This podcast episode from "Telling Our Twisted Histories" examines the decolonization of the word "reserve." It explains that reserves, established under the Indian Act, are not municipalities but federal constructs designed to control and assimilate First Nations peoples by isolating them on designated lands. Interviews with numerous Indigenous individuals reveal that reserves are associated with colonial oppression, loss of autonomy, and disrupted relationships with land and settler communities, as seen in events like the 1990 Oka Crisis. The system has contributed to ongoing social challenges.
However, the episode also highlights that reserves are homes where community, culture, and solidarity thrive despite systemic barriers. Speakers express pride in their communities and advocate for reclaiming language, using terms like "community" or "rez" to assert identity and ownership. The discussion looks toward a decolonized future envisioning freedom from borders and a return to responsibilities to the land and collective well-being, moving beyond the colonial legacy embedded in the word "reserve."
If someone in your family experienced harm while admitted to a federal Indian hospital and passed away on or after January 25, 2016, you may be able to submit a claim as an ISDate representative or heir. Find out more at www.ihsettlement.ca or call 1-888-5929101. This is a CBC Podcast. Growing up, we are mostly taught that the government is divided into three levels to serve the people. The federal government oversees the country. Provincial and territorial governments govern their respective provinces and territories. And municipal governments govern cities, towns, and communities on the local level. And while Inuit and Métis peoples live under this system along with the rest of Canadians, first nations people live under a different system. We don't live in municipalities or technically provinces for that matter. We live in a different system, administered entirely at the top levels by the federal government. My name is Ganyethio and today on telling our twisted histories, we are decolonizing the word "reserve". In most indigenous communities, to learn something, you're told to watch and especially to listen. We've been told we're in a post-colonial period, but we know that the processes of colonialism are still at play and their consequences impact our communities every day. For a long time, we have been talked about, labeled, studied, categorized, but now it's time for us to do the talking. Please leave any stereotypes at the door and as you listen, keep this word in mind. Mamou. In the Inuit Amun language, "mamou" means "together". To bring you this series, we travel to 15 indigenous communities from 11 different homelands whose traditional territories now host the provinces of Quebec, New Brunswick, and Labrador. We spoke with 75 Inuit, Mayt, and First Nations people to bring you their voices, directly. So together we will decolonize our world and ourselves, one word at a time. Now listen up and let us tell you our stories as we explore and unravel our twisted histories. The Indian Act, section 18 to 1. Subject to this act reserves are held by her majesty for the use and benefit of the respective bans for which they were set apart, and subject to this act and to the terms of any treaty or surrender. The government council may determine whether any purpose for which land is in this. Reserve means that the notion of popularity does not belong to the people. Reserve gives the notion that it doesn't belong to the people. It's also strange that a reserve is also the same concept as a military base where everything belongs to the government, to the Queen. The word reserve is a synonym, politic, assimilation, control, defiantilization, and self-responsibility. The word reserve is politically synonymous to assimilation, control, and the infantilization of indigenous people. That removes all responsibility to make their own decisions. We are a state of the future of the Indian laws. So all the decisions are taken to work on the services of the other people who are in the life of the reserve. The word reserve comes from the Indian Act. We have the same status as miners. All of our decisions are made for us by Ottawa for our programs and services. It's outsiders who control life on reserve. That was Jimmy Papati, anish Nabe from the community of Kitsisa Gik. And now let's hear from some others about what they think of when they hear the word reserve. We'll start with Lisa Dutcher from the Woolasticae Nation, Living in Frederickton. Reserves are used to set aside people, set people aside, or animals aside. Their reserves are meant to isolate. And it was a colonial concept and was a colonial practice to isolate indigenous people, native people from their lands. Gahandinathahorn, my mom, from the Ganyankahaga community of Gahnawage. We're all living in POW camps. You know what POWs? Prisoner of war camps. They're run by the military. All the reserves are run by the military. Jason Sikwak from the Inuit community of Rigolet. You know, inuit don't live on reserves. It's definitely a first nation's thing because we live in villages or communities. Jillian Delarond and Jody Dibo from the Ganyankahaga community of Gahnawage. It's belittling. It's like, okay, we got the right stuff Canada of all these people live on reserves. It's like, just push them aside. It's kind of like sweeping us under a rug to me. The word reserve kind of adds the idea that there's borders and that you can only be here as an indigenous person within these borders. As you can imagine, we haven't always lived on reserves. When Europeans first came to our shores, we were a multitude of peoples thriving in every environment. Many of us were nomadic or semi-nomadic and moved with the seasons and the animals. There were no borders to our communities, but as more and more