NEW FEMININITIES IN

DIGITAL, PHYSICAL AND SPORTING CULTURES

Indigenous
Feminist
Gikendaasowin
(Knowledge)
Decolonization through
Physical Activity

Tricia McGuire-Adams
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and
Sporting Cultures

Series Editors
Kim Toffoletti
School of Humanities and Social Sciences
Deakin University
Melbourne, VIC, Australia

Jessica Francombe-Webb
Department for Health
University of Bath
Bath, UK

Holly Thorpe
School of Health
University of Waikato
Hamilton, New Zealand
Palgrave’s New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures
series is dedicated to exploring emerging forms and expressions of femi-
ninity, feminist activism and politics in an increasingly global, consumer
and digital world. Books in this series focus on the latest conceptual,
methodological and theoretical developments in feminist thinking about
bodies, movement, physicality, leisure and technology to understand and
problematize new framings of feminine embodiment. Globally inclusive,
and featuring established and emerging scholars from multi-disciplinary
fields, the series is characterized by an interest in advancing research and
scholarship concerning women’s experiences of physical culture in a vari-
ety of cultural contexts.

More information about this series at

http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/15874
 Tricia McGuire-Adams

Indigenous Feminist
Gikendaasowin
(Knowledge)
Decolonization through Physical
Activity
Tricia McGuire-Adams
University of Ottawa
Ottawa, ON, Canada

ISSN 2522-0330     ISSN 2522-0349 (electronic)

New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures
ISBN 978-3-030-56805-4    ISBN 978-3-030-56806-1 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1

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 Artist Statement

Keeping the Past. Keeping Strong. (2008, Acrlyic on Canvas)

There are three images in this painting. There is a woman standing tall,
strong and proud of her cultural identity. She is embracing the younger
version of herself, the child within. The hand on the back (of the woman
kneeling), represents the past and the intentional colonial violence that
was directed towards Indigenous Peoples.
I am the woman in the painting. The strong woman embraces and hon-
ours the child within, and will always acknowledge the past harms that were
directly, and indirectly, targeted at her and her People. The very act of existing
today is a reflection of the strength and resilience of Indigenous Peoples.
Learning about, and understanding, the relationship between the
Indigenous Nations and the Government of Canada through the per-
spectives and lived experiences of Indigenous Peoples empowered every
essence of my being. The heinous effects of colonialism inflicted on my
ancestors continue today through the intergenerational impacts and cur-
rent policies and practices. Like many Indigenous Peoples, I have a

v
vi Artist Statement

responsibility to do work in my life that will make a positive impact in

the lives of my relations.
Miigwetch,
Rachel Mishenene
Anishinaabe, Member of Eabametoong First Nation and bloodborn to
Mishkeegogamang First Nation
 Acknowledgements

This book could not have happened without the ever-present love and
support offered from my family. To Ryan, Ziigwaan, Mom, and Debbie,
chimiigwetch for your continual support. To the strong Anishinaabekweg
and the women who committed to Wiisokotaatiwin, I am incredibly
thankful for your guidance and for your sharing your dibaajimowinan
with me.
Thank you/chimiigwetch to the for the Elders of Naicatchewenin First
Nation, Gary Smith, and Clint Geyshick for your guidance, learnings,
and support. I am humbled to be welcomed to learn through
Anishinaabemowin and our Anishinaabeg intelligence.
To Sheridon, Jennifer, and the Odawa Native Friendship Centre, miig-
wetch for your sustained support for the kettlebell programme and in for
my research. To all my dear friends who gave me words of encouragement
and listened to me as I rambled on about my dissertation, and now book-­
writing journey, miigwetch. I navigated some difficult spaces, and my
friends and family were always there to hold me up.
Thank you to Audrey Giles, Nicholas Ng-A-Fook, and Mythili Rajiva
for your guidance with the first iteration of this manuscript, my
dissertation.
To Lindsey Kirby-McGregor, my incredible Master of Arts student,
miigwetch for your assistance with the final production push.

vii
viii Acknowledgements

To Seven Generations Educational Institute, the University of Ottawa,

Indspire, Rose Nolan Foundation, and the Canadian Institutes of Health
Research - Institute of Indigenous Peoples’ Health (CIHR-IAPH) miig-
wetch for the financial support over the course of my research.
I am forever grateful that you have published your Anishinaabeg
intelligence.
To Kim Toffoletti, Holly Thorpe, and Jessica Francombe-Webb, I am
deeply grateful for your support with my research and guidance through-
out this process.
 Contents

1 Introduction  1

2 Indigenous Feminist Theory and Embodied Settler

Colonialism 31

3 Relational Accountability to our Ancestors 45

4 Women’s Stories of Decolonized Physical Activity 63

5 Oshki-Michitweg or New Runners 83

6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue,

and Creating Well-­Being Through Physical Activity 99

7 Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic of Anishinaabeg

Self-Discipline129

ix
x Contents

8 Conclusion147

Glossary163

Index165
 1
Introduction

The stories we tell about ourselves and each other matter. They inform
how we make sense of our realities, our experiences, and the way we feel
and think about each other, and indeed, how we think and feel about
ourselves. What stories does settler colonialism tell about Indigenous1
women in Canada? Often, settler colonialism tells a story about
Indigenous women in a multitude of negative tones: that Indigenous
women are not high achievers; that we have too many babies, with too
many fathers; that we are too promiscuous and do drugs and alcohol,
which leads us to be murdered and/or missing; that we are not healthy
and well; and that we are not physically strong.2 These settler-colonial
stories about Indigenous women are rooted in the justification of the tak-
ing of Indigenous lands and territories. Indigenous women, from across
Turtle Island and from diverse Nations, were (and are) the leaders, think-
ers, and cultural catalysts among our respective communities. We had a
formidable strength garnered from our immense spirituality, and we fos-
tered knowledge and teachings that continue to guide our journey within
mino-biimaadiziwin (the good life). Settler-colonial stories come from a
settler-colonial mythology about Indigenous women that maintains the
interlocking institutions of heteropatriarchy, white supremacy, and

© The Author(s) 2020 1

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1_1
2 T. McGuire-Adams

Christianity. Such stories spin a rationalized space in the minds of settler-­

colonial people in order for their existence on stolen territory to make
sense to them. But these stories are not how we, as Indigenous women,
think about ourselves and each other.
The dibaajimowinan shared in this book tell different stories. The
dibaajimowinan tell of deep ancestral knowledge and strength that show
that Anishinaabekweg had immense physicality and strength; they tell of
Anishinaabekweg embodying ancestral strengths through physical activ-
ity, such as running, and they tell of creating community and support
through critical dialogue and physical activity. These dibaajimowinan are
a truth telling; they speak to the regeneration occurring among Indigenous
women, and they speak back to the settler-colonial stories, stories that are
meant to show our presumed disappearance.
This book presents the dibaajimowinan of Anishinaabeg women,
Elders, and urban Indigenous women regarding our physicality, health,
and well-being. Their stories inform personal decolonization and regen-
eration within the fields of sociology of sport and Indigenous femi-
nist theory.

Toni Morrison “If there is a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been writ-
ten yet, you must be the one to write it” from the Handy English Grammar
Answer Book.

Locating Myself
Boozhoo, Dibikgeezhigokwe indigo. Mishkwasdesi dodaim. Bingwi
Neyaashi Anishinaabek (Ojibway) nindoonji, Anemki Wekwedong nin-
doonji. I belong to Bingwi Neyaashi Anishinaabek on Animbiigo
Zaagi’igan and grew up in Thunder Bay, Ontario, both of which are in
the Robinson Superior Treaty Territory. My paternal family is from
Bingwi Neyaashi Anishinaabek. My maternal family is from Animakee
Wa Zhing 37 First Nation in Treaty #3 Territory. I also have family ties to
Couchiching First Nation in Treaty #3 through marriage. Anishinaabeg,
other times spelled Anishinaabek, comprise the Potawatomi, Odawa, and
Ojibway (in the United States Ojibway is also known as Chippewa)
 1 Introduction 3

peoples who span the Traditional Territories now known as Manitoba,

Ontario, Québec, in Canada, and the state of Minnesota in the United
States. Anishinaabeg reside in rural and urban areas and in their respec-
tive First Nation communities, in addition to other global localities. It is
important that I introduce to you my Anishinaabeg family and commu-
nities to demonstrate and honour my identity, relationships, and the sto-
ries shared within this book.
Anishinaabeg knowledge is derived from our stories or dibaajimowi-
nan. We learn from our personal stories, ancestral stories, funny or tragic
stories, and truth-telling stories; indeed, “stories are meant to heal”
(Wagamese 2008, p. 4). As Anishinaabeg, we have a responsibility to
preserve our stories as they are meant to teach us new ways of being. My
ancestral stories have guided me while writing this book. I share them
now to honour my ancestors who continue to guide me:

I was a young woman, just 19, when my father told me a story about my
Anishinaabekweg ancestors living on the territory of Animbiigo Zaagi’igan. A
long time ago on Animbiigo Zaagi’igan, three Anishinaabekweg went to check
their fishing net beneath the winter ice. One of the women was pregnant and
during the trip to collect the fish, she gave birth. She then walked back to our
community—carrying the fish with her baby. In this story, my nookomisag
showed immense physical strength, both in traversing the frigid, frozen lake to
collect the fish meant to feed their families and in delivering a baby on the
frozen, icy lake. The birth of this precious baby instilled a far greater strength in
my nookomisag than the trip initially demanded of them. My nokomis showed
an ethereal physicality to give birth on Animbiigo Zaagi’igan and to then carry
her newborn with the fish back to her family. It is extraordinarily meaningful
and is an act for which I am very grateful.
A second story features the birth of my father. My auntie, Dr. Patricia
McGuire, recounted the story of the birth of my father to me on one of our many
visits together. My nokomis, who at the time was nine months pregnant, sent
her children off to school one day. Upon returning from school, the children
began to eat their supper while their mama busied herself with daily chores. The
siblings noticed a strange sound coming from a basket. Their first thought was
that it was a puppy; however, they were astonished to discover it was their new
baby brother. In this story, my nokomis was able to not only give birth to my
father completely on her own, but she was also then able to collect the wood to
4 T. McGuire-Adams

set up the fire in the wood stove, prepare and cook supper for the kids, and
continue to occupy herself with other tasks.
A third story is about my ancestral relative, Pikaagooseekwe. Shared by my
auntie as part of her own dissertation, it is a story highlighting the fortitude
and physical strength of our ancestor.
Pikaagooseekwe came to Animbigoo Zaagi’igan when her grandmother out-
fitted her with food and a birch bark canoe. She and her grandmother were
living by Lake Superior in what is now Pic Heron First Nation. Her grand-
mother did not want her to marry a specific man, as Pikaagooseekwe would
have become his second or third wife. Pikaagooseekwe was about 14 years old
when her grandmother prepared her for this journey … It took her about two
weeks to travel by water from Heron Bay, close to Lake Superior and Marathon,
Ontario, to the shores of Lake Nipigon. She travelled on her own and was able
to avoid fur traders and various other dangers in the process. Pikaagooseekwe
arrived safely at the home of her relatives at Nipigon House, a Hudson Bay
trading post on Lake Nipigon. She made certain her grandchildren knew of this
journey and the reasons why it was undertaken. (McGuire 2013, p. 74)

These stories speak to the incredible physical strength, health, and well-
ness that Anishinaabekweg possess. In each story, the women embodied
a strong physicality that enabled them to collect fish for their family,
deliver babies on their territories, and evade unwelcome circumstances.
Together, these ancestral stories provided me with purpose as I thought
mindfully and spiritually about my responsibility in conducting research.
These stories grounded me and gave me strength, as I knew my ancestors
were guiding me. Most incredibly, the stories led me to realize the aim of
this book, which was to understand how our ancestral stories of physical
strength, and current personal stories of physical activity, may influence
our current efforts to challenge ill health. The guiding question for the
research presented in this book is, “Can physical activity that encom-
passes a decolonization approach be a catalyst for regenerative well-being
for Anishinaabeg women?” Answering this question required three stages
of research, each comprising their own study. In stage one, I held a shar-
ing circle with Anishinaabeg Elders to ask how settler colonialism is man-
ifested upon Anishinaabeg women’s bodies? The results of this stage are
positioned in Chap. 3. I choose to place the knowledge that the Elders’
shared in the forefront in the book as their words ground how settler
 1 Introduction 5

colonialism is both presented and challenged through our stories. In stage

two, I interviewed Anishinaabeg women who are exemplars of decolo-
nized physical activity to ask, why did you become physically active?
What drives you to commit to physical activity? And, why is physical
activity important to you? The results of this stage are presented in Chaps.
4 and 5 of the book and represent how Anishinaabeg women are disrupt-
ing settler colonialism through their decolonized physical activity. In
stage three, I implemented Wiisokotaatiwin to explore the benefits of
bringing urban Indigenous women together to engage in physical activity
while discussing issues related to colonization, decolonization, health and
well-being, ancestral stories, and other aspects of physical activity. This
chapter showcases a novel study of Indigenous women’s physical activity
practices, this time in urban gym settings, to consider the place of decolo-
nization and strength in understandings of well-being and provides a fur-
ther example of how settler colonialism may be disrupted from a
community perspective. In the last chapter, I demonstrate how Indigenous
folks might take up the knowledge presented in this book by enacting
disciplined physical activity as a form of resistance to settler colonialism.
Through these chapters, I speak to how settler colonialism is mani-
fested in our bodies through ill health, trauma, and grief through the use
of statistics and Elders’ stories (Chap. 2); I show how embodied settler
colonialism is disrupted by the enactment of decolonized physical activ-
ity (Chaps. 4, 5, and 6), and I show how we can implement decolonized
physical activity by turning toward an Indigenous ethic of discipline
(Chap. 7).
The remainder of this introduction is divided into three sections. First,
I describe the literature regarding Indigenous Peoples’ health disparities
and the role of settler colonialism and personal decolonization in health.
Second, I engage with sociology of sport literature, in particular works
that engage women of colour and settler-colonial perspectives and note
the importance of physical activity in improving Indigenous Peoples’
well-being. In the final section, I introduce my research framework,
including the Anishinaabeg research paradigm, and my research meth-
ods, analysis, and ethical considerations.
6 T. McGuire-Adams

Literature Review
Health Disparities

For many years, researchers have been documenting the health disparities
between Indigenous Peoples and non-Indigenous People in Canada.
Indigenous Peoples report poorer health and high rates of chronic health
conditions (Gionet and Roshanafshar 2013). For instance, 63 per cent of
off-reserve First Nations people over the age of 15 experience at least one
chronic condition, an additional 24 per cent report two chronic condi-
tions, and 35 per cent report three or more chronic conditions (Rotenberg
2016). When compared to the general Canadian population, who experi-
ence obesity at a rate of 52 per cent, Indigenous Peoples experience higher
rates of obesity: 63 per cent of First Nations people living off-reserve (74
per cent on reserve), 61 per cent of Métis, and 58 per cent of Inuit are
considered obese (Public Health Agency of Canada 2011).
Additionally, heart disease is 1.5 times higher and rates of type 2 dia-
betes are three to five times higher among First Nations people, with rates
increasing among the Inuit; tuberculosis infection rates for Indigenous
Peoples are eight to ten times higher than non-Indigenous People (Health
Canada 2006). Importantly, type 2 diabetes has reached epidemic rates
(Gionet and Roshanafshar 2013; Reading 2009a), which is a cause for
concern because diabetes intensifies other chronic conditions. The Public
Health Agency of Canada (2011) reported that individuals with diabetes
are between two to four times more likely to develop cardiovascular dis-
ease than those without, and Indigenous Peoples experience higher rates
of complications from diabetes, overall. The high rates of type 2 diabetes
among Indigenous women further compound this statistic.
Almost every health indicator shows that Indigenous Peoples in
Canada are overburdened with ill health (Reading 2009a) and that there
are important gender-based health differences between Indigenous men
and women. Indigenous women appear to be particularly vulnerable to
ill health. They experience higher rates of physical inactivity and chronic
diseases than do non-Indigenous women and Indigenous men (Browne
et al. 2009; Public Health Agency of Canada 2011). For instance, First
 1 Introduction 7

Nations women in Canada who live off-reserve are less likely to engage in
physical activity and experience higher rates of ill health than their male
counterparts (Browne et al. 2009; Bruner and Chad 2013; Native
Women’s Association of Canada 2007). Furthermore, First Nations peo-
ple in Canada experience type 2 diabetes at a rate that is three to five
times greater than the general Canadian population (Health Canada
2006), with Aboriginal females having a greater prevalence of type 2 dia-
betes than Aboriginal males (Public Health Agency of Canada 2011).
Findlay (2011) also found that while First Nations people living off-­
reserve are more physically active than the non-Aboriginal population,
they nonetheless experience poorer health, specifically regarding obesity
and other chronic diseases. To that end, data from 2011 showed that
Aboriginal women have higher inactivity rates (Bruner and Chad 2013;
Findlay 2011), have higher overweight and obesity rates (Bruner and
Chad 2013), and suffer from “poorer health than non-Aboriginal women
in Canada … and more chronic diseases than Aboriginal men” (Bourassa
et al. 2004, p. 23). In addition, they are more likely to be diagnosed with
at least one chronic condition when compared to Indigenous men and
non-Indigenous women (Arriagada 2016). A recent study of First Nations
people in Alberta, Canada, reported that First Nations women experience
the highest lifetime risk of developing type 2 diabetes when compared to
First Nations men, and non-Indigenous men and women (Chowdhury
Turnin et al. 2016). This finding supports results from Bourassa et al.’s
(2004) significant study in which they reported that “chronic disease dis-
parities are more pronounced for Aboriginal women than Aboriginal
men. For example, diseases such as diabetes are more prevalent among
Aboriginal women than either the general population or Aboriginal men”
(p. 1). Furthermore, Indigenous women are less likely to report their
health as excellent or very good (48 per cent reported excellent or very
good health) when compared to Indigenous men (53 per cent reported
excellent or very good health), and non-Indigenous women (64 per cent
reported excellent or very good health) (Arriagada 2016). Also, First
Nations women have been found to be “significantly more likely than
[First Nations] males to be diagnosed with arthritis, asthma, an anxiety
disorder, or mood disorder” (Rotenberg 2016, p. 7). These health
8 T. McGuire-Adams

indicators show that Indigenous Peoples, in particular Indigenous

women, experience chronic diseases and ill health at an alarming rate.
While becoming aware of health disparities is important for under-
standing the ill health experienced by Indigenous Peoples, it nonetheless
occurs within a colonial narrative that places mainstream health as the
standard from which to measure all Indigenous Peoples’ health. For
instance, Findlay (2011) has argued that even when key social determi-
nants of health are addressed (e.g., poor housing and lower income),
physical activity still does not correspond to improved health for First
Nations people. When non-Indigenous health researchers document the
health disparities between Indigenous Peoples and non-Indigenous
People in Canada, it often unknowingly reproduces a discourse that nor-
malizes mainstream health and often pathologizes Indigenous Peoples as
ill (Ahenakew 2011; Wilson 2008). This, then, results in a normalization
of settler health that excludes Indigenous conceptions of health. For
instance, Getty (2010) problematized how “White” researchers who aim
to improve Indigenous Peoples’ quality of life often reify whiteness and
marginalize Indigenous Peoples’ cultural solutions. She explained,

Instead of supporting the desires and efforts of Aboriginal people to

improve their quality of life, we can try to fix it for them. In so doing,
absorbed in our efforts to help, we can ignore their wishes and resources,
including their strengths and culture. This is the crux of the problem faced
by White researchers who want to support Aboriginal peoples to improve
their quality of life and health. (p. 10)

Indeed, Bruner and Chad (2013) have noted that the sociocultural
factors that influence physical activity have not been adequately researched
from the perspectives of Indigenous women themselves. Their study,
which focused on the attitudes, beliefs, and practices of physical activity
among First Nations women, found that while participants believed
physical activity is important for good health, a lack of time, a lack of
community opportunities, and environmental factors are barriers to par-
ticipation in physical activity. Other studies have connected the underly-
ing causes of Indigenous women’s disproportionate burden of ill health
directly to the impacts of colonialism (Bourassa et al. 2004; Loppie
 1 Introduction 9

Reading and Wein 2009). While it is well documented that physical

activity can improve health (Foulds et al. 2011; Lavallée 2007; Reiner
et al. 2013), scholarly accounts informed from Indigenous perspectives of
Indigenous women’s understandings of physical activity and their experi-
ences of colonialism regarding ill health are scarce.

