to each other’s needs. One needs to be not only proud of the language learning, but proud of the relationship you have built together to successfully engage in language teaching/learning. Cones (Lessons Learned): On the Ts’uu, the cones grow from the branches. The cones are the fruit of the Ts’uu. This represents my lessons learned from my language learning journey processes (branches). It is still crucial to keep in mind that the roots (cultural knowledges) are still sustaining the Ts’uu from the land (where we come from) and therefore our Ancestors. However, the roots (cultural knowledges) and land (where we come from) are not directly influencing the cones (lessons learned). The trunk (self as central) is the connection between the roots (cultural knowledges) DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 70 and the cones (lessons learned) via the branches (learning journey processes). Therefore, how/what the trunk (self as central) uses/takes/is gifted from the land (where we come from) provided through the roots (cultural knowledges) determines the cones (lessons learned) through the branches (language learning processes). Ts’uu usually have either female or male cones. The female cones are considered ‘seed cones’ and the male cones are considered ‘pollen cones’. My Ts’uu K’waayGa possesses both of these female and male cones because I was born assigned male at birth and I have transitioned into female later in life. I have many experiences from both of these realms of life – directly relating to my epistemology (ways of knowing), ontology (ways of being) and axiology (values) which were described in my Yahlnaaw Uu.iijii! – “It’s Yahlnaaw!”: Situating Myself section (above). I believe it is important to consider these diverse forms of knowledges in my re-search because they shape how I view, interact, and interpret my language learning journey. Throughout my language learning journey and the connections I have created with other second language learners, I quickly began to see that Indigiqueer knowledges were rarely encompassed in Indigenous language revitalization processes. Reflecting on these processes while embedded within institutions, community, and programs (e.g., MAP), these avenues were only directed towards aspects such as revitalization, decolonization, Indigenization, and rematriation without acknowledging Indigiqueer knowledges. Indigenous knowledges and Indigiqueer knowledges are directly linked. By leaving out Indigiqueer knowledges in these reclamation processes, there is going to be a piece missing from our identity building processes. This brings us back to my discussion of Hallett, Chandler, and Lalonde’s (2007) work in my Kaadll dal Kwaan – “Many Journeys” section (above) speaking to higher rates of youth suicide DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 71 in Indigenous communities with lower rates of language acquisition and therefore lower levels of identity building. Building this into a metaphor, Haida’s can erect a totem pole on the land – and it will look beautiful on a calm day. However, if one fails to put a large, spherical rock under the totem pole before it was erected to allow the totem pole to gracefully move and dance during seismic activity, the totem pole is bound to crack and fall over. If we are not incorporating Indigiqueer knowledges into our language revitalization efforts, we are creating an unstable structure for those who come after us as second language learners. This takes us into the need for Indigenous communities, individuals, organizations, and programs aimed at Indigenous language revitalization to undergo the difficult and uncomfortable process of deconstructing patriarchal knowledges that have been forcefully embedded into our knowledges since colonization and the implementation of churches in Indigenous communities. If you, my reader, are homophobic, transphobic, or resistant to reinstating Indigiqueer knowledges into our reclamation and revitalization efforts, you are upholding the patriarchy, colonialism, and white supremacy which not only damages your community, relationships, and identity, but also disrespects and harms your Ancestors. As mentioned previously, this language learning process built Nanaay and I’s relationship stronger than what I thought possible. While growing up, we were very close – visiting almost daily. Our relationship was strong; but I am unsure if we ever positively breached the boundaries of really coming to know where we each came from and therefore the experiences and knowledges we brought with us which directly affected the language teaching and learning processes. Nanaay watched me grow up while she had decades of life prior to me that I had very little insight into. There were also so many things that I had grown to be in which I was scared DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 72 for Nanaay to know. As I began to embrace my queer identity further as I grew, the more I began to feel that I needed to hide these parts of myself from Nanaay due to colonial traumas inflicted upon her from the church revolving around LGBTQ2+ peoples, knowledges, and ways of being. The more we dug into our stories alongside the questions I had about our stories really opened her eyes once again to ideologies revolving around LGBTQ2+ peoples and Indigiqueer knowledges embedded in these stories prior to colonization. Not only was this language learning process opening a new worldview for myself, but I believe it was also re-opening a worldview for my Nanaay that had been taken away from her. The more she began to understand these components and how colonization affected her worldview revolving around LGBTQ2+ people and Indigiqueer knowledges, the more I felt open to sharing more of myself with her – including coming out as a Queer, Transgender woman in February 2019 shortly after starting my master’s program. I was visiting Prince Rupert over reading break to see Nanaay and work on one of my master’s course projects together. I had seen her for three days prior with the hopes that I would finally be able to tell her who I truly was. I was at a point in this journey where I was feeling horribly guilty about not telling her because I was withholding a part of my identity from her – my identity that she was central in shaping with me. We came to a pause in our language learning session and I said, “Nanaay, I have to tell you something”. She looked at me. This was not something I could not figure out to say entirely in Haida so I continued in English, “I love you very much. I will always be your baby. I need you to know something – I am changing myself into a woman because being a man is not me. It is not how I feel about or see myself. I want you to know that nothing about our relationship needs to change and I am keeping my names as is”. Nanaay said nothing for a long while. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 73 I spoke up again, “You know how Raven can change – shapeshift – themselves into whatever they want? Remember in Xuuya ad gina Gaadagas Skaajuus – “The Raven and the Ball of Light”, where Raven transforms into a spruce needle and slipped down that woman’s throat? Raven then transformed inside her into a baby. When Raven was born as a half-human/halfRaven baby, they stole the ball of light which was hidden in the woman’s house by her father. I am changing like Raven does in our stories to achieve some form of goal which is going to make them happy… This is going to make me happy”. Nanaay still said nothing. I felt panic and fear building up in my stomach. Eventually, she looked at her feet and said, “I don’t understand these things. But all I know is that I love you and that’s all that is important. Raven changes but Raven is still Raven”. She then continued with our language learning session as normal. How I explained my transition to my Nanaay left me feeling proud, but also confused. A lot of transgender women I know will state that they were never a man – they were always a woman within the wrong body. As much as I wanted to identify with this myself, it did not feel right. I was born a boy and I embraced being a boy when I was younger. I was not confined to gender stereotypes as a child because my parents had a very open mind about toys and creativity. I grew up as a boy with the freedom to express femininity and masculinity in the ways I wanted. Eventually, I grew to learn that identifying as a man was not entirely who I was, and I underwent social and medical transitional processes starting in June 2018. Although I identify as a woman, there are still components of me connected to my past self as a man. I knew that there are words such as “Two-Spirit” used by many Nations on the land we now call ‘Canada’ to embody these feelings, however, I was unsure if there was a word that Haida peoples use. Upon consulting my aunty Vonnie about this, she told me that there was DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 74 never a word for queer and/or trans people pre-colonization for the Haida peoples. Being queer was just as common of an occurrence as being straight and cisgender, therefore, there were no words for queer people beyond the word “Xaaydaga” (“People”) itself (Hutchingson, V., Personal Communication, 2019). Possessing this piece of knowledge alleviated copious amounts of internal confusion revolving around my intersecting identities. I needed to stop focusing on the labels of my identities and understand that there are valuable knowledges embedded in where I am coming from and that I need to use these unique knowledges in guiding my language learning journey. I needed to be attentive to the stories I was being taught and search for the repressed diverse and queer knowledges contained within. I needed to be even more like Raven – embracing without analyzing – changing in whatever ways needed to achieve a certain goal. In this case, my goal was allowing myself to finally be who I was meant to be pre-colonization. One of the greatest lessons I learned through these language learning processes is that being in a relationship that is strong enough that you may understand each other’s needs and where theses needs stem from is crucial in successful language learning with your mentor. In the case of my Nanaay and I, I needed her to understand my identity and the epistemologies, ontologies, and axiology that accompanied it. Nanaay needed me to know that she was carrying a lot of colonial trauma and the epistemologies, ontologies, and axiology that accompanied it. When each of us possessed these understandings of each other, it was much easier to navigate the language learning journey when points of misunderstanding and/or possible conflict arose. Further, other lessons learned are embedded throughout this re-search – especially within Ts’uu K’waayGa as she framed and guided my language learning journey where the lessons learned arose at various stages of this journey. As I reflect through the components of Ts’uu K’waayGa – “Cedar Sister”: Conceptual Framework and how it is supported by my K’uujii – DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 75 “Thick Outer Bark”: Methodology with the methods (Phloem: Autoethnography & Xylem: Mentor Apprentice Program Guidelines) articulating this journey, overarching lessons learned themes emerge. I want to dedicate the rest of this section to expressing the overarching themes of these lessons learned, how they aided in the guidance of this language learning journey thus far, how they will continue guiding me as I progress within this learning journey, and most importantly, what you, the reader, can gather from them to support your own language learning journeys. “Language Learning is Hard” is an Understatement As my above reflections indicate, language learning as a second language learner is extremely difficult. I was not just learning my language, I was also learning about my proper worldview, how my epistemology, ontology, and axiology shape how I hold myself as central in my re-search, how language shapes my culture, my Ancestors, and how the trauma I held within myself directly impacted my journey. I believe it to be important entering this process with your mentor knowing that this journey is not going to be easy. If it were easy, everyone would still be learning/speaking our languages. Second language learners take on the responsibilities that come with learning their languages through various avenues. In my case, my method of Xylem: Mentor Apprentice Program Guidelines demonstrates things a language learner can do that may make this process less difficult. Throughout this journey, as touched on in my Focus on Listening and Speaking section (above), I continuously told myself that I was undergoing this difficult process so that it would be easier for my children to learn our language. I want my children to be immersed in our language from birth so they do not have to undergo this language learning process and DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 76 worldview shift later in life when it is much more difficult to achieve. I believe that understanding that learning your language as a second language learner is not just for your benefit, but for the health, growth, and empowerment of generations before and after you, is paramount in not giving up on your learning journey. Displacement, Discomfort, Relentless Questioning, and Self-Discovery I entered this process thinking that it would be similar to learning French in my high school education – learning it as a translation of English. However, I was learning the language of my Ancestors. It was not a translation of English but an entire paradigm shift. Wilson (2001), in their work, What is an Indigenous Research Methodology?, states that, “To me a paradigm is simply a label for a set of beliefs that go together to guide my actions” (p. 175). As I see it, a paradigm is a broad concept that encompasses the beliefs that one has gathered throughout their life. Therefore, a paradigm shift is when one’s set of beliefs (including one’s epistemology, ontology, and axiology) suddenly becomes displaced due to, for example, an experience, teaching, or expansion of worldview that causes doubt in the set of beliefs that has guided them for so long. From these doubts, which cause one to question whether or not their current paradigm has misguided them, one’s actions inevitably shift. As our beliefs guide our actions, a paradigm shift necessitates a shift in our actions – which cause feelings of displacement. Paradigm shifts cause discomfort. As I progressed within my language learning journey, components of my highly colonial-influenced paradigm began to chip away. I began to question beliefs that I had held for as long as I could remember. The more my paradigm shifted, the more I began to feel I was losing components of my identity – components of my set of beliefs. I started feeling empty, lost, confused, and like I could not believe or trust anything that was told to me because what was the truth? What was real? Who am I? What am I trying to do? Where DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 77 am I trying to go? What is good? What is bad? This relentless questioning contributed to this discomfort because it felt as though I could not trust myself nor my own thoughts and beliefs anymore. My paradigm shift was slow in the beginning, and then erupted in a dramatic event in the very early morning after a sleepless night during my third year of my undergraduate studies prior to my trip to Skidegate in the spring of 2017. I was working on my Psychology honours project, Decolonizing Psychology through Story. I had spent months trying to formulate this project that combined what I thought to be my two passions: Psychology and Indigenous storytelling. I knew that I needed to work within Indigenous Nations regarding cultural and language revitalization to address social issues such as languishing mental health in Indigenous communities. Therefore, the institution told me that Psychology would be the best avenue to pursue. As I developed one of my many mind maps with sticky notes pressed to the back of my bedroom door, I began to see a critical issue with this area of re-search. Psychology is a colonized discipline – it came to the land we now call ‘Canada’ with the colonizers. It was often used as a tool of genocide and destruction within Indigenous communities contributing towards attempted colonial domination and eradication of Indigenous peoples and therefore Indigenous knowledges. An example of this comes from my home community told to me through story from my mother, Jaaskwan: “As churches dominated our knowledges and settler people moved into the islands, the Haida’s were told that if we wanted to get into heaven, in which the settler people brainwashed the Haida’s to believe as the eternal goal, we had to cut down all of our totem poles and burn our ceremonial possessions – such as masks and rattles” (Personal Communication, 2020). In a feared response of eternal anguish, the Haida peoples cut down our totem poles and burned sacred components of our ceremonial objects with pressure and supervision from priests DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 78 throughout 1884 (the same period as the banning of the potlatch) in attempt to ‘save our spirits’. It was psychological abuse such as this that contributed to further colonization and oppression of our Indigenous knowledges. Settler people claiming to know about the afterlife, claiming to know the proper belief systems, and forcing us to believe that our spirits will be damned to Hell in which we will feel like we are on fire for eternity if we do not cut down our totem poles and burn our sacred ceremonial possessions was psychological manipulation of the worst kind. I realized that