A Cultural Guardians Creation Story of Kamloopa: The Artistic Dimensions of Legal Orders
I wrote a paper for my PhD in Law program. I was chatting a bit about it on my social media at the end of 2021 and there was some interest in taking a read. So I've decided to share some parts of it. As this work is a part of my dissertation, it's in its own state of becoming but I am excited about it and grateful for the time to get to write my theories, ponderings and postulations down.
I'd like to give thanks to Rebecca Johnson for teaching this course and my cohort for bringing the fire every week. That class was a cognitive and spiritual workout due in great depths to the intelligence, courage and generosity of the cohort.
p.s I'm deep into developing a few tv shows atm (on top of the PhD work) so your patience in the fleeting updates is greatly appreciated.
As a storyteller of my Interior Salish Plateau peoples I have one responsibility in this life: to ensure my peoples are given the opportunity to live peacefully and thus be in good relations with the nenquay, the universe. It is my job to ensure the next generation inherits an environment where joy and love is more possible than when I was alive. I speak in this futurist sense not in a fatalistic notion but because I must go beyond time and my materiality to meet the future Ancestors, to hold them in my heart, to be brave today and ignited in my life so that they have access to gwesneh, the Tsilhqot’in law of aliveness. I humbly understand gwesneh as a principle of and for that ignites us to be conscious, balanced, brave and honours the mystical and incomprehensible nature of all our existence.
Gwesneh wakes me up everyday for it is life and working on my relationship with it is what allows me to remain awake. For one can be living but one must be alive to robustly honour life and right now I need to make offers and openings for my peoples to awaken to the power that lives within their denitsins/spirits to honour their nimish/sacred powers because if we are nothing else we rely on the ecological relation vibrancy of all organisms and beingness around us for we are all connected. *Insert that line from Disney’s The Colours of The Wind here. But I do believe the proverbial “we” NDN’s were so enthralled with Walt’s colonial version of Pochahontas because they did hit a nerve with our desire to connect. I believe something that moves us all and is a founding component to living in good relations is that connection with the people around us, our environments and ourselves and from my teachings we did that through artistic practice because it is a portal into the infinite dimensions that is our beingness.
Over a decade ago, I truly understood what my role of working towards the equitable treatment of my peoples was but I did not know how to accomplish it. So I spent a lot of time figuring out what mode of ignition was most affecting to achieve this. I tried working in and with the government in child welfare in 2011, I was working in an Esquimalt Ministry of Children and Family Development office and they had me doing balloon inventory tallying and counting merch from a community event which was I guess a part of “the work”. But I distinctly remember thinking I don’t think this is what my Ancestors dreamed of me doing. With Indigenous youth representing close to 50% of the youth custody population (Munch, Christopher, 2012, pg. 7), Indigenous women being the fastest growing prison population (McGuire and Murdoch, 2021, pg.2), and with suicide rates 3 times higher than non-Indigenous peoples in Canada (Mohan B and Michael Tjepkema 2011) my people are being further disconnected from our lands, peoples and culture and again it is my responsibility to heal this. But in these fraught institutional positions I lacked agency and my cultural authority was being oppressed and putting my denitsin/spirit to sleep because a spirit needs to be active, thrust against the sucks and flows of the universe to stay activated, the health of a denitsin is ongoing work. So as I voyaged into my figuring, I attended Idle No More rally’s and I was sitting on reconciliation committees and volunteering at the Native Youth Centre and I witnessed that the common thread of when I saw Indigenous peoples the most alive was when we were engaging with our culture.
For dance, song and story is a portal into our spirits and allows us to access other dimensions of nenquay/universe like nothing else. It is a necessary component of my Interior Salish Plateau societies and nourishes our ability to be alive. Nobody goes to a rally and starts doing long division, nobody goes to a protest to deliver a powerpoint, nobody blocks a port or railway to make a spreadsheet. We sing, dance and make stories for that is when we are most spherically nourished. For these acts nourish us alive when we are positioned by a society that wants us asleep or dead. For thousands of years acts of culture, artistic practice and legal work were done in our societies for vitality and intergenerational knowledge sharing. Culture continues to be our most sacred inheritance but due to land displacement and cultural dispossession by the state a lot of my peoples are rightfully struggling to engage with artistic practice because it has been attacked from the inception of colonization because they know it is the portal into the health, vitality, thrivance and survivance of Indigenous peoples. The crown built strategies of eradication and genocide on the certitude that the obstruction of Indigenous peoples from land stewardship and cultural authority will cut us off from the requirements of gwesneh. So it is my job to illuminate, create and nourish the nimish/sacred connections of my peoples with our laws via our culture.