Race and Gender in the Sociology of Sport Field

Research concerning women’s physical activity is extensive and has

spanned multiple areas: participation in sport (Thompson 2002); femi-
ninity ideology and sport (Roth and Bascow 2004); physical activity and
health (McDermott 2010); bodies, gender, and health (Kuhlmann and
Babitsch 2002); women’s physicality (McDermott 1996, 2000); and the
body, femininity, and disability (Inahara 2009). While this research has
broadened understandings of sport, physical activity, gender, and embod-
ied practices, by in large, it has been conducted through a white main-
stream lens. However, more recent scholarship has focused on race and
sport (Joseph et al. 2012), and sport, race, and gender (Ratna and
Samie 2017).
Joseph et al. (2012) address the complexities of race and racism in
sport in Canada. The authors recognize that there is a lack of research for
ethnic minority populations and “the subject of race and sport in Canada
continues to be under-addressed and under-analyzed” (p. 13). As such,
this body of work is timely, necessary, and effective at addressing the
complexities of race and racism in sport. This book is one of the only
books to “describe, historicize, critique, and ultimately challenge domi-
nant articulations of race within a variety of Canadian sport and physical
activity settings” (p. 2). The authors bring attention to the enactments of
inequality in sport from the perspectives of mostly immigrant and Black
experiences and how such enactments protect and sustain whiteness and
hierarchies of race and power. While there is some noted Indigenous-­
sport presence, namely discussing Aboriginal men’s experiences in hockey,
a concerted focus from an Indigenous women’s perspective on sport and
physical activity remains absent.
10 T. McGuire-Adams

Ratna and Samie’s (2017) timely addition to the field creates a con-
certed gendered analysis of power, whiteness, and race in sport contexts.
The collection of authors provide an in-depth historical rendering of the
field to pinpoint where and how the voices of ethnic “Other” women and
girls lacked engagement or were given space only through the eyes of
white female researchers’ “interpretations of ethnic ‘Other’ women”
(p. 19). This collection is valuable as it creates a space from which women
of colour can speak about their sporting and physical cultural experi-
ences. The authors in this book showcase ethnic “Other” girls’ and wom-
en’s participation in and relationship with sport to tease out the
complexities of sport as both an oppressive space and as a resistance to
oppression to find new transformations. While the authors acknowledge
that their collection cannot possibly represent all the voices that need to
be heard, they provide a crucial foundation to build upon. Indeed, they
invite scholars to continue the interrogation of such power dynamics
within sport and physical cultural contexts, and this book does just that.
By looking to the dibaajimowinan of Anishinaabeg and other Indigenous
women, through an Indigenous feminist lens, this book adds to the dis-
cipline of the sociology of sport from “Other” women perspectives, more
specially from an Indigenous perspective. To centre the perspectives and
stories of Anishinaabeg women, urban Indigenous women, and
Anishinaabeg Elders fosters a critical and timely reading of embodied
decolonization through physical activity.

Indigenous Peoples: Sport and Physical Activity

Indigenous and non-Indigenous sport, physical activity, and health schol-

ars have brought much-needed attention to Indigenous Peoples’ partici-
pation in sport and physical activity (Ferguson and Philipenko 2016;
Forsyth and Giles 2013; Forsyth and Wamsley 2006; Hall 2002; Salamone
2013; Tang and Jardine 2016) and to Indigenous women’s participation
in particular (Bruner and Chad 2013; Coppola et al. 2016; Giles 2004;
Lavallée 2008; McHugh et al. 2014; Paraschak and Forsyth 2010).
Forsyth and Giles’ (2013) notable contribution, including discussions on
residential schools, sport policy, and cultural relevance in physical
 1 Introduction 11

education, for instance, is a prominent edited collection on Indigenous

Peoples and sport in Canada. The authors skillfully lay the groundwork
for researchers to further explore Indigenous perspectives on sport and
physical activity. For instance, and more recently, Hayhurst et al. (2016)
encourage scholars, both within sport for development and within the
broader sport and health fields, to create opportunities to be better
informed by Indigenous epistemologies; such inclusion offers support to
the advancement of sport that directly benefits, and is useful for,
Indigenous communities. Lavallée’s (2007, 2008) noteworthy study on
urban Indigenous women’s experiences with martial arts provides a neces-
sary starting point from which to build further scholarship from an
Indigenous context. Using an Anishinaabe research method, Lavallée’s
study shows the importance of using Anishinaabe ways of being in
research to propel Indigenous-led methods and practices for physical
activity. In a similar vein, Hippolite and Bruce (2013) showcase the value
of implementing a Māori research methodology in their study on Māori
perspectives and practices in sport. Another study from New Zealand
features a Māori feminist perspective in sport management (Palmer and
Masters 2010) that used a kaupapa Māori paradigm that is inclusive of a
Māori feminist and intersectional approach. The authors describe Māori
feminism as encompassing Māori women’s perspectives on their identi-
ties, realities, forms of oppression, and aspects of strength and resilience.
The coupling of the Māori feminist approach in the sport management
field is unique and necessary to showcase the perspectives of the few
Māori women in this field, and it helped to contextualize their experi-
ences and perspectives.
Importantly, while these texts create a foundation from which to
explore specific Indigenous contexts in physical activity, this book is
unique as it uses an Indigenous research approach to examine physical
activity that is framed within a decolonial praxis, or said another way,
using physical activity as a tool for personal decolonization. While the
ways in which physical activity and sport involvement might be used as a
tool for decolonization have largely escaped scholarly attention, the ways
in which it has been used as a tool of colonization have received consider-
able attention.
12 T. McGuire-Adams

Although sport can replicate and is infused with colonial and nation-
alistic values that further the assimilative goals of Canada (Forsyth and
Wamsley 2006), it has also been used as a means of resistance. Within
residential schools, which will be discussed more fully in Chap. 7, the
survivors subverted the outright assimilatory purpose of sport by taking
up the physicality of it and using it as a way to celebrate their athletic
achievements (Bloom 2000; Forsyth 2013; Forsyth and Wamsley 2006).
Similarly, O’Bonsawin (2015) analysed how Indigenous athletes faced
systemic oppression when participating at the Olympics, especially in
those moments when they showed resistance to nationalistic values (e.g.,
Damien Hooper wearing a T-shirt featuring his Indigenous Australian
flag when entering the boxing ring and Alwyn Morris raising an eagle
feather while being presented his medal). Indeed, sport has the paradoxi-
cal potential to oppress Indigenous bodies, while simultaneously provid-
ing a space where personal empowerment can be achieved, which then
may assist in resistance to and regeneration from the effects of colonial-
ism on Indigenous Peoples’ bodies (Forsyth and Wamsley 2006; Hovey
et al. 2014; Reitenburg et al. 2014). Resistance to the effects of coloniza-
tion is a key feature of Indigenous sport and physical activity research,
but what is yet to be addressed is the settler-colonial discourses embedded
within the Indigenous sport and health disparity research.

Settler Colonialism

Prior to colonization, Indigenous Nations, in what is currently called

Canada, had their distinct sovereignties enacted through their respective
political, social, economic, social, and spiritual systems on, through, and
within their territories. Indigenous sovereignty includes more than gover-
nance systems; it includes intrinsic relationships to land, water, animals,
and each other, which are animated through ceremonies and the practis-
ing of ancestral knowledge of how to live well. Indigenous Nations’
respective sovereignties were devastated with the coming of settlers and
their enforcement of settler-colonial laws, policies, and practices
(Alfred 2005).
 1 Introduction 13

Canada is a settler-colonial country, one that has a long history of set-

tler colonialism (as do other settler-colonial countries across the globe
including the United States, Australia, and New Zealand). Settler colo-
nialism is different from colonization in that settler colonizers come to
stay, to erase, and to replace the original caretakers of Indigenous
Territories (Wolfe 2006). Informed by the main theorists of settler colo-
nialism, Battell Lowman and Barker (2015) identify three main pillars of
settler colonialism in the Canadian context. The first relates to how inva-
sion did not stop after the arrival of the settler but continues to endure
through the “social, political, and economic structures” (p. 25) that are
deeply entrenched within the structures of settler colonialism. For
instance, practices of private property, patrilineal descent and the institu-
tion of patriarchy, and economics tied to resource extraction (Battell
Lowman and Barker 2015) are noted structures imbued with settler-­
colonial logic of erasure (Wolfe 2006). The second pillar is that settlers
come to permanently stay in Indigenous Peoples’ stolen territory. The act
of staying is given supposed legitimacy by settlers assuming their colonial
sovereignty is the highest order of these stolen territories and a separation
from their colonial homelands begins by establishing settler governance,
settler identity and practices, and settler futurity (Battell Lowman and
Barker 2015; Downey 2018; Veracini 2013; Wolfe 2006). The third pil-
lar is the foundational drive of settler colonialism itself, the complete
elimination of the original inhabitant, which is so deeply “established
that it is naturalized, normalized, unquestioned and unchallenged”
(Battell Lowman and Barker 2015, p. 26). The imposition of settler colo-
nialism becomes so entrenched that it is assumed as normal, and thus, the
invisibility of settler colonialism ensues. As settler colonialism continues
to cause an overwhelming disruption to Indigenous Peoples’ well-being,
with the goal being our ultimate erasure (Veracini 2013), the health dis-
parities discussed at the outset of this chapter reproduce a settler-colonial
narrative whereby Indigenous Peoples disappear through succumbing to
ill health. Our erasure is necessary for settler governments and societies to
thrive, which is predicated on the ongoing endeavour that is the theft of
Indigenous Territories (Arvin et al. 2013; Battell Lowman and Barker
2015; Veracini 2013).
14 T. McGuire-Adams

Despite the commonality of settler colonialism, scant few sport schol-

ars address settler colonialism in their scholarship; however, there are a
few notable exceptions. In an examination of the Olympics, Sykes (2017)
presents the forced removal of people from stolen lands for a mega-­
sporting event as a continual enacting of settler-colonial erasure, as was
the “symbolic” showcasing of Indigenous dancers at the Vancouver
Olympics, which reinforced the notion of creating a new nation, separate
from their imperial roots. Sykes (2014) also provided an important dis-
cussion on how queerness and sport studies are implicated within the
ongoing process of settler colonialism, which, for her, troubles the colo-
nial locations and histories of her identity as a queer sport scholar. Sport
management scholars Chen and Mason (2019) discuss the invisibility of
settler colonialism operationalized in sport management studies. They
bring attention to how sport management is implicated within settler
colonialism (i.e., a lack of interrogation of how sport management
research and education are embedded within the broader settler-colonial
systems) and offer a series of questions that help visibilize settler colonial-
ism in the broader sport management scholarship and practices. By
encouraging settler scholars to uncover how settler colonialism is present
in their scholarship and teaching, the authors contribute to disrupting
the seeming invisibility of settler colonialism in their field. Finally,
Downey (2018) explored the complexities of settler colonialism in sport
through an in-depth study on lacrosse. He showed how lacrosse, an
Indigenous sport and cultural practice, was the site of settler-colonial
erasure. Lacrosse, once flourishing among many Indigenous Nations in
what is now called Canada, was taken over by the settler-colonial means
of “erase to replace” (Wolfe 2006) by Euro-Canadians who were eager to
establish a unique identity distinct from their homelands.
Settler colonialism, while certainly not a new theory, is a nascent the-
ory used in sport studies to explore the hidden complexities of the struc-
tures intent on the erasure of Indigenous Peoples to justify the taking of
Indigenous Territory, of which sport is not immune. This book continues
the analysis of settler colonialism by teasing out how ill-health discourses
are imbued with settler-colonial logics and adds a much-needed decolo-
nial perspective to the discussion.
 1 Introduction 15

Centring Decolonization

Understanding how settler colonialism causes ill health and how

Indigenous Peoples can pursue regeneration from these effects is impor-
tant for Indigenous Peoples’ personal decolonization efforts. Wilson and
Yellowbird (2005) defined colonization as an “all-encompassing presence
in our lives” (p. 2), which includes individual behaviours, colonial poli-
cies, and systems. The authors further described decolonization as the
meaningful and active resistance to the forces of colonialism that per-
petuate the “subjugation and/or exploitation of our minds, bodies, and
lands” (p. 2).
However, it is not enough to simply name how the effects of settler
colonialism negatively influence our well-being; we must engage in
action. Wilson (2004) explained,

Decolonization … is about transforming negative reactionary energy into

the more positive rebuilding energy needed in our communities.
Decolonization in its farthest extension moves us beyond mere survival and
becomes a means of restoring health and prosperity to our people. (p. 71)

As settler colonialism directly impacts Indigenous Peoples’ health and

well-being, it becomes necessary to engage in personal decolonization to
counteract its negative effects. In further describing decolonization,
Alfred (2005) challenged Indigenous Peoples to create a life committed
to “meaningful change [and] to transform society by recreating our exis-
tences, regenerating our cultures, and surging against the forces that keep
us bound to our colonial past” (p. 19).
Tuck and Yang (2012) emphatically articulated that decolonization is
not a metaphor for other types of proactive changes occurring in settler
society (e.g., educational indigenization or social justice activities).
Rather, the authors asserted that decolonization is about the full repatria-
tion of Indigenous Territories. Indeed, decolonization is fundamentally
about the regeneration of Indigenous Peoples’ respective nationhood
upon returned stolen territories (Alfred 2005; Coulthard 2014; Wilson
and Yellowbird 2005). Yet, we cannot discount the simultaneous role that
personal decolonization plays in everyday acts of resistance, as “first and
16 T. McGuire-Adams

foremost, decolonization must occur in our own minds” (Wilson and

Yellowbird 2005, p. 2). To be clear, decolonization is vital for the well-­
being of Indigenous Peoples, and it starts with the ongoing process of
centring decolonization in our everyday lives (Alfred 2005; Wilson and
Yellowbird 2005). Thus, while health disparities result from settler colo-
nialism, stories that focus on our strengths, health, and well-being are
integral to our regeneration and are an enactment of personal decoloniza-
tion. The role that personal decolonization may have on regenerating
health and strength in Anishinaabekweg is currently missing from the
broader health disparity literature.
The ill health experienced by Indigenous Peoples indicates that settler
colonialism has had, and continues to have, detrimental effects on the
physical strength and well-being of Indigenous Peoples (Alfred 2005;
Reading 2009b; Wilson and Yellowbird 2012). In consideration of creat-
ing active resistance to our apparent trajectory of ill health, I sought to
understand what strategies for personal decolonization could be acquired
from ancestral and current stories of physical activity.

Physical Activity Used as Regeneration

How can physical activity help us to re-achieve health and well-being?

Wilson (2012) encouraged Indigenous Peoples to take up physical train-
ing regimes that regenerate the physicality experienced by our ancestors
to counteract the impacts of colonization. She explained that, histori-
cally, Indigenous Peoples would engage in physical training regimes on
the land, which she argued can be replicated through contemporary prac-
tices of physical activity. These physical activities can be resumed by
employing contemporary exercise “with a proven capacity to build
strength, endurance, speed, flexibility, balance and coordination”
(p. 132). Such physical activity may include running, martial arts, and
other various activities or sports. Engagement in physical activity that is
mindful of our ancestors’ physicality is, thus, an important aspect of per-
sonal decolonization.
Lavallée’s (2008) research on Indigenous women’s perceptions of phys-
ical activity is important for understanding how Indigenous Peoples may
 1 Introduction 17

use physical activity as a catalyst for personal well-being. Her research has
shown how Indigenous women’s experiences with physical activity can
foster empowerment by helping women to challenge low self-esteem and
to learn about their cultural identity. Through interviews and focus
groups, Lavallée’s participants described how they achieved holistic well-­
being, which she described as encompassing spiritual, emotional, physi-
cal, and mental elements, through physical activity. The participants in
the study reflected on the importance of the physical activity programme
being located at a culturally appropriate location, the Native Canadian
Centre of Toronto (a non-profit organization serving urban Indigenous
Peoples), and the instructor being an Indigenous person who integrated
cultural teachings into the programme.
The connection between culture and physical activity is significant as
it spiritually connects a person to his/her/their commitment to health
through physical activity. The Tohono O’odham community in Arizona
is an example of how this occurs. In her article “Toka: Empowering
Women and Combating Obesity in Tohono O’odham Communities,”
Brooks (2013) highlighted how Indigenous women use physical activity
as a form of regeneration. The Tohono O’odham community is address-
ing the high rates of chronic diseases by being physically active. The com-
munity regenerated Toka, a sport specific to women, to foster a
commitment to physical activity. By reviving a traditional sport that is
played on the land, the Tohono O’odham women are engaging in regen-
eration while simultaneously gaining physical fitness; they are challeng-
ing the effects of colonialism on their physical well-being. This is a
powerful act of resistance against colonialism through regenerated
strength. The Tohono O’odham community is inspiring as its members
created the programming based on their epistemology. For instance, they
have coordinated their programming based on O’odham Himdag, their
lifeways, which draws upon their cultural wisdom and heritage to formu-
late solutions for their present and future (Tohono O’odham 2013).
Their efforts align with decolonization processes as they seek to overcome
colonial-based solutions to ill health by using their own knowledge and
culture to enact solutions.
The preceding literature has shown how physical activity can be used
as a catalyst, given the right conditions, to regenerate holistic well-being
18 T. McGuire-Adams

among Indigenous Peoples. Still, more research is needed to “explore the

impact of physical activity” (Lavallée 2007, p. 149), especially research
that considers the role of personal decolonization for Indigenous Peoples,
particularly women. Further, Indigenous women’s health and well-being
cannot be separated from the context of settler colonialism (Browne et al.
2009; Kelm 1998). As my stories above demonstrate, before coloniza-
tion, Anishinaabekweg had to be physically strong to live on the land,
which also signified the enactment of health and well-being. Thus, it is of
critical importance to analyse Indigenous Peoples’ stories of health and
well-being enacted through physical activity, both ancestral and current,
to discern how they may impart innovative solutions to the trajectory of
ill health for Indigenous Peoples.
Johnston (1976) explained that as Anishinaabeg, we carry a responsi-
bility to be healthy and strong to best represent our families, communi-
ties, and Nation. Given our current ill health, I contend that we are not
fulfilling our responsibility as Anishinaabeg. Certainly, given the struc-
tures of settler colonialism that continue to control and oppress
Indigenous Nations, it can often feel immutable; however, through per-
sonal decolonization processes enacted to actively change our ill-health
trajectory, we can provide contention to the continuation of settler colo-
nialism. As an Anishinaabe scholar, one of my goals is to achieve a better
understanding of how stories of strength, well-being, and health that are
gained through physical activity may assist us from surging back from the
grips of settler colonialism erasure. Indigenous feminist theory is a tool
that has enabled me to do just that.

Note on Theory

Indigenous feminist theory has gained considerable momentum in the

last two decades with the publication of edited volumes and special issue
publications (Goeman and Denetdale 2009; Green 2007; Suzack et al.
2010). During this time, Indigenous feminisms began to be articulated
through the examination of topics such as Anishinaabeg womanhood
(Anderson 2000; LaDuke 1997; Solomon 1990); feminist and Indigenous
approaches to decolonization (Green 2007; Jaimes and Halsey 1992;
 1 Introduction 19

Mihesuah 2003); and community, political, and legal strategies in

addressing oppression (Monture-Angus 1995, 1999; Ouellette 2002; St.
Denis 2007; Simpson 2011; Trask 1996).
Suzack et al. (2010) have suggested that a “single, normative definition
of Indigenous feminism remains impossible because Indigenous women’s
circumstances vary enormously throughout colonizing societies, where
patriarchy dominates, and in Indigenous communities with distinct his-
tories and cultural traditions” (p. 2). This statement is informative as it
reveals that there is no melting pot that results in a uniform, pan-­
Indigenous feminism. While there is no one monolithic definition of
Indigenous feminist theory (Goeman and Denetdale 2009), Arvin et al.
(2013) explained that, broadly, it develops the understandings, practices,
and connections between settler colonialism, heteropatriarchy, and het-
eropaternalism. Further, Indigenous feminist theory brings attention to
the gendered process of settler colonialism through an intersectional
analysis of gender, sexuality, race, Indigeneity, and Nation. An intersec-
tional analysis is needed to disrupt the continuance of settler colonialism
in colonial nation-states, which necessarily contains Indigenous ways of
thinking/being in order to create decolonial thinking and practices of
social justice, society, and individual/community regeneration (Arvin
et al. 2013; Suzack et al. 2010). This speaks to the need to continue
building an Indigenous feminist inquiry from Indigenous contexts; as
Indigenous feminist scholars, we bring our unique experiences from
within our Nations, our communities, and our families to then challenge
colonialism, which then adds to the field of Indigenous feminist theory.
Indigenous women have all experienced colonization and the imposi-
tion of patriarchy, which Suzack et al. (2010) have attested “transformed
Indigenous societies by diminishing Indigenous women’s power, status,
and material circumstances” (p. 3). Certainly, there were many early cri-
tiques from Indigenous women scholars such as Jaimes and Halsey (1992)
and Trask (1996) that feminism was too white, too academic, and not
located in Indigenous language or community. More recently, it has
become widely accepted that Indigenous feminist theory is a valuable
tool to uncover how colonialism and patriarchal values have become
embedded within our traditions, teachings, values, and relationships
(McGuire-Adams 2009; Phillips 2012). To this end, LaRocque (2007)
20 T. McGuire-Adams

explained that Indigenous women “must be both decolonizers and femi-

nist” (p. 68) to uncover how colonialism has impacted our Indigenous
ways of thinking and practices.
While Indigenous feminist theory has produced relevant knowledge
on such issues of culture, activism, and politics, for instance, the field has
yet to consider physical activity pertaining to health and associated prac-
tices of decolonization. Notably, Anderson (2010) and Simpson (2011)
clarified that decolonization for Indigenous women includes a remem-
bering of our stories, to be then applied to fostering well-being, healing,
and regenerating our connections to our lands.
Indigenous feminist theory is a pivotal space for Indigenous feminists
to theorize about how settler colonialism has disrupted the well-being of
Indigenous women and to envision decolonization. As previously indi-
cated, settler colonialism is a structure intent on eliminating Indigenous
Peoples to justify the theft of Indigenous Territories (Wolfe 2006).
Further, settler colonialism specifically requires Indigenous women to be
weak in order to fulfil its logic of elimination (Anderson 2010; Arvin
et al. 2013). As settler colonialism is reasserted through each day of occu-
pation (Arvin et al. 2013), it is not finished; settler colonialism is an
ongoing process that seeks to disempower, erase, and assimilate Indigenous
Peoples into the Canadian colonial system (the body politic, institutions,
and everyday normalizations, etc.); however, Indigenous Peoples survived
and have always resisted forced elimination (Wolfe 2006). Accordingly, it
is imperative to seek out stories of decolonization that disrupt settler
colonialism. As emphasized by Arvin et al. (2013), “Native feminist anal-
ysis is crucial if we are determined to decolonize as Native peoples …
[and] we rely on the still developing frameworks for Native feminisms to
examine and reflect upon the reverberations in our Native homelands”
(p. 13). The authors also emphasized the novel field of Indigenous femi-
nist theory and the role that decolonization practices have yet to play in
it: “we do not intend to recommend to our readers one proper set of
decolonial practices, but rather create spaces in which decolonization can
be deeply considered and experimented within the specific contexts of
different places” (p. 25). Indeed, I was inspired by the instruction of
Arvin et al. (2013) as through my research for this book I have aimed to
understand how physical activity may foster decolonization and
 1 Introduction 21

challenge settler colonialism. While I have introduced Indigenous femi-

nist theory here, Chap. 3 brings a more robust discussion of Indigenous
feminist and settler colonialism theorizations.