I was attempting to use a colonial and genocidal tool of Psychology to work with Indigenous Nations suffering the affects of colonization – which was not going to work regarding cultural and language revitalization. I am not indicating that Psychology is useless because it does play an important role in communal health when used correctly – and Psychology does still need to be decolonized – however, this method of decolonizing psychology was not going to get me to where I needed to go. I therefore halted my undergraduate psychology honours project. As expected, this sudden realization and calling off my honours project led me to feel as though my worldview was crumbling around me due to this extreme paradigm shift. Working through these feelings of displacement, the relentless questioning of self, society, and beyond, and the extreme discomfort that accompanies these processes ultimately led me to positive self-discovery. I believe that how one handles such paradigm shifts indicates where one needs to go in the future of their living and learning journey. Although these processes felt scary as I was in the midst of them, there is something beautiful about knowing that I was re-building my identity in such ways that my Ancestors intended me to. I know that this paradigm shift and therefore the displacement, discomfort, and relentless questioning will never end throughout my living and learning journey. However, I also acknowledge that this DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 79 same journey of self-discovery leading to re-search and therefore much needed change benefitting myself, my community, and our upcoming generations is also never ending. Your Mind and Spirit Need Time Alone to Reflect Throughout my language learning journey, I quickly came to learn that time alone to reflect was essential in accepting my paradigm shift in both mindful and spiritual capacities. When faced with a paradigm shift and the emotional labour that accompanies it, one can either acknowledge and begin to embrace the paradigm shift, or one can reject it and remain ignorant to what you know to be true but refuse to accept. I believe that living in a state in which you are pretending to accept what is now a false set of beliefs can be more emotionally damaging than accepting a new set of beliefs and putting in the effort to navigate and understand them. These processes are not something that one can simply and quickly understand and accept – they require time to think, navigate, and reflect upon. Throughout my days in Skidegate during both my trips in 2017 and 2018, I would often take walks to Balance Rock that strayed from my language learning walks. I would often walk to Balance Rock just to sit by the water, watch the evermoving surroundings around me, and reflect on where I was situated within my language learning journey and therefore this paradigm shift. Some days I felt less confused and distressed than others, but I knew that this was necessary in coming to learn my language in the way my Ancestors intended me to. It is your Responsibility to Fight for your Ancestors Within the cultural knowledges I gathered through the roots of my culture from the land (where we come from) and therefore my Ancestors, I learned that my Ancestors fought for me to come into existence. It is now my responsibility to fight for them – to fight for their ways of knowing and being that have been suffering at the hands of colonial powers for more than a DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 80 century. As Indigenous peoples navigating our living and learning journeys, it is our collective responsibility to fight and honour our Ancestors who made this journey possible for us. They suffered unthinkable traumas, battled for our children, and preserved our ways of knowing and being in whatever ways possible so that we may exist as Indigenous peoples today. We have enormous decolonization and reclamation processes ahead in the coming decades, however, our Ancestors made it possible for us to still be in existence to engage in these tedious and crucial processes. My Ancestors visit me through my dreams as I mention throughout this re-search. My uncle Ernie visits in times when I feel as though I am nearing my breaking point in this difficult learning journey. I am also visited by Ancestors whom I am not sure who they are nor my relation to them, however, my connection to them feels stronger than my relations to people in current life with me. These dreams are often short and possess very little speaking, however, they are always powerful forces in guiding the next steps of my living and learning journey. Environment (Academic Context): For the Ts’uu, the environment (e.g., air, weather, animals in the area) determine and affect how the tree will grow and sustain itself. This represents how the colonial academic context (environment) influences Ts’uu Kw’aayGa yet is also part of her. It is important to keep in mind at this stage that the environment (academic context) influences the entire Ts’uu – from roots (cultural knowledges) to cones (lessons learned). By having my re-search situated within an academic context, avoiding the colonialism that accompanies any academic context is impossible just like how the Ts’uu cannot avoid its environment. As aforementioned in my Gina Sk’aadGa Diigii Stahl Ga – “I Want to Learn Something”: Re-search Question section (above), conducting this re-search involved writing DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 81 down things that should remain oral knowledges as this is a critical underpinning of my cultural epistemology, ontology, and axiology. I was able to keep the audio recorded stories in an oral format, however, writing down my conceptual framework of Ts’uu K’waayGa negatively impacted my epistemology, ontology, and axiology because those are colonial teachings that were forced into my re-search processes by the academic context (environment). Kovach (2009) tells us that, “The word conceptual privileges thought as the soul pathway to knowledge and places of feeling, spirit, and experience as secondary. Furthermore, such frameworks within research are primarily set out using the written word, and the attempting to represent a worldview based on oral tradition” (p. 41). Attempting to represent a worldview based on oral tradition in a written format is not only difficult, but it poses epistemological, ontological, and axiological displacement. With this in mind, Kovach (2009) asks us, “How are we customizing our Indigenous frameworks to fit within our tribal paradigms while communicating our processes to Western academia? And how is the language of frameworks itself ultimately chipping away at our philosophies? Can we carry out tribalcentered research within the academy without this framework language?” (p. 43). In response to her own questions, Kovach (2009), states, “As members of tribal communities, we descend from societies that were/are highly organized in accordance with a collective belief system. It has nothing to do with our ability to plan; we simply did not put it [conceptual frameworks] on paper. Within the current research landscape, it may be that we need to write out our plan. Still, at the end of the day it is up to each of us to determine if we will make that concession” (p. 44). Due to the nature of the academic context I am situated in and therefore the environment that Ts’uu K’waayGa is situated in, I was forced to write Ts’uu K’waayGa out – going against the sacred oral teachings that my cultural knowledges (roots) gather from where we come from (land) through my Ancestors. I was forced to disregard this piece of cultural knowledge as I DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 82 engaged in this re-search process if I was going to appease the colonial requirements of the academic context (environment) I was situated in. I am hoping that by being able to keep our stories in an audio recorded format without transcription, therefore valuing the oral knowledges of my culture, that future Indigenous academics can further push the boundaries of the academic contexts (environments) that they are situated in which dictates the value of the written word over oral knowledges. Kovach (2009) states, “By explicating one’s conceptual framework, whatever form it takes, one allows others entry points in considering the interconnections underlying the approach[es] in question. This becomes particularly important for Indigenous researchers who are faced with carrying out research in social milieu (i.e., academia) with people who are largely unfamiliar with the depth and intricacies of Indigenous knowledges” (p. 44). I hope that my conceptual framework in its written form allows others points of entry to begin formulating conceptual frameworks that go beyond the restrictions of the academic context (environment) one is situated in, and enforces