Our Collective Story: Digitizing the Indigenous Narrative

OUR

COLLECTIVE STORY

DIGITIZING THE INDIGENOUS NARRATIVE

BY NIYA DEGROAT - DINÉ, AIGC ALUMNUS

Indigenous peoples have always been storytellers: from ancient petroglyphs to the social media-driven, grassroots reporting of the 2016 Dakota Access Pipeline protests in Standing Rock. For many Indigenous communities, oral tradition serves as the vehicle to pass on cultural knowledge and history from one generation to the next – storytelling is embedded in the land, in our songs and prayers and in our dances.

MARK TRAHANT - SHOSHONE-BANNOCK

With the advent of digital media and new technology, today’s storytellers are modernizing the ways in which they narrate and distribute their stories to reach a wider audience. In the olden days, the role of the storyteller was limited to community healers and elders. Today, it has evolved to include scholars, activists and artists who are using storytelling to reclaim cultural identity and to self-determine their existence in a post-colonial world.

THE JOURNALIST

“I like to say that the Pueblos invented the internet,” says Mark Trahant (Shoshone-Bannock), Editor at Indian Country Today, referring to the intricatelydesigned thoroughfares created by the Ancestral Puebloans a thousand years ago. According to the Society of Architectural Historians, these communication roadways that branched out of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, are the “physical evidence of farflung social and economic ties and they undoubtedly played a crucial role in the spread of a wide variety of beliefs, ideas, behaviors, art styles and more.”

“The villages were connected by light, and the roads were incredibly straight and backed by satellite. Today, you can still see how straight they were, but that was so that light can transmit,” says Trahant. “And if you think about a light communicating from one village to another, that’s one comma zero. That means light on – light off, and that is the internet. And so, the technology has always changed, but the ability to communicate and tell stories hasn’t.”

When he is not teaching journalism courses at Arizona State University, the 64-yearold news veteran, manages an independent, Indigenousfocused communication enterprise of his own. Back in 2018, as print newspapers struggled to stay relevant, Indian Country Today decided to go digital with social media at the forefront of its operations. “I like innovation, and unlike a lot of print journalists, I’m not afraid of the change going on in our readership and culture.”

“For journalists, our storytelling is a little bit different than traditional storytelling. We deal with the world as we see it and we try to relay that to people so that they stay informed.” from breaking news in politics to small town events such as the annual “Rez Dog of the Year” contest in Fort Hall, Idaho.

“This recent contest story isn’t really significant – it’s not important from a citizen pointof-view, but it’s a great story,” Trahant says enthusiastically. “Even though we work in nonfiction, there are so many good stories to tell.”

On the contrary, in mainstream media, stories about Indigenous peoples are almost nonexistent, so through this Indigenousdriven platform, Trahant hopes to improve Native visibility by continuing to cover stories from around the world.

“Indian Country Today, and this generation of it, is really an alternative view of the world. Our view is indigenous, and ultimately, it’s about serving our readers.”

THE VISUAL STORYTELLER

Since 2012, multimedia artist, Matika Wilbur (Swinomish and Tulalip Tribes of Washington) has been scouring the nation, in her RV truck, to photograph and document the stories of Native people representing over 562 Tribes in the United States. Her ongoing visual body of work, known as “Project 562,” is being turned into a book and has one goal: to change the way society views Native America.

“My photography provides a glimpse into a moment. It’s one

frame, so it forces the audience to use their imagination to piece together what happened before and what happened afterwards,” Wilbur says.

Her travels over the years have given her solace and a deep appreciation for the people she gets to interview – the moments they share and the environments they welcome her into.

“When I think of storytelling, I am immediately taken back to the traditional spaces in which our stories are told,” she says. “For me, that happens in a longhouse, or in other traditional spaces, such as the teepee, the wigwam and the hogan; spaces where our knowledge is transferred. Storytelling is the way in which we hold space.”

In recent years, Wilbur has turned her sights to the digital space of podcasting where her advocacy continues to be amplified. In 2019, with the help of her friend, Dr. Adrienne Keene (Cherokee Nation), known for her “Native Appropriations” blog, Wilbur launched the “All My Relations” podcast.

