24 minute read
Voice, Choice, and Power
Voice, Choice, and Power Heal ing Intergenerat ional Trauma with Dr . Rub y Gi bson
Dr. Ruby Gibson (Lakota, Ojibway, Mestiza), cofounder and executive director of Freedom Lodge, a nonprofit organization in Rapid City, South Dakota that provides historical and intergenerational trauma healing to Native American communities, shares her work on Somatic Archaeology © and its healing potential. She is the author of My Body, My Earth: The Practice of Somatic Archaeology.
Cultural Survival: What is Somatic Archaeology © and how can it improve the health of Indigenous Peoples through healing?
Ruby Gibson: Somatic Archaeology © is a recovery modality focused on the potential to excavate history in our body through body sensation, breathwork, and balancing the four worlds. We are a walking library and our body, much like the Earth, is full of information. In Somatic Archaeology © we say we’re digging within, excavating the source of our ailments. The five steps of Somatic Archaeology © are: I Notice; I Sense; I Feel; I Interpret; I Reconcile. We begin with noticing and follow body sensation through a bottom-up neurophysiological process until we reach step five, identifying the cause and effect of our symptoms—we call that reconciliation. Reconciliation reflects who am I when I’m free, or who am I when I’m liberated to live my life like I want, when I’m not carrying emotional burdens. That’s when transformation or healing happens. I have observed that the body follows the same five steps regardless of the elements or story one is carrying. Stories are typically based on the epigenetic memory patterns of our mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, and parents.
In Lakota traditional ways, we generally use a medicine wheel as a way of understanding life and mapping out our experiences. If I can take a method and put it on the medicine wheel and it holds water, then I know it works, there is medicine to it. In our communities, we have 500-plus years of colonization, suffering, death, ethnocide, and disease to process, but when you use Somatic Archaeology © , it simplifies
Photo by Jinji Thompson.
the process. Our biological and neurophysiological engagement allows us to start at the source and make our way to interpretation, as opposed to a westernized psychotherapeutic model that starts with analysis and then attempts to enforce what we believe on the body. We give the body a voice. Our primary model is “Voice, Choice, and Power.” Helping someone reclaim their power by giving their body a voice helps clients recognize they have choice.
CS : How has intergenerational trauma in Native communities affected health and well being?
RG : When we map our influences and look 7 generations behind us and 7 generations ahead of us, we find that we’re at the apex of 14 generations. If we choose, we can influence our actions and how our behaviors are going to affect the next seven generations. This position gives us a lot of power because our choices can impact our ancestors and lighten the load for our offspring. When you remain conscious about that, what you’re taking in, what you’re managing, and how you’re transforming it, you can utilize Somatic Archaeology © to transform your story—and then you actually become part of the solution in the human world and in all the four worlds (plant, mineral, animal, and human). We utilize the power from each of those four directions of life in order to put ourselves in the center of the circle. We become a point of transformation, and when we make that choice, there are so many possibilities—and life opens up in new ways.
CS : You have also coined the phrase, The Future of Native Wellness.™ What does that mean?
RG : I’ve spent a good portion of my life doing trauma recovery work, and sometimes it gets overwhelming and can be soul crushing. I reached a point of compassion fatigue, which I think is a crisis that every healer goes through at some point in their profession. I decided then that wellness was really the key. Black Elk, one of our Lakota elders who has crossed over, had a prophecy: “After seven generations pass, it’s the fulfillment
of the prophecy and there’s a new prophecy.” It’s been seven generations, so what’s next? Wellness is really an extension of the eighth generation. People need hope, and they need to be able to find their way out of the cultural identity that associates us with suffering. Unless we change our perspective, we stay in this state of mind that has been carved out by nonIndigenous cultures. It’s time to get our power back. When we start looking at it from a place of power rather than a place of loss, that’s when we shift our focus to The Future of Native Wellness™.
CS : Tell us about the Freedom Lodge and the work it does.
RG : Freedom Lodge was originally co-founded by me and a colleague of mine, Tulley Spotted Eagle Boy, a Canadian MicMac elder, after the government of Canada apologized to Indigenous Peoples. With government funding, Tulley established the Mother Earth Lodge and asked me to create a sister lodge in the United States, so I created Freedom Lodge. I started working with our youth, teaching Somatic Archaeology © to other therapists, and soon Freedom Lodge became an educational center. Five years ago I applied for a job with a nonprofit foundation as a program coordinator. The job was to positively impact Indigenous women and girls from Alaska to Mexico. They did not hire me for the position, but instead decided to fund me. This funding allowed Freedom Lodge to take Somatic Archaeology© out into the communities to support professional counselors and therapists. We provide our services free of charge to Tribal members. We’ve also developed the Historical Trauma Master Class™, and in each class we train about 30 professional counselors and therapists from various Tribes and teach Somatic Archaeology © . Graduates of this program who want to become trainers are taught to go out into their communities and start training people.