the validity of these conceptual frameworks with those who are unfamiliar with the epistemologies, ontologies, and axiology of Indigenous knowledges and re-search. K’aas – “Pitch”: Resistance As stated, the Ts’uu cannot avoid its environment in the same way we cannot avoid the academic context when engaging in re-search within the colonial institution. However, although the Ts’uu cannot avoid its environment, it can alter its environment. Ts’uu pitch (also known as resin), “is very different from sap in its composition. Rather than harboring nutrients that later get transported through the tree, resin consists of compounds secreted by or deposited in the tree” (Miller, 2018, para. 4). As stated by Nix (2018), pitch: DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 83 “plays an extremely important function in trees by rapidly sealing over wounds used as introductory pathways by invading insects and fungal disease agents. Organisms that try to enter a tree via a wound can be flushed out, can become stuck and trapped in the seal and can be overcome by the resin’s toxicity” (para. 1). Further, “resins have high antiseptic qualities that prevent decay and that they also lower the amount of water lost from the plant’s tissues. In any event, consistent resin flow is essential to the continued health of most conifers” (Nix, 2018, para. 1). Without this self-regulating, woundhealing, expelling, and protecting property that alters the environment that the Ts’uu is situated in, the Ts’uu cannot be healthy. In this way, I see Indigenous resistance against the colonial institution and therefore resistance against the oppression of Indigenous epistemologies, ontologies, and axiology as the k’aas (pitch) of my Ts’uu K’waayGa conceptual framework. In the same way that pitch regulates, heals, expels harmful substances/beings, and protects the health of the Ts’uu by this alteration of the environment the Ts’uu is situated in, we, as Indigenous peoples, must follow the ways of the Ts’uu. We must use our own k’aas (resistance) to alter the academic contexts that we are situated in which do not value and/or understand Indigenous knowledges and re-search. This encompasses regulating and understanding our colonial academic contexts, holding ourselves as central in our work to heal our own and generations past trauma, expel forced colonial re-search paradigms, conceptual frameworks, methodologies, and methods, and to protect the precious cultural knowledges passed to us from our Ancestors through our roots to sustain our living and learning journeys. Although I battled with being forced to write out Ts’uu K’waayGa, I see this conceptual framework – which strays far from understandings of colonial conceptual frameworks and therefore my methodology, methods, and language learning journey situated within as an act of DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 84 resistance. Elaine Coburn (2013), in their work, Indigenous Research as Resistance, states, “Indigenous research is a form of resistance to centuries of colonial domination” (p. 52). An Indigenous person claiming space for themselves within a colonial academic context while at the same time demanding the understanding and value of their Indigenous epistemology, ontology, and axiology and therefore their re-search processes is an act of resistance, defiance, and resilience to centuries of colonial domination and oppression. I have battled the colonial institution, battled those maintaining oppressive frameworks within the institution, and shattered my soul and spirit to have my re-search recognized, valued, appreciated, and understood in my current academic context. I did not just engage in re-search and the creation of a thesis; I have been at war for this re-search for the last four years. As a Skidegate Haida, Queer, Transgender woman actively engaged in the queer community, I see how hard our youth are fighting to have their identities validated. This provokes me to reflect on how hard I fought to have my identities validated. However, I used to struggle with the term ‘validation’ because it implies that one requires a higher power to say, “okay, you are a real person with real knowledges”. I want to emphasize that this is not the case at all. Validation in these contexts indicates not that higher powers authorizes one as a real person, but that the systems of oppression designed to eradicate said person are deconstructed and replaced with equitable opportunities for avenues such as community building, re-search, and education. The young queer youth I have come across in these last four years have inspired me to continue fighting for the validation of my identities and therefore the knowledges that accompany these identities. From this, queer youth, Indigenous peoples, and peoples deemed as possessing oppressed identities can overcome these barriers with more ease than we did so we may continue eliciting (and forcing) change to validate our identities and knowledges. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 85 As Indigenous peoples push our way into academic contexts and therefore environments for our conceptual frameworks, remember that your k’aas (resistance) accompanies you. Do not feel shame that your re-search takes longer than colonial areas of study or that colonial powers constantly tell you that your work is not valid. While engaging in Indigenous re-search, you are engaging in acts of resistance and reclamation to fight for your Ancestors. Indigenous re-search is resistance and reclamation. SiGa – “Gathering Important Things”: Results The SiGa – “Gathered Important Things”: Results are distributed throughout this research – especially within my Ts’uu K’waayGa conceptual framework. This section directed towards “results” aims to review the actual audio recordings of the stories and the information behind them coming to be situated in this digital format. As aforementioned, these audio recorded stories are only available to my Skidegate Haida community. This re-search encompasses a total of 13 audio recorded stories – 5 are in Nanaay’s voice and 8 are in my voice (see Appendix 1). Nanaay chose to record the stories that had been gifted to her from her family – her Ancestors. I chose to record the stories that are more known in our community and were not directly gifted to my Nanaay and/or myself. Within the introduction of each audio recording, Nanaay and I situated ourselves and the story at hand. For each of Nanaay’s audio recordings, I asked her the following questions: - Gasing.uu dang kii Ga ga? – “What is your name?” - Giisii sda da iijiing? – “Where are you from?” - Giisii sda.uu k’aaygang.aay iijiing? – “Where is this story from?” - Gisdu dang gii assi k’aaygang.aay suu da gan? – “Who told this story to you?” DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 86 For each of my audio recordings, I directly state the answers to the above questions without anyone posing the questions for me to answer. For the function of clarity, I have chosen to display these stories within a table (see Table 1) to outline the name of the story, who recorded the story, and the year the story was recorded. I have not included who gifted the stories Nanaay recorded to her as this information also belongs to my Skidegate Haida community. Table 1. Audio Recorded Stories and Recording Information Name of Story Nang Ihl.nga Sah ‘Laana Ga Who Recorded the Story Year of Recording T’aawgiiwat 2014 T’aawgiiwat 2014 T’aawgiiwat 2014 T’aawgiiwat 2015 T’aawgiiwat 2015 Yahlnaaw 2016 Yahlnaaw 2016 Yahlnaaw 2017 is Gan – “The Man Who Went to Heaven” Ts’usGuskaay – “A Little Bird” Ga xa DaaGang.nga – “The Bad Boy” Nang Ihll.nga Daagwii.yas – “The Strong Man” Xuuya ad KulGaay.yiiGwang – “The Raven and the Butterfly” Xuuya ad Xaaydaga Tlaagan – “The Raven and the First People” Gandll Guusdll xid – “The Flood” Xuuya Gandll K’adllga K’uhlda gan – “The Raven got Fresh Water” DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG Xuuya ad gina Gaadagas 87 Yahlnaaw 2017 Yahlnaaw 2017 Yahlnaaw 2018 Yahlnaaw 2018 Yahlnaaw 2018 Skaajuus – “The Raven and the Ball of Light” Xuuya ad Táay.yii – “The Raven and the Salmon” Nang AwGa ad Nang Taan XaadGa – “The Bear Mother and Father” K’uudang Xuuya gaw guu da gan – “The Raven Lost their Bill” Nanasimgat – [the name of the being in the story] Note. Names of the audio recorded stories, who recorded the stories, and the year the stories were recorded in chronological order. Gud gii T’alaang gii da – “We all Share”: Discussion Reflections of my re-search question, how does learning stories in my Skidegate Haida language contribute to my language learning journey and how can these processes be adapted for other second language learners?, are distributed throughout my thesis thus far – specifically within Ts’uu K’waayGa. I aim to use this section to summarize these components, alongside more deeply addressing two specific