The Anishinaabeg Research Paradigm

I have learned that research is ceremony that can be enacted through our
Indigenous ways of thinking about research (Wilson 2008). I understand
that as an Anishinaabe researcher, my Anishinaabe gikendaasowin is an
integral part of my research. As such, I weaved together an Anishinaabeg
research paradigm to guide me in my research journey (McGuire-Adams
2020). It involved learning from Anishinaabeg thinkers and scholars
(Benton-Banai 1988; Geniusz 2009; Simpson 2011) and engaging in my
own Anishinaabeg intellectual thinking.
While the Anishinaabeg research paradigm and how it informs the
field of sociology of sport is published in detail elsewhere (McGuire-­
Adams 2020), I offer a brief synopsis of it here. The Anishinaabeg research
paradigm encompasses five elements. The first is gikendaasowin, which is
Anishinaabeg knowledge that is the backbone of the research and centres
the paradigm. The other four elements include an Anishinaabeg under-
standing of epistemology or Biiskaabiiyang, ontology or Inaadiziwin,
methodology or Wiisokotaatiwin, and axiology or Niizhwaaswi kchtwaa
kinomaadiwinan, which has been informed by Wilson’s (2008) frame-
work for developing an Indigenous research paradigm. Each element in
the Anishinaabeg research paradigm has helped to guide me in my
research journey; together, they have provided spiritual, ethical, and
Anishinaabeg intellectual guidance as I conducted the research presented
in this book. In the remainder of the book I articulate the Anishinaabeg
research paradigm as Anishinaabeg inaadiziwin and izhitwaawin as both
concepts include the Anishinaabeg way of being and signal the use of
culture, teachings, and ceremony in research.
Following Indigenous ways of being in research, the term “data” is not
always suitable to signify the Indigenous concepts of research. Therefore,
I use the term story collection, rather than data collection (Absolon
2011). Story collection methods are “the means and procedures thorough
22 T. McGuire-Adams

which the central problems of research are addressed” (Smith 1999,

p. 144). Thus, I chose three methods of story collection that align with
the Anishinaabeg research paradigm: for my story collection with
Anishinaabeg Elders from Naicatchewenin, I chose a sharing circle as the
research method, and it is featured in Chap. 3; interviews guided by sto-
rytelling were my chosen method for my story collection with
Anishinaabekweg, which are featured in Chaps. 4 and 5; and I used
Wiisokotaatiwin as my story collection method to bring together urban
Indigenous women, and it is featured in Chap. 6.
To conclude, Wilson (2008) eloquently captured the meaning of
Indigenous research in the following quote:

Research is ceremony … the purpose of any ceremony is to build stronger

relationships or bridge the distance between our cosmos and us. The
research that we do as Indigenous peoples is a ceremony that allows us a
raised level of consciousness and insight in our world. Through going for-
ward together with open minds and good hearts we have uncovered the
nature of this ceremony. (p. 137)

The ceremony of this book is continual and is honoured every time it is

read. May each reader travel well through this ceremony.

Notes
1. There are many terms used to define Indigenous Peoples in Canada
including Indian, Native, Aboriginal peoples, First Nations (which
includes reserve and off-reserve, status and non-status identifiers), and,
most recently, Indigenous Peoples (which is inclusive of First Nations,
Inuit, and Métis peoples). These terms tend to reflect the era of govern-
mental policy towards Indigenous Peoples. For instance, Indian was com-
monly used prior to 1982. After 1982, with the repatriation of the
Constitution Act in that year, Aboriginal peoples were defined in section
35 as being inclusive of First Nations, Métis, and Inuit peoples and
replaced the governmental use of Indian. Indigenous Peoples will also
identify themselves according to their sovereign tribal names, such as
Anishinaabeg, Mi’kmaq, and Kanyen’kehà:ka. For more information on
 1 Introduction 23

the history of these common terms to identify Indigenous Peoples, please

see Vowel (2016) Indigenous Writes: A guide to First Nations, Métis and
Inuit Issues in Canada. Some of the common terms to identify Indigenous
Peoples will be used throughout this book, namely Indigenous Peoples,
urban Indigenous (to signify the First Nations, Inuit, and Métis peoples
who live in urban settings), and Native, in addition to tribal names.
2. Janice Acoose (1995) and Beatrice Culleton (1983) described these nega-
tive and stereotyped attributes as the native girl syndrome in their respec-
tive books.

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 2
Indigenous Feminist Theory
and Embodied Settler Colonialism

By researching how Indigenous communities might address the increase

of chronic disease from Indigenous perspectives, I gained an awareness of
how Indigenous women’s bodies can have dual representations: our bod-
ies can be representative of strength and resilience, or ill health and
settler-­colonial erasure. As Indigenous women seek resolve to our varied
but similar experiences with the effects of colonialism, we come to under-
stand how strength and resilience manifest in our lives; Indigenous
women gain strength of mind, spirit, and emotional fortitude (Mihesuah
2003; Young and Nadeau 2005) as we confront the everyday occurrences
that seek to silence us. From challenging racist discourses in daily encoun-
ters, speaking out against injustices as activists, or Indigenous women
using physical activity to regenerate from the deficit narrative (McGuire-­
Adams 2017), Indigenous women embody determination. Through these
contentions, Indigenous women become stronger. Yet, strong Indigenous
women pose a direct threat to the maintenance of settler colonialism,
which fundamentally requires the erasure of Indigenous Peoples generally

Portions of this chapter are published with the Journal of Indigenous Wellbeing: Te Mauri—
Pimatisiwin and Sociology of Sport Journal.

© The Author(s) 2020 31

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1_2
32 T. McGuire-Adams

(Arvin et al. 2013; Veracini 2013), and Indigenous women specifically

(Anderson 2011).
Indigenous women are intrinsically connected to the land, as shown
through our varied yet similar creation stories and through ceremonial
practices, which further inform our connection to our first Mother, the
Earth (Anderson 2000, 2011). As a result of Indigenous women’s con-
nection to land, which gives us strength, we are seen as credible threats to
ongoing settler entitlement to Indigenous Territories and are actively tar-
geted for silence, and even death (Anderson 2011; Smith 2005). My
reading of Indigenous feminist theory persuasively informed my aware-
ness of the tensions between Indigenous women’s exacerbated experi-
ences with ill health and how the physical strength we may gain through
physical activity can specifically disrupt embodied settler colonialism. I
share Bourassa et al.’s (2004) synopsis at length to showcase the depth of
the situation:

Aboriginal women have lower life expectancy, elevated morbidity rates,

and elevated suicide rates in comparison to non-Aboriginal women.
Aboriginal women living on reserves have significantly higher rates of coro-
nary heart disease, cancer, cerebrovascular disease and other chronic ill-
nesses than non-Aboriginal women. A significantly greater percentage of
Aboriginal women living off reserve, in all age groups, report fair or poor
health compared to non-Aboriginal women: 41 per cent of Aboriginal
women aged 55–64 reported fair or poor health, compared to 19 per cent
of women in the same age group among the total Canadian population. In
addition, chronic disease disparities are more pronounced for Aboriginal
women than Aboriginal men. For example, diseases such as diabetes are
more prevalent among Aboriginal women than either the general popula-
tion or Aboriginal men. (p. 1)

Indigenous women experience higher levels of ill health in nearly every

category of examination. Viewing our ill health through the lens of settler
colonialism, we see that Indigenous Peoples’ ill health supports our era-
sure, and this is especially true for Indigenous women; as we are pre-
sumed to eventually succumb to diabetes, heart disease, cancer, and so
on, settler colonialism becomes, and is, an internal embodied experience.
 2 Indigenous Feminist Theory and Embodied Settler Colonialism 33

To better understand the embodiment of settler-colonial erasure, I

turn to the scholarly field of Indigenous feminist theory, where many
scholars have theorized about the gendered aspect of settler colonialism.
I then discuss settler colonialism and the connection to violence against
Indigenous women to demonstrate how the logics of erasure are out-
wardly violent towards Indigenous women. From here, I discuss the
embodied or internal aspect of settler-colonial erasure to situate the
importance of learning from Elders’ knowledge about health and well-­
being, which is the topic of the next chapter.

 he Development of Indigenous
T
Feminist Theory
Historically, Indigenous Peoples have been theorized about in many aca-
demic disciplines; until recently, the fact that Indigenous Peoples could
theorize themselves was largely ignored in academic circles. Simpson and
Smith’s (2014) Theorizing Native Studies challenged scholars in a range of
academic disciplines to acknowledge the importance of Indigenous
Peoples’ theorizing, specifically regarding disrupting settler colonialism
and settler normativity within the academy. Acknowledging Indigenous
Peoples’ hesitancy with taking up theory, as we have been theorized about
for centuries, the authors explained that Indigenous Peoples do theorize
and also engage in “intellectual promiscuity.” The authors described intel-
lectual promiscuity as Native Studies scholars engaging in their own the-
oretical analysis in conjunction with other theoretical disciplines, such as
feminist theory, for instance. Applying this perspective to my own theo-
retical positioning, I acknowledge the importance of combining my
Anishinaabe gikendaasowin within Indigenous feminist theory.
Early theorizing of Indigenous feminism focused on the struggle for
sovereignty and decolonization, including a revival of Indigenous wom-
en’s place of authority in the community. For instance, Gunn Allen
(1986), in her foundational Indigenous feminist text, explained that for
the colonizers to take the land, they had to disrupt woman-centred
Indigenous societies. Indeed, any attempt at colonization of the land and
34 T. McGuire-Adams

Indigenous Peoples would surely fail unless women were oppressed and
subordinated by male domination within patriarchy. Gunn Allen (1986)
further noted,

Since about the 1500s the invaders have exerted every effort to remove
Indian women from every position of authority, to obliterate all records
pertaining to gynocratic social systems and to ensure that no American and
few American Indians would remember that gynocracy was the primary
social order of Indian America prior to 1800. (p. 3)

Gunn Allen (1986) exposed the relationship between taking our land and
destroying the value of women in our communities. The author also
demonstrates that early white feminists were directly informed about
feminism after seeing Indigenous women’s venerated positions in
Indigenous communities (Gunn Allen 1986).
Indigenous women, and women of colour, have rightfully critiqued
whitestream feminism as exclusionary of their voices and discussions of
race, as well as failing to examine white women’s role in colonization;
whitestream feminism is implicated in the attempted erasure of
matrilineal-­centred Indigenous Nations to then benefit from the taking
of Indigenous lands (Grande 2004; Jaimes and Halsey 1992; Trask 1996).
Thornhill (1989) explained, “Woman has become synonymous with
white woman, whereas women of colour such as myself are seen as
‘Others,’ as non-persons, as dehumanized beings—sometimes not seen at
all” (p. 20). Grande (2004) also noted that “mainstream feminism is
actually whitestream feminism” (p. 125) that is driven by and formed on
“the basis of white, middle class experience” (p. 125). As a result, Kolmar
and Bartkowski (2010) explained that women of colour began to create
their own theories to address how their race and ethnicity informed their
experiences, including Indigenous feminist theory.
Indigenous feminist theory is a lens through which Indigenous women
can define, articulate, and envision what Indigenous feminism means to
them. Crucial to this development was a timely symposium and collec-
tion of edited papers. The year 2002 saw the first-ever Aboriginal
Feminism Symposium in Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada (Green 2007).
The symposium subsequently resulted in a critical addition to Indigenous
 2 Indigenous Feminist Theory and Embodied Settler Colonialism 35

feminist literature entitled Making Space for Indigenous Feminism (Green

2007). Green (2007) explained how the contributors to the book “deploy
their feminism carefully, specifically—and differently—drawing on polit-
ical, historical, and cultural contexts and their own particular ideologies
to form their feminism” (p. 18). For instance, the contributors theorized
about feminist politics, rights-based discourses, and the regeneration of
Indigenous values (Green 2007). The emergence of Indigenous feminist
theory has allowed for a critical engagement with the effects of coloniza-
tion and patriarchy in our communities, and it has created a space for
Indigenous women to theorize decolonial thought and practices.
Importantly, Suzack et al. (2010), in their collection of chapters Indigenous
Women and Feminism: Politics, Activism and Culture, noted that there is
no melting pot that results in a uniform pan-Indigenous feminism, and
there is a great need to continue to build Indigenous feminist inquiry.
Indeed, Indigenous feminist scholars bring their unique experiences from
within our Nations, our communities, and our families. To this end, the
authors explained that Indigenous women remain under-examined in
contemporary feminist theory. Further, even though Indigenous femi-
nism “is presumed to fall within normative definitions of women of
colour and postcolonial feminism” (Suzack et al. 2010, p. 1), Indigenous
feminism necessitates a location specific to Indigenous contexts. Thus,
Indigenous feminist theory offers space to conceptualize theories and
practices specific to Indigenous community interests. Indigenous femi-
nist theory creates a space where Indigenous women can engage with and
add to their own Indigenous dibaajimowinan (stories). Their respective
dibaajimowinan then resonates back to the broader field of Indigenous
feminist theory, which is important to disrupt settler colonialism and to
foster decolonization.
36 T. McGuire-Adams

Connections to Land
and Settler-Colonial Violence
Indigenous feminist theory offers a space for scholars and communities
to critically analyse how settler colonialism affects Indigenous women
(Suzack 2015). To this end, Indigenous feminist theorists have focused
on understanding how Indigenous women have an inherent connection
to the land, and they have sought to uncover how colonizers enact vio-
lence against Indigenous women because of our connection to the land
(Anderson 2010). Anderson (2011) provided an example of how this
occurs by linking settlers’ sense of entitlement to Indigenous land and, by
extension, their sense of entitlement to Indigenous women’s bodies. She
explained, “the conflation on a symbolic level of Canadian identity with
settler access to Native women’s bodies places real Native women in a
situation of constant danger and vulnerability to sexual and physical vio-
lence” (p. 178), with the ultimate purpose being to enact the “violent
erasure of Native women altogether” (p. 179). Similarly, Barman (2010)
noted that during colonization, settlers “depicted Indigenous men in
terms of their physicality and Indigenous women in terms of their sexual-
ity” (p. 93). Likewise, Dhillon (2015) theorized that settler colonialism
necessarily requires violence against Indigenous women and girls. She
explained, “Indigenous girls carry history, memory, and otherwise futures
within their bodies, within their varied experiences of colonial occupa-
tion and their resistance to it” (p. 14). Colonizers felt the need to show
dominance over Indigenous women through forced sex, which also signi-
fied the dominance that was taking place on the land and is rooted in
colonial heteropatriarchal ideologies. And this is not just a historical act.
Indigenous feminists theorize that Indigenous women are credible
threats to ongoing settler entitlement to Indigenous Territories and are
actively targeted for silence, and even death, because of their connection
to land (Anderson 2011; Simpson 2014, 2016). For instance, the nearly
1200 missing or murdered Indigenous women and girls in Canada is a
testament of the logistics of settler colonialism (Anderson 2011; Simpson
2014, 2016), which is also reflective of how Indigenous women’s bodies
are casualties of genocide (National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered
 2 Indigenous Feminist Theory and Embodied Settler Colonialism 37

Indigenous Women and Girls 2019; Simpson 2016). Simpson’s (2016)

important article, “The State is a Man: Theresa Spence, Loretta Saunders
and the Gender of Settler Sovereignty,” emboldens the link between the
violent erasure of Indigenous women’s bodies and the ongoing disposses-
sion and theft of our territories. She explained that our lives as Indigenous
women are anomalies because we are meant to disappear by any means
necessary (e.g., state mechanisms, murder, etc.). A distressing example of
how violence is tethered to settler-colonial erasure occurred in Thunder
Bay, Ontario, Canada—my hometown. During the 2013 Idle No More
Movement (a movement across Canada that held solidarity events to sup-
port Chief Theresa Spence’s hunger strike, which she held near Parliament
in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada), an Anishinaabekwe was abducted and
sexually assaulted as a direct settler-colonial response to the Movement
(Simpson 2014). The woman disclosed to the media that while she was
being assaulted, the perpetrators linked their assault to the ongoing
Movement (Porter 2013). The murder of Loretta Saunders is another
devastating example of the gendered settler-colonial violence that is still
occurring in Canada.
Loretta Saunders was a young Inuk woman who was living in Halifax,
Nova Scotia, Canada, where she was attending St. Mary’s University. In
2014, Loretta was murdered by two people whom she sublet her apart-
ment to when she went to collect the rent. Loretta was pregnant when she
was killed; her body was stuffed into a hockey bag and she was left on the
side of the highway (Rhodes 2015). The murderers were sentenced to life
in prison. With tragic irony, Loretta was completing her honours thesis
on the topic of murdered and missing Indigenous women (Barrera 2017).
In response to the murder of Loretta Saunders, Indigenous feminist
Leanne Simpson argued that violence enacted against Indigenous women
is not a matter of individual assaults, but is “a symptom of settler colo-
nialism, white supremacy and genocide, [and further], gender violence
and murdered and missing women are symptoms of the dispossession of
Indigenous peoples from our territories” (Simpson 2014, para. 18). In
writing about the murder of Loretta Saunders, Audra Simpson (2016)
emphasized that “Native women will be killed by this country, and its
people” (p. 10). Quite simply, the violent erasure of Indigenous Peoples
38 T. McGuire-Adams

is highly gendered, disproportionately affecting Indigenous women and

steeped within settler-colonial enactments of erasure (Simpson 2014).
Another specific erasure policy enacted by the settler-colonial govern-
ment against Indigenous women was forced and coercive sterilization
(Stote 2016). While confirmed total cases are hard to determine, there are
geographic indicators based on historical archives. For instance, there
were an estimated 3000 forced sterilizations in two provinces in Canada
between the 1920s and 1970s, of which Indigenous women made up the
majority (Stote 2016). Stote (2016) explained that such sterilization poli-
cies are “linked to a continued history of colonialism and the quest to
acquire Indian lands and resources … sterilization and the resulting loss
of children has endangered the sovereignty of Indian Nations while
reducing federal obligations” (p. 7). Such policies were enforced to limit
the people who had claims to land upon which the government was tak-
ing without consent (Stote 2016).
The examples of violence against Indigenous women are pervasive
(e.g., refer to the 2016 CBC News investigation into missing and mur-
dered women and the 2019 Final Report to the National Inquiry into
Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women and Girls), as is the colonial
violence enacted against the LGBTQ2IA communities (Hunt 2016). As
Dhillon (2015) showed, while Indigenous women and girls only make
up a small fraction of the overall Canadian population, we are eight times
more likely to die of homicide when compared to non-Indigenous
women. The forced erasure of Indigenous women’s bodies, through mur-
der or state-sanctioned practices like forced sterilization, is firmly teth-
ered to a gendered settler-colonial erasure and is genocide (National
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls 2019).
Indigenous feminist theorists have clearly illustrated that settler colonial-
ism is violent and murderous (Simpson 2016), and it is also embodied, as
seen, for instance, in the ill health, trauma, grief, and substance abuse
that many Indigenous Peoples experience.
 2 Indigenous Feminist Theory and Embodied Settler Colonialism 39

