Yukon First Nations artists want legal protection from cultural appropriation

Maria Rose Sikyea working at the Kwanlin Dün Cultural Centre during a Shakaat Artist Residency in 2023.  (Submitted by Maria Rose Sikyea - image credit)
Maria Rose Sikyea working at the Kwanlin Dün Cultural Centre during a Shakaat Artist Residency in 2023. (Submitted by Maria Rose Sikyea - image credit)

Yukon First Nations artists say they want to see legislation in place to protect Indigenous creators from cultural appropriators.

Artist and workshop facilitator Stormy Bradley said she's been noticing the issue for years, but lately, it's been getting worse.

When Bradley walked into this year's Spruce Bog, Whitehorse's annual craft fair, it was "devastating" to count the number of non-Indigenous people selling beadwork.

She recognized at least one individual from a workshop she taught.

"I know beadwork isn't inherently native," said Bradley. "I know there are many cultures out there that do beadwork … and a lot of my beads are Japanese beads and you know, they come from all over.

"But if you're taking my First Nations workshop and you're going to make a business out of it, and you're not native, I don't think that's right."

Stormy Bradley teaching beading on National Indigenous Peoples Day at the Kwanlin Dün Cultural Centre.
Stormy Bradley teaching beading on National Indigenous Peoples Day at the Kwanlin Dün Cultural Centre.

Stormy Bradley teaching beading on National Indigenous Peoples Day at the Kwanlin Dün Cultural Centre. (Submitted by Stormy Bradley)

Bradley said she now starts every workshop with a disclaimer.

"Taking my workshop, paying to be here, creating gifts for families and loved ones, that's cultural appreciation," she tells them. "Buying artwork off Indigenous artists, that's cultural appreciation.

"But if you were to take my workshop and decide to start a beading business, claiming Indigenous space and taking Indigenous money and grants, that's cultural appropriation."

'We are having an issue in the Yukon'

Teresa Vander Meer-Chassé is an artist, curator of Indigenous and contemporary art for Open Space Arts Society in Victoria, B.C., and member of White River First Nation.

"We are having an issue now in the Yukon," she said. "And it's not just in the Yukon, it's right across North America."

Vander Meer-Chassé said it's common in the Yukon for families to be mixed, and for non-Indigenous family members to learn how to bead. That's an important way for families and communities to connect, she said.

"Where things impact Indigenous people is when folks use teachings from Indigenous artists and then sell and profit off those teachings," she said. "That's where the line has been crossed."

This piece by Teresa Vander Meer-Chassé is part of the Yukon Permanent Art Collection since 2018.
This piece by Teresa Vander Meer-Chassé is part of the Yukon Permanent Art Collection since 2018.

This piece by Beaver Creek artist and curator Teresa Vander Meer-Chassé has been part of the Yukon's Permanent Art Collection since 2018. (Sissi De Flaviis/CBC)

In the U.S., it's illegal for non-Indigenous people to sell Indigenous artwork without clearly disclosing their heritage, or "in a manner that falsely suggests it is Indian-produced," according to federal legislation.

Individuals who violate that rule can face a $250,000 fine, a five-year prison term, or both.

No such law exists in Canada.

Vander Meer-Chassé and Bradley said they would like to see that change. Both said legal protections would also need to take "pretendians" — or individuals who falsely claim Indigenous ancestry —  into account.

"We've gotten to a point where there are so many non-Indigenous folks identifying as Indigenous, in the arts world, academia, the workplace, just everywhere … I think we absolutely need legislation," said Vander Meer-Chassé.

"It's the only way I think Indigenous artists and people will have a fighting chance to access the resources that were meant for them."

Vander Meer-Chassé said many organizations worry about "policing" Indigenous identity, and end up making it easy for people to be disingenuous.

"It's very rare to see an application where somebody has to prove their Indigeneity, you know, sharing a status card or anything like that. It's very, very rare to see that. So it's often self-identified, just check a box whether or not you identify."

While Vander Meer-Chassé acknowledged Indigenous identity can be complex, she said there are a number of ways organizations can ensure people are who they say they are, such as letters of support from First Nations communities confirming membership.

Cameron Webber, a spokesperson with Yukon's Department of Tourism and Culture, confirmed that grant applicants are not asked to provide any proof of identity, but Webber didn't rule it out for the future.

"We recognize the call by Indigenous people for greater vigilance around confirming Indigenous identity to help prevent harm and injustice and would certainly consider additional measures," Webber wrote in an email to CBC.

"We are also in regular dialogue with our arts colleagues across Canada on this emergent issue, so there may be some learning possibilities from other jurisdictions as well."

'It did put me in a very tough situation'

Maria Rose Sikyea is teaching a workshop series on caribou tufting at the Kwanlin Dün Cultural Centre (KDCC) for the month of November. The workshop was advertised as Indigenous-only, but she received a number of requests to attend from non-Indigenous participants, which she declined.

A close-up of Metis-Cree University of Alberta associate professor Trudy Cardinal beading an image of a strawberry in the Aboriginal Teacher Education Space on campus.
A close-up of Metis-Cree University of Alberta associate professor Trudy Cardinal beading an image of a strawberry in the Aboriginal Teacher Education Space on campus.

A file photo of beadwork in progress. (CBC)

Sikyea said the workshop series had limited spots available and sold out quickly, and was intended to help Indigenous people connect with Dene culture. She said KDCC secured funding for the event on the basis that it would be serving Indigenous people. Classes were deliberately priced to be accessible.

Nevertheless, when the first class began, it turned out that several non-Indigenous people had secured spots anyway.

"It did put me in a very tough situation," she said. "A part of me wanted to tell them to leave. Not so much that they're not welcome, but that the space that is meant for Indigenous people … is meant for us."

She asked participants to sign a waiver promising they wouldn't go on to profit from what they learned. She also asked them to offer a gift to the other participants out of respect.

"It's a really beautiful time," she said. "A lot of people are picking up their old tools, their old skills. People are feeling more pride and less fear of being who they are. But I feel it's really important to remember that residential schools and colonization really wasn't that long ago. We are still on the road to healing."

Going forward, she wants to see more awareness in the territory —  and clear policy and legislation that would prevent artists from having to have these difficult conversations over and over.