outcomes pertaining to the second half of my re-search question (how can these processes be adapted for other second language learners?): adaptability and barriers. All these knowledges that I have gathered through this re-search have contributed to my language learning journey in a multitudinous number of ways. These processes continuously influence my worldview and paradigm and therefore my epistemology, ontology, and axiology moving into the rest of my living and learning journey. Although there are specific components DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 88 discussed throughout this re-search dedicated to the articulation of how these stories have contributed to my language learning journey, more difficulty, displacement, discomfort, relentless questioning, self-discovery, needing time alone to reflect, and additional avenues to fight for my Ancestors will arise as this journey continues. This thesis does not mark the end of this language learning journey, but only the beginning. As aforementioned in my K’uujii – “Thick Outer Bark”: Methodology section (above), I learned that I am supposed to be Raven. I am supposed to spend time learning with my Elders to see clearly from the eye of oral tradition to understand the cultural ways stories were/are taught to children, that storytellers learn from other storytellers and also from being connected to the land, that stories are a teacher, and that we can/do live life through stories (Archibald, 2008). Without possessing this methodological standpoint, I believe that I may not have fully fulfilled my re-search question regarding how learning stories in my Skidegate Haida language would contribute to my language learning journey. I would not have possessed the understanding that I am not a subject external to the stories encompassed in this re-search, but I am a component of how these stories came to be. Each time I tell a story in my language, I am following in the steps of Raven alongside encompassing the embodiment of Raven. In reflection of the literal translation of my name, Yahlnaaw – “In the Raven’s Dwelling” with the overarching meaning, “Leads an Exceptional Life”, I finally understand why my Uncle Ernie gave me this name. My Uncle Ernie knew, as he stated in my dream described in my Dii gii hla k’aaygang.aay – “I’m going to tell you a story”: Introduction section (above), that “I gave you this name because, ever since I saw you as a newborn, I knew you were going to have a life of hard work ahead of you”. I now know that a component of this hard work not only DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 89 involved the creation of this thesis, but also understanding that living up to my name was not only metaphorical, but also physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Adaptability Each Indigenous Nation is going to possess different worldviews, paradigms, epistemologies, ontologies, and axiology depending on where they come from and the knowledges passed down through generations from their Ancestors. Thus, adaptability is a complex term regarding the adaptability of Indigenous re-search among different and distinct Indigenous Nations. My re-searcher goals, as outlined in my Gwii HlGang.gulxa – “Work Towards”: Re-Searcher Goals section (above), stemming from my re-search question, pertains to demanding the understanding of Indigenous re-search processes alongside ensuring that future Indigenous peoples may use their sacred and Ancestral re-search processes within the institution. However, these understandings and re-search processes are going to vary greatly depending on the Nation in which they originate from. My conceptual framework of Ts’uu K’waayGa is specific to my Skidegate Haida Nation. Therefore, it would not properly guide a language learning journey for another second language learner from a different Nation. However, following in the words of Kovach (2009) as discussed in my Environment (Academic Context) section (above), I hope that my conceptual framework allows others points of entry to begin (re)formulating conceptual frameworks that go beyond the restrictions of the academic context (environment) one is situated in. This will contribute to the ongoing demanding of the validity of Indigenous conceptual frameworks within spaces where Indigenous ways of knowing and being have been oppressed and forced out. The language learning processes I have articulated in this thesis, framed by my conceptual framework with my theoretical framework, methodology, and methods encompassed DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 90 within are designed to allow other Indigenous re-searchers to take components – points of entry – pertinent to their worldviews and adapt them in such ways as to revive the possible nearing ‘death’ of their language or other cultural components. With this in mind, the (re)formulating of conceptual frameworks that go beyond the restrictions of the academic context (environment) are not just the development of Indigenous re-search processes. They are the revival of multitudinous amounts of knowledges that is our responsibility to, as Absolon (2011) states, “rewrite and re-right” (p. 27). At the SHIP in 2017, we were working on adding new words to our glossary. In the midst of adding a new word, we realized that we did not know what this word was in Skidegate Haida. I instantly felt heavy tension and panic float around the room. Everyone was quiet at first – thinking on their own. Soon after everyone began talking in pairs and groups telling both personal and cultural stories in which this word could have been used. After more than an hour, someone said the word and the entire room chanted this word repeatedly. A word that we thought was ‘dead’ had been revived – it had been brought back to life. My great Uncle Roy, who has passed into the spirit world in May 2020, leaned over to me and said, “When you put people in a room together with the same purpose, goal, and hopeful outcome, something beautiful will happen” (Jones, Personal Communication, 2017) – and something beautiful did happen. We need everyone in the circle – the circle of living and learning journeys – to get to where we want to go. Deconstructing oppressive frameworks and creating spaces for Indigenous ways of knowing and being that have been forced out is on the agenda for Indigenous peoples across the world. We must work together to ensure we can continue to move this goal forward – DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 91 and that includes the adaptability of re-search, reclamation, resurgence, decolonizing, and Indigenizing processes. Barriers There are a lot of myths and misconceptions about language learning as a second language learner – and it is the MAP guidelines that are designed to keep these misconceptions away. Hinton, Vera, and Steele (2002) address some myths that can prevent language learning from being true, authentic, impactful, and meaningful: 1) “You need a classroom, books, and a professionally trained teacher to learn a second language” (p. 1). 2) “It is best to learn language through writing” (p. 1) 3) “Grammar needs to be explained before you can learn the language” (p. 2). 4) “Translation is essential in order to teach someone a language” (p. 3). 5) “Adults can’t learn languages” (p. 3). 6) “You need money to do language teaching and learning” (p. 4). I believe this to not be an exhaustive list, but merely a handful of the myths and therefore barriers that revolve around language learning as a second language learner. Being aware of these myths when they surface in outdated and linguistic literature benefited myself when I felt I may have been close to slipping into belief in one or more of these myths – which would have impeded my language learning long-term. The myth that came to be one of my greatest barriers in language learning was the consistent feeling that I needed to learn my language through writing. The SHIP (2016) created a written language to accompany our oral language which led to the development of the first edition of our glossary, Hl Gaagilda Xaayda Kil K’aalang, which serves as a Haida-English DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 92 glossary/dictionary. Possessing this glossary and written language knowledge allowed me to further learn on my own and develop a greater understanding of the grammatical structures of my language. Once I gathered the knowledges of which written letters/symbols correlated to which oral sounds, I could read and speak anything that was handed to me alongside the ability to transcribe words that were spoken to me in Skidegate Haida. When reading documents in Skidegate Haida for the SHIP, everyone was always thoroughly impressed with my ability to speak Skidegate Haida so “fluently”. Although I could read Skidegate Haida to a great extent, I had no knowledge of what I was saying. I was able to recite sentences