Embodied Settler Colonialism

Prior to colonization, Indigenous Peoples had to be physically strong in
order to live a healthy life on the land. Viewing our ill health through the
lens of settler colonialism, we can see that Indigenous Peoples’ ill health
supports our erasure, and this is especially true for Indigenous women
(Bourassa et al. 2004; McGuire-Adams 2017). Within a settler-colonial
lens, in addition to the violence and murderous actions described above,
there is also a presumed assumption that as Indigenous Peoples, we will
eventually succumb to diabetes, heart disease, cancer, and so on. Settler-­
colonial erasure does not only happen by external violence (e.g., geno-
cidal tactics and sexualized violence) but becomes an internalized erasure
vis-a-vis ill health. Consequently, when Indigenous women die of ill
health or chronic diseases, we are also unknowingly fulfilling the logic of
settler-colonial erasure. Thus, settler colonialism becomes, and is, an
embodied experience.
Embodied settler colonialism also has profound cumulative and inter-
generational effects, which is correspondingly discussed in the literature
as historical and intergenerational trauma. Brave Heart (1998, 2003)
contextualized the historical trauma, grief, ill health, and substance abuse
experienced by many Indigenous Peoples as effects of colonialism. For
instance, she explained that when people succumb to ill health, alcohol-
ism, and other substance abuse, their deaths amplify the trauma and grief
that Indigenous Peoples are already living with due to ongoing traumatic
losses. Kirmayer et al. (2014) agreed and concluded that “the traumatic
events endured by communities negatively impact on individual lives in
ways that result in future problems for their descendants” (p. 307). Thus,
as settler colonialism requires our ultimate erasure to secure our territo-
ries, internalized and embodied processes of settler colonialism—such as
trauma, grief, substance abuse, and ill health—further contribute to our
presumed eventual erasure.
As a result of the enduring force of settler colonialism, Indigenous
Elders’ knowledge is imperative to identifying resistance strategies to ill
health and for passing down experiential knowledge of wellness gained
from local environments (Alani-Verjee et al. 2017; Tobias and Richmond
40 T. McGuire-Adams

2016). Moreover, Varcoe et al.’s (2010) study concluded that First

Nations Elders “represent a culturally-relevant resource for health that is
currently underused” (p. 154). Indeed, there is much to learn from the
perspectives of Elders regarding our concepts of health and well-being
(Richmond 2015). Scholars have also found that Indigenous practices of
healing (e.g., returning to the land and uptake of ceremony), coupled
with strategies for resilience, can disrupt the collective, cumulative, and
inter/transgenerational impacts of colonialism (Hatala et al. 2016;
Hartman and Gone 2014; Kirmayer et al. 2014).
Remembering and connecting with our Indigenous stories is a recog-
nized way to address and heal from embodied settler colonialism
(Anderson 2011; Brave Heart 2003; Hatala et al. 2016). For instance,
Hatala et al. (2016) explored resilience and well-being through inter-
views with Cree Elders who explained that stories helped people move
through painful memories and current experiences with colonialism.
Anderson (2011) has shown that stories can help Indigenous girls and
young women establish and maintain healthy boundaries. Elsewhere,
Anishinaabeg stories are significant when one engages in healing to dis-
rupt embodied settler colonialism. Minor (2013) clarified that storytell-
ing is a “medicinal practice tied to the strength of the earth and helps
Indigenous peoples combat the omnipotent horrors of colonialism, and
therefore serves as an anti-colonial and liberatory device” (p. 322).
Indigenous scholars further emphasize the role that our respective
Indigenous stories have in disrupting the hegemony of settler colonial-
ism, as our stories are tools to vision decolonization (Laduke 1997;
Simpson 2011; Suzack et al. 2010). In the next chapter, I explain how I
went about listening to stories shared with me at Naicatchewenin First
Nation, and what I learned about embodied settler colonialism from the
community Elders.
 2 Indigenous Feminist Theory and Embodied Settler Colonialism 41

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 3
Relational Accountability to our
Ancestors

The purpose of this chapter is to share what I learned from the stories of
embodied settler colonialism and women’s physical strength from the
Elders of Naicatchewenin First Nation as I explored the question of how
settler colonialism is manifested upon Anishinaabeg women’s bodies.
Early in my research on physical activity and decolonization, I began
thinking about how embodied settler colonialism can be or is disrupted—
what would happen if Anishinaabeg women mindfully engaged in revi-
talizing the physical strength of our ancestors in our own bodies? As we
wilfully strengthen our bodies, which are intrinsically connected to the
land and our ancestors, can we simultaneously challenge settler colonial-
ism through our strong bodies? Further, as we connect to our ancestral
stories, can we disrupt how embodied settler colonialism requires our
ultimate erasure (Veracini 2013)? The Elders’ stories show that the effects
of settler colonialism are related to the experience of historical trauma,
grief, ill health, and substance abuse. Additionally, they shared that
Anishinaabeg women were physically strong in the past because strength

Portions of this chapter are in press with the Journal of Indigenous Wellbeing: Te
Mauri—Pimatisiwin.

© The Author(s) 2020 45

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1_3
46 T. McGuire-Adams

was an active part of living on the land and in taking care of their fami-
lies. Their stories emphasized healing as we seek to personally decolonize;
our stories of physical strength are important to challenge embodied set-
tler colonialism and are tools to prevent our erasure.
This chapter has three main sections. First, I contextualize Indigenous
women’s physical strength by looking at historical accounts. I also share
my narrative of gaining physical strength to connect to the importance of
my personal decolonization. Second, I explain the sharing circle research
method I used to interview the Anishinaabeg Elders. Third, I present the
stories from Anishinaabeg Elders, which feature their perceptions regard-
ing trauma, grief, healing, embodied settler colonialism, and women’s
physical strength; more specifically, the Elders’ shared stories of their
mothers’ and grandmothers’ physical strength that was gained through
land-based activities. I conclude by asserting that the stories of women
being strong on the land signal a relational accountability to our ances-
tors; that is, as we hear our ancestral stories, we simultaneously enact a
responsibly to learn from them. By enacting such relational accountabil-
ity to our ancestors, such as the stories from the Naicatchewenin Elders,
we address the embodiment of settler colonialism.
Accounts of Physical Strength
Anishinaabekweg physical strength is missing from both the literature
on physical activity and within scholarly discussions of decolonization.
Rather, descriptions of strength inform Indigenous women’s healing
journeys (Young and Nadeau 2005), cultural resiliency (Mihesuah 2003),
and economic (Forsyth 2005) and leadership roles within communities
(Anderson and Lawrence 2006). Writing that highlights the physical
strength of Indigenous women can be found in some historical research
written by non-Indigenous researchers (discussed below); these accounts
raise complications as they contain Eurocentric biases and are, therefore,
not reflective of an Indigenous narrative. Nevertheless, although they are
Eurocentric and outsider accounts are indeed problematic, they are some-
what useful as they do contain a representation of the strength of
Indigenous women. From a critical reading of these texts, I can discern
snippets of history that showcase the immense physicality of Indigenous
women ancestors. Although the accounts are not specific to Anishinaabeg,
 3 Relational Accountability to our Ancestors 47

they are instructive to capturing the physical strength of Indigenous

women before and during colonization.
In 1980, Van Kirk wrote “Many tender ties”: Women in the Fur Trade
Society, 1670–1870, in which she explored how the fur trade affected
Indigenous women. Despite being published decades ago, I was drawn to
read Van Kirk’s book as I thought it might provide a slight glimpse into
the physicality of Indigenous women during a time when Indigenous
Peoples still thrived on the land, and it did. Through an in-depth analysis
of fur traders’ diaries and other documented reports, Van Kirk (1980)
uncovered the wonder of fur traders upon encountering the physical
strength among Indigenous women. She explained,

The Hudson’s Bay Company [fur traders] men found the unladylike
strength of Chipewyan women particularly astonishing. On one occasion
David Thompson sent his strongest man to help a Chipewyan woman who
was hailing a heavy sled; to the man’s surprise, it took all his strength to
budge the load. (p. 18)

The fur traders’ astonishment speaks to the dominant discourses of

women and physical strength. For them, white women’s lack of physical
strength aligned with Victorian discourses of femininity (Van Kirk 1980),
hence the use of the descriptor “unladylike,” where the ideal was to be
weak and in need of protection. The fur traders’ discursive construction
of weak women is a contrasting view from the lifestyle that required
Indigenous women to be physically strong to live a healthy life on the
land. The implications of colonization and settler colonialism are missing
from Van Kirk’s book, yet her work interested me because there are few
testimonies of the physical strength of Indigenous women before coloni-
zation to be found. I found another example referencing the strength of
Athapaskan women where travellers marvelled at their strength, noting
their specific astonishment at seeing a “12 year old girl carrying a
60 pound pack for 16 miles a day” (Morrow and Wamsley 2013, p. 10).
These two accounts, coupled with my ancestral stories shared in the
introduction chapter, show the tremendous physical strength of
Indigenous women that may seem extraordinary today. For our ances-
tors, physical strength was an everyday part of life; they had to be
48 T. McGuire-Adams

physically strong to live on the land. We were taken off the land as a result
of settler-colonial processes and, for the most part, now live sedentary
lifestyles that do not require land-based living, which has contributed a
great deal to the demise of our physicality. Thus, a key part of our decolo-
nization process is to foster our physical strength. For instance, in my
own experience with physical activity, I have learned to locate how colo-
nialism has affected my everyday life while consciously thinking about
how I foster my personal decolonization through physical activity
(McGuire-Adams and Adams 2014). In 2006, I started training with
kettlebells and in Muay Thai kickboxing. The physical strength I gained
directly supported my journey with decolonization as I was transforming
my physicality not to be a certain weight, which is a central feature of
mainstream discourses, but to be strong like my Anishinaabekweg ances-
tors. Training with kettlebells fostered physical strength in me, which
eventually led me to join CrossFit for a period, where I gained additional
strength. At the peak of my training, I could back squat 215 pounds,
deadlift 200 pounds, clean 125 pounds, and bench press 200 pounds.
While pursuing and achieving these strength goals, I was always mindful
of my ancestors’ physical strength. I would remember all the snippets of
physical strength stories from my own and other Indigenous women
ancestors to fuel my commitment to training with a decolonizing pur-
pose. Physical activity has the power to transform us, to assist us in our
decolonization journey; it connects us to our ancestors while simultane-
ously assisting us in regenerating our physicality. To better understand
how ancestral stories of physical strength may propel decolonization, I
visited with the Elders of Naicatchewenin First Nation and asked them to
share their memories of their ancestors.

Relationships
Every summer, my partner, my son, and I visit our family and territory in
Treaty #3 Territory. As we live in an urban space, visiting home is regen-
erative and healing; it is as if we connect to a battery to be re-charged to
then go back to the urban setting. We visit with friends and family, and
 3 Relational Accountability to our Ancestors 49

connect to our land, and as an Anishinaabe scholar, I visit with my Elders

and ask for their guidance in my research. On one of our visits to home,
my partner and I visited with our Elders from Naicatchewenin.
Naicatchewenin is a small Anishinaabeg community in northwestern
Ontario, about an hour’s drive west of Fort Frances, Ontario, Canada.
Naicatchewenin is known among the Anishinaabeg in our territory as a
community that has worked to maintain our stories, teachings, and cer-
emonies despite the violent attempts at erasure that took place during the
residential school era. The residents maintain Shaking Tent and Sweat
Lodge Ceremonies, a Midewewin Lodge, host an annual Powwow that
draws people from all over Canada and the United States, and they use
their traditional Roundhouse, which is where I met the Elders. Gilbert,1
one of the Elders, said, “As far back as I can remember, there is always
people that come to Naicatchewenin to seek spiritual advice, such as
what you are doing.” The Elders then shared their own stories—stories
that I have their permission to share with you.

Sharing Circle
Following Anishinaabe Protocol,2 the Elders and I met in the
Naicatchewenin Roundhouse. I offered semaa (tobacco), introduced who
I was, my clan, my community, and shared my stories to show my truth.3
This Protocol is important as it showed the Elders where I come from and
showed my purpose in seeking help. I chose to visit with the Elders in
Naicatchewenin as I have a previous connection to the community.
Kovach (2009) and Wilson (2008) emphasized the importance of
using sharing circles in Indigenous research. As Kovach explained,
“[Indigenous Peoples] don’t have focus groups, we have circles” (Kovach
2009, p. 152). Wilson (2008) also promotes talking circles as an appro-
priate method of data collection when engaging in Indigenous research.
Thus, I used sharing circles as my research method. Sharing circles involve
participants sitting in a circle to engage in respectful discussion regarding
a topic; each person can talk about the subject while the other partici-
pants listen respectfully (Wilson 2008). There were eight Elders who
50 T. McGuire-Adams

participated in the circle; some chose to share more than others and some
chose to listen, which is common in sharing circles. There were four
women and four men who participated, all of whom live in
Naicatchewenin. Although my research focused on Anishinaabeg women,
I interviewed Elders irrespective of their gender identity as they all carry
stories that were important for this research. The Elders agreed to be
audio recorded for the purposes of producing confidential transcripts. I
shared the completed transcripts with a member of the Chief and
Council4 who coordinates communications with the Elders, along with
the original recording of the sharing circle to be kept and/or used by the
community. I also travelled back to Naicatchewenin First Nation and
presented this chapter to the Elders’ Council, where they approved,
accepted, and acknowledged the importance of our work together.
Gilbert instructed me to share the Elders’ stories to help with our collec-
tive learning as Anishinaabeg now and into the future. He said, “Share
with them: this is what I heard at Naicatchewenin. What you are hearing
up to this point in time, this is real.”
To better understand how to create resistance to embodied settler colo-
nialism, I asked the Anishinaabeg Elders from Naicatchewenin how our
ancestral stories of women showing physical strength on the land might
help with this resistance? The Elders immediately began to share stories
of historical trauma, grief, and healing. It was only after this that they
began to share stories of Anishinaabeg women’s physical strength on the
land. Upon reflection, and in seeking guidance by offering tobacco to
manitouwag—spirits—which is an enacting of ceremony in research
(Wilson 2008), I realized that to challenge embodied settler colonialism
we must seek healing; it is only after we have attended to our personal
healing can we absorb and apply our ancestral stories in our lives. In the
next section, I present the stories of the Elders. I purposely chose to braid
the results and discussion of the sharing circle so as not to compartmen-
talize the learning that occurred, which resonates with the process of
learning in a cyclical way.
 3 Relational Accountability to our Ancestors 51

 ettler-Colonial Grief: “Historical trauma …

S
our blood remembers”
The Elders were keenly aware of how settler colonialism is felt, embodied,
and carried through grief and historical trauma. Anna shared how she
experienced grief resulting from residential school and its impact on her
and her community:

I have grief over [not being taught by my grandma] because I lost learning
about the plants because I was sent to the residential school. For me, with
my culture, I believe in our traditional ways, but also, I’m caught in the
middle with the bible and stuff like that cause that is what we were
taught … I am still fluent in my language, even though we went to residen-
tial school and we were beaten when we spoke our Ojibway language,
Anishinaabemowin. And I still speak fluently, but I also, I don’t know how
to say this, but I am stuck in that Indian residential school era. I am beaten
by English. I want to speak English more than Ojibway. Today my chil-
dren, they understand a little bit, some are trying to speak, but they would
ask me “why didn’t you teach us to talk Anishinaabemowin?” I felt that I
couldn’t even tell them because it was taboo to even speak about it. I know
that being a residential school product, I have come a long way … I wasted
34 years of my life; I drank for 17 years and smoked for another 17 years.
In 2000, that is where I put everything away, the cigarettes, the pot, the
hash. It was back in ’85 I put the bottle down, but 34 years I wasted my
life. Struggling. Struggling. Looking. Searching … for me also, grief is such
a big thing in our communities, families, and individuals … grief hits us all
and that is something that we need to heal from. At least get to a better
place with [addressing our] grief. It isn’t just the old people; it is everybody
in the community. Grief hits everyone in the community.

Anna went on to describe historical trauma and its intergenerational

effects:

We all carry hurt … my children they have a lot of anger and that anger
comes from that hurt and fear … as Anishinaabe people we carry a lot of
trauma. It is historical trauma. For me, my dad went to residential school,
I went to residential school, me and my brothers. That is two generations
52 T. McGuire-Adams

and that still flows through to my grandchildren’s blood. It is in our blood.

Our blood remembers that pain, that hurt, that anger. That is why it is still
there. It is in our blood. For me, I want that to stop. That is how we heal—
when someone stands up and says, “that is it, that is enough.
Enough. No more.”

Anna experienced grief because she was taken away to residential

school. Her experience further shows how settler colonialism forcefully,
and violently, removed a young girl from her loving teacher, her grand-
mother, disrupting the transmission of knowledge about medicinal
plants. Anna grieved the loss of not only her connection to her grand-
mother but also her connection to the land, both of which had intergen-
erational effects. Her grief caused her to engage in substance abuse and
feel the tension between the indoctrination of Christianity and English
and the pull towards her Anishinaabe identity and language. Nicolai and
Saus (2013) explained such feelings as historical trauma: “symptoms of
historical trauma include somatic, psychological, physical, and spiritual
problems relating to the unresolved grief caused by colonization and pre-
senting as high rates of depression, anxiety, suicidal behavior, substance
abuse, disrupted relationships, diagnosable disorders and various other
symptoms” (p. 58). Researchers have noted the link between a survivor’s
attendance at residential schools and the lasting reverberations to not
only their health and well-being but to consecutive generations’ (Bombay
2015; Bombay et al. 2014; Loppie Reading and Wein 2009). Our Elders
have not been immune to the effects of settler colonialism; often, they
were on the front lines in experiencing the trauma, which has had inter-
generational reverberations on health.
Gilbert shared that he learned how impactful grief is in our families
and linked it to the ill health, such as cancer, that Indigenous Peoples
often experience:

And one of the things I heard in my travels, with grief, when people were
talking about grief [was that] if you don’t deal with that grief when you are
grieving, if you just keep it inside, that cancer is going to break out in your
weak areas. And that is what is pushing it—that grief that you are carrying,
’cause that cancer doesn’t know how to dissolve that grief, ’cause it’s not
 3 Relational Accountability to our Ancestors 53

visible … That is why a lot of times our people, when they don’t deal with
their issues, they catch that cancer … That is why grief is so important:
when you are grieving you have to grieve properly and not to hold it
down … If you don’t deal with grief in a proper way, you are going
to get sick.

Gilbert’s view on grief causing ill health can also be found in empirical
research studies. Research has shown a connection between the psycho-
logical distress of colonialism and chronic diseases, including cancer,
heart disease, and stroke (Fanon 1963; Reading 2009). For instance, a
2016 study among Apsáalooke (Crow) people in the United States found
that historical trauma and loss experienced because of colonization
directly “impacted the development and management of chronic illness
among Crow people” (Real Bird et al. 2016, p. 206), specifically diabetes
and other common chronic diseases. This resonates with why Gilbert
recognized the connection between unresolved grief and illness, such as
cancer. According to the literature, historically, Indigenous Peoples expe-
rienced lower cancer incidences and mortality in comparison to non-­
Indigenous People (Nishri et al. 2015); however, cancer rates are
increasing (Reading 2009), and one study showed that survival rates of
cancer are poorer among First Nations people when compared to
Ontario’s general population (Nishri et al. 2015). Indeed, Brave Heart
(1998) explained that for Indigenous Peoples, “historical unresolved grief
involves the profound, unsettled bereavement that results from genera-
tions of devastating losses” (p. 288), which results in cumulative anguish
that affects physical, emotional, spiritual, and mental well-being.

 ealing Embodied Settler Colonialism: “It

H
starts from within you”
While Anna and Gilbert described how they have personally experienced
trauma and grief, they also talked about healing. Gilbert shared how he
has seen healing take place in the community, which stopped some of the
substance abuse, but he noted, “we are not quite there yet. We still have
problems … drugs, addictions.” He explained further as follows:
54 T. McGuire-Adams

We have come a long way in our own healing. The people that are sitting
around here [in the sharing circle] are sober people. Some of us have many
years of sobriety, which we didn’t have 40 or 50 years ago. And that is the
kind of message we want to leave [with] the young lady sitting with us,
who is going around collecting [stories about] what would help people to
live a better life. That’s what I am hearing, that is what she is searching for,
and how do you do it? We all know how you do it; it starts from within
you. That is what you have to tell people: it starts from within and then it
grows from there.

Anna shared that she engaged in a lot of personal healing work to move
through the historical trauma and grief in order to foster forgiveness:

For me, in my own healing journey, I have been to many treatments, many
ceremonies, and I am really happy where I am today. I like to think I am in
a good place anyways. I have come a long ways with my sobriety … But
today, I believe the culture is our healing. There is healing in our culture …
you have to forgive and accept what happened to you. It is very important
to our young people. I see so many of our young people stuck in addiction.
That is part of our historical trauma. Our young people need to understand
where we came from.

