MY IMPLICIT BIAS JOURNEY

Author

Max Vendrig

Max Vendrig is a Canadian outdoor guide, instructor and educator. Max has worked internationally across New Zealand, Japan, Hong Kong, Switzerland and the U.K. She is currently pursuing a Masters in Outdoor and Experiential Learning at the University of Cumbria with a focus on health and well-being.

Applying A Reflexive Lens To Canadian Expedition Culture And Indigenous Relations

Reflexivity is a strategy to critically situate our own knowledge, values and power within dominant social orders (1). It enables practitioners to challenge previous assumptions and knowledge, confront implicit biases, and question personal behaviours which perhaps silence the voices of others or otherwise marginalise them (2). While reflexivity can be uncomfortable, it is an essential process for responsibly ethical practice within the outdoor industry. Drawing on anecdotes, this personal essay looks to explore Indigenous-Canadian relations to critically evaluate my own professional practice as a Canadian outdoor guide.

Firstly, it is necessary to establish the historical context of Indigenous relations in Canada. In Canada, Indigenous people are primarily classified as Inuit, First Nations or Metis, which are then further divided into more than 600 sovereign tribes; each possessing their own rich history of traditions, stories, songs, laws and cultural practices that stretches back over a continuous history of land occupation on Turtle Island for 14,000 years (3).

Yet what binds these diverse and vibrant groups together is their shared tragedy of European colonisation. While there are scattered accounts of Norse-Indigenous interactions as early as the 10th century, European exploration began in earnest from the late 15th century with the arrival of British and French explorers (5). Within five hundred years, we have witnessed a catastrophic erasure of Indigenous lives, cultures and knowledge through disease, warfare, assimilation and genocide. Euro-Indigenous treaties that were meant to engender peace offers a history of broken promises, neglect, abuse of power and, devastatingly, the residential school system which operated from the 1880s to late 1990s. At least 150,000 children between infancy and young adulthood were indoctrinated into residential schools run by church denominations in partnership with the Canadian government. They were forcibly removed from their families and culture in an attempt to whitewash and assimilate into an idealised eurocentric society, and in exchange suffered unspeakable physical, emotional, and sexual abuse at the hands of their supposed guardians.

More recently, in 2021 the remains of hundreds of Indigenous children in unmarked mass graves – some as young as three years old – were discovered at multiple sites formerly belonging to residential schools. This has brought the world’s renewed attention to this shameful chapter of Canadian history, re-opened deep wounds within communities and sparked fresh debate over current Indigenous relations, reconciliation and intergenerational trauma.

A call for reflexivity

Some of the key questions to ask oneself when practicing reflexivity are:

• Why did this pass me by?

• Where was my attention directed at the time?

• What historical, political and cultural structures were in place which facilitated me to lose attention and make that error in perception?

None of the above information regarding Indigenous history was explicitly taught to school children – the current curriculum in both primary and secondary schools artfully skims over the less-savoury aspects of Canadian history. This was a contributing factor to my own ignorance and lack of awareness to Indigenous issues; It was never a topic of discussion at dinner, and I was never exposed to Indigenous culture despite growing up in the Canadian province of Ontario.

These current affairs stand in stark contrast to the cultural perception of Indigenous beliefs and practices, which has been greatly romanticised by Canadian and international tourists alike. Walk into any souvenir shop in Canada, and you will undoubtedly see an array of colourful dream-catchers, moccasins, inukshuks and other icons of Indigenous identity that have been cheaply reproduced and peddled to the masses. According to Statistics Canada, Indigenous people account for 4.9% of Canada’s population, and yet Canada’s Indigenous tourism sector’s direct economic footprint in 2017 was estimated to exceed $1.7 billion in GDP (6).

A Critical Stance on Recreational Canoe Expeditions

This fascination extends to a sustained interest in authentic Indigenous experiences such as canoe expeditions. Yet does the very process of cultural commodification inherently render an experience as inauthentic? This exploitative relationship with nature is precarious in that it ignorantly assumes the attitude What can this experience in nature give me? rather than What can I do to support the land?

Whilst working as a canoe guide in Ontario’s Algonquin Provincial Park, it was my job to take clients on 2 to 5 day expeditions. All gear, food and necessities would be pre-packed prior to guest arrival. The route would be fixed and permits acquired that designated which lakes we would occupy each night. I would deliver safety and skills briefings, and then away we would go into the wilderness: a wilderness that came with established wooden thunderboxes for client ablutions and ready-made fire pits. Expedition kit came with a series of pots and pans, but guides were encouraged as often as possible to cook over an open fire for authenticity.

My passion lay in delivering impactful experiences to clients that shared this appreciation of outdoor spaces. For years, I revelled in the moral superiority of having the opportunity to exist in nature (and getting paid to do it). My underlying assumption was that the height of human experience happened in such landscapes – that this was the best way to lead an authentic life. The lifestyle and community of the outdoor industry fitted the perception of myself that I liked best and allowed me to best express how I wanted to be perceived by others: adventurous and connected to nature.