based on the knowledge of which letters/symbols make which sounds, however, this was not language learning – it was simple memorization. As I fell deeply into this myth, greater barriers emerged. With this ability to read the written version of my language, I was able to write down my language myself. Eventually, instead of really focusing on listening and speaking during immersion sessions, I began to really focus on listening and writing. Writing felt so much easier because after our language learning session, I would have a physical copy of what we went over as opposed to needing to remember it or scaling through an audio recording. Writing out my language made it feel like I was learning faster, more thoroughly, and with the addition of learning grammatical structures. However, this made my language learning journey more tedious and difficult because, to be fluent, one cannot carry a notebook around with them and take it out when one needed to speak. Writing down my language allowed me to forget pieces of my language. I believe this is something many second language learners fall victim to. During the MAP Conference in May 2018 hosted by FPCC mentioned in my Aim for Real Communication in DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 93 Your Language of Heritage section (above), I frequently observed apprentices frantically writing down components of their languages. When MAP teams were presenting their language panels to demonstrate their language learning journey thus far, apprentices of the same languages/language families would often write down everything they could – with what I assume to be similar feelings to why I began writing down my language – because it felt faster to learn this way. Although the MAP program resources and guidelines discourage using written language in language learning, it appears to be that second language learners see themselves as an exception – myself included. As I began to accept that writing everything down as I was still learning my language was hindering me more than it was helping me, I was forced to undergo the process of eliminating this habit from my language learning sessions. This required me to essentially re-learn most things that I thought I had previously learned because I had not retained it – I had allowed myself to forget with the false comfort that I could always look back at it in writing. Gina ‘Waadluxan Gud ad Kwaagid – “Everything Depends on Everything Else”: Ethical Considerations During the winter semester of 2018, a Skidegate Haida Elder, GawGanaad (Dianne Brown) visited as the Elder in Residence at UNBC through the First Nations Centre. During her visit, she taught me our four Haida rules for living: 1) Yahguudang – “Respect”. 2) Tll yahda – “Make it right”. 3) Gina ‘waadluxan gud ad kwaagid – “Everything depends on everything else”. 4) ‘Laa guu ga kanhllns – “Responsibility” (GawGanaad, Personal Communication, 2017). DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 94 As can be observed above in my K’uujii – “Thick Outer Bark”: Methodology section (above), there is overlap between Jo-ann Archibald’s (2008) seven Storywork principles and my Haida rules for living. These Haida rules for living are the ethical considerations for my re-search. In Homi K. Bhabha’s (1988) work, The Commitment to Theory, he focuses on two main subjects/issues of political ideological discourse and the differentiation between cultural difference and cultural diversity. Bhabha highlights these relationships between politics and ideology by bringing out important points of overlap. Stemming from this, I believe that these points of overlap between my Haida rules for living and Archibald’s (2008) seven Storywork principles can be central in creating frameworks and methodologies in which Indigenous peoples from various Nations can take, adapt, and use within their own language learning journeys. As stated previously, it was in 2014 that I began to take initiative to audio record these stories from Nanaay while keeping these Haida rules for living in mind. These stories were gathered prior to beginning my master’s because Nanaay wanted our stories recorded as soon as possible due to her increasing age. When these stories were being taught, learned, and recorded, it was not intended for any re-search project. The original intention of these audio recordings was only to preserve and learn my Traditional stories. Upon starting my master’s program, Nanaay told me that I needed to make the stories we had been working on a foundational component of my re-search. This re-search was conducted between my Nanaay, T’aawgiiwat / Rita Hutchingson, and myself. Our learning and recording sessions of the stories took place in a variety of places – at our home in Prince George, her old home in Prince Rupert, in Skidegate, and at various family homes. Consent has been conducted and recorded orally (see Appendix 2) via Nanaay giving me permission to use these stories in my re-search as read from a script Nanaay created herself to DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 95 encompass what she felt important to include (see Appendix 3). Having my Nanaay provide me with written and signed consent “may be perceived as an attempt to legalize or formalize the consent process and therefore may be interpreted by the participant as a lack of trust on the part of the researcher. In these cases, oral consent, a verbal agreement, or a handshake may be required, rather than signing the consent form” (TCPS, 2014, p. 46). In previous re-search work conducted in my undergraduate classes, Nanaay informed me that she is not comfortable signing papers but is happy to provide oral consent. Since this re-search data has already been collected for other original proposes, colonial ethics and REB approval were not required (see Appendix 4). I decided to include oral consent and the oral consent script to follow the Haida rules for living as these rules are my ethics. These rules guide my re-search and my living and learning journey – which in many cases are the same thing. I chose to place this section closer to the end of this work because these rules came to me much later in my language learning journey (December 2018). Thus, although already following these rules as they were embedded throughout the stories Nanaay was guiding me through, they were not explicitly given to me. Thus, these rules were held as central while developing this written thesis, however, they were not explicitly known to me through my language learning journey which this thesis aimed to describe. I believe these knowledges being presented to you, the reader, in this place allows you to reflect upon my journey and how these Haida rules for living were directly encompassed within my language learning journey before I was gifted these knowledges. Thus, one can observe how these rules are so embedded in Haida ways of knowing, being, and knowledge production that they are held as central without one even knowing they are being held as central. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 96 Yahguudang – “Respect” It is stated that, “Yahguudang is the word that Xaayda Haida use to describe respect for all living things and the interdependence that binds us” (Taan Forest, n.d., para. 2). It posits that we are all dependant on each other in such a way that both negative and positive influences in each of our individualistic lives contributes to the overall well-being of our Nation as a whole. Maintaining this understanding and therefore ensuring respectful relations with those we encounter in our living and learning journey impact everyone else in our living and learning journeys. Simply put, when forming a relationship with a new being, you are also forming a relationship with this being’s relations even if you have not directly met them yet. The relations you hold are also being formed with new relationships you are building even if they have not met your relations yet. Tll yahda – “Make it right” It is stated that, “tll yahda represents an important framework for understanding the Haida perspective on justice” (McGuire, 2019, p. 9). Further, “When people violate Haida law, they must ensure that they make tll yahda in the presence of witnesses” (McGuire, 2019, p. 8). The avenues of tll yahda are going to vary depending on the violation of Haida law at hand. An example of Ancient Haida law and tll yahda is present in the story Nang Ihll.nga Daagwii.yas – “The Strong Man” in which a pregnant woman went against Haida law and was abandoned on a small island by herself. She was forced to raise her child by herself without her community. When her son was much older and stronger, there was a severe food shortage and the Haida villages began to starve. The woman and her son had spent the previous year collecting and preserving food and they had enough to feed their Nation. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 97 The woman told her son about their family lineage, their hi/story, and why they were alone on this island. She asked her son to fill a canoe with food, paddle to their village, and find his grandfather – the woman’s father. Upon arrival, the man explained where he came from, who is mother is, and that they had enough food to save their Nation. The man’s grandfather saw this as an act of witnessed tll yahda on behalf of the woman – his daughter – and permitted the woman to return to the village with her son. Gina ‘waadluxan gud ad kwaagid – “Everything depends on everything else”. Gina ‘wadluxan gud ad kwaagid ties back to yahguudang in that it relates to the interconnectedness and dependence of everything with each other. In addition, Gina ‘wadluxan gud ad kwaagid posits that all actions, emotions, words, thoughts, etc., depend on each other and determine the future. One action, emotion, or word is not an individualistic occurrence, but only a small piece of a string of actions, emotions, or words that depend on each other to create a future. In an article by Haida scholar, Michaela McGuire (2017), Gina ‘Waadluux̱an Gud Kwaagid: Everything Depends On Everything Else, they portray this Haida rule as tying directly into aspects such as sustainable food gathering/production and the cultural knowledges required to properly and effectively engage in these processes. This delves into ecosystem protection, human-nature relations, and sustainability. McGuire (2017) states, “The Ocean serves an important role in my daily life. When I wake up and look out my front window it is there to greet me. If the weather is acting up the bashing waves keep me awake at night. It soothes me when I need a friend and walks beside me as I contemplate my thoughts on beachside strolls. The Ocean feeds my soul and it nourishes my body” (para. 3). Further, McGuire (2017) states, DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 98 “Growing up in Vancouver I was lucky enough to eat Haida Gwaii seafood multiple times a week. It may sound strange, but it kept my connection to Haida Gwaii alive because the fish I was eating came from the same waters where my ancestors fished. There is something inherently powerful in that knowledge” (para. 5). Maintaining this connection to our Ancestors through avenues such as food, positionality, and sustainability are crucial components contributing to our worldviews. McGuire (2017) tells us that their mother would always re-teach them slicing, smoking, and canning techniques each year and that, “Catching and preparing your own food is a wonderful thing. It can become very convenient and easy to rely on supermarkets to feed ourselves. Harvesting food and feeling a deep connection to the land is more meaningful and fulfilling then going to your local grocery store to buy pre-packaged “Alaskan” salmon – farmed fish” (para. 15). I believe this to be a constant reminder that gina ‘wadluxan gud ad kwaagid – if we depend on supermarkets and colonial ways of acquiring food, we continue to not yahguudang our Ancestors and where we come from. In relation to my language learning journey, this directly ties into the MAP guideline, Language is also Culture (above) and the Haida rule, Tll yahda (above) because there is a direct relationship and dependency between all things and processes that needs to be respected in order for it to properly guide us through our living and learning journeys. Language is not separate from culture – and therefore things such as food gathering and preparation are linked to language learning as our Ancestors transferred these knowledges down through generations with our language. ‘Laa guu ga kanhllns – “Responsibility” Laa guu ga kanhllns literally translates to “leaning on your own chest”. It posits that your existence relies on the duty of maintaining your culture sustained by knowledges from your DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 99 Ancestors. I hold this rule close to my heart because it is from this re-search that I am continuing in the fight for my Ancestors as discussed in my Cones (Lessons Learned) section (above). It is my Laa guu ga kanhllns to fight for my Ancestors and remembering that this responsibility entails leaning on my own chest alongside the other three Haida rules for living is crucial to my re-search. Aaw tluu asgaay asing kunjuu – “This journey is not over, but that is all the sharing for now”: Concluding Thoughts I looked around at everyone on the beach. There was a feeling of celebration mixed with the salty ocean mist. Everyone was dressed in traditional Haida clothing, however, it was not dancing skirts and button blankets which made up my precious regalia that I had carefully stowed away in a dark, dry closet. Instead, most people were wearing woven cedar clothes with accents of animal fur. As I watched children run along the shoreline, I heard them shrieking in Haida as they splashed each other with the sea water. I suddenly felt very confused because I was unsure where I was or who I was with. I was surrounded by long house plots and totem poles; however, the long houses and totem poles were so decayed that it did not look as though anyone had lived here in decades. A younger man approached me and locked eyes with me. It was clear that he was Haida, however, he also had natural bright red hair. He began speaking – and instead of the anxiety that always accompanied when people spoke Haida to me because I was not always certain with how to reply – I replied with ease. I had no idea what I was saying to this man, but for everything he said, I was able to reply. As the conversation progressed, we found ourselves laughing uncontrollably while still trying to speak. I still did not know what we were laughing about, but I felt the humor with my entire being. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 100 I woke up in the guest room of my Aunty Lyndale’s home with my cheeks burning from smiling so hard while I slept. I felt overwhelmed with this dream because I was speaking my language fluently. I could not recall any words I had spoken or heard in my dream, however, I knew that I was speaking my Skidegate Haida language fluently as though it was the only language I had ever known. This was during our first trip to Skidegate in 2017 in which I was only starting to truly immerse myself in our language. This excitement quickly faded into new excitement: I was travelling to K’uuna, also known as Skedans, as part of a tour group to explore the abandoned village in which my Ancestors came from. My great, great Nanaay, GiidahlGuuhl.aay, grew up in K’uuna with no knowledge of the colonization that was taking course across what we now call eastern ‘Canada’. She lived a Traditional Haida life until colonizers approached the islands and purposely traded smallpox infected blankets with the Haida villages. This quickly erupted in a massive epidemic in which people were dying in the hundreds every day. The Haida Chiefs of all 13 villages gathered and declared that wars between Haida villages were to end, there was to be peace, and that everyone was to relocate to the two Haida villages we have today in order to preserve our population: Skidegate and Masset. My great, great Nanaay gave birth to the last baby born at K’uuna, packed up her family, and paddled their canoe to Skidegate. It was here that the church forced her to learn English, to attend colonial school, and she passed into the spirit world in a colonial hospital bed at the age of 111 with her last words being that of English. Although a tragic story – my great, great Nanaay’s power echoes through generations that came after her. I was unbelievably grateful to have the opportunity to see where my great, great Nanaay came into being. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 101 The boat ride to K’uuna was extraordinary. I had never seen the islands from this perspective and we were greeted by sea lions on more than one occasion. I was deep in conversation with one of the tourists on the boat when it was announced that we were coming up to K’uuna. I turned to look. My heart stopped and my eyes widened – this was the Figure 8. Some of the remains of the village of K'uuna (Skedans) (own photo). place from my dream (see figure 8). As we set anchor and waded through the water to shore, I was visibly shaking and felt tears running down my cheeks. It felt as though I kept getting flash backs from my dream the night before – I could see where the children were playing and I could see where the man with the red hair and I laughed until we cried. My Ancestors were preparing for me to embrace the beautiful and sad energy of K’uuna. The location in which my family came to be and flourished until colonial contact. I took a step into the forest where long house plots remained – where my Ancestors lived. I took a breath, wiped my face, and knew that I was not alone in my language learning journey. My Ancestors were there for me – and in this moment I knew that it was my time to be here for them by learning our language. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 102 References Absolon, K. (2011). Kaandossiwin: How we come to know. Halifax & Winnipeg: Fernwood Publishing. Arbor Day Foundation. (2021). Anatomy of a Tree. Retrieved from: https://www.arborday.org/trees/ringstreenatomy.cfm#:~:text=The%20inner%20bark%2C %20or%20%E2%80%9Cphloem,growing%20part%20of%20the%20trunk Archibald, J. (2008). Indigenous storywork: Educating the heart, mind, body, and spirit. Vancouver: UBC Press. BD Editors. (2019). Xylem. Biology Dictionary. Retrieved from: https://biologydictionary.net/xylem/ Bhabha, H. (1988). The commitment to theory. New Formations, (5), pp. 5-23. Bombay, A., Matheson, K., & Anisman, H. (2009). Intergenerational trauma: Convergence of multiple processes among First Nations peoples in Canada. Journal of Aboriginal Health, 5(3), pp. 6-47. Clark, E. (2009). First language acquisition. New York: Cambridge University Press. Coburn, E. (2013). Indigenous research as resistance. Socialist Studies, 9(1), pp. 52-63. Deloria, V. (1998). Intellectual self-determination and sovereignty: Looking at the windmills in our minds. Wicazo Sa Review, 13(1), pp. 25-31. Ed sdi / Thompson, J. (2012). Hedekeyeh hots’ih kahidi – “our Ancestors are in us”: Strengthening our voices through language revitalization from a Tahltan worldview. (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of Victoria: Victoria, B.C. First Peoples’ Cultural Council. (2012). B.C.’s master-apprentice language program handbook. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 103 Forbes, J. (1998). Intellectual self-determination and sovereignty: Implications for Native Studies and for Native Intellectuals. Wicazo Sa Review, 13(1), pp. 11-23. Gaw Ganaad. (2017). Personal Communication. Grant, B. (2018). Personal Communication. Graveline, F. (2000). Circle as methodology: Enacting an Aboriginal paradigm. Qualitative Studies in Education, 13(4), pp. 361-370. Hallett, D., Chandler, M., & Lalonde, C. (2007). Aboriginal language knowledge and youth suicide. Cognitive Development, 22, pp. 392–399. Harp, R. (2017). Why it’s misleading to label Indigenous languages as lost or dying. Media Indigena. Henderson, W. (2006). Indian Act. The Canadian Encyclopedia. Retrieved from: https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/indian-act Hinton, L., Vera, V., & Steele, N. (2002). How to keep your language alive: A commonsense approach to one-on-one language learning. Berkley: Hignell. Hutchingson, V. (2019). Personal Communication. Jaskwaan. (2020). Personal Communication. Jones, R. (2017). Personal Communication. Kenny, C. (2000). A sense of place: Aboriginal research as ritual practice. In R. Neil (Eds.), Voice of the Drum: Indigenous Education and Culture (pp. 139-150). Brandon, Manitoba: Kingfisher Publications. Kimmerer, R. (2013). Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledges, and the teachings of plants. Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 104 King, T. (2003). “‘You’ll Never Believe What Happened’ is Always a Great Way to Start.” The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative, pp. 1-29. Kipp, D. (2009). Encouragement, guidance and lessons learned: 21 years in the trenches of Indigenous language revitalization. In J. Reyhner & L. Lockard (Eds.), Indigenous language revitalization: Encouragement, Guidance, and Lessons Learned (pp. 1-9). Flagstaff, AZ: Northern Arizona University. Kovach, M. (2009). Indigenous methodologies: Characteristics, conversations, and contexts. Canada: University of Toronto Press. Lorde, A. (1984). The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. California: Crossing Press, pp. 110-114. McGuire, M. (2016). Gina ‘waadluux̱an gud kwaagid: Everything depends on everything else. Haida Gwaii Museum. Retrieved from: https://haidagwaiimuseumcurator.wordpress.com/2015/01/15/666/ McGuire, M. (2019). Tll yahda: Visions of a Haida justice system. International Journal of Critical Indigenous Studies, 12(2), pp. 18-33. Miller, D. (2018). The difference between tree sap & tree Resin. Sciencing. Retrieved from: https://sciencing.com/difference-between-tree-sap-tree-resin-12296179.html Moffat, M. (2016). Exploring positionality in an Aboriginal research paradigm: A unique perspective. International Journal of Technology and Inclusive Education (IJTIE), 5(1), pp. 750-755). Nix, S. (2018). How resins protect trees and increase tree value. ThoughtCo. Retrieved from: https://www.thoughtco.com/what-are-tree-resins-1343409 DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 105 O’Neill, L., Fraser, T., Kitchenham, A., & McDonald, V. (2018). Hidden Burdens: A review of intergenerational, historical and complex trauma, implications for Indigenous families. Journal of Child and Adolescent Trauma, 11, pp. 173–186. Ravitch, S. & Riggan, M. (2017). Reason & rigor: How conceptual frameworks guide research. California: SAGE Publications. Reyhner, J. (2010). Indigenous language immersion schools for strong Indigenous identities. Heritage Language Journal, 7(2), pp. 138-152. Rosborough, P. & Rorick, L. (2017). Following in the footsteps of the Wolf: Connecting scholarly minds to Ancestors in Indigenous language revitalization. AlterNative, pp. 1-7. Rosborough, P. (2012). Kangextola sewn-on-top: Kwak’wala language revitalization and being Indigenous. (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of British Columbia, Vancouver, B.C. Skidegate Haida Immersion Program. (2009). A pocket guide to the Skidegate Haida Language: Commonly used phrases and words. Skidegate Haida Immersion Program. (2016). HlGaagilda Xaayda Kil K’aalang. Canada: HlGaagilda Xaayda Kil Naay. Smith, L. (2012). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and Indigenous peoples. New Zealand: Otago University Press. Surkamp, C. (2014). Non-verbal communication: Why we need it in foreign language teaching and how we can foster it with drama activities. Scenario, 2 (pp. 28-43). T’aawgiiwat. (2014). Personal Communication. Taan Forest. (N.d.). Yahguudang defines us. Retrieved from: https://www.taanforest.com/ourstory DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 106 Tri-Council Policy Statement. (2014). Ethical conduct for research involving humans. Secretariat on Responsible Conduct of Research: Canada. Truer, D. (2008). If they’re lost, who are we? Washington Post. Retrieved from: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wpdyn/content/article/2008/04/04/AR2008040403216.html?noredirect=on Välikangas, L. & Okumura, A. (1997). Why do people follow leaders? A study of a U.S. and a Japanese change program. The Leadership Quarterly, 8(3), pp. 131-337. Van Bel, A. (2003). The phloem, a miracle of ingenuity. Plant, Cell and Environment, 26, pp. 125-149. Walter, M., & Andersen, C. (2013). Indigenous Statistics: A Quantitative Research Methodology. New York: Routledge. Whitinui, P. (2013). Indigenous autoethnography: Exploring, engaging, and experiencing “self” as a Native method of inquiry. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 43(4), pp. 456487. Williams-Davidson, T & Davidson, F. (2019). Magical Beings of Haida Gwaii. Victoria: Heritage house Publishers. Wilson, S. (2001). What is an Indigenous methodology? Canadian Journal of Native Education, 25(2), pp. 175-179. Wilson, S. (2008). Research is ceremony: Indigenous research methods. Canada: Fernwood Publishing. Xwaay’Waat’ / Daniels, D. (2016). Xwi’xwi’em’: My Hul’q’umi’num’ storytelling journey. (Unpublished master’s thesis project). University of Victoria, Victoria, B.C. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 107 Yahlnaaw. (2019). T’aats’iigang: Stuffing a jar full. International Journal for Students as Partners, 3(2), pp. 6-10. Yehuda, R. & Lehrner, A. (2018). Intergenerational transmission of trauma effects: Putative role of epigenetic mechanisms. World Psychiatry, 17(3), pp. 243-257. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 108 Appendix 1: Audio Recorded Stories - Please see USB flash drive labelled Appendix 1. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 109 Appendix 2: Oral Consent Recording - Please see USB flash drive labelled Appendix 2. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 110 Appendix 3: Oral Consent Script My Haida name is T’aawgiiwat – Rita Hutchingson. I give Yahlnaaw / Aaron Grant permission to use Haida stories I have gifted to him [her]. Yahlnaaw / Aaron Grant may use these Traditional Haida stories in his [her] re-search and share with others. One story is from my father from the village of Tanu. He had no sisters, so he shared it with me. The rest are from my mother from the village of Skedans, Haida Gwaii. Haawa – Thank You. T’aawgiiwat – Rita Hutchingson. DIIGII HLA K’AAYGANG 111 Appendix 4: REB Not Required