CS : What is your Healing the Sacred Womb Project?
RG : We have a high suicide rate amongst our youth, and I’ve spent time in many K-12 Tribal schools helping with suicide prevention. Suicide prevention often entails addressing the issue of sexual abuse. Many children were sexually assaulted in the boarding schools during the 1950’s-’70s and their children inherited the toxic imprints of the traumas. These schools were government funded and run by the churches with a specific goal of “killing the Indian in the child.” Murdered and missing Indigenous women are part of this legacy. Feeling like you don’t have value, or feeling that you only have value sexually, you begin to minimize your own life and your purpose. It’s one of the worst woundings for a child. We believe there’s a sacred law that says “no harm may come to the children.” Traditionally and historically, sexual abuse was never a problem in Native culture until European influence and invasion.
The Sacred Womb Project helps mothers and grandmothers to recover their own sacredness and innocence in their body, and consequently impacts their children and grandchildren. We work with shame; we work with honoring our bodies. We look at it this way: a woman is born with all the eggs she will ever have. Imagine you were an egg in your mother’s womb when she was in her mother’s womb. Our grandmother’s womb becomes our first experience of biological life. We’re all incubated in our maternal grandmother’s womb. If you were a seed in your mother’s womb when she was in her mother, then your daughter’s life began there also. We look at four generations of epigenetic inheritance through this model. This is how we remember how to protect ourselves, how we pass along knowledge, how we help to carry stories about who we are and our own traditions, and also the dangers that exist for us.
CS : What does the future of Indigenous health look like in your community?
RG : One component is ceremonial life, because it’s at the spiritual foundation of who we are. The second is language— being able to hear your ancestors and speak in your language allows the ancestors to make contact and defines the culture. Lakota is a present tense language. It’s about what’s happening now, not what happened in the past or what’s going to happen in the future. It’s very central to the moment. Traditional artwork, star blankets, bead work, all these components of a very rich culture and being able to reclaim those symbols and find beauty in traditions is part of wellness. If we are suffering so much that we end up drinking or getting high, we get distracted and forget who we are. Then those traditional things get lost.
M any factors lead to wellness and physical health, but comfort in your body is number one. The feeling of belonging to your culture and to your community, feeling like you have worth, that you hold an important place in family, all helps you feel connected. You can’t go back to the way you were, but you can replenish and remember. Your body has an amazing ability to not only recall traumatic events, but to recall positive events and historical knowledge that is layered inside of you. I learned an important moral through a dream—to always let the grandmothers drive. It was the most significant dream in my life because it helped me recognize that I wasn’t in charge. I also recognized a higher feminine power and I refer to them as the grandmothers. They guide my work and keep me humble. They keep bringing me gifts, they speak to me and tell me which way to go. I never travel alone and they’ve been at the core of the development of Somatic Archaeology©. This is an important part of my Wellness.
CS : Can these models be adapted to Indigenous communities around the world?
RG : That’s the dream. I’m a cultural healer. For me, healing trauma is fairly simple. It takes time, commitment, and courage to be willing to remember. What are we able to remember? A woman in one of my trainings had a visual impairment and had been unable to resolve it. After one session, that impairment went away and never came back. It’s because her body was willing and she trusted me. By being able to train a handful of people in a community to do individual work, people start feeling themselves transform in many ways. It changes the culture and the community. My heart beats strong with the thought of bringing our healing techniques into every Indigenous community in the world. It is financially viable, it’s fairly simple, and individuals can do the steps on their own. There is so much potential. When we take this work out into the world, it can reach every single person who it’s meant to reach. And that is in the hands of the grandmothers.
Combatting Suicide Amongst I ndigenous Peoples An Interview with Pat Dudgeon
Pat Dudgeon speaks at the 2nd World Indigenous Sui
cide Prevention Conference. Photo courtesy of Pat Dudgeon.
In 2018 and 2019, there was a continual increase in suicides amongst Indigenous Peoples, specifically in Australia. Why is this happening at such an alarming rate? What is the cause of these deaths, especially among the youth?