In this paper I will explore the artistic dimensions of Indigenous legal orders and speak to their essential nature for the composition of an Indigenous jurisprudential practice. I will also begin making the argument for how the artistic dimension of legal orders is the most affecting and underutilised element to connect with Indigenous peoples who have been displaced and dispossessed from culture to get them ignited to engage with their own artistic legal orders. I will be using my experiences of creating the artistic ceremony Kamloopa: An Indigenous Matriarch Story for the above theoretical explorations and to demonstrate that present day story creation is a necessary and legitimate lawful contribution.
Indigenous legal orders have been advanced as a field by the minds of Val Napoleon, John Burrows, Rebecca Johnson and Hadley Friedland and they have been instrumental in asserting a multi-juridical society. In Hadley Friedland and Val Napoleon’s “Gathering the Threads: Developing a Methodology for Researching and Rebuilding Indigenous Legal Traditions” they speak to the deep work needed for repair and continuance that is required for Indigenous law because “all law moves…no living tradition remains in some pristine state over centuries of inevitable internal and external changes.” (Friedland & Napoleon, 2015, pg. 17.) They go on to address the traumatic impact imperialism has had on Indigenous legal orders stating “the comprehensive denial, disregard, and impairment of Indigenous legal traditions through the concerted efforts and wilful blindness of colonialism magnify the challenges to accessing, understanding, and applying them today.” (Friedland & Napoleon, 2015, pg. 17-18.) This resonates with me because before my friend who got his PhD in this program spoke to me about the legal intersections and the embodiments of my storywork, I had no consciousness about it. Colonialism had absolutely impaired my ability to see my work as a legal prosecution through artistic practice and my engagement with it via a Gitxsan and Interior Salish Plateau legal knowledge exchange rooted in artistic knowledge sharing, demonstrated to me how law is reflected, held and continues in relationships and story is a powerful conduit.
Burrows, Johnson, Friedland and Napoleon have extensive work that speaks to the foundational element of stories in Indigenous legal traditions. In Gathering the Threads, Hadley and Napoleon write “in considering the available Indigenous law resources, we saw formal and informal law recorded in many different kinds of stories, in songs, dances and art, in kinship relationships, in place names, and in the structures and aims of the institutions of each society. We decided to concentrate primarily on identifying and articulating legal principles from stories…there are long standing traditions of employing stories as tools for thinking and teaching within most Indigenous societies.” (Friedland & Napoleon, 2015 pg. 21-22.)
Stories have certainly been the primary record of law for my peoples and with the brutal impacts of colonialism on the Tsilhqot’in, stories remain to be our most sacred, scarce and potent record system. In 2010, I was told that I come from a long line of powerful storytellers and that I participate in a tradition that goes back thousands of years. I was also told that with this “power comes great responsibility” and yes I’m quoting Yoda who irrefutably has been influenced by Indigenous cultures and because an Elder quoted him to me and I respect my Elders. But hearing that my work was and is an intergenerational ascendency rocked me to my core. At that particular epoch of my life I was being told all negative aspects about my cultural and material inheritance - the capital T trauma parts of being an Indigenous person but realising the miraculous nature of my role as a storyteller overwhelmed me with gwesneh. It was as if I could feel the storytellers that came before me come alive in me on a cellular level and my spirit lifted off and remains in orbit of pride, joy and love. I went from the down trodden NDN mentality to an, I have infinite power paradigm. With this portal into my past and future and presence I was done just trying to survive and respond to colonialism. Gwesneh and my legal work required more.
In Alexander Keller Hirsch article ‘‘Like So Many Antigones’’: Survivance and the Afterlife of Indigenous Funerary Remains, he writes “the concept of survivance has been gaining increased esteem in American Indian literary and activist circles of late. Despite a common misinterpretation, survival does not equate with survivance. While survival conjures images of a stark minimalist clinging at the edge of existence, survivance underscores active resistance to structures of dominance and creative responsiveness to its modes of interpellation.” (Hirsch, 2011, pg.468.) He goes on to write “survivance in its current sense means to continue to live, but also to live after death …” Survivance evinces an afterlife. In this sense, survivance evokes a kind of shock, whereby some standard of expectation is surpassed by a remaindering overload.” (Hirsch, 2011, pg.483.)