settlers arrived here, that all changed. For those of us from what has now become the south of Canada, living on reserve has meant one thing. We are fenced in on all sides by settlers and relations with our neighboring municipalities are not always great. Here's a story from Pamela Isaac of the Migma community of Lista Goosh about what it was like moving from the reserve to a neighboring community as a little girl. When I first heard that I'm living on a reserve, I didn't know I'm living on a reserve because we're just living here. So after it was in 1976 when we moved to Camelton, New Brunswick, wow, what a shock. I quit school seven times because of the treatments we were getting. You guys are Indians, you're going to bring rice. You got to go back to your reserve. Back to my reserve, I said, "What are you talking about?" I said, "What did it mean?" I was too young, I didn't understand it, like reserve. [Music] [Music] [Music] It's Wednesday, July 11th. In morning news, armed police and Mohawk's clash in Quebec. Now the details are broken. Being in such close proximity to each other, conflicts between settler communities and reserves happen. And it's usually over two things. Land and waters. One of the most famous cases happened between the Ganyonka Haga people, also known widely as Mohawk's and our Quebec neighbors. Many Canadians remember this as the Okha Crisis, but for many Ganyonka Haga, myself included, it is simply known as 1990. Over the summer of 1990, an armed standoff between the community's Ganyonka Haga and Ganyonka Haga, and the Canadian military grabbed attention around the world. It was all sparked off when Ganyonka Haga's neighbor of Okha Quebec wanted to expand their golf course into the pines, an area of great significance to the Ganyonka Haga people that also contained the community's graveyard. David Montour of Ganyonka Haga explains how it impacted his community's relationships with its neighbors. 1990 happened when I was 14 years old. I think it dramatically affected the course of our community. I think pre-1990, in a lot of it might be nostalgia. We were doing good things, you know. Our economy was going well, education and things like that, but 1990 really created a lot of animosity internally and externally. It's trained all of our relations, but it let us, they let them know that we're still here. I don't regret that. It had to happen, but it's 30 years on, and people are still kind of scared to come here, whereas before they didn't, you know. And it's not anything except, in my opinion, integration. We were not, we're not kind of open anymore. [Music]
a financial gain and investment they watch and pray off the week who pray to the creator for the day where they can enjoy the same life that the council spent the community funds used like weaponry guns to control all the ones who would otherwise stand up and fight against establishment never too scared to stand my ground I'll always protect my sacred ground I'd allow a war, come on, stand around while we stand in front of the tech what you call your town the very best pound for town winning the fight ground for round we'll be here till the end, singing that victory sound for many northern First Nations living in a reserve or even in a community at all is still relatively new with only a handful of generations born and raised living in communities many elders were born in the bush and moved to the communities when they were young some were attracted to community life for the wage economy and moved to reserve seeking opportunity some nations did not have a choice and were told by church and government that their nomadic ways were over here is Robbie Dick and Joshua Coapit of the Creek community of Wapmoggedui off the eastern coast of the James Bay only sloth were not there before and the Canadian Constitution too that divided the territories that created the provinces and created municipalities all the things came into being before that there were no boundaries no reserves everybody had the right to be wherever they wanted to be including the animals the birds and the fish, everything everything was together as a community there's only several decades ago we started the living in a community it's like putting something that had the freedom of roaming and trying to put them in a cage there's always going to be issues a Louise Tromblé, in new from the community of Matemacouche the creed in the answer is the "Vloir détruire" a pup, a ganger, a cid, a mizu it's all the same as that to create a reserve is to intend to destroy a people it's equal to genocide in my eyes it's just that simple it's a law of sedentary people and now you see the limits of your territory it was used to make us become sedentary to give us limits to our territory my ancestors never walked into the woods with a tape to play my ancestors were not traveling in the country with a measuring tape it was not a place where someone had limited and they said they had made a link and they put the tape to put them in front of you it's not a territory, it's just a knot it's not a space that someone has given limits divided with lines into meters and say that's it that's your territory that's not a territory that's an enclosure Noah Swapi of the Nascapi community of Coahuachica match Nascapi's were moved from their territory because the first trade shut down I guess the government felt that we were not going to survive they became very dependent on the white men's stuff because it was easier and they lost track of the animals Nascapi's were nomadic people they kind of followed the herds or the food people were just so focused on trapping they got hungry other people started it and also the seasons came to pick losses what this all means is that we don't even have control of our own lands and waters up until the 1960s we weren't even allowed to leave the reserve without signed permission