Globally, suicide is the second highest contributor to adolescent deaths. Studies from high-income countries including Australia, New Zealand, the United States, Canada, and Arctic nations consistently find elevated suicide rates among Indigenous populations, with substantial rate disparities compared to non-Indigenous populations. According to the World Health Organization, low- and middle-income countries and high-income countries have similar annual standardized suicide rates. However, low- and middle-income countries account for 75 percent of suicide deaths worldwide, and there is often a disproportionate burden amongst specific subgroups within countries, such as Indigenous Peoples.
In Canada, the highest suicide rates have been reported among First Nations Peoples. According to Canada’s Centre for Suicide Prevention, suicide and self-inflicted injuries are the leading causes of death for First Nations youths and adults up to age 44. The suicide rate for First Nations male youths ages 15-24 is 126 per 100,000, compared to 24 per 100,000 for non-Indigenous male youth. For First Nations females, the suicide rate is 35 per 100,000 compared to 5 per 100,000 for non-Indigenous females. Suicide rates for Inuit youth are among the highest in the world, at 11 times the national average.
In Australia, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders between the ages of 15-24 are almost 4 times more likely to commit suicide than non-Indigenous people in the same age bracket. The Australian Bureau of Statistics reported that suicide is the leading cause of death for Indigenous children ages 5-17. From 2014–2018, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children accounted for close to 25 percent of all child suicide deaths.
To better understand the issue of suicide among Indigenous Peoples, Cultural Survival Indigenous Rights Radio Producer, Shaldon Ferris (KhoiSan), recently spoke to Pat Dudgeon (Bardi), director of the Centre of Best Practice in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander on Suicide Prevention at the University of Western Australia (UWA). She is a psychologist, professor, Fellow of the Australian Psychological Society, and Poche Research Fellow at the School of Indigenous Studies at UWA in Perth.
Cultural Survival: Is the spike in the Indigenous suicide rate a recent trend, or has it been on the rise for some time?
Pat Dudgeon: Indigenous suicides have always been a big issue. It’s probably gained a lot more national media attention in recent times, but it has been a growing concern in the last 40 years. Our Indigenous suicide rate is twice that of the general population, so it’s become a big, big issue.
CS : What are some of the leading reasons for Indigenous suicides?
PD: For any suicide there is a whole matrix of different issues and problems. We believe that it’s the history of colonization that Indigenous people have lived through. The country was taken over, there was genocide, people were removed from their countries and moved into missions and reserves. We
went through a period we call the Stolen Generations, where people were forcibly taken from their families and put into institutions. In contemporary times, as well as having intergenerational trauma that’s been passed down, there are a whole lot of social determinants that impact Indigenous people. We have higher rates of poverty and incarceration, and racism is ongoing, so those are factors that contribute to suicide and bad mental health. It’s not a simple or clear answer. There’s a lot of grief and loss in the community, substance abuse issues, sexual abuse, and so on, but for Indigenous people, having that history of colonization and ongoing racism is certainly a big part of the story.
CS : Is a loss of identity due to the impacts of colonialism a factor?
PD: Absolutely. We’ve gone out and done workshops and roundtables with community people, and we’ve done empowerment programs. What amazes me is how people implicitly know that what the mainstream has done—what the State has done to them—is wrong. They’ve seen their mothers and grandmothers subject to racist acts and treatments. To have it explicitly taught to them, to say, ‘yes, this legislation happened and this was the impact,’ validates their experience, and people are very conscious to hold on and to strengthen their cultural identity. I think we’re in a process of remaking and restrengthening our cultural identity. Lucky for us, colonization has been a relatively short history compared to other countries. It could’ve been much more damaging. With Stolen Generations, some of those people were moved far away from home, and we have had some big initiatives called Bringing Them Home, which were about helping people come back to rediscover who their family or language group were, and to reconnect. Archie Roach (a local Indigenous singer) has written about the children coming home. That’s important for us, to ensure that we strengthen our identity and people build faith so they know who they are and their role in the future.
CS : Are there patterns of similar occurrences happening in other Indigenous communities around the world?
PD: Yes, it’s a very similar story. In November 2018, we held the second World Indigenous Suicide Prevention Conference. We ran it in a certain way where we privileged Indigenous presence and voices. When we formed our committees to plan the conference, we ensured there were youth representatives on there, elders, members of our LGBTQIA+ groups. Having the World Indigenous Suicide Prevention Conference was very important because we had people from Canada, New Zealand, the U.S., and so on, present. We looked at the global Indigenous suicide rates; they are very similar, it’s a similar story. So I think all Indigenous societies are in a greater or lesser state of recovery from colonization, and one of the markers is a very high suicide rate, much higher than the rest of the population. That was important to us, to come together as world Indigenous people and to share our stories and to share what the solutions could be. We are seeing a global movement happening, and that’s very important. I think we join up with our Indigenous brothers and sisters from other countries to talk, to learn from each other, and to share our knowledge and go forward. And, while we claim the right to have leadership in the discussion, there are certainly great nonIndigenous supporters and governments that support us as well.