Hirsch articulated exactly what I was feeling when I realised my work was beyond me, that it was a contribution to something that extended to the edges of the nenquay. The need to have creative responses to go beyond just living is a founding alchemic element to the law of gwesneh. Also realising that my work wasn’t my sole responsibility but in fact was a community act that goes beyond our lives lifted a burden of fear and charged me with great desire to focus, fail furiously, and continue to clarify my understanding of how culture is a portal into a conscious life. At that stage of my career I was mostly acting and partaking in a lot of roles that had me dying and crying and it felt awful. For I wanted to be alive and accepting these roles that erased Indigenous women's power was anti-gwesneh. So I stopped accepting them and said I’m only going to do roles that nourish my denitsin and my career as an actor stopped because I refused to accept roles in these narratives that primodiralized my peoples.
Hirsh speaks to this refusal and writes about the need for investing in work that honours our future, “survivance sacralizes the profuse dimensionality that characterizes indigenous lifeworlds, despite their expected erasure, and catalyzes a new more just future conditioned by shining hope, illumination, and affirmation. Rather than accept the terms of assimilation, encoded in a “language of dominance.” (Hirsch, 2011, pg.483.) I stopped accepting the terms and roles that were being offered because if I wanted my people to go beyond survival, I needed to be alive in every aspect of my life and especially in amplified moments like being on stage. I could have had a lucrative career acting, writing and producing media that upheld the narrative of colonial dominance because trauma structured narratives about Indigenous peoples are resourced, celebrated and awarded because it keeps many Indigenous peoples away from our power and the state loves that but participating in that oppression is a violation of my laws.
Hirsh engages with Gerald Vizenors take on survivance who champions a “shadow literature of liberation that enlivens tribal survivance.”(Hirsch, 2011, pg.484.) Hirsch writes “shadow literature contravenes modes of recognition that would dictate indigenous identity in colonial terms, and instead avows the “postindian warrior of survivance.” This figure represents both survival and resistance (hence, “surviv-ance”), the embodiment of Native presence, “those who overturn the notion of Manifest Destiny and eternal victimry.” “Postindians,” writes Vizenor, “create a native presence, and that sense of presence is both reversion and futurity.” Postindian warriors of survivance infiltrate dominant symbolic orders and systems, and invert discourses of the “vanishing Indian.” (Hirsch, 2011, pg.484.) My work needed to focus “on renewal, on activating a sense of presence over absence, on articulating identity forms that are generative and alive, and on the flow of becoming that enlivens these encounters.” (Hirsch, 2011, pg.486.) And this NDN was not going to participate in vanishing indian stories anymore because our survivance is what’s at stake. This legal abidement to be alive, seen and take up space launched me into the spheres of writing and directing my storywork because if I was to support my peoples survivance I needed to give us cultural endurance and from my teachings I know the power of witnessing. Inversely to be unseen is also impactful, for I had grown up without ever seeing anyone on tv that looked like me, that came from where I came from, that had my sensibilities and that level of erasure obstructed me from living with gwesneh. For how could I explore what my aliveness was like when I had a very incomplete exposure to what it was. So in all my "PostNDN warriorness" and with the relentless commitment to create a future filled with Interior Salish Plateau’ness, I was going to conjure it and thus Kamloopa: An Indigenous Matriarch Story became.
This story has had incredible reception for its artistic merit but I do not believe it’s been accepted by the state as a legitimate postulation for Syilx law. I accept the embargo on critical consumption for the world premiere could have obstructed the communication of this but I think the lack of critical discourse in theatre and even less for Indigenous theatre and then even less for Syilx storytelling has inequitably positioned Kamloopa to be liked but not legally understood. For Kamloopa is inextricably about 2 Syilx femmes exerting their lawful right to access their land, culture and Ancestral inheritance. It’s about a triad of multidimensional beings who exist beyond the bounds of western laws of space as this story is not restricted to the 4 walls of a theatre but honours a lawful practice of telling stories with our Ancestors throughout time. It was created with a focus on matriarchal relationships and Interior Salish survivance and since Indigenous law is recorded in relationships and my stories are grounded in honouring all our relations, I mark and make law via the inter-dimensional relational connections between characters, worlds, performers, designers and audiences and their legal intersections on and off the stage as well as on and off the page. Kamloopa is a lawful embodiment that honours the cultural endurance of the indestructible power and timelessness that is Syilx love and existence.