Gilbert and Anna showed that healing from within is necessary to

challenge the internalization of embodied settler colonialism, which is
experienced as historical trauma, grief, ill health, and substance abuse; it
is not easy, but it is necessary. Gilbert shared that even though he lives a
healthy life, he still struggles sometimes:

It is so true too when Elders say life is not easy. It’s true. For me, being sober
for many years, I still have stumbling blocks that I run into. Sometimes
these stumbling blocks are so powerful, where I want to give up, to hell
with everything. I will just quit doing what I am doing … sometimes I
come close thinking the hell with all of this, miiyah, enough. Just let go of
everything. But that is what life is all about it, [the] Anishinaabe way of
life, and that is what our Elders always talk about: life is not easy.
 3 Relational Accountability to our Ancestors 55

The historical trauma brought on by settler colonialism is embodied

and manifests in substance abuse, unresolved grief, illness, and chronic
diseases, which are directly connected to our forced displacement from
the land (Loppie Reading and Wein 2009; Reading 2009). Despite the
lasting effects of embodied settler colonialism, the Elders showed resil-
iency and chose to heal through connecting with culture, forgiveness,
and gaining sobriety; this healing starts from within—as embodied set-
tler colonialism becomes internalized, so does our healing. This resonates
with what Brave Heart (2003) explained as being necessary to resolve our
historical trauma and grief, which is the reconnection with ceremonies
and traditional culture. She stated that Indigenous Peoples should “foster
a reattachment to traditional Native values” (Brave Heart 2003, p. 11)
and a connection to a pre-traumatic past. Similarly, Piyēsiw, a Cree Elder
interviewed as part of Hatala et al.’s (2016) study, explained that
Indigenous Peoples were able to survive colonization due to “[our] ability
to align with ancestral spirits and narratives” (p. 1921). Restoring
Indigenous values and remembering the stories of our ancestors are key
components of recovering from the trauma brought by settler colonial-
ism. As such, I asked the Elders from Naicatchewenin to share their
memories of their Anishinaabekweg ancestors showing strength on
the land.

 omen’s Physical Strength: “It was just

W
the way of life”
The Elders shared that for their mothers and grandmothers, their physical
strength came from working on the land through trapping or working in
the bush. Delia explained that her mom began cutting pulpwood (i.e.,
wood felled to specifically produce paper) in the bush to support the fam-
ily, as her father died rather young. Similarly, Luke’s mother trapped ani-
mals to feed her family. He explained,

My mom [trapped] to feed us. She trapped but not beaver, just muskrat …
yeah, she worked in the bush too. I used to go and help her, but I wasn’t
even that big … She cut jack pine there with a handsaw. They had to pile
56 T. McGuire-Adams

it up so they could scale it … most of the time I kept my sister and the
other little guy. She was strong though. She did anything that those guys
did for work in the bush and they’d all load [the wood] up on sleighs before
spring, leave them on the lake, she helped those too, to load the sleighs,
8-foot wood.

Anna shared that she used to help her aunt with collecting muskrats:

She used to go out and set traps and she would get me to help her. She
would walk that whole river and go check her traps. She would carry a
packsack and carry those muskrats home. I used to walk with her. It was
quite a walk; it took almost all day to go and check all the traps on the river.

The above quotes show that Delia’s and Luke’s mothers were physically
strong enough to cut and load wood, and for Luke’s mother, she main-
tained a physicality that was on par with the men with whom she worked.
Also, Luke and his siblings were brought in the bush with their mom
while she worked. This resonates with Anna’s experience of trapping
muskrats with her aunt.
Anna also shared that she learned how to paddle from her grandma:

My little grandma was a very powerful woman. She knew plants and this is
how she helped people … what I remember, for me that was the happiest
time of my life, being around my grandma, playing, learning, and that is
how kids learn … and that is where I learned unconditional love. My
grandma, to me, she loved everybody. It didn’t matter who came to her for
help. If it was someone who did something wrong to her, she still helped
that person … I remember, I don’t know what the plant was, but she would
be gone all day to go and pick this plant ’cause it grew way out in the bush,
and she would go walk and pick that plant for that person … But she
taught me a lot of things … I remember we lived on the other side of a
point with my grandma and when we would come to Powwows we would
paddle around the point. She made me a little paddle so I could help pad-
dle. And this was when I was six or eight. I was eight when I was taken
away from here. But in that time I learned how to paddle, with my own
little paddle, and [I felt] so good to know that I could paddle as a little girl.
 3 Relational Accountability to our Ancestors 57

Gilbert clarified why women trapped or worked in the bush:

They did what they had to do to survive. That is a survival skill, same thing
working in the bush—they had to do it … And back then too, when we
were living that way, we didn’t think “oh, this is tough.” When we think
back now, we see how hard life was, but at the time when it was happening,
we didn’t think it was hard. It was just the way of life.

For our ancestors, being physically strong was a part of everyday life.
The Elders remembered the physical strength of their mothers, grand-
mothers, and aunties and that it was an important part of Anishinaabeg
being and providing for one’s family. Anderson (2010) shared a similar
story that highlighted the practice of teaching through notokwew maci-
win (old lady hunting) as described by Cree/Métis Elder Maria Campbell:

Campbell remembers that it was the grandmothers who were the first
teachers of hunting and trapping. Children as young as three or four would
go out with their grandmothers to set snares because it was the grannies’
job to teach children to be thankful, respectful, and gentle with the animals
at this time and in this context. Old ladies were deemed to be the most
appropriate first teachers of hunting because of their experience and wis-
dom as life givers. (p. 82)

Grandmothers carried an important teaching role, and further, this

Cree knowledge infers that even in their older years, Cree women main-
tained a level of physical strength and fitness that would necessitate their
continued land-based practices, which resonate with the Elders’ accounts
of their mothers and grandmothers.
Physical strength was an important quality to foster in girls and women
when living on the land. Hunting, trapping, collecting medicine, and so
on are all forms of physical strength that require agile, strong bodies.
Treuer (2001) further explained that Anishinaabeg who lived on the land
embodied “wajebaadizi, which means to be spry, peppy, and full of life”
(p. 204). He gave the example of an Anishinaabekwe Elder who grew up
in a traditional Ojibway life, and even into her 70s, she had a strong
body, had her wits about her, and “rarely complained of any physical
58 T. McGuire-Adams

condition” (Treuer 2001, p. 204). Importantly, the Elders’ stories chal-

lenge heteropatriarchal beliefs about women’s bodies being inferior and
weak, as by today’s standards this type of work is, by and large, considered
only “men’s work.” Having strong bodies allowed our ancestors to take
care of themselves, their families, and others in their community. The
physical strength Anishinaabekweg fostered from being on the land was
disrupted by the settler-colonial agenda that forcefully removed our bod-
ies from the territory, via residential schools, relocation to reserves, and so
on. Mindfully engaging in revitalizing the physical strength of our ances-
tors in our own bodies and connecting with the memories of the physi-
cality of our Anishinaabekwe ancestors, Anishinaabeg are inspired to seek
physical strength via physical activity and to re-engage an Anishinaabeg
ethic of self-discipline, which is discussed at length in Chap. 7. The
majority of us cannot live on the land due to a lack of access, knowledge,
and so on, but we can recreate the physicality of living on the land
through a variety of activities.
The Elders’ stories also resonate with Indigenous feminist theory,
which, as explained in Chap. 2, is to reconnect to our dibaajimowinan
despite of, and in challenge to, settler-colonial erasure. The reverence and
connection to our ancestral stories is a profound act of remembering in
the face of settler-colonial erasure. Many of our ancestors, who were the
first ones to face forced erasure policies and removals, survived. And they
made sure to pass down their knowledge systems to their children, and
others who want to learn, by showing them how to live well on the land.
This deep connection to teaching based on land-based practices chal-
lenges the discourses and practices of settler-colonial erasure.
I had the privilege of learning from the Elders when I asked them if
they could share their ancestral stories of women being strong on the
land. And in typical Anishinaabeg manner (Johnston 1982), they did not
directly answer my question, but led me to where I needed to go: to chal-
lenge embodied settler colonialism, Anishinaabeg should attend to our
historical trauma, grief, ill health, and substance abuse and heal from
within. I am cognizant that Anishinaabeg experience a broad range of
embodied settler colonialism. For instance, many people do not have
issues with substance abuse; however, the collective trauma we have expe-
rienced and continue to experience because of settler colonialism cannot
 3 Relational Accountability to our Ancestors 59

be overstated. Through their stories, the Elders taught me that addressing

embodied settler colonialism is not just a matter of remembering our
ancestral stories; rather, we must first address the foundation of our dis-
connection and then resist embodied settler colonialism through remem-
bering and applying our stories of strength in our lives. Further, when we
listen to our ancestral stories, we enact a process of personal decoloniza-
tion and resilience; we heal and come to know our bodies as strong by
listening and applying the stories of the physical strength of our
Anishinaabekweg ancestors in our everyday lives. Thus, what unfolds is a
new internal sense of our bodies through our storied Anishinaabeg images
of strength rather than an internalized embodied erasure discussed
throughout this book as embodied settler colonialism. By taking up a
new internal presence, this may disrupt embodied settler colonialism and
foster the revitalization of other Anishinaabeg and Indigenous Peoples.
This lens causes a wilful contention to embodied settler colonialism and
is an enactment of Anishinaabeg stories in our lives.

Centring Anishinaabeg Ancestral Stories

To challenge the deficit-based narrative of Indigenous Peoples’ health, we
need a shift in perception to occur in our minds so we may attend to our
physical regeneration (McGuire-Adams 2017; McGuire-Adams and
Adams 2014). To this end, I shared Anishinaabeg stories by presenting
the results of a sharing circle with Elders, which sought to understand
how settler colonialism is manifested in Anishinaabeg women’s bodies.
The Elders’ stories shared above demonstrate that the removal of our bod-
ies from the land has had devastating effects such as trauma, grief, ill
health, and substance abuse, which are experienced as embodied settler
colonialism. Anishinaabeg stories are central to creating an Anishinaabeg
future where we embody wellness, strength, and regeneration. Our
Anishinaabekweg ancestors exhibited wajebaadizi; they were physically
strong, capable, and self-determined. Their bodies were materialized
through living on the land, and it is precisely because of this strength that
they were (and are) targeted for gendered settler-colonial violence. As this
research showed, understanding how settler colonialism becomes
60 T. McGuire-Adams

embodied is necessary to further its disruption by enhancing our health

and well-being. The Elders’ stories show us how once we identify embod-
ied settler colonialism, we can address it by attending to our healing,
empowering us to reanimate our relationships to ancestors through
remembering their stories. Thus, as Anishinaabekweg seek out ancestral
stories on our decolonial and healing journeys, we may also learn to apply
these stories in our everyday lives. As Johnston (1976) taught his readers
decades ago, “It was from their ancestors that the Anishinaabeg inherited
their understandings of life and being, all that they were and ought to be”
(p. 27). Thus, we have a relational accountability to our ancestors; our
ancestors survived the violence of settler-colonial erasure, but through
remembering their stories of strength and applying them in our lives, we
renew our relationship to them.
In this chapter, I discussed how embodied settler colonialism is mani-
fested in our bodies. In the next chapters, I present research findings that
demonstrate how Anishinaabekweg and urban Indigenous women
actively disrupt settler-colonial erasure by committing to physical activity
that fosters gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin (Chap. 4) and decolonized prac-
tices of physical activity (Chaps. 5 and 6).

Notes
1. As per their signed consent forms, some Elders chose to remain anony-
mous, and in these instances, I have assigned pseudonyms.
2. I also received an ethics certificate from the Research Ethics Board at the
University of Ottawa to conduct this research.
3. As Pitawanakwat (2013) explained, our Anishinaabeg stories include “a
commitment of truth” (p. 372), whereas English (colonial) understand-
ings of stories “connote falsehood, rumour, or spin” (p. 372).
4. The community’s Chief and Council work very closely with the commu-
nity Elders’ whereby the Band Council office holds the community
knowledge outputs as part of their community archives, which is an act of
community governance.
 3 Relational Accountability to our Ancestors 61

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 4
Women’s Stories of Decolonized
Physical Activity

To improve Indigenous Peoples’ health, Indigenous researchers (Ahenakew

2011; Dion Stout 2015; Lavallée 2008; Richmond 2015) argued that the
lens needs to shift from a colonial one to Indigenous concepts of health
and well-being through culturally significant ontologies. Given that
Indigenous women are particularly vulnerable to experiencing chronic
disease and ill health (Arriagada 2016), it is imperative to learn Indigenous
women’s stories of well-being and decolonization to provide a counter
narrative to health disparity discourses. The stories from Anishinaabeg
women presented in this chapter, who engage in physical activity that
fosters well-being, challenge the settler-colonial deficit lens. This shift in
the analysis is important as it centres Indigenous Knowledge and lived
experiences as the basis to restore well-being, which is fundamental in
dismantling the settler-colonial deficit lens and fostering decolonization.
In consideration of disrupting the settler-colonial deficit lens, I asked
seven Anishinaabeg women how they are creating well-being for

A previous version of this chapter is published in the Journal of Indigenous Wellbeing: Te

Maur—Pimatisiwin. Note: I changed the spelling of an Anishinaabe word from the original
publication. The word is gwesayjitodoon indo bimaadiziiwin, and it is now changed to
gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin.

© The Author(s) 2020 63

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1_4
64 T. McGuire-Adams

themselves through their physical activity. Additional questions included

why they became physically active, what drove them to commit to physi-
cal activity, and why physical activity is important to them. Three key
themes emerged from their stories: (1) personal empowerment and con-
fidence; (2) well-being for oneself, family, and community; and (3) the
importance of group mentorship. In addition to the three themes,
through Anishinaabeg-informed thematic analysis, I determined that the
participants’ stories show that they are passionately committed to their
own physicality and well-being, which then reverberates to their families
and communities. As I continued to sit with the knowledge the women
shared, it became clear that as they engaged in physical activity, they also
enacted gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin,1 or transforming oneself into a bet-
ter life.
I first learned of the Anishinaabeg concept of gwekisidoon gibimaadiz-
iwin from my friend Mr. Clint Geyshick. Clint is a fluent
Anishinaabemowin speaker and enjoys helping other Anishinaabeg learn
about our language. As I am not a fluent speaker of Anishinaabemowin,
I asked him if he would help me better understand the concept of gweki-
sidoon gibimaadiziwin. He agreed and explained that gwekisidoon gibi-
maadiziwin means that:

You are making positive changes to your life for wellbeing … you come to
the realization, sort of like a crossroads where you make the decisions that
[you] want a better life, a longer life, [you] want better health. So, you
make the decision and you basically turn your your path to a better life.
That is the decision, you are helping yourself. So that is what it means.
(Clint Geyshick, personal communication, December 23, 2018)

If we can each take up the practice of gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin

when wanting to challenge our current ill health or apparent trajectory of
ill health, I believe an immense community momentum for well-being
can be achieved. Committing to gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin may dis-
mantle the settler-colonial deficit lens that pathologizes us as ill to secure
our eventual erasure.
 4 Women’s Stories of Decolonized Physical Activity 65

The Anishinaabeg Women

I interviewed seven Anishinaabeg women for my study. Five of them live
in different parts of the province of Ontario, Canada; one lives in
Minnesota, United States; and another was living in Thailand at the time
of the interview. Carrianne is from Waaskinigaa or Birch Island, Ontario,
and has two children and one granddaughter. She has run multiple mara-
thons and instructs cardio kickboxing, boot camp, and step aerobics
classes. Racheal is from Sandy Lake First Nation. She is an avid marathon
runner. In addition to her three children, she has one grandson. Maria is
a mother to three daughters and is from the Kitigan Zibi First Nation
located in the province of Quebec. In addition to running marathons,
Maria also instructs rebounding classes and trains novice runners. Janelle
is from the Bois Forte Band of Chippewa in upper state Minnesota,
United States. In addition to raising her three boys, she runs multiple
long-distance races each year and is a founding member of the
Anishinaabeg women’s running group Kwe Pack. Kelly is from Nipissing
First Nation and works at an urban Aboriginal health centre as the
Healthy Living Coordinator. Kelly is also a certified yoga practitioner and
fitness instructor. Sarah is from Garden River First Nation, located near
Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. She is an Olympic weightlifter who previously
competed provincially and now trains recreationally. Ashley is from the
Chippewa of the Thames First Nation. She is a highly decorated Muay
Thai champion, and at the time of our interview, she was living in
Thailand in order to exclusively train and compete in Muay Thai.
Although the women have their preferred form of physical activity,
whether it is running, kickboxing, and so on, they all cross-train using
additional forms of physical activity. Racheal, Maria, Janelle, and
Carrianne are primarily long-distance runners, but they also weight train
or attend other physical activity classes. Of note, in the next chapter, I
specifically analyse the stories from the runners to discern the importance
of decolonization and challenging embodied settler colonialism. Ashley is
a Muay Thai fighter, but she also trains in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, powerlifting,
running, and functional strength training. Kelly tries to get outside as
66 T. McGuire-Adams

much as possible in addition to her yoga practice, and Sarah enjoys long
walks to complement her Olympic weightlifting.
The women shared their reasons for why they began their journeys to
being physically active, which eventually led them to the forms of physi-
cal activity they currently practice. Kelly, Sarah, Racheal, and Maria all
had similar experiences with being physically active as children but ended
up not feeling great about their bodies after gaining some weight as
adults, due to university life for Kelly and Sarah, and pregnancies for
Racheal and Maria. Carrianne shared that she was also very active grow-
ing up, but it was after the passing of her father that she noticed that she
had gained weight and started to have health and stress problems, which
led her to begin running. Similarly, Janelle began running to address
health issues and depression. Ashley began her physical activity in com-
bat sports because she was experiencing some bullying and she also
wanted to enact positive lifestyle changes, which eventually led her to
Muay Thai training.

Storytelling
I used storytelling as a method to engage in the interviews (Kovach 2009;
Wilson 2008). Kovach (2009) recommended the use of Indigenous
research methods such as stories or narratives, research/sharing circles,
interviews, and even dreaming. She explained that for Indigenous Peoples,
stories are strong reminders of who we are and our belonging. Within the
Indigenous research paradigm, there is an “inseparable relationship
between stories and knowing, and the interrelationship between narrative
and research” (p. 94). I see the relevance in using stories as a research
method, as we are taught that storytelling is the way our people transmit
teachings, which also resonates with the inaadiziwin and izhiwawin I
used throughout this research. As such, for the interviews, I created a
series of open-ended questions including: what, if anything, influenced
you to start being physically active? What, if anything, helps you to com-
mit to being physically active? Has physical activity helped you to deal
with any self-esteem issues? If yes, how so? Having open-ended questions
assisted the Anishinaabeg women participants in sharing aspects of their
 4 Women’s Stories of Decolonized Physical Activity 67

stories regarding physical activity. Most often, though, the women began
sharing their dibaajimowinan about their journeys with physical activity
without any prompts from these questions.
My recruitment strategy for the interviews had two elements: key
informant selection and word-of-mouth opportunities (Newman 2010).
My inclusion criteria were that the participants had to be Anishinaabeg
women and they had to be engaged in what I have termed “decolonized
physicality,” which is any form of physical activity that the participants
specifically identified as using to foster well-being for oneself, family,
and/or community.

Anishinaabeg Protocols Used for the Research Process

Throughout the research process, I followed Anishinaabeg protocols.