from an Indian agent removing us from our lands and isolating us in government-controlled communities has been one of the most devastating things to have happened to indigenous peoples and their ways of life Matthew Mukesh Kri from Wapmug, Shdui it's a violation of natural law our people need the land for their culture to survive and to sustain themselves Lisa Dutcher, Wulaustokai Nation living in Fredrickton those reserves were the thing that helped them to continue to further colonize us because it kept us isolated in one area we were allowed to do our fishing and our hunting and all that stuff because we had to stay on those reserves my grandparents would say there was a day where we could, we had to ask the Indian agent if we could leave we were allowed to just leave so you know those days weren't too far from here here's Jason Sikouak Rigolet across the Northwards mostly villages even though relocation happened and we were forced to move into said villages with promises of running water and cheap housing and housing for everybody it's definitely not a reserve we didn't have the Indian agent policing us it wasn't the Indian agent it was the head of Bay Company Control and Community Bryce Morrison, may T from Winnipeg, living in Quebec City Reserve, it reminds me of a concentration camp my grandfather used to say he would always begin his stories before our nations had fences around them and it speaks of the big change of freedom and of their culture and identity being taken from them installing each first nation in its own right is sovereign and it wasn't until the treaties were signed that these nations started to build fences around them and we call those reserves and so we were pushed out and our lands were taken Peppero Balmsuin Abanaki, living in Garnuaga so while we are contained within the reserve that has been set aside for us as long as we follow the rules and be a good idiot we can maintain space on that land now if we don't that land goes back to the crowd we don't own this land in any way shape or form it's crowd-led it's just led where they reserve a sites so that they can put us in a box so that we're it's easier to maintain us Run, Tromblay, of the Wallastokai Nation living in Fredericton You can flower the names of our communities now come First Nations that they're still highly dependent on the funding from the federal government they're still controlled by their policies they need to act and they're still controlled by the laws of this land and if you wonder why we have the highest rate of poverty suicide, homelessness, non-drinkable water that's the reason why we don't have access to our lands reserves you can calm what you want but they're just little protest plants of land that's still controlled and maintained by the federal government and that's not freedom Today there are over 600 reserves in Canada and no two are exactly alike we're all in different places along our journeys with our own unique histories and relationships we all want different things for our communities but if there's one thing we all have in common is that we want to see our homes succeed and thrive if we really want to decolonize the word reserve we have to go beyond that idea of borders imagine a world without invisible lines restricting where we can and cannot go imagine not feeling a duty to a particular state but to earth itself my mother, Ghandineta Horn of Garnuage explains to us my people's concept of Turtle Island which is what we and many others call this continent and how it shapes how we live in this world so it's not a reserve but we should say what it is or norake which is Turtle Island and all of us I'm not just saying our group every single one of us has a duty and responsibility every single one of us and when you know that then you will have to do things you have to use your own mind Even though there is a lot of colonial baggage mixed up with the word reserve it's still our homes it's still our communities the places where our families are from where our cultures are alive where we feel normal and connected sure there's a lot to hate the system needs some major overhalls but at the end of the day we are proud of the communities that we have built despite everything else here's David Montour about his home of Garnuage the most beautiful thing in Garnuage is when the community comes together a united community in Garnuage is a very very beautiful thing and you could see pockets of it Power I mean 30 years celebrating 1990 but people are happy you know people are very very happy and when Garnuage celebrates as a community it's a beautiful beautiful beautiful thing it's just we don't celebrate as much as we should Danielle Lombamsoin Abanaki living in the creed community of Wapmogs-Dui Maybe the majority of people don't see it like this
She saw my laughter with the girls, with the people who spoke in the binoculars. Imagine if everyone had been assimilated, the languages would have disappeared. All that. They did a bad thing. They did a good thing in the bottom of the screen. Maybe the majority of other people won't think of it like this. But for me, being raised on my reserve with elders and people who could speak Abanaki, I imagine if we had all been assimilated, if our languages have disappeared, it would have been even worse in the end. Here's Audrey Isaac on her favorite part of being Megma and living in Listo Gush. The one thing about living on a reservation, everybody knows everybody. We could have our differences, talking about religion in traditional ways, but if something happens on the reserve, you'll be amazed how everybody comes to get it, no matter what. You unite, you could be a man at this person, your neighbor, your hate, all your life. You're going to help that person. It's so weird, but when N.T. happens to bring us together, we all unite, we understand, we have to be there for each other to