In Mark Rifkin’s, Beyond Settler Time: Temporal Sovereignty and Indigenous Self-Determination he explores the idea of “becoming” and writes about “plurality of time…rather than a successive series of presents, Indigenous Orientations each becoming past in turn, being-in-time can be understood as fundamentally oriented. More than simply existing as a unit unto itself, the present bears within itself an impetus born from what’s been and directed toward particular goals, ends, horizons. Neither inalterable nor ephemeral, these inclinations contour and animate processes of becoming that have their own trajectories.” (Rifkin, 2017, pg.16-17.) In one of my tv series in development I wrote “love is not linear it follows the contours of the heart” and Rifkin speaks to the need to think about spatiotemporality contouristically and way beyond western sequential notions of it. Like the multiplicity of jurisprudence in our society we must engage one another pluralistically regarding time and space and thus experience, and respect what Rifkin calls “Indigenous temporal sovereignty.” (Rifkin, 2017, pg.26.) By respecting our different experiences of becoming, we simultaneously respect each other's relations with the laws of nenquay/the universe. To force colonial notions of time on people, art and or stories is an oppressive and bankrupt experience and anti-relational.
Rifkin writes “Attending to Indigenous temporal sovereignty, then, draws attention to the ways in which settler superintendence of Native peoples imposes a particular account of how time works—a normative language or framework of temporality that serves as the basis for forms of temporal inclusion and recognition. Settler time reduces the unfolding and adaptive expressions of Indigenous peoplehood to a set of points—the supposedly shared now of the present, modernity, and national history—within a configuration that is positioned as the commonsensical frame in ways that deny the immanent motion of indigeneity.” (Rifkin, 2017, pg.26.) My Tsilhoqot’in and Syilx Nations have their own very specific ontologic principles and experiences of time that need to be respected to wholly understand my work. This is where I will start to conjure, clarify and share my lawful hermeneutical lens that can hopefully be utilised by peoples witnessing my story work and respect it as a lawful act. In Kamloopa, before the play “begins” in the section where I was to write when and where the story takes place I wrote “Time: All. Place: The Multiverse '' This was not done as a literary convention to locate the story in some fictional heightened space but rather to reflect my experience and world view as a Interior Salish Plateau community member. It was an offer for readers and audiences whom I refer to as ceremonial witnesses to situate themselves to receive the work from my Syilx paradigm.
I had a lot of colonial perspectives give A LOT of feedback on the story “not making sense” or that I should follow the well made linear and patriarchal ejaculatory play structure. People communicated that they “weren’t sure about that animal stuff” and struggled to fully engage the world hopping and dimension traversing. I believe these engagements were a struggle because there was an inability or unwillingness to let go of colonial assertions of temporality and colonial ontologies. Rifkin states “Positing a “natural” time that underlies any “cultural construction,” then, implicitly casts non-Euro-American forms of temporal experience as a form of belief, rendering them less real than dominant accounts of a shared, linear time.” (Rifkin, 2017, pg.20.) This rendering, whether it was reticence or conscious oppression to reject the realities by the Kamloopa Fire Company is a blatant disregard for my lawful experience of becoming and an obstruction of my contributions to my peoples survivance.
During the creation process Assistant Director and Metis Fire Company member Jessica Schacht kept using her hands in this pulling apart and up and around motion saying “we’re extending the edges, we’re extending the edges”. This extension was an offer for witnesses to understand the lawful nature of the play via the positioning of the piece as an artistic ceremony - which was a term that evoked significant community response. At the world(s) premiere of the story when people arrived we shared that they walked into a theatre but we had transformed it into a long lodge. By following my Syilx legal traditions we also shared with them that they we’re no longer audience members but witnesses. We spoke to the ceremonial responsibilities of witnessing and said that if they couldn’t commit they could leave at any point - agency was imperative. This preamble was not in the published script, it was off the page heart work and housed under Syilx jurisprudence and I am not sure how effective in sustained embodiment. At the end of the ceremony Anishinaabe Matriarch and actor Samantha Brown said “you now have the responsibility to speak about these women and this story when it is necessary.” Ultimately charging them to defend Syilx and Indigenous women when their peace was being attacked. I did this purposefully and in accordance with my laws of survivance but I think it was mostly received as a convention and thus I wonder if it was a denial of my full legal servitude.