“We thought it would be cool to do a podcast that discussed representation and allowed us to take some of the conversations we had in private and make them public,” says Wilbur. “We thought it would be easier to do a podcast than to write about it. We were so wrong,” she confesses with a chuckle. What started out as a conversation between friends blossomed into a major production that employs a team of 12. Now in its third season, discussions for the podcast center around female empowerment from Indigenous feminism to Indigenous matriarchy.

“I’m reminded of this storyteller I met in Alaska, who I didn’t get to photograph because he refused to be photographed, who said, ‘Good technology creates

community,’” recalls Wilbur. “We want to come together; we want to feel connected. That’s what good storytelling does, it brings out our humanity, so that years from now, our future generations can see themselves clearly and intelligently.”

MATIKA WILBUR SWINOMISH AND TULALIP TRIBES OF WASHINGTON

THE SCHOLAR

“For non-Indigenous communities, when they think of stories, they immediately think of bedtime stories, or Aesop’s fables, or fairy tales. They’re not real, they’re for children,” says Alyce Sadongei (Kiowa & Tohono O’odham), codirector of the Doris Duke Native Oral History Revitalization Project at the Arizona State Museum in Tucson.

“But for Indian people, when you hear someone’s going to tell you a story, you change your attitude, you get ready to listen, because you know that it’s going to be important. Our stories have significance for how we live our lives, what it means to be of a certain tribe, and where we come from.”

In 1966, and over the course of nine years, billionaire tobacco heiress and philanthropist, Doris Duke, provided charitable funding to seven universities, including the University of Arizona, to collect nearly 6,500 oral histories from Tribes across the United States.

According to the foundation, a team of “48 graduate students and anthropologists (some who were Native American) conducted interviews with 417 people across 55 cultural groups.” The collection at the Arizona State Museum includes 617 sound recordings of “meetings, classes, music and cultural events.”

In February, Sadongei was tapped by the foundation to spearhead the revitalization efforts by digitizing these recordings so that they can be returned to the participating Tribes.

The project also plans to store these digital materials on a free, online platform called Murkutu, an app that will allow Indigenous

“Tell me the facts and I’ll learn. Tell me the truth and I’ll believe. But tell me a story and it will live in my heart forever.” - Native American Proverb

ALYCE SADONGEI (KIOWA & TOHONO O’ODHAM PHOTO CREDIT - MICHELLE DILLON OF STONE CROW PHOTOGRAPHY

communities to manage and share these recordings.

“It’s been a slow process,” says Sadongei. “I work with the Tribes directly. I’ve been setting up consultations and working with them just to make sure that they get access to these recordings.”

For Sadongei, listening to these recordings has been a heartwarming experience because she gets to hear Indigenous voices from the past. “I hear memories of battle stories and how they used to work through conflict with other Tribes, even white people,” she recounts. “Some of the recordings are in the language, so they have to be translated and transcribed.”

“Most of the languages heard in the recordings use certain words or phrases that are no longer used today, so it’s been exciting to hear those words. Maybe, this work will assist Tribes with language revitalization work.”

However, listening to these recordings hasn’t always been smooth sailing or pleasurable. Sadongei questions whether the Tribes were given free, prior and informed consent (FPIC) when researchers set out to interview them.

“You can tell that some of the students lacked the sensitivity in how they asked their questions,” she says. “It seems like they were given free rein to ask whatever they want or capture anything they needed without any kind of proper training.” Still, Sadongei remains optimistic. Once the project is complete, she hopes that these digital recordings will provide the Tribes with a renewed sense of pride and ownership.

“If anything, these oral histories will be under their control. They will get to decide how it is used and how it is shared.”

Indigenous storytelling is as resilient as the people who tell them. Throughout history, our stories have kept our traditions alive, our ceremonies intact, and our collective hearts beating – all for the sake of our future ancestors. As the anonymous Native American proverb goes: “Tell me the facts and I’ll learn. Tell me the truth and I’ll believe. But tell me a story and it will live in my heart forever.”

Working for Generations

Our future is shaped by the decisions we make today. That’s why we’ve invested $50 million to serve the needs of Native American, Native Hawaiian and Alaska Native communities, from housing aff ordability and financial health to scholarships and small business support.

For over 60 years, we’ve been providing capital and financial services to Native communities and businesses and we’ll continue to work together to make better tomorrows for generations to come.

Find out more at

wellsfargo.com/nativecommunities