After the Anishinaabeg women agreed to take part in the interview and
provided their informed consent (via signing Research Ethics Board con-
sent form), I offered semaa (tobacco) to them2 to not only thank them for
agreeing to share their stories with me but also to ensure that the mani-
tous (spirits) would guide our intentions and assist us in remembering
what was shared. Before starting the interview, I shared my Anishinaabe
name, clan, and community to identify and acknowledge who I am. We
then engaged in a conversational semi-structured interview where they
shared their stories in the way that best suited them, as opposed to being
too structured and rigid. Most of the interviews lasted for an hour to an
hour and a half. After I transcribed the interviews, I sent them back to the
women to have the final review, where they had full control over editing
in the transcript. This is not only an ethical research practice, but it also
allowed me as an Anishinaabe researcher to engage in reciprocity and
ensure that the women were actively involved in deciding how they
shared their stories. I then began an Anishinaabeg-informed thematic
analysis of the transcripts, which assisted me in identifying important
themes arising from the stories.
68 T. McGuire-Adams

Indigenized Thematic Analysis

For Braun and Clarke’s (2006) approach to thematic analysis, there are
six phases: (1) familiarizing oneself with the data (including transcrip-
tions), (2) generating initial codes, (3) searching for themes, (4) review-
ing themes, (5) defining and naming themes, and (6) finalizing analysis
and producing the report. Braun and Clarke (2006) further explained
that “thematic analysis at the latent level starts to identify or examine the
underlying ideas, assumptions, and conceptualizations—and ideolo-
gies—are theorized as shaping or informing the semantic content of the
data” (p. 84). Thus, as I engaged in thematic analysis, which was also
informed by Anishinaabeg inaadiziwin and izhitwaawin, I identified core
themes that arose from the women’s stories.
An important process that I included in my use of thematic analysis
was to Indigenize my practice. I chose to Indigenize my thematic analysis
by weaving my Anishinaabeg inaadiziwin (way of being) and izhitwaawin
(culture, teachings, and customs) with the iterative thematic analysis
steps (McGuire-Adams 2020). Of note, Braun and Clarke (2019) have
recently revisited their thematic analysis approach in a reflective com-
mentary. In their paper, they clarified that while the use of thematic anal-
ysis in the areas of sport and exercise research has exploded in the last
decade, be it rightly or wrongly, they are keen to invite creative uses of
their approach when done “deliberately and thoughtfully” (p. 589). I
believe that I have applied a mindful and thoughtful expansion of their
thematic analysis by integrating several key aspects from my Anishinaabeg
izhitwaawin. I continually reflected upon the aspects of the Anishinaabeg
research paradigm (McGuire-Adams 2020) which gave me ethical guid-
ance as I sought to learn from the participants’ stories. Another central
element of my Anishinaabeg-informed thematic analysis was to continu-
ally seek spiritual guidance. For instance, as I began my analysis, I visited
the water and prayed for guidance; I offered semaa; I held onto my rock3
and kept it near me as I worked; and I took the time out from my analysis
to engage in my own physical activity, going for a run or completing a
session of Muay Thai. As I spiritually and physically engaged in an
Anishinaabeg-informed thematic analysis process, which is a
 4 Women’s Stories of Decolonized Physical Activity 69

demonstration of embodying my research, core themes began to emerge

from the stories. I documented the emerging themes by creating a man-
ual coding system using different colour highlighters as I read through
the transcripts. I then created a separate document where I compiled the
codes into themes: (1) personal empowerment and confidence; (2) well-­
being for oneself, family, and community through physical activity; and
(3) the importance of group mentorship. I will now present portions of
the stories that each woman told to highlight the main themes and I will
then discuss how their stories promote gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin—
transforming oneself into a better life.

The Stories
Personal Empowerment and Confidence

The women spoke about how their physical activity empowered them to
have confidence. For instance, Carrianne shared that when she trained
for and completed a marathon, an event she thought to be only for elite
athletes, it made her feel “empowered in terms of understanding [her]
own strengths.” Racheal explained that running helps to “release energy
and have a positive outcome, [and to] just feel good about yourself.”
Kelly emphasized how committing to exercise everyday empowered her
to feel positive and to yearn to learn more:

I was really proud of my accomplishments and being able to stick with it

and I felt so good. My confidence was better, my thoughts were just more
positive and I think it was that kind of experience that really got me inter-
ested in learning more about physical activity.

Sarah explained how Olympic weightlifting provides her with a happy

place: “I really love Olympic weightlifting and I [am] good at it. I love the
speed of it. I love the strength part of it. I love throwing heavy [weights]
around and mentally it is my happy place.” Janelle shared that running
makes her “feel enough, feel proud, [and] feel confident.” For Muay Thai
fighter Ashley, her multitude of championships brought media attention
70 T. McGuire-Adams

to her, whether it was interviews on the radio or other media sources. She
explained that she “really had to practice positive thinking, positive self-­
talk, affirmations that give [her] the confidence to be able to do [media
interviews].” Each of the women gained personal empowerment and
confidence by engaging in physical activity.

 ell-Being for Self, Family, and Community Through

W
Physical Activity

Many of the women shared that they commit to being physically active
for their well-being, for the health of their children, and to motivate their
community. For instance, Janelle explained that running fosters her per-
sonal well-being and it also sets a good example for her children and
community:

I definitely use [running] as a tool to keep my body well, my mind well,

and I really enjoy it. It makes me happy. … I just like to continue [run-
ning] … to be a good example for my children and to be a good example
for anyone in the community who thinks they can’t. Essentially, it is just
one foot in front of the other and it doesn’t matter how fast you go, it
doesn’t matter how far you go, it’s how you feel when you are done.

Carrianne shared that she engages in physical activity for her health and
to show her children that they can be physically fit: “I’ve always done
physical activities with them and I want them to continue as adults. I
want them to be healthy. I don’t want them to have to rely on Western
medicine to help them move through life.” As a fitness instructor, her
driving force is to “help people empower themselves to be better … and
to prevent youth in community from getting juvenile diabetes and to not
be sick.” Similarly, Racheal engages in physical activity to be active and
healthy for her children and to show them that they can live healthy,
active lives.
Maria not only encourages her daughters to be physically active but
also her community of Kitigan Zibi First Nation. Every year, she and her
sister coordinate a community run featuring 2 km, 5 km, and 10 km
 4 Women’s Stories of Decolonized Physical Activity 71

races. She coordinates the run to raise awareness and support to find her
missing niece, Maisy, and Maisy’s friend Shannon,4 and to promote fit-
ness and health in her community. Many people, ranging from children
to adults, participate in the annual run and it has become an important
community event that attracts runners from around the region.
Kelly connected physical activity to mental well-being and pondered
how it could be used to support other aspects of community well-being:

Exercise is the most underutilized antidepressant. I look at some of the

work that I do, which is very health promotion-based and very fun. I com-
pare that to some of the other programs like youth justice or mental health
programming that can be very hard subjects to deal with. It can be very
heavy. But imagine if we taught exercise as part of those programs where it’s
that wholistic view and we taught [clients] yoga or kettlebells, not with the
mind to have bikini bodies, but more about how can you connect with
your mind, your body, and your spirit and those things play a role in how
your deal with some of the circumstances you are faced with in your life. If
you are strong physically, how could that then translate to a strong mental
approach that you are dealing with in life?

Racheal also found that the positive feelings she has after physical activity
help to “make life a lot easier” and argued that more people should start
their day with physical activity.
The participants also connected physical activity to mental, emotional,
and spiritual well-being. Maria and Janelle both use physical activity to
foster mental well-being and to prevent depression. They each noticed
that if they stop running, their thoughts tend to change from positive to
negative. Through running, Janelle was able to stop taking medication
for depression, while for Maria, running fosters good mental health.
For some of the women, their physical well-being was also connected
to their spiritual well-being. Janelle and Kelly both identified their physi-
cal activity as a cleansing act, similar to smudging. Janelle explained:

You know when we are having a tough time we put out our semaa, or we
smudge, or we burn our sweetgrass? Well, going out for a run is just as
important to me as all of that. It has moved from a physical self-care regime
to a spiritual self-care regime.
72 T. McGuire-Adams

Similarly, Kelly explained that whereas “some people will use smudging
to clear energy … I use exercise to do that.”
Ashley saw parallels between her Anishinaabeg ceremonies and Muay
Thai ceremonies. She explained, “Muay Thai is both spiritual and techni-
cal.” Before starting her fighting career in Muay Thai, Ashley attended
Sweat and Sun Dance Ceremonies, began drumming, and learned more
about the Anishinaabeg teachings and knowledge, which was an empow-
ering time for her as her “spirit was awakening.” She further explained
how she was drawn to practise Muay Thai because of the spiritual, cere-
monial, and ancestral aspects of the martial art:

When I found Muay Thai, seeing that there were traditional aspects and
ceremony that was practiced, it is really what I connected to when I first
started training and learning about it. So, not only was it technical, defen-
sive and offensive, fitness, strength, there was also a large part of ceremony
that is connected to the art. As I learned more and eventually competed, I
was taught a wai kru ram muay ceremony, which is the dance that is done
before the competitors face each other in the ring. Both opponents will do
this. The dance is passed down from teacher to student, just as the knowl-
edge of Muay Thai is taught to you by your teachers and the dance itself
pays homage and gives respect to the teachers, to the ancestors, and to
lineage where you came from. It was truly powerful and beautiful learning
the meaning of this dance. It really resonated with me at that time. Just the
fact that it had a deeper spiritual meaning was why I drawn to it.

Ashley also shared that a key part of her daily training is to run in the
morning. She explained that fighters run for conditioning, for endur-
ance, and to maintain an optimal weight; however, for Ashley, running
carries an additional spiritual element: “Spiritually, I feel when I run in
the morning, I am connecting with the sun, and greeting the day with
good motivational energy; [it] sets a good tone for the rest of my day and
contributes to a positive lifestyle. Great feeling.”
The Anishinaabeg women in this study use physical activity as a
method for obtaining wellness that includes spiritual, mental, emotional,
and physical elements. As they engage in their own self-transformation,
 4 Women’s Stories of Decolonized Physical Activity 73

they also seek to foster the transformation of their families and

communities.

The Role of Group Mentorship

The women shared similar experiences with either receiving mentorship

or giving mentorship to others through physical activity. Carrianne spoke
about the role of group mentorship and how it relates to empowering one
another. For instance, she explained that in the boot camp classes she
teaches, she informs everyone that her class is about empowering each
other by encouraging one another. She also explained how empowering
one another challenges our oppression:

[When] we empower each other to do well and moving past that, we’re
[also] deconstructing that colonial thought, that oppression where we are
told as women to put each other down … like that relational aggression
and that lateral violence component … I see that my classes are a way of
moving us out of it, even if it’s just a few of us … physical activity is one
way for us to move past that oppression and say well I’m just as good as the
other person, I have strengths and I don’t have to be part of that vicious
cycle that we do to ourselves: putting each other down.

Carrianne further related how she challenges oppression in her classes,

which she argued is experienced as lateral violence, by working out with
her participants. She chooses to not just passively instruct her partici-
pants to work out, but rather to work out along with them. By becoming
an equal participant, Carrianne disrupts the perceived or actual hierar-
chal coach/participant dynamic, which further reinforces group cohe-
sion. An additional way she fosters group mentorship with her participants
is by giving them positive feedback when she sees them gain new strength:

When I get the regulars coming and I tell them, “you’re much stronger
than you were before,” and you see that light in their eyes when you say
that they’re stronger than when they first came here, it changes it for them,
you know? So, when they go out, then they in turn believe that they are
stronger, just from that physical activity.
74 T. McGuire-Adams

The role of mentorship is also a key element for Kwe Pack, which is a
group of Anishinaabeg women runners located in the Fond du Lac Band
of Superior Chippewa, in upper state Minnesota, United States. To com-
bat the prevalence of chronic disease and to live a healthier life for them-
selves, their families, and community, a group of Anishinaabeg women
foster the regeneration of their health by running together. They run
together because they “believe in the power of the group” (Birch-­
McMichael 2015, p. 4), which creates a regenerative space that fosters
their commitment to physicality. Janelle, one of the original runners of
Kwe Pack, further explained how the members support one another:

When you start running it’s scary, it’s unknown, but we just kind of sup-
port each other through that. We created a space where everyone can come
as they are. We never turn an Anishinaabe woman away if they want to run
with us. We take care of each other during the run, no one is left behind.

Kwe Pack members support each other with running. Through this, they
foster group mentorship by building each other up in a safe and support-
ive space, where Janelle explained they share the same goal “of wanting to
be healthy role models for our children and to continue to be healthy for
ourselves.” Janelle further shared that they push each other to attain goals
they once thought were out of reach:

Some us thought we wouldn’t be able to do a half-marathon, some never

thought they could do a full marathon, some never thought they could do
a 50 K or 50 miles, and now there are two 50 milers in the group, two more
attempting in the fall, and now there are three other ultrarunners, and
probably about 13 others are marathon runners.

Receiving mentorship from others was a key aspect for the participants
achieving personal goals and even becoming physically active. Ashley,
Racheal, Sarah, and Kelly explained that when they began taking up their
physical activity, they had someone who either worked out with them or
mentored them in their practices. For instance, at age 19, Ashley started
Muay Thai training with her cousin; Racheal began running in her com-
munity of Sandy Lake with a neighbour; before Sarah started Olympic
 4 Women’s Stories of Decolonized Physical Activity 75

weightlifting, she and her mother did karate together for many years; and
Kelly sought mentorship from a colleague and friend who “walked the
talk” with nutrition and physical activity, which also influenced how she
mentored her clients as a Healthy Living Coordinator. Kelly explained:

I am more relaxed with my approach to physical activity. If I have a certain

goal or something like that I know to train myself to do that, but now my
interest is more teaching people about recognizing how food [and exercise]
makes you feel and I get to do that with my work.

Mentoring and inspiring others resonated with Ashley in her practice of

Muay Thai as well, which came through when I asked her what drives her
to commit to her advanced training regime:

A few times people would reach out to me or come up to me and say, “that
was an amazing fight and you inspired me to get in the ring.” So, inspiring
others to do the same is a driver for me. Another would be giving back to
people who are also on the same journey where they are competing or just
learning for fitness and you know you have this skill, so being able to share
and empower someone else through sharing what you know is a really posi-
tive experience—to be able to give back to others. Another drive for me is
being able to connect with different First Nations communities and being
able to inspire others, give them confidence, feed their strong spirit through
learning Muay Thai, if I am present to teach them.

Finally, Maria shared that support, especially for Native people, is one of
the key elements for successful uptake of physical activity: “[we] need to
have support from [our] families … and just having that support on a
daily basis is what makes a difference.” For example, Maria explained that
she ensures her family is there to support her daughter, who competes in
running, by attending each of her races.
76 T. McGuire-Adams

Embodying Gwekisidoon Gibimaadiziwin

The stories from the Anishinaabeg women are powerful. They are infused
with challenges, triumphs, life changes, resounding determination, inspi-
ration, and hope. Each of the three themes—(1) personal empowerment
and confidence; (2) well-being for oneself, family, and community
through physical activity; and (3) the importance of group mentorship—
promotes gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin and challenges settler-colonial
deficit analysis. The women spoke about how their physical activity fos-
tered their empowerment and confidence. While many of the women
started exercising with the intent to lose excess weight, through their sus-
tained engagement with physical activity, their intent morphed into fos-
tering personal empowerment. Their physical activity caused them to
engage in gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin: through physical activity, they
transformed how they initially felt about themselves, gained fitness and
confidence, and improved their overall well-being. This finding resonates
with Lavallée’s (2008) research, where Aboriginal women described how
they achieved holistic well-being through physical activity. I believe
another strong factor in achieving gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin that was
shown through the women’s stories is the connection between their phys-
ical activity and spirituality.
The women spoke about how engaging in physical activity is a cleans-
ing act and a part of a spiritual self-care regime. Additionally, for Racheal
and Ashley, exercising or running in the morning carried a significant
meaning for spiritual well-being. Ashley’s act of greeting the sun in the
morning through running, or Racheal starting her day with being physi-
cally active, created positive feelings. The women’s stories show that phys-
ical activity is directly associated with their spiritual well-being, especially
when you feel a need to cleanse your well-being or connect to your spiri-
tuality, which reinforces gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin. Brant Castellano
(2015) reiterated that spiritual health is “expressed and sustained in rela-
tionships with family and friends … and is spread abroad in service to the
community” (p. 34).
Indeed, once the women fostered their own physical and spiritual
transformations, they were then able to encourage others to do the same.
 4 Women’s Stories of Decolonized Physical Activity 77

The women shared that they engage in physical activity to keep them-
selves well and to set good examples for their families and communities.
By committing to physical activity, the women provide examples of how
to live well for their children and communities and thus enact gweki-
sidoon gibimaadiziwin by living as examples. By being living examples of
wellness, the women are helping their families and communities to do
the same, by being instructors, mentors to others, or organizing commu-
nity events.
The stories of the Anishinaabeg women also show that they are dis-
mantling the settler-colonial lens that positions them as deficient by prac-
ticing gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin. The women all spoke about the need
to be healthy for themselves and for their children. Carrianne specifically
mentors people in her community in order to help them prevent devel-
oping diabetes and from becoming ill. This shows that they are aware of
the settler-colonial deficit analysis that pathologizes them as ill, as if ill-
ness is inevitable, but they are challenging it by choosing to be healthy for
themselves, which then reverberates to their families and communities.
And it also created a reverberation within me.
There were times while I was conducting this research, from the inter-
view process through to the writing process, when I became so inspired
by the women’s stories that I was compelled to engage in my own physical
activity. Chartrand (2012) illuminated how Anishinaabeg stories, both
oral and written, carry the “power of story” (p. 152) and inspire the reader
to take action. The feeling of wanting to take action happened to me as I
read through the women’s stories as I analysed their transcripts; I would
take breaks to attend my Muay Thai class or go for a run. Having not run
in many years, I only began running again after I interviewed the
Anishinaabeg women. It happened in such a way where I felt the power
of their stories in me, and it was a profound embodied experience. I was
reading through their transcripts, reflecting upon them through my anal-
ysis process, and I began to weep. I wept as I connected to the spirit of
their stories, which they generously shared with me, and I learned from
them. And through my learning, I was deeply impacted. Their stories
made me want to run; they gave me a surge of energy and inspiration.
The women’s stories sparked a drive in me to be physically active, and I
experienced it as an embodied experience; I embodied the power of their
78 T. McGuire-Adams

stories and enacted it through my physical activity. Thus, just as settler

colonialism has embodied elements, as described in the previous chapter,
so too does our collective regeneration from it. As we hear and learn from
the stories of physical activity that is driven by gwekisidoon gibimaadiz-
iwin, it helps to disrupt the colonial deficit narratives about Indigenous
Peoples. By becoming aware of how settler-colonial deficit analysis
requires us to be ill, and by taking up physical activity that engages in
gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin, I believe an immense community momen-
tum for well-being can be achieved, which will contribute to our collec-
tive regeneration from ill health and the other impacts of embodied
settler colonialism as described in the previous chapter.
Just as the women’s stories inspired me to take action, their stories can
assist other people to do the same. This could start a broad community
momentum of gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin to dismantle the settler-­
colonial deficit lens. Creating supportive atmospheres, encouraging per-
sonal empowerment and confidence, and helping each other to achieve
personal goals are key elements in gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin, which
secure our health and well-being, not our erasure.

 wakening Anishinaabeg Values

A
of Physical Activity
Theorizing about decolonization is imperative if we are to learn new ways
to challenge settler colonialism, especially regarding health and well-­
being. Anderson (2010) expressed that decolonization is a necessary part
of Indigenous feminist theory because of the inequities that many
Indigenous women experience. She argued, “until we seriously address
the political, social and economic inequities faced by Indigenous women,
we will never achieve full healing, decolonization, and healthy nation
building” (p. 85). Further, Anderson’s (2010) work inspired new ways to
use our teachings and feminism to challenge settler colonialism. For
instance, she linked the health and well-being of women “to the advance-
ment of our people as a whole” (p. 88). This statement speaks to the
central role Indigenous women occupy in families and communities.
 4 Women’s Stories of Decolonized Physical Activity 79

Indeed, the health and well-being of our families are vetted through the
health and well-being of our mothers and grandmothers (Anderson
2000), as was demonstrated in my ancestral stories shared at the outset of
the introduction chapter. This sentiment is also seen in Bedard’s (2006)
research, where she noted that “our roles as women are important to the
health and wellbeing of our families, community, Nation and the world
around us” (p. 72).
Indigenous women’s perspectives on their well-being, achieved through
physical activity, are imperative to identifying counter narratives to the
health disparity research. This research is important as it presents the
perspectives of Anishinaabeg women who are exemplars of physical activ-
ity to discern ways to confront the settler-colonial health deficit lens,
which can then foster our individual and collective regeneration from ill
health. The stories of the Anishinaabeg women also show that they are
subverting the settler-colonial lens that positions them as deficient by
practicing gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin. The women all spoke about the
need to be healthy for themselves, for their children, and to provide
examples of living well for their communities. This shows that they are
aware of the settler-colonial deficit analysis that pathologizes them as ill,
as if illness is inevitable, but they are challenging it by choosing to be
healthy for themselves, which then reverberates to their families and
communities. Nurturing one another to achieve wellness and to live a
good life awakens our Anishinaabeg values and is a process of gweki-
sidoon gibimaadiziwin, which can have positive effects for other
Anishinaabeg and Indigenous communities. Richmond (2015) empha-
sized that Indigenous Peoples’ stories of success, healing, and well-being
are needed to counteract the deficit analysis and that they provide a hope-
ful future for Indigenous health research. The research presented in this
chapter created space for Anishinaabeg women to show how well-being is
achieved, which provides a counter narrative to the settler-colonial deficit
analysis.
This chapter adds to Indigenous feminist theory and the sociology of
sport by broadening feminist understandings of decolonization by look-
ing to the stories of Indigenous women who are enacting decolonization
through physical activity in their everyday practices. The next chapter
continues this important consideration, by delving deeper into the
80 T. McGuire-Adams

dibaajimowinan of the Anishinaabeg women runners—Janelle, Racheal,

Maria, and Carrianne. I specifically analyse the stories from the runners
to discern the importance of physical activity for decolonization.

Notes
1. This iteration of gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin aligns with the dialect
found in Lac La Croix First Nation, where Mr. Clint Geyshick is from.
2. In two instances, I was not able to offer semaa as these interviews took
place over Skype.
3. I carry the teaching that rocks are our ancestors and we should use them
to seek guidance. Donald (2009) also explained that rocks provide us with
guidance. Therefore, when I am seeking direction in my research, I hold
onto one of my many rocks so that I may create a connection to my
ancestors.
4. Maisy and Shannon went missing in 2008 from Kitigan Zibi First Nation,
which is located in the province of Québec. For more information, please
see http://www.findmaisyandshannon.com.