CS : Do you think we should be talking to our respective governments about solutions, or should this issue be solved by us as Indigenous Peoples?
PD: Definitely from the people. The State has a very important role, and that is to give the resources to the people. It’s very important to ensure that resources are sent into the community. Our position is for Aboriginal people themselves. Unless they’re in charge of identifying the problem, the issues, and then implementing the solutions, we’re going to have very limited effective suicide prevention or any kind of programs. We know that culture, self- determination, and cultural reclamation is important. Both were assumptions on the work done by Professor Michael J. Chandler in Canada, where they did some research with First Nations people and showed that communities with little self-determination and little cultural reclamation had higher suicide rates. We also used the work of the Harvard Project on American Indian Economic Development in the United States, where they’ve shown that Indigenous communities that are much happier and have higher health rates are ones that are also exercising their self-determination. That’s very important for any group of human beings: they need to be there at the table, making decisions, being part of deciding what happens, how, when, and where.
CS : Is enough being done to reduce the Indigenous suicide rate? Do you think there’s hope?
PD: I’m optimistic. I think Australia is alarmed at what’s happening in its country. I think the government does want change to happen. I think the communities themselves want change to happen, because we had an elders group at our World Indigenous Suicide Prevention conference who were very vocal in what they wanted. They wanted a royal commission to look at the issue, and they were very vocal in what they thought the government should do. I think that all supporters of our society, whether it’s governments, whether it’s people on the ground, certainly the communities themselves, they want accountability and they want to be part of the discussion. So, I think things will change. I don’t think it’ll be an overnight solution, because it’s taken us years to get to this point. For some sections it might take time to turn this around, but it will be turned around.
CS : What message can we give the Indigenous person who is in a remote area somewhere, contemplating suicide?
PD: Firstly, don’t do it. Do not do it. Things will get better, but go and get help. It would be great if we could have a telephone crisis center that’s culturally appropriate and knows our values and our issues and can give immediate help. Counselors too, they need to be trained to be more culturally knowledgeable. But there will be people in your family and in your community who can help. In every family and every community there is usually one strong person, or more, who will help the others. We need to nurture those people. They’re the people we go to, and we’ve all got one or two in our lives, so go to those people, talk to them, get help from them.
Kasiyanna
Tu rning t o Ind igenou s Knowled ge Du ring t he CO VID-19 Pande mic
Minnie Degawan
Indigenous Peoples are no strangers to disease and disaster. Now, four months into the worldwide crisis brought about by COVID-19, the situation of Indigenous Peoples is starting to come to light: Indigenous Peoples are facing particularly challenging times due to the susceptibility of their communities to infectious diseases and their limited—or lack of—access to information, among other factors. Some of these realities are the consequence of poor planning by national governments, and others are the result of discrimination and disregard for Indigenous Peoples. The impacts of the many exploitative projects in Indigenous territories, such as mining and monocrop plantations, are an added threat and challenge. All of these contribute to the further marginalization and greater risk Indigenous Peoples face, especially in times of crises.
Thr ough generations, Indigenous Peoples have established responses and coping mechanisms grounded in traditional knowledge, customs, and practices to different circumstances affecting their communities. These are all founded on one fundamental principle: to ensure that the community survives. A common response across Indigenous communities is that of closing off the community to all—this means no one can enter the community until it is deemed safe. Such community closures are done for different reasons. In the Cordillera, Philippines, for example, this practice is regularly observed during the agricultural cycle. Before or after the fields are ready for planting and harvesting, the community declares ubaya/tengaw, which basically means everyone stays at home; no hard labor is to be done by anyone. This is a time for the community and the earth to rest, and typically lasts a day or two.
The ubaya/tengaw is also declared in times of epidemics or other disasters. Rituals to shut off the community from outsiders, including bad spirits, are performed by elders, directed at expelling whatever harm is in the community. The ubaya/tengaw is meant not just to protect the community, but also outsiders who might want to visit. The signs that a community is in ubaya— a knotted piece of a branch or leaf is placed at the entrance of the community—is a very simple, yet powerful, deterrent. During extended community lockdowns, traditional community practices come into effect, such as the binnadang/ub-ubbo (loosely translated as exchange labor), where community members look out for those in need and extend help. Food is shared by those who have more with
those who have less. In addition, the basic principle of ayyew, meaning not to waste anything, is constantly practiced and enforced. Food, such as dried sweet potatoes that have been preserved for the rainy period, is brought out and portioned to last for the period of ubaya. It is during the period of ubaya that one often hears the term kasiyanna, meaning “all will be well.” It is an affirmation that balance will soon be achieved. To the community, problems are reflections of imbalance in the world, whether between neighbors or with the natural or spiritual world, and to resolve it is to restore balance.