back each other up. And that, I love. When I see that, that makes me proud to say, I live in Listo Gush Quebec. And we all know each other and we're a big family. That I love. (Music) Reserve. We just don't really say it very often in conversation. The word might come up for something, quote unquote, "official," something with funding attached to it. We don't avoid the word more so as we have our own words to call it. Here's Noah Swapi, Nascapi from the community of Khoewatchikamatch. I don't like the word reserve, I think community is much better. Because reserve is kind of attached to the purpose of colonialism. I know it kind of feels like it's kind of like a close space. So community is much better. Joshua Coapit from the Cree community of Wabmangstui. Well within the Cree nation, I know that the majority of the population use community instead of reserve. I mean, we have the fact that it is community. For our final word, we'll look once more to Audrey Isaac. And the word reserve, how does it make me feel? Like now, I feel okay, but when I was young, when we went into the schools and towns, the word reserve was almost like a second class citizen. But now I feel to take back my own power, I call it the rest. I call it what the young kids are calling it now. We're calling it the rest, so let's call it the rest. It's more like what we're naming it. It's our place. There's not many places you can say, do you come from a rest? No, I come from a rest. So it's unique. That's how I feel about the word reserve. It has evolved. Rest life is all we can do just to give up. So now we bring you the truth. It's like a flashlight. Traditions won't die. People can organize. People just open your eyes. Res, that's what I call it. For me, I'm a res girl, and you know what they say about res girls. You can take the girl out of the res, but you can't take the res out of the girl. That's all the time we have today. Thanks for joining us as we decolonize the word reserve. I'm Ganyatio. Join us next time as we decolonize more words on telling our twisted histories. [Music] Telling our twisted histories is a co-production of the CBC and Ter Inou. The series was written and directed by Ozzy Michelin, original concept by Karin L'Anouabrien, based on telling our story, an original idea by Ian Boyd and Reginald Volan. Research by Isabel Picard, interviews by Karin L'Anouabrien, Brad Groluy and Ozzy Michelin, editing and sound design by Benoit Damme, our music is courtesy of Music Nomad. Our production supervisor is Anik Mani, producer Elodie Poulet, CBC program manager Sophie Claude Miller, CBC senior producer Carrie Haiber, executive producer Francine Alair. We give an extra special thank you to the 11 groups of first peoples whose homelands make up Quebec, New Brunswick and Labrador, for the generosity of their words and trust in us to share their stories. You can find more episodes of telling our twisted histories on the CBC Listen app or wherever you get your podcasts. I'm your host Ganyatio. Niawa. See you next time. [Music]
Podcast Summary
Key Points:
The term "reserve" is rooted in the colonial Indian Act and symbolizes control, assimilation, and the infantilization of Indigenous peoples, stripping them of autonomy over their lands and lives.
Reserves were created to isolate and dispossess Indigenous communities, disrupting nomadic ways of life, severing connections to traditional territories, and leading to ongoing social issues like poverty and lack of infrastructure.
Despite the colonial system, reserves are home—places of community, cultural resilience, and pride, with many advocating for reclaiming terminology (e.g., "community," "rez") and envisioning a decolonized future without restrictive borders.
Summary:
This podcast episode from "Telling Our Twisted Histories" examines the decolonization of the word "reserve." It explains that reserves, established under the Indian Act, are not municipalities but federal constructs designed to control and assimilate First Nations peoples by isolating them on designated lands. Interviews with numerous Indigenous individuals reveal that reserves are associated with colonial oppression, loss of autonomy, and disrupted relationships with land and settler communities, as seen in events like the 1990 Oka Crisis. The system has contributed to ongoing social challenges.
However, the episode also highlights that reserves are homes where community, culture, and solidarity thrive despite systemic barriers. Speakers express pride in their communities and advocate for reclaiming language, using terms like "community" or "rez" to assert identity and ownership. The discussion looks toward a decolonized future envisioning freedom from borders and a return to responsibilities to the land and collective well-being, moving beyond the colonial legacy embedded in the word "reserve."
FAQs
The Indian Health Settlement addresses harm experienced in federal Indian hospitals. Heirs or ISDate representatives of individuals who passed away on or after January 25, 2016, may submit a claim.
The podcast describes 'reserve' as a colonial term tied to assimilation, control, and infantilization, often implying isolation and government control over land and people.
It refers to the Oka Crisis, a 1990 armed standoff sparked by a Quebec town's plan to expand a golf course onto sacred Mohawk land, leading to a confrontation with the Canadian military.
Reserves disrupted nomadic traditions, restricted movement, and isolated communities, contributing to loss of cultural practices and self-determination.
Some prefer terms like 'community' or 'res' to reclaim identity, emphasizing belonging and rejecting colonial connotations.
Turtle Island is an Indigenous name for North America, representing a worldview of shared duty and responsibility to the land, without borders or ownership.
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