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(Eds.), Determinants of Indigenous peoples’ health in Canada: Beyond the social
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approaches (7th ed.). Allyn and Bacon.
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the Anishinaabe Elders. In M. Greenwood, S. de Leeuw, N. M. Lindsay, &
C. Reading (Eds.), Determinants of Indigenous peoples’ health in Canada:
Beyond the social (pp. 47–63). Canadian Scholars’ Press Inc.
Wilson, S. (2008). Research is ceremony: Indigenous research methods. Fernwood
Publishing.
 5
Oshki-Michitweg or New Runners

In this chapter, I continue learning from the dibaajimowinan of the

Anishinaabeg women I interviewed, as described in the previous chapter.
Building on the critique that settler colonialism is embodied, and can be
resisted, I turn to the Anishinaabe women runners’ stories to better
understand how they resist embodied settler colonialism. I consider how
four Anishinaabeg women runners understand and resist the embodied
settler colonialism on their bodies through a decolonized approach to
their running. Before delving into their dibaajimowinan, I first discuss
the importance of decolonization. An integral part of decolonization is to
re-presence ourselves on the land (Coulthard 2014; Wildcat et al. 2014),
which can occur through remembering ancestral stories. Second, I pres-
ent the three themes that emerged from the dibaajimowinan of the
women: running as ceremony and healing, the significance of running as
a group, and running for health and personal goals. Third, I discuss the
findings to better situate physical activity as a decolonial act of resistance
to embodied settler colonialism.

A portion of this chapter is published with Sociology of Sport Journal and is co-authored by
Audrey Giles. Permission from Dr. Giles is granted.

© The Author(s) 2020 83

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1_5
84 T. McGuire-Adams

Decolonization is an important factor for creating well-being and per-

sonal transformation as Wilson (2004) clarified:

Decolonization becomes central to unravelling the long history of coloni-

zation and returning well-being to our people. … decolonization entails
developing a critical consciousness about the cause(s) of our oppression,
the distortion of history, our own collaboration, and the degrees to which
we have internalized colonialist ideas and practices. Decolonization requires
auto-criticism, self-reflection, and a rejection of victimage. Decolonization
is about empowerment—a belief that situations can be transformed, a
belief and trust in our own peoples’ values and abilities, and a willingness
to make change. (p. 71)

To this end, there has been much scholarly attention on how colonialism
affects Indigenous minds (Wilson and Yellowbird 2005), Indigenous val-
ues and the destruction of Indigenous community ethics (Alfred 2005),
and reconciliation (Coulthard 2014). Yet, there has been a lack of atten-
tion on how decolonization can be applied to Indigenous bodies, espe-
cially from an Indigenous feminist lens.
Mihesuah’s (2005) text, Recovering our Ancestors’ Gardens: Indigenous
Recipes and Guide to Diet and Fitness, is a source that connects the effects
of colonization to Indigenous bodies. Mihesuah (2005) advocated that
Indigenous Peoples return to ancestral ways of eating and exercising,
including running, was a way to combat the negative effects of the colo-
nial diet on Indigenous Peoples. She encouraged the return to their ances-
tors’ teachings regarding food and fitness to regenerate Indigenous
Peoples’ health and well-being. Certainly, the processes of decolonization
require that Indigenous Peoples consciously—or mindfully—reconnect
to our respective Indigenous values, ethics, and teachings while simulta-
neously challenging the effects of colonialism in our lives and bodies
(Alfred 2005). Recent health literature that has focused on decoloniza-
tion for Indigenous Peoples has been envisioned in a variety of ways:
healing (Goulet et al. 2011), health promotion (Mundel and Chapman
2010), embodied decolonization (Reitenburg et al. 2014), and commu-
nity decolonization applied to chronic disease (Birch-McMichael 2015;
 5 Oshki-Michitweg or New Runners 85

Hovey et al. 2014). Very little of it, however, has been conducted through
an Indigenous feminist lens.
Decolonization processes are embodied experiences, which also regen-
erate community well-being. Reitenburg et al. (2014) explored how
decolonization is embodied in Canada and Aotearoa/New Zealand. The
authors reflected on how Indigenous bodies experience decolonization
with regard to Indigenous methodologies: Indigenous Knowledge as
embodied knowledge; embodied decolonization through theatrical per-
formance as physicality; decolonizing the body through Indigenous ways
of knowing and knowledge specific to dancing, drumming, singing, and
ceremony; and through revitalizing Māori birthing practices. Each exam-
ple showcased “the commitment to centering the body in the process of
decolonization and indigenization along with an affirmation of bodily
wisdom and experience as a critical component of Indigenous methodol-
ogy” (Reitenburg et al. 2014, p. 77). In sum, decolonization processes
involve Indigenous Peoples supporting each other to overcome the nega-
tive ramifications of colonialism on their bodies, specifically regarding ill
health. Further, Coppola et al. (2016) explained that by “focusing on
Aboriginal peoples’ positive experiences, it is possible to identify resources
and strengths for promoting well-being” (p. 2). Paraschak (2013a) also
emphasized the importance of looking to “existing strengths [that] are
identified by individuals within a group or community” (p. 97) to then
challenge poor-health statistics. Given Indigenous women’s over-­
representation in deficit-based health indicters, as discussed in the previ-
ous chapter, there is an urgent need to examine how Indigenous women
themselves understand how they can foster decolonization through phys-
ical activity.
This research study focused on the dibaajimowinan of Anishinaabekweg
runners who maintain a high level of physical activity for the explicit
purpose of fostering their health and well-being. Historically, the
Anishinaabeg had female and male runners called michitweg, who were
messengers between communities and were highly respected (Rasmussen
2003). The michitweg ran distances ranging between a dozen miles to
over a hundred miles to reach communities through a system of wood-
land trails that created an “intertribal relay system” (Rasmussen 2003,
p. 14). The michitweg often took up a ceremonial role by being offered
86 T. McGuire-Adams

semaa (tobacco) and prayers, especially when a person in the community

was ill; the michitweg were summoned to run to other communities to
contact healers. Similarly, the Iroquois Confederacy, including other
Native American tribes, included running messengers who carried impor-
tant messages and news to other communities (Milroy 2013; Nabokov
1981). The michitweg show that there is an ancestral element to under-
standing the importance of running for Anishinaabeg.
Ancestral stories provide Indigenous scholars with insights to help
with restoring important connections to the land (Oliveira 2014) and a
pillar for Indigenous ways of being (Geniusz 2009). Stories can “direct,
inspire, and affirm ancient codes of ethics” (Simpson 2014, p. 8), which
can then be applied in current understandings, places, and practices
(Doerfler et al. 2013; Geniusz 2009). They also contribute to envisioning
and creating realities that challenge the permanence of settler colonialism
in Indigenous Territories and promote decolonization (Jobin 2016;
Simpson 2014). In this chapter, I explore how four Anishinaabekweg
runners relate their physical activity to their health and to a decolonial act
of resistance to embodied settler colonialism.

Anishinaabekweg Runners
As mentioned in the previous chapter, I recruited seven Anishinaabekweg
by key informant selection and followed an Indigenized research process.
As four of the Anishinaabekweg were marathon runners, in this chapter I
focus only on their dibaajimowinan. Carrianne, a mother of two, is from
Waaskinigaa or Birch Island, which is located on the northeastern shore
of Lake Superior. She started running 10 milers and then advanced to
half-marathons, marathons, and then completed an ultramarathon. In
addition to being a marathon runner, Carrianne is a fitness coach and
runs multiple fitness programmes in her community. Racheal is a mother
of three who has been running for most of her adult life and has com-
pleted multiple marathons. She is from Sandy Lake First Nation. Maria
is a mother of three from the Kitigan Zibi First Nation, and she has run
multiple marathons. Further, Maria is also a certified rebounding instruc-
tor and mentors beginner runners. Janelle is a mother of three from the
 5 Oshki-Michitweg or New Runners 87

Bois Forte Band of Chippewa in upper state Minnesota. She has been
running marathons, 50 milers, and 100 milers for the past few years; she
also mentors beginner runners. The interviews were one to two hours in
length. Three were conducted in person and one was conducted
over Skype.

The Stories
As described in the previous chapter, I used an Anishinaabeg-informed
thematic analysis to analyse the dibaajimowinan from the participants.
Three themes emerged from this analysis are running as ceremony and
healing, which signals the importance of running on the land; the signifi-
cance of running as a group with other women that helps to inspire oth-
ers; and running for health and personal goals.

Running as Ceremony and Healing

The Anishinaabekweg participants told stories about how their running,

specifically, was an act of healing and ceremony. For example, Carrianne
explained that, for her, running marathons is comparable to completing
a Sundance Ceremony:

Running is my ceremony and when I [train for a marathon] it takes

months—just like preparing for the Sundance—you have to prepare for
what was going to happen. I endure an awful lot when I run; there’s the
heat or it’s raining, or it’s cold. I’m enduring that as I’m going through. As
I start, I’m offering my [prayers] and as I go, I’m talking to the trees and the
rocks and listening to what’s around me and I’m constantly praying for
people. I’m praying for those that can’t run; I’m praying for those murdered
and missing women … So at the finish line, I then feel really, really empow-
ered because I’ve done my ceremony. I’ve taken my time to prepare and
then I go through that journey … and they say it’s the runner’s high, but
it’s not: it’s the sense that I’ve done my ceremony.
88 T. McGuire-Adams

Racheal, another marathon runner, explained that running helps her to

heal by overcoming and releasing stress:

I found running cleared my head—like I can feel my heart again and feel
everything negative [leave] through my breath and through my sweat. And
sometimes I just ran so hard and fast I would end up crying at the end of
my run. It is a way for me to release what [stressors] were going on … and
I found myself connecting with the Creator.

Personal healing also resonated with Maria. She explained that when
she does not run, she begins to feel down or depressed: “[I] noticed my
thoughts were negative and I didn’t feel good about myself, then every-
thing was becoming negative. But when I started exercising it all went
away … I made exercise a priority because it affected my mentality.”
Similarly, Janelle uses running as a way to address issues of depression and
gain holistic well-being. She explained,

I used to have to run to live; now I live to run. I have run since I was in
junior high, but as an adult, I needed to get back to running just out of
health reasons. I was struggling with depression at the time, really bad
depression, but was able to get off medication with just running and diet.

Carrianne, Racheal, Maria, and Janelle also use running to connect

with ceremony. Carrianne directs her thoughts, her prayers, and her
physicality to those she wants to help. Racheal, Maria, and Janelle run, at
times, to engage in a personal healing ceremony and to overcome nega-
tive feelings. Through their dibaajimowinan, the Anishinaabeg runners
signalled the important healing aspects of running in their Anishinaabeg
territories. All the women shared how their act of running enabled a
spiritual connection with the land within their territories; for them, run-
ning cannot be separated from being on the land and the importance of
the land for their spiritual connection and healing. Carrianne specifically
mentioned how she connects to the land around her when she runs by
listening to what is around her and making a connection to the trees and
rocks. Racheal mentioned that she would often connect with the Creator
when she ran for her personal healing in her community of Sandy Lake.
 5 Oshki-Michitweg or New Runners 89

Running As a Group with Other Women

Racheal shared that a group of her friends run together, and they enter
community running events under the team name I Am Team Anishinaabe.
She shared that running as a group feels like a family:

[Running together] is pretty important. Right now [in December], we’re

all doing our own things, either going to the gym or going to Unleashed
Fitness or Bootcamp. But by March/April we start running together once
in a while on Saturday or Sunday mornings, early—we don’t get to sleep in!
We’re just committed to try to run with each other at least once a week. It’s
like a family. Even though we’re not blood related and we don’t always have
to talk to each other, [we] motivate each other to keep going or [see when]
we need to take some time off.

Running together as a group motivates the runners and creates a com-

munity of support. For instance, Janelle runs with other Anishinaabekweg
in a group named Kwe Pack. The group started with five women and,
over time, it grew to a core group of 25 women. To coordinate their run-
ning schedules, they created a closed-group Facebook page that, at the
time of our interview, has upwards of 100 members. An essential compo-
nent of Kwe Pack is supporting each other:

Essentially it started out with five of us and it really grew … we just really
connected and kind of shared the same the goal of wanting to be healthy
role models for our children. And continue to be healthy for ourselves. It
just occurred to me to be a domino effect, like one friend invited another
friend, and we all just connected and we all got to be good friends. We all
support each other, we provide information to each other, we push each
other to do things we never thought we would.

The Kwe Pack members have gone on to run in races together includ-
ing 5-km runs, full marathons, and ultramarathons. An important ele-
ment of storytelling in research is to engage in a reciprocal sharing of
stories (Wilson 2008). As such, during the interview, I shared the story of
the michitweg with Janelle and her response indicated how the Kwe Pack
connects with the term: “That is the first time I have heard of
90 T. McGuire-Adams

[michitweg], and it’s really amazing how we are still doing this without
knowing it. A lot of us don’t know [about the michitweg], but we are just
doing it ’cause it’s so natural for us to do!” Maria also connected her
motivation to exercise as being part of a group atmosphere:

When you are not motivated to do it on your own being part of a group
and connecting with other Native people is really important for your men-
tality … It’s much more than just exercise, it’s much more than just ‘getting
things out.’ It’s having that connection with other Natives and feeling part
of the Native community.

The Anishinaabekweg runners spoke about how their engagement in

physical activity also empowered their families to become active. They all
shared that their children, friends, partners, and/or family took up run-
ning or working out as a result of seeing them commit to running.

Running for Personal Goals and Health

The Anishinaabeg runners shared that running means a great deal to

them in terms of achieving personal goals and health. Carrianne explained
that a big part of her commitment to running comes from striving for the
next race. Similarly, Racheal explained that planning and preparing of
her next race are what keeps her committed to running; she carries a
competitive spirit, which is not directed towards any other runner, but it
enables her to improve her running completion times. Maria also
explained that when she runs, her physical activity motivates her to
achieve other life goals she sets for herself:

I can see how good and positively [running] affects you. For me with the
distance running, I think about goals [while running] and you really think
you can do anything and that’s why I continue to do marathons, because I
had these feelings that I could do anything … with my life goals.

In addition to setting and achieving specific running goals, the

Anishinaabeg runners shared that they run for their health. Janelle
 5 Oshki-Michitweg or New Runners 91

provided her thoughts on how she has seen running help other Kwe Pack
runners improve their health:

I have seen people in our group who were type 2 diabetic, or borderline
diabetic, [or had] high blood pressure. And I’ve also seen [some people] use
running in their recovery process (from alcohol) and that is really amazing.
I didn’t realize that until you are running with someone and they say, “did
you know this about me?” And I am like, “Wow!” Because everyone has
their own story and that is really amazing and powerful and that is how we
hold each other up.

Further, as the Anishinaabeg runners are all mothers, they all explained
that they run so that their children may see them be healthy and active,
thus setting a good example. Racheal explained,

Teaching [my] kids [about] a healthy active life is a big thing for me. Even
though they’re not following in my footsteps right now, my middle child
would run with me once in a while or she would try to come to the gym
with a couple times … she sees me [being active] is what I do, so yeah, [I]
just trying to be active for my kids.

Modern-Day Michitweg
As described in Chaps. 1 and 3, Indigenous Peoples’ poor health is a
result of colonialism (Bourassa et al. 2004; Loppie Reading and Wein
2009). The field of Indigenous health research has used a deficit-based
approach extensively when analysing the poor health experienced by
Indigenous Peoples. What is required, however, is a strength-based per-
spective that focuses on what is working well for Indigenous Peoples to
then encourage hope in others (Paraschak 2013b; Paraschak and
Thompson 2014). As decolonization requires a refusal of victimage and a
regeneration of Indigenous values and abilities (Wilson 2004), the
Anishinaabekweg in this study showcase a strength-based resistance to
embodied settler colonialism and are decolonizing by mindfully
92 T. McGuire-Adams

connecting their physical activity to ceremony, healing, inspiring others,

and achieving personal health and well-being.
Importantly, Indigenous feminist theorists have clarified that the end
goal of settler colonialism is to make Indigenous Peoples disappear: with-
out Indigenous Peoples to contend with, the colonizers can finally claim
full control over our lands (Arvin et al. 2013; Gunn Allen 1986; Simpson
2017). The dibaajimowinan from the Anishinaabekweg demonstrate
how physical activity that is connected to the land is a process of healing,
regeneration, and a reconnection to lands, and therefore, the
Anishinaabekweg in this study are also challenging settler colonialism. I
view the Anishinaabekweg runners interviewed as part of this study as
modern-day michitweg or oshki-michitweg (new runners); the new mes-
sages they carry are health and well-being, as seen, for example, in the
Kwe Pack. The Kwe Pack choose to run on their ancestral trails as doing
so directly connects them to the ideals of their ancestors’ vitality. In a
media story, one of the members of Kwe Pack explained that when she
runs on their ancestral trails, she can feel the ancestors with her because
they are on the very same trail system that their ancestors also used
(StandingCloud 2015). Thus, their running practices demonstrate
accountability to their ancestral stories and such experiences inspire deco-
lonial resistance to embodied settler colonialism.
Coulthard (2014) explained that an approach to resurgence from set-
tler colonialism is to connect with our lands and land-based practices,
either individually or collectively, which could “take the form of ‘walking
the land’ in an effort to refamiliarize ourselves with landscapes and places
that give our histories, languages, and cultures shape and content”
(p. 171). Importantly, reconnecting to the land through land-based prac-
tices like running is an act of healing and decolonization for Indigenous
Peoples (Radu et al. 2014). Anishinaabeg health and well-being are fun-
damentally connected to our territories; territories contain ancestral sto-
ries and are imbued with Anishinaabeg reciprocal relationships to all
animate beings; territories are where Anishinaabeg identities, culture,
teachings, and stories are found. This is why the Anishinaabekweg spoke
about how they find healing while running and by reconnecting to their
territories and, in so doing, the women create a community committed
to health and well-being. The act of running on the land re-presences
 5 Oshki-Michitweg or New Runners 93

Anishinaabeg on the land, which also fosters personal decolonization

through physical activity and creates a community of support.
Anishinaabeg, and other Indigenous women, have continually created
communities of support for each other through visiting, for instance,
which works in tandem with fostering their individual and collective
strength (Goudreau et al. 2008; Napoli 2002). In creating a community
by running together, they practise decolonization by mindfully connect-
ing their physicality to creating healthy and strong bodies. This finding
indicates that creating a community through physical activity may assist
some women in overcoming the noted barriers (Bruner and Chad 2013)
in maintaining physical activity and health and enable them to foster
decolonization.
Additionally, the Anishinaabekweg runners shared that they engage in
running for the purpose of ceremony. While Coppola et al. (2016) dis-
cussed the link between cultural practices such as Sundancing or Powwow
dancing to foster overall well-being of Indigenous women, for many peo-
ple it is not easy to attend such ceremonies. By running, Anishinaabekweg
create a space to engage in ceremony that fits within their everyday lives.
By using physical activity as a way to connect with healing and ceremony
(Lavallée and Lévesque 2013), they are generating a form of decoloniza-
tion directed through physical activity that is attentive to their personal
practices of healing, is connected to the well-being of their communities
and their families, and is connected to ancestral practices.