In Coyote and The Cannibal Boy: Secwépemc Insights on the Corporation, Rebecca Johnson and Bonnie Leonard speak to how western legal actors interpretations of law can “sometimes tend to approach Indigenous stories in the way they would read one of Aesop’s fables, looking to the story for the moral or rule that is offered to guide future conduct. Such an approach rests on an incomplete view of the pedagogy of Indigenous storytelling as a practice of law. Stories are more than lists of rules; they are tools for thinking.” (Johnson, Leonard, 2020, pg.38.) This assertion of leveraging the story to do the interpreting and entirety of the telling is a very imperial way of conducting oneself regarding storywork and a similar reductionist practice of classifying my stories as “arty stuff” instead of cognitive relational tools to engage with legal proceedings.
In the article, Johnson and Leonard explore corporate evolution via a 1909 telling of Coyote and Cannibal boy and offer a hermeneutical lens that is applicable to many artistic dimensions to storywork that “we look to the story not simply for “the right answer,” but for a richer engagement with the problem that the story poses. Note that this also invites multiple stories to be pulled into interaction with each other. The stories draw the past and present into conversation to help us imagine steps in the direction of future action and thought. In this way, storywork may help us ask ourselves better questions. (Johnson, Leonard, 2020, pg.38.) If we are to adopt and apply Johnson and Leonard's approach to storywork with Kamloopa, witnesses hold more transcendental possibility in the complex work of bettering Indigenous settler relations by seeking better questions and not reducing it to just entertainment. To receive the story as a space for inter-National Indigenous and non-Indigenous jurisprudential hearings and pluralistic cultural negotiations is to see the portal, begin and or deepen the question asking around their intersections with Syilx legal orders instead of trying to understand the play “correctly.”
This multiplicity of interrelations and processes is the praxis of where my cultural evolution work exists, it’s art, it’s political, it’s legal and it is ultimately healing. I have always known that stories are dadaben/medicine and this understanding of story speaks to the guardian nature of storytelling. From it is my deep understanding that the sustenance for life is culture, culture being the constructs of a social group which includes their philosophies, science, mysticism, eroticism, arts, laws and spiritual embodiments which create our heritage. So as a cultural guardian with a focus on artistic storywork, I am charged with defending gwesneh. The dramaturg on Kamloopa Dr. Lindsay Lachance, who is Algonquin Anishinaabe, shared with me her belief that artistic practice needs to be taken as seriously as “attending a protest”. We have land defenders and I believe my work as a cultural guardian is on a similar sphere of defence, potentially on a different form line point that presences a futurity and proactive assertion rather than a colonial response to an attack on Indigenous thrivance but it must be received for it’s very real legal occupation.
Which is probably why I so adamantly refuse critical consumption because it's so disappointingly narrow. In the colonial desire to make artistically aesthetic taste based judgements they fail to honour the purpose of the story which is not to be “assessed” but rather an opportunity for deep cultural experience. Johnson and Friedland speak to the rich opportunities for us “to consider more complicated relationships of causation, connection and obligation. It can assist us in looking for patterns in the world, and invite us to imagine what shifts in behaviour or structure might enable us to maintain conditions of care, safety and continuity.” (Johnson, Leonard, 2020, pg.38.) I sometimes say wanting to write a review for my work would be like coming to a sacred feast and instead of accepting the offers for transformation and relational nourishment you pull out a notebook and start making aesthetical judgements and clinically consumptive notes for a report. From my legal order that’s disorderly conduct and egoic assertion of cultural authority and way out of that imperialist's jurisdiction. I wouldn’t go to a settler imperialists wedding, baby shower, or birthday to observe, criticise and problematize the event and yet many professional critics without invitation or consent insert themselves, assert their ideologies and thus oppress Indigenous ontologies and I believe this is a dismissal of Indigenous story as law.
In the fall of 2021, a WAM theatre company on J Treaty and Mohican territory did a production of Kamloopa and opened the opportunity for critical consumption and holeh chit did we do some spatiotemporal time travelling because it felt like we we’re dealing with the sentiments of the original 13 colonies. There were multiple settler critical reviews that had the audacity to speak about the bodies of the performers in a truly consumptive way, they published misguided assertions on structure with one writing “scenes drift from one to the next without connection or cumulative sense of the dramatic arc”, and another that was steeped in racist, homophobic and anti-Indigenous sentiments who wrote the play was “over-complicated and the explanations under-exploited.” It was a disappointing experience because Instead of seeing Kamloopa as “a structure for thinking about important policy and legal challenges for the work ahead.” (Johnson, Leonard, 2020, pg.45.) Settlers used this production and the engagements of Kamloopa to deny it’s legitimate legal contributions and oppress my work to spark nimish connections within people to engage in their own artistic practices and legal orders. There has been a long and violent history of settlers taking Indigenous culture and indoctrinating self shame and internalised racism as a response to imperial cultural theft and shame is the antithesis of courage. Shame is a tool of disconnection, it can put the body in cognitive and cultural paralysis and the state banks on shame dictating our cultural disengagements but my work is to heal those bonds and ignite people's confidence. At the end of Kamloopa we used Indigenous sign language to say this is about the need for us to “connect” and I purposefully did that for all the witnesses to receive on all interpretive dimensions.