Algonquin Provincial Park continues to be a place in which I experience joy. It is an opportunity to connect with myself, others and nature; it possesses aesthetically-pleasing landscapes that inspire a Burkian (Edmund Burke and the Sublime) sense of awe and humility; it empowers me and instills a sense of hyper-presence; it allows me personal agency where there is a tangible element of risk, or rather, the mastery of risk. Beyond my own interests and passions, I acted as an experience-broker for enabling clients to enjoy their own version of authentic Canadian wilderness. Life was good.

Yet I was woefully oblivious to the role I actively played in stifling Indigenous voices and furthering a neo-colonialist agenda. As a guide, I was given the gear and food I required to deliver a successful trip to clients but received no education or awareness of the Indigenous people that claimed heritage there.

Upon introspection and research, this romanticisation is problematic when viewed with a contemporary lens. While I may have perceived myself as celebrating Indigenous culture, my practices leant themselves more to cultural profiteering from these spaces while failing to acknowledge that they were once (and continue to be) Indigenous lands. Despite a growing awareness and empathy for Indigenous issues, the sphere of canoe expeditions has a long way to go to become an open and welcoming space for Indigenous groups.

Strategies for change

Firstly, there is a lack of dialogue for the history of Indigenous presence in leisure areas. Looking up traditional place names rather than using the anglicised names is a small yet vital step in building this awareness. For example, last summer I went on a paddling trip with my father around Ontario, and when posting on social media I tagged or described places using First Nations etymology. It helped me begin to realise the history of a place beyond the westernised knowledge I had direct access to and started conversations with friends and family within my sphere of influence.

Secondly, there is a lack of Indigenous involvement in facilitating these experiences; in ten years I have never worked with a guide who outwardly claimed Indigenous heritage. Therein lies the irony that, despite pioneering canoe travel, Indigenous groups have been largely shut out of the expedition industry. This mantle has been awarded to inherently white, westernised businesses that cater to wealthy, westernised demographics. Tourism has the potential to contribute to an understanding and a more equal relationship between the Indigenous communities and the non-Indigenous people who come to visit them, but from a contemporary standpoint it acts as a form of neo-colonialism.

Finally, there is an institutionalised lack of understanding from guides and other key players in how our actions and biases continue to uphold euro-centric hegemonies, or dominant socio-political structures of Western cultures. The shape of culture, of narratives, makes us act and think in certain ways; however, one must ask themself:

• If I cannot change my (white privileged) background, what can I change?

• How can we educate, inform, remedy these forms of implicit bias that are complicit in stoking the fires of racism and classism without employing patronising language?

• How can I build more empathy and understanding into a community of guides, instructors and educators? And how can we positively impact the future without succumbing to ‘white saviour’ complexes or new forms of colonialism?

Reconciliation does not need to wait for the political processes of formalised institutions such as the government; it can begin at the grassroots level of guides and small business owners by beginning with critical questioning (8).

Conclusion

The process of learning (and unlearning) is not homogenous; it is messy and non-linear. The intersection of Indigenous culture and knowledge with modern canoe expeditions is a complex issue; nor is it exclusive to North American Indigenous groups – it is just as applicable to other colonised areas such as Oceana, the West Indies, and parts of the African continent. Yet the rationale for reflexivity remains—so that practitioners can develop a wider understanding and perspective of what it means to be a professional in outdoor education.

I genuinely believe in the skills, mindset, sense of place and identity-formation one can gain from impactful outdoor experiences, and I remain a passionate advocate for this; I also acknowledge that I have more to learn from Indigenous traditional knowledge. At this stage in my professional journey, I am under no illusions of expecting myself to have all the answers: It is equally important to be asking the right questions, and to continue to ask questions as we move forward into a sphere of greater understanding and awareness p

References

1. Rose, J. and Paisley, K., 2012. White Privilege in Experiential Education: A Critical Reflection. Leisure Sciences, 34(2), pp.136-154.

2. Bolton, G., 2009. Reflective Practice: Writing and Professional Development. 3rd ed. Sage Publications, pp.3-24.

3. Fagan, B. and Durrani, N., 2016. World Prehistory: A Brief Introduction. 9th ed. Routledge, pp.124.

4. Native Land, n.d. North America. [image] Available at: <https://native-land.ca/> [Accessed 5 January 2022].

5. Williams, G., 2015. Exploration. [online] The Canadian Encyclopedia. Available at: <https://www. thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/exploration> [Accessed 3 January 2022].

6. Fiser, A. and Hermus, G., 2019. Canada’s Indigenous Tourism Sector: Insights and Economic Impacts. [online] Ottawa: The Conference Board of Canada, p.6. Available at: <https://indigenoustourism.ca/ wp-content/uploads/2019/05/10266_IndigenousTourismSector_RPT.pdf> [Accessed 30 December 2021].

7. Vendrig, M. 2021. Ontario Rivers. [Photographs].

8. Curtin, N. and Bird, S., 2021. “We are reconciliators”: When Indigenous tourism begins with agency. Journal of Sustainable Tourism, pp.1-21.

IMAGES

All images have been supplied by the author. Author retains copyright.