Decolonization Through Physical Activity

This chapter shows that running creates a community of people directly
engaged in supporting and inspiring one another in realizing their goals;
more specifically, the group dimension of Anishinaabeg running creates a
decolonial, Indigenous feminist space where Anishinaabekweg fostered a
commitment to be physically active for themselves and each other, which
creates a community of support and challenges embodied settler colo-
nialism. Running on the same trails as their ancestors connects
Anishinaabeg to their ancestors and fosters decolonization through phys-
ical activity as seen in the example of michitweg and oshki-michitweg.
94 T. McGuire-Adams

When Anishinaabeg engage in decolonization through physical activity

on their lands, they exercise the important practice of resurgence by re-­
presencing their bodies on their land and foster community regeneration.
As noted by the Anishinaabeg women, such practices of resurgence rever-
berate to children and community as seen in the family of the research
participants who were inspired to begin running, for instance. Thus, the
Anishinaabeg runners embody the Indigenous feminist practice of deeply
connecting to their Anishinaabeg identities and practices, while simulta-
neously disrupting embodied settler colonialism by refusing to succumb
to ill health.
Importantly, I recognize that running is not an activity that is available
to all Indigenous women. Further, I acknowledge that not all Indigenous
women runners connect their running to decolonization. What I argue,
however, is that for some, running can be an important part of the decol-
onization process. Rather than focusing on deficit-based approaches
through which sport and physical activity can promote and reaffirm set-
tler colonialism, it is important to consider the ways that sport and physi-
cal activity promote a strength-based perspective (Paraschak and
Thompson 2014) through decolonization and resurgence.
The Anishinaabeg runners’ dibaajimowinan of decolonization through
physical activity make significant contributions to understanding the
ways in which decolonization and challenging embodied settler colonial-
ism can occur. As they support each other, achieve health and personal
goals, and inspire others within their family and community in becoming
physically active, they further challenge embodied settler colonialism by
not succumbing to chronic diseases or physical inactivity. The
Anishinaabekweg commitment to decolonization through physical activ-
ity is an example of how personal decolonization through physical activ-
ity can be achieved in a way that is rooted in their self-identified needs,
knowledge, and cultural practices. The stories in this chapter show that
the embodiment of settler colonialism can be resisted through practices
of running that are connected to the land and to others in the commu-
nity. In the next chapter, I expand on the importance of community by
presenting the results of Wiisokotaatiwin, which gathered urban
Indigenous women together to be physically active and to participate in
discussions of decolonization.
 5 Oshki-Michitweg or New Runners 95

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 6
Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training,
Critical Dialogue, and Creating Well-­
Being Through Physical Activity

In response to the persistence of health disparities, the field of Indigenous

health research has begun to focus on Indigenous Peoples’ perspectives as
a focal point to learn novel and meaningful ways to address health dis-
parities (Ahenakew 2011; Tobias et al. 2013). Further, Indigenous health
researchers have argued that for Indigenous Peoples’ health disparities to
improve, a concerted focus on Indigenous Knowledge of health and well-­
being must occur (Ahenakew 2011; Loppie Reading and Wein 2009;
Reading 2009), particularly in the realm of physical activity (Lavallée
2008). This chapter showcases the results of a unique and Indigenous-­
driven research study, Wiisokotaatiwin. The urban Indigenous women
were brought together to engage in consciousness-raising and physical
activity through an Indigenous research methodology, Wiisokotaatiwin.
First, I briefly position the literature on Indigenous women’s experiences
with participating in physical activity to demonstrate that their perspec-
tives on colonization, decolonization, and addressing health and well-­
being are needed. Second, I describe Wiisokotaatiwin and where I learned
this meaningful Anishinaabe word, which leads me to discuss the part-
nerships that allowed me to fulfil this research. Third, I describe
Wiisokotaatiwin as a research method, the main research questions, and

© The Author(s) 2020 99

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1_6
100 T. McGuire-Adams

the recruitment of women, as well as present the data analysis and ethical
considerations. Fourth, I present the results of Wiisokotaatiwin in a cycli-
cal way that includes the three key convergences of colonial displace-
ment, critical consciousness of marginalization, and regenerating wellness
by enacting a sense of community. Fifth, I discuss the relevance of these
research findings and the specific limitations, and conclude the chapter.
Although there is a growing body of literature that has focused on the
experiences of Indigenous youth with physical activity (Johnston
Research, Inc. 2011; McHugh 2011), non-Indigenous female youth and
physical activity (Forneris et al. 2013; Pfaeffli and Gibbons 2010), and
adult non-Indigenous women’s experiences of physical activity
(Castelnuovo and Guthrie 1998; McDermott 1996, 2000), much less is
known about Indigenous women’s participation in physical activity, espe-
cially in urban settings. More specifically, there are very few studies where
authors have sought knowledge directly from Indigenous women regard-
ing their physical activity in an urban setting, with the exception of
Lavallée’s (2008) notable study that focused on the impacts of martial
arts training on the well-being of Indigenous women in Toronto. Her
study aimed to determine if Indigenous women’s involvement in physical
activity had an impact on their holistic well-being. The Indigenous
women who participated in her study reported that physical activity fos-
tered a sense of belonging and community that assisted in the reclama-
tion of their identities as Indigenous women.
Lavallée’s (2008) findings resonate with Thompson et al.’s (2003)
study that focused on urban and rural Native American women’s experi-
ences of physical activity. Thompson et al. (2003) found that social sup-
port was an important factor for participation in physical activity. The
authors described social support as knowing other people within the fam-
ily/social network who exercised and seeing people in their neighbour-
hoods exercise. The authors suggested that “social support for Native
American women is a critical factor that should not be ignored when
physical activity programs are being developed” (Thompson et al. 2003,
p. 59), and they emphasized the need for physical activity opportunities
designed specifically for Indigenous women. Connecting individual well-­
being to overall community well-being is another important aspect of
Indigenous women’s participation in physical activity.
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 101

A study with primarily Choctaw women who participated in Yappalli,

which is a recreation/memorial walk of their ancestral forced removal
routes, demonstrated that their individual well-being is linked to the
broader health of their community (Schultz et al. 2016, p. 27). Indeed,
the authors noted that “many Indigenous approaches [to physical health
practices] tend to see individuals as components of the whole with obli-
gations to give, teach, or share with community. In many Native com-
munities, individual experience is inextricably linked to the collective”
(p. 27). Together, Lavallée’s (2008), Thompson et al.’s (2003), and Schultz
et al.’s (2016) research has shown that for Indigenous women, participa-
tion in physical activity is interconnected with social support and
community.
The role of community and physical activity in generating well-being
has been the topic of a few recent studies. McHugh et al. (2015) sought
to better understand how urban Indigenous Peoples conceptualize com-
munity, specifically within the sport and physical activity realm. The
study highlighted that for urban Indigenous Peoples “sport is commu-
nity” (p. 82) where one can connect, build friendships, and enhance
belonging, which shows the importance of physical activity to foster a
sense of community. Further, Howell et al. (2016) study showed the sig-
nificance of urban Indigenous Peoples coming together in a series of
health circles to discuss their health and well-being, while simultaneously
fostering a sense of community. The women, who were urban Indigenous
community members in Vancouver, reported that attending the health
circles generated an improvement in their holistic health. While the study
focused on the importance of physical activity, it did not include a con-
certed application of physical activity. Another study, which took place in
two Anishinaabeg communities in Ontario and interviewed local Elders
(men and women) to determine strategies for environmental reposses-
sion, found that the development of culturally relevant, community-­
based exercise programmes is an important strategy for improving
Indigenous Peoples’ physical health and well-being (Tobias and
Richmond 2016).
In sum, while there is some literature concerning physical activity and
urban Indigenous Peoples, particularly concerning the importance of
community settings, little is known about the perspectives of urban
102 T. McGuire-Adams

Indigenous women on colonization, decolonization, and specific ways to

address health and well-being, while simultaneously engaging in directed
physical activity. Thus, I implemented a research project using an
Anishinaabeg methodological framework to better understand Indigenous
women’s perspectives concerning their health and physical activity. The
research aimed to explore how directed physical activity, coupled with
critical dialogues regarding colonization, decolonization, health and well-­
being, ancestral stories, and other aspects of physical activity, can influ-
ence urban Indigenous women.

 iisokotaatiwin: Anishinaabe Knowledge

W
Learned Through Language
Wiisokotaatiwin, as an Anishinaabe research methodology, has been in
development for quite some time. As part of my earlier research
(2006–2009), I engaged in interviews with Anishinaabeg Elders to better
understand the teachings of the ogitchitaakwe (an Anishinaabe woman
who helps her people). By learning from my Elders, I showed that an
important element to become an ogitchitaakwe was to engage in critical
dialogues to foster personal decolonization through gathering for a pur-
pose, or Wiisokotaatiwin (McGuire-Adams 2009). As part of this earlier
work, Wiisokotaatiwin was informed by bell hooks’ (2000) vision of
consciousness-raising groups and Freire’s (2000) promotion of critical
dialogue. Freire (2000) explained that dialogue is key to transformation
or praxis, which necessitates critical dialogue about our realities with the
goal to ultimately transform them. Similarly, hooks (2000) showed how
critical consciousness is a necessary element required to engage in per-
sonal transformation, with a special focus on bringing women together to
engage in feminist consciousness-raising. To foster an Anishinaabeg
understanding of consciousness-raising groups, I asked an
Anishinaabemowin speaker to help me learn an Anishinaabemowin con-
cept that connects with an Anishinaabe perspective of consciousness-­
raising groups, which is where I first learned of and applied the term
Wiisokotaatiwin.
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 103

My relationship with Naicatchewenin First Nation, described in Chap.

3, includes a long-standing relationship with Gary Smith, an Anishinaabe
Language Holder and Knowledge Keeper from Naicatchewenin First
Nation, located in Treaty 3 Territory. Through this relationship, among
others, I can learn about Anishinaabemowin (language) concepts to con-
nect to core concepts from an Anishinaabe perspective, rather than solely
relying on Western-derived concepts to inform my research. As I am not
fluent in Anishinaabemowin, the result of the effects of colonization on
my family, which includes residential schools, it is important for me to
connect with people whom I trust to guide my language revitalization.
During my earlier work, I sought to connect to an Anishinaabe perspec-
tive on consciousness-raising groups, which is how I first learned of the
term Wiisokotaatiwin. I have continued my learning of this incredibly
meaningful term for my current Anishinaabe research process, which I
explain in this chapter. My long-standing connection to Naicatchewenin
First Nation fostered my growth as an Anishinaabe researcher, and as a
result, we have co-developed a separate programme of research from this
book that connects to Anishinaabeg understandings of the land and
women Elders’ knowledge about healing to foster the regeneration of
Anishinaabeg health and well-being. I mention our co-developed pro-
gramme of research here to signal the importance of my connection to
Naicatchewenin First Nation and my reciprocal relationship to them for
offering me their continual guidance in Anishinaabemowin and core
conceptual understandings.
Using hooks (2000) and Freire (2000) within my early development of
Wiisokotaatiwin demonstrates how Anishinaabeg and other Indigenous
researchers are skilled at integrating multiple streams of knowledge and
adapting theory that is developed in other fields (Absolon 2011; Wilson
2008). Wilson (2008) explained that while Indigenous researchers may
look to other theories or methods for support, “this support is not for
external validation but rather as a complementary framework for accept-
ing the uniqueness of an Indigenous research paradigm” (p. 16). Absolon
(2011) further clarified that as Anishinaabeg traverse academia, we are
“both Anishinaabeg and scholars. One does not exclude the other”
(p. 112). As Indigenous researchers, we ground our research in our respec-
tive knowledge and teachings, but we also learn from and are informed
104 T. McGuire-Adams

by other scholars. Moreover, the holistic nature of Indigenous method-

ologies, which encompass many different perspectives, means that they
“must therefore be pluralistic, eclectic, and flexible. They need to reflect
the many facets of our existence today, while reflecting the cultural integ-
rity of our ancestors” (Absolon 2011, p. 120).
Wiisokotaatiwin is both an Indigenous research methodology and an
applied research method. To advance the development of Wiisokotaatiwin
from my master’s work to the research presented in this chapter, I used
the tenets of Indigenous research methodologies, which include processes
of decolonization, using Indigenous narratives and worldviews, and prac-
ticing relational accountability to the research women and/or Indigenous
community (Kovach 2009; Rigney 1999; Smith 2012; Wilson 2008).
Importantly, Wilson (2008) emphasized that Indigenous Peoples can
develop methodologies, and corresponding research methods, that follow
“our codes of conduct, and honours our systems of knowledge and world-
views. Research by and for Indigenous people is a ceremony that brings
relationships together” (p. 8). Further, I agree with Wilson (2008) when
he emphasized that Indigenous words contain huge amounts of informa-
tion “encoded like a ZIP file within them” (p. 13). Wiisokotaatiwin is
such a word. While I applied Wiisokotaatiwin as an Indigenous research
methodology within the broader Anishinaabeg research paradigm
(McGuire-Adams 2020), I sought to implement it as a research method
or tool. Wiisokotaatiwin, as an Indigenous methodology, uses gikendaa-
sowin and decolonization as an approach to conduct my research. As a
research method, Wiisokotaatiwin is a tool to gather knowledge; there-
fore, the methodology and research method are inherently linked. By
using Indigenous methodologies and tools in research, as Indigenous
scholars “we re-write and we re-story ourselves” (Absolon 2011, p. 21) by
using our ways of research to produce knowledge. Thus, I applied my
learning of Wiisokotaatiwin as a research method to explore the results of
directed physical activity, coupled with critical dialogue, among urban
Indigenous women. This type of epistemic knowledge is recognized as a
valuable way that Indigenous Peoples contribute to learning from our
specific ontologies where Indigenous language concepts offer a way to
express a process for living a good life (Bouvier et al. 2016). To this end,
Gilbert, one of the Elders who participated in our sharing circle explained
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 105

in Chap. 3, shared that Wiisokotaatiwin is coming together to help each

other and that using our language is important to ensure it comes back
strong (Elders’ Sharing Circle, 2016). The sentiment of “coming back
strong” that Gilbert mentions reflects the efforts of the colonial govern-
ment to erase our identities through forced assimilation, which occurred
in residential schools and forcibly prevented children from speaking
Anishinaabemowin. Thus, using Anishinaabemowin is always an act of
regeneration from the effects of settler-colonial erasure.

Relationships
This chapter disseminates the results of a research project that I con-
ducted with urban Indigenous women through my meaningful connec-
tion with the urban Indigenous community in Ottawa for seven years at
the Odawa Native Friendship Centre.
The Odawa Native Friendship Centre is a non-profit organization that
delivers a wide spectrum of programmes and services to Indigenous
Peoples living in the Ottawa region. The Centre represents a community-­
based and directed Indigenous organization that serves the interests of
urban Indigenous Peoples, inclusive of First Nations, Métis, Inuit, and
non-status peoples, in the areas of social, cultural, recreational, economic,
and community development.
Prior to starting the research, I had a pre-existing, six-year relationship
with the Centre through their Urban Aboriginal Healthy Living Program
(herein referred to UAHLP). Between 2010–2017 and 2019 to present,
I led a volunteer-driven kettlebell training programme as part of the
Centre’s regular monthly schedule. As a result of our long-standing,
respectful, and reciprocal relationship, the Centre agreed to let me use
their physical activity space for this research and assisted with participant
recruitment (detailed below). To maintain our reciprocal relationship, I
invited the Centre to use the results of my research to assist with creating
new physical activities or other specialized programming in the future.
106 T. McGuire-Adams

Objectives and Research Questions

The objectives of Wiisokotaatiwin in this study were two-fold: bring
urban Indigenous women together to discuss research questions concern-
ing Indigenous women’s physical activity and well-being, colonization,
and decolonization, and determine if or how directed physical activity
can influence critical dialogues regarding health and well-being.
Wiisokotaatiwin, thus, entailed meeting for approximately two hours per
week over seven weeks from October 16, 2016, to November 27, 2016.
During each session, I would lead and participate in a kettlebell workout.
Immediately after, we would meet in a circle in the same physical activity
space that we had worked out in to share a healthy snack that I had pre-
pared and engage in a critical dialogue about the research questions. The
workout lasted between 40 and 45 minutes and the dialogue lasted
between 60 and 75 minutes.
Based on the gaps in the literature regarding Indigenous women’s per-
ceptions of their physical activity and decolonization, I developed a list of
guiding research/discussion questions for each of the seven sessions,
which I emailed to the women in the first week. These questions included
the following: (1) What do you think about physical activity, and is it
important to you? (2) Do you know of any ancestral or current (family or
community) stories of women being physically strong? (3) In thinking
about your own experiences, how does colonialism impact you, especially
regarding health and well-being? (4) Have you thought about personal
decolonization, if so, what does it mean to you? (5) How has your partici-
pation in Wiisokotaatiwin affected you? While the research/discussion
questions guided the sessions, open discussions were important to foster
critical dialogues; the women were free to discuss other topics that they
felt were important, and in this way, the women had control over the
dialogue.
Importantly, the dialogue portion aligns with a research-sharing circle
approach, as described by Kovach (2009), where women “share their sto-
ries in relation to the research question” (p. 125). Thus, through the dia-
logue portion of Wiisokotaatiwin, each participant had the ability to
share and to engage in their own storytelling. This process created a
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 107

meaningful iterative space where each participant listened and reflected

on what was shared, to then add to the dialogue.
I chose kettlebell as the physical activity because I am a certified kettle-
bell instructor who has been coaching Indigenous Peoples in kettlebell
since 2009. Notably, kettlebells facilitate endurance, strength, explosive-
ness, flexibility, and a holistic approach to fitness (Lake and Lauder
2012); as such, they are great fitness tools to foster physicality in short
amount of time (Manocchia et al. 2013). Having been a kettlebell coach
for many years, I have observed how they are incredible tools to gain
physical strength, which I have seen simultaneously foster overall well-­
being and confidence in class women.

Recruitment of Urban Indigenous Women

The recruitment strategy for Wiisokotaatiwin included a poster advertise-
ment placed at the UAHLP location and circulated through the UAHLP
email distribution list and Facebook page. The criteria for participation
included identifying as an Indigenous woman (i.e., First Nations, Métis,
Inuit, non-status person who self-identified as a woman) aged 18 years or
older and a willingness and ability to engage in research topics such as
perceptions of colonization, decolonization, health and well-being,
ancestral stories, and other aspects of physical activity. No prior experi-
ence with kettlebell training was required. There was an immediate com-
munity response to the recruitment poster; in fact, there were over 20
inquiries within the first few days of recruitment. Due to space limita-
tions, only 12 women were invited to participate in the study on a first-­
come, first-served basis (refer to Table 6.1 for women’s names,1 ages, and
community affiliations). The Wiisokotaatiwin dialogue sessions (not
including the kettlebell training portion) were audio recorded, and each
participant signed a consent form approved by the research ethics board
at the University of Ottawa and received an honorarium of $70 each, or
$10/session. Importantly, I gave a semma (tobacco) offering to each par-
ticipant upon the commencement of Wiisokotaatiwin. Offering semma
is a common practice among many Indigenous Nations; offering it is a
respectful way to ask people for their permission or guidance. Upon
108 T. McGuire-Adams

Table 6.1   Wiisokotaatiwin women’s names, ages, and community affiliations

Name Age Indigenous community affiliation
Julia Not provided Anishinaabe, M’Chigeeng First Nation
Rosalie 35 Nakota Sioux
Andrea Not provided Algonquin
Donna 57 Algonquin, Kitigan Zibi First Nation
Sarah 36 Algonquin, Pikwàkanagàn First Nation
Kelly 29 Anishinaabe, Nipissing First Nation
Brandi-Lee 31 Anishinaabe, Nipissing First Nation
Alexia 43 Inuit (Nunavut Beneficiary)
Sherry 53 Mi’gmaq, Listuguj First Nation
Tracy Not provided Cree, Cowessess First Nation
Laura Not provided Cree, Opaskwayak Cree Nation
Shirley 57 Algonquin, Kitigan Zibi First Nation

being offered the semma, a person may choose to accept the tobacco or
not. Offering tobacco is also a demonstration of reciprocity and account-
ability between researcher and participant where good intentions and
respectful engagement is paramount (Pedri-Spade 2016). The women
who were present in this session accepted the tobacco offering.
Importantly, Wiisokotaatiwin is not a standard qualitative focus group
where the researcher directs the questions. Instead, I was an equal partici-
pant in the dialogues (Wilson 2008). More specifically, as Anishinaabekwe
scholar Pedri-Spade (2016) explained, it is imperative for an Anishinaabe
researcher to “share as an equal, and to have [our] personal reflections …
be part of the conversations during [the research]” (p. 396). As a result,
all women, including me, equally contributed to Wiisokotaatiwin.

Analysis and Ethical Considerations

Each dialogue session that was part of Wiisokotaatiwin was transcribed
verbatim and returned in a password-protected email for each of the
women to review after the final session. Although I asked each partici-
pant to review the transcripts, only 5 of 12 women replied to the email.
Of the five who responded, only two requested minor edits related to
spelling. Once finalized, the transcripts were exported into QSR
International NVivo 10.2 (for Mac), which is a qualitative data analysis
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 109

programme. I followed the same Indigenized analysis process that I

described in Chap. 5. The final manuscript was given back to all the
women for review. It was important for me to engage in this reciprocal
act to ensure that the words of the women were analysed in a good way
and with their approval. It was important for me to seek approval from
the women with how I articulated the themes of the research, but more
importantly, I wanted to be sure I used their quotes in ways they approved.
Also, verifying my interpretation of women’s stories with them is a sig-
nificant enactment of reciprocity and inaadiziwin within my research.
The urban Indigenous women who participated in this study emphati-
cally supported the research by giving their consent to be involved, by
reviewing their interview transcripts, and in providing their review and
approval of the final article, where there were no disapprovals.

Results
To make meaning of the Wiisokotaatiwin results, I present them as a
circle that has three convergences: the start of the circle (colonial dis-
placement), the circle continued (critical consciousness of marginaliza-
tion), and closing the circle (regenerating wellness through enacting
community). At the start of the circle, the women spoke about the forti-
tude and well-being that their grandmothers gained from their relation-
ships with the land. Their relationship to the land was disrupted through
colonial displacement, which created a parallel displacement of Indigenous
women’s physicality. As we continued to journey within the circle, the
women shared how colonial displacement from the land disrupted
Indigenous women’s well-being and health, vastly impacting self-­
confidence and furthering marginalization. To complete the circle, the
women showed how physical activity, coupled with critical