Stories are truly mystical because they live in the ether with the laws of the universe. Ungraspable but felt this cosmic endurance is why I argue that storywork is one of if not the most effective modes for transformation and contributing to my peoples survivance. The Fire Company travelled into many territories with this ceremony as we had over a thousand people enter the long lodge and we had many lawful encounters with Indigenous peoples bringing gifts of dried nuwish (fish), Matriarchs gifting scarves off their personage at the beginning of the ceremony and the triad on the boards had many invitations to gather over bannock and beadwork to speak about the legal traditions embedded into the ceremony. Kamloopa opened many portals of jurisprudence including me going to Kwìkwèxwelhp Healing Village where I heard Kamloopa read by Indigenous men for the first time and they gifted me a bone choker for the time spent working on working to heal all our relations. My parents saw my storywork for the first time in my close to 2 decade practice because they felt their presence was necessary, respected and honoured because Kamloopa was about nourishing their spirits and not killing their child.
Storywork goes beyond me, it goes beyond space and time and is absolutely an expression of my legal traditions which are reflected in all my works: the Interior Salish Plateau jurisprudential nature is inextricable and it's an affecting mode of legal engagement and my legal servitude continues in all my work. In my theatre for young audiences piece The Mystics, the story is about honouring the timeless nature of being in relations with our Ancestors and the characters are on a journey to honour Dechen Ts’edilhtan (Tsilhqot’in traditional law). Break Horizons, takes place in a colonial prison but is an assertion of Syilx Interior Salish and Indigenous law and is a justice ceremony and Half Way Home, takes place in a state run halfway house but is an embodiment of lead character Rain Paul’s spiritual rehabilitation and lawful cultural continuance. My work has a pedagogical purpose and those who take the time to receive it can bear witness that amongst the tuna can jingle dresses, iconoclastic pussy candle quips and potato chip dust mysticism I stack the acts with the laws of my people and demonstrate that storytelling is a legal act. One that I have been told many times nourishes the spirits of my community members and makes people feel alive and courageous to make decisions to be in good relations with them and all the beings and elements and laws of nenquay.
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McGuire, Michaela M, and Danielle J Murdoch. “(In)-Justice: An Exploration of the Dehumanization, Victimization, Criminalization, and Over-Incarceration of Indigenous Women in Canada.” Punishment & Society, 17 Mar. 2021, p. 146247452110016, 10.1177/14624745211001685.
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Hirsch, Alexander Keller. “‘Like so Many Antigones’: Survivance and the Afterlife of Indigenous Funerary Remains.” Law, Culture and the Humanities, vol. 10, no. 3, 21 Dec. 2011, pp. 464–486, 10.1177/1743872111426106. Accessed 26 Apr. 2021
Rifkin, Mark. Beyond Settler Time : Temporal Sovereignty and Indigenous Self-Determination. Durham C. ; London, Duke University Press, 2017.
Johnson, Rebeca, and Bonnie Leonard. “Coyote and the Cannibal Boy: Secwépemc Insights on the Corporation Corporate Citizen: New Perspectives on the Globalized Rule of Law, 2020.” McGill-Queen’s University Press, vol. DRAFT – forthcoming in a CIGI edited volume, 2020.
Bergeman, Peter. “THEATER REVIEW: WAM Theatre’s ‘KAMLOOPA’ ‘the Most Unusual Play of the 2021 Season.’” The Berkshire Edge, 12 Oct. 2021, theberkshireedge.com/theater-review-wam-theatres-kamloopa-the-most-unusual-play-of-the-2021-season/. Accessed 21 Dec. 2021.
Eagle, Jeffrey Borak, The Berkshire. “Theater Review: The Well-Intentioned Road to WAM Theatre’s ‘Kamloopa’ Is a Bumpy Ride.” The Berkshire Eagle, 2021, www.berkshireeagle.com/arts_and_culture/arts-theater/review-kamloopa-wam-theatre/article_31462cea-2c2a-11ec-9707-0376edc32c09.html. Accessed 21 Dec. 2021.