When this global pandemic came about, Indigenous communities did not find the idea of quarantine unfamiliar. When the Philippine national government imposed quarantine measures across the country, several Indigenous communities further strengthened this by declaring ubaya/tungaw in their respective communities. The declaration of ubaya/ tengaw meant that these communities were closing their borders to everyone, including members who were in the cities at that time. It was a difficult decision, but one that had to be made to avoid proliferation of the virus. Such mechanisms are also practiced by the Karen and other groups in Thailand, as well as by Indigenous Peoples in Indonesia. In different parts of Asia, such as Malaysia, the Orang Asli have decided to return to the forest as their defense against the pandemic. The forest has always been their home and their source for medicines, so it is a logical response for them to return to it during times of danger. This is also true for other Indigenous Peoples, such as those living in the Amazon.
W hile on lockdown, the communities took stock of the situation to assess who from the community was still outside, where they were, whether they were planning to come back, and if so, what could be done for them. If there are people who are sick in the community, what is needed? Is there enough food for all, and for how long? These questions, and subsequently answers, were then used by the community to plan better for the days, weeks, or months ahead. Some communities decided to forgo the food packs distributed by the government in favor of those in urban areas, specifically those in poverty, as they could be facing greater challenges in obtaining food.
Unfortunately, these traditional practices of coping with pandemics and other disasters is proving to be particularly challenging for Indigenous Peoples given the current threats they face from the extractive industry and climate change, among others. The conversion of forests to monocrop plantations or to logging and mining concessions means less agricultural land for communities. In addition, the introduction of fast growing, input-dependent, genetically modified species has compromised the productivity of the community lands. Climate change, too, has impacted the agricultural cycle and yield. The result of these occurrences is that communities now have less food stocked, making them vulnerable to hunger if the quarantine period lasts longer than anticipated.
Th e destruction of their surroundings brought about by the extractive industry also add to these challenges. Mining and logging have caused water sources to dry up, as well as contamination of traditional water sources. Even the designation of forests as protected areas is a cause of concern. In the instance of the Orang Asli, their return to the forests has caused some wildlife protection groups to demand stronger
protection for endangered animal species as hunting could increase. But these concerns are misplaced. The Orang Asli, and other Indigenous Peoples, follow very strict rules governing hunting for food, among which is the caution of never taking more than what one needs, as well as looking out for animals that are very young or pregnant. There are also calls from some groups for stronger implementation of protected area rules, including keeping people out of the forests. This is ironic given that extractive industries are being allowed to continue their operations despite community lockdowns, such as in Ecuador, where oil companies still traverse Indigenous communities to arrive at their operations.
In countries where the national government has taken on a more militaristic response, Indigenous Peoples are especially vulnerable. Some of the national policies are unclear and not readily communicated to communities. And if or when a policy is disobeyed, even inadvertently, a drastic measure of either arrest or death (in the case of violations of curfew times) is taken. For Indigenous Peoples, orders to stay home and wait for the relief promised by governments is just not an option, as they are accustomed to fending for and relying on themselves.
Thi s global health crisis has proven and reinforced the need to respect and promote Indigenous Peoples’ rights, and that they must be at the center of the discussion. If Indigenous Peoples’ rights to their lands and resources were respected, they would be better able to fend for themselves in times of crisis and would not have to look to the outside for help. If traditional resource use and management practices were respected and strengthened, there would be less destruction of nature, and perhaps less possibility for diseases to develop. These are among the greatest lessons from this global health pandemic, and it is our hope that the policy makers will do what is needed to ensure that these rights are not forgotten.
When this crisis ends, there will be a rush to “help” Indigenous communities. It will be prudent to ensure that any intervention must have Indigenous Peoples at the center in terms of their agency and rights. Policies will need to be adjusted to reflect the situation and needs of the communities. It will also be useful to harness the knowledge and skills of the youth, who have access to information to communicate the community’s needs to the outside world. The communities know best what they will need and how such support should be delivered. It will be, as the elders say, kasiyanna.
— Minnie Degawan (Kankanaey-Igorot) is an activist for Indigenous Peoples’ rights from the Cordillera, Philippines. She is the director of Conservation International’s Indigenous & Traditional Peoples Program (ITPP).
