Indigenous Food Sovereignty
The road to Indigenous Food Sovereignty, particularly in the Canadian context, is complex and nuanced, fraught with the dark legacy of colonialism. Despite the challenges of walking this path, communities all across the north are taking on this important journey. Underpinned by strong Indigenous leadership and a deep connection to the land - communities are coming together to re-build healthy, vibrant food systems rooted in traditional knowledge and practices. Historically, people fed themselves through trade and from the land, but over the past century food systems have changed dramatically which has lead to declining community food security and population health.
The current food security crisis unfolding in the vast reaches of Canada’s northlands is largely due to the exploitative system of colonialism and its continued affect on Indigenous communities. The intense trauma of generations of residential schools and the Sixties Scoop continue to have significant impact on Indigenous communities today. Northern communities face the added challenges of limited infrastructure such as a lack of roads and grocery stores thereby limiting access to healthy foods. Compounding the issue are the exorbitantly high food prices and a distinct lack of economic opportunity faced by northerners.
Tabitha Martens is a mixed ancestry Cree woman and an Indigenous Food Activist. She wears many hats in this space: land defender, educator, researcher, and leader. She lives and breathes her commitment to the land because for her, stories of the land are incredibly important for her own well-being and that of her people. She has taken the time to visit communities to learn about their food practices, while rediscovering these practices on her own. Importantly she works to learn about bridging a history that has been interrupted by the impacts of colonialism, which inevitably includes Indigenous food systems and those communities’ traditional ways of being. She believes in the reclamation of these traditional ways of being: the food, the culture, the language, and the protection of the land and waters, through healing and ceremony.
I was lucky enough to sit down with Tabitha and learn a little more about what motivates her to do what she does.
Q: How does your relationship with food shape who you are?
Reflecting on my history with food is interesting to me because I realize that I learned so much about food as a child. I wasn’t a great eater, but I never shied away from fruits and vegetables. I grew up helping out on my grandparent’s farm, and loved to sneak a warm raspberry or a sweet pea pod in the sun. Those experiences were fundamental to the work I do and the relationship I have with food- perhaps they are my first food sovereignty. Even though I came from a family of fishermen, I loathed fish as a child. I thought it was the worst, smelliest food you could imagine. Today, it’s one of my favourite foods, especially because I often know who caught it (and sometimes it’s me!). My Indigenous and Icelandic ancestors met fishing on Lake Winnipeg, and indeed, I wouldn’t be here today without that connection. I am blessed because I am gifted with fish often. These days, my diet consists of a lot of plants and fish and a few grains. I do eat wild meat, but also tofu. I don’t know that there’s a name for this kind of diet, except listening to my body and honouring my Indigenous heritage.
Q: How about your relationship to the land?
I like knowing where my food comes from, and in the case of harvesting food, I like knowing that when the life was taken it was done with respect: a moment of time, a prayer, a offering back to the land. These are part of the teachings that I follow. I try not to think of these as food rules, but rather values. I don’t always get it right, our food systems and the knowledge around food changes daily. Instead, I try to think about what feels right. What honours my relationship to the land?
Q: How do those relationships influence the work that you do?
Trying to describe the work I do is strange. I am a student, I learn from the land, my teachers, the University, and the students I teach. Learning everywhere! I suppose I could sum it up as saying I work in, with, around land-based food systems, which include the physical land and all of its inhabitants, people in particular. Right now, my focus of study is on the healing potential of food in Indigenous helping and healing practices. I have experienced firsthand how going to the land to grow and harvest food can be healing. For Indigenous peoples in Canada, there is a complex relationship between food systems and the land, and I hope this is a cycle that will make sense.
Q: Can you expand on the complexity of that relationship?
Our food systems have been under threat for a long time. The loss of the bison, for example, was a major hit to prairie Indigenous groups. Impacts from residential schools are still experienced today: food was used as a tool to punish children. In fact, there were food and health experiments conducted on children without their knowledge or consent, and of course, their parents never knew about this. That is a haunting legacy and a reminder of how our relationship to food can be corrupted in so many ways. I carry the scars of these stories in my own family, but to be honest, I find it to difficult to share that here. Trust me when I say, I learned at a young age how powerful stomach aches are- they are part of our internal knowledge, a warning system for when we know something is not right. For me, re-learning how to fish, harvest, pick medicines, all of the land-based activities I do is a way that I can shed the legacy of that history. I often joke that when I am fishing, or standing in the space of my ancestors, I feel haunted in a good way. But there is a bad kind of haunting too. I believe that food; practicing food; tending to the land; our traditional practices and ceremonies; and re-righting our relationships with food can change so much for so many. What kinds of change I can only speculate, but I think they are positive changes.
Q: Based on your research and exploration into Indigenous food systems, what are some key learnings from your research?
To me one of the most important lessons from working and studying Indigenous food sovereignty is self-determination. Being able to make decisions about your own well-being and the path it takes to get there is key to having a stronger relationship with food and culture. It is key to having a stronger relationship with yourself. Life is about relationships- who and how we relate and why. It’s great to see the more recent food movement examining these relationships and pushing the boundaries. We are part of something, connected to the water, sky, soil, plants, and animals. Now it’s time to start working to defend the food systems that we have developed because they are beautiful, honest, and true. That’s what I hope the future looks like.
Q: What do you think it will take to affect real change around food systems in Canada?
Although I study and advocate for Indigenous food systems, the ideas around food sovereignty are universal; we need land reform and to acknowledge and protect the people and places that provide our food. We need to get back to the kitchen tables to discover the stories of our families’ food histories- you are never going to regret taking the time to learn how to bake your granny’s famous bread! Food is an opportunity for us to practice being grateful; what kinds of traditions can you start or share or continue to strengthen relationships and connections to food, the land, your family, and heritage?
**This article is part of a HuffPost Leadership Series highlighting change-making individuals and organizations working at the community level. Check out the Series here and follow along to hear about the amazing work being done in your community! If you have any ideas or know someone who is a change-maker that should be recognized, please forward submissions to karuna.andi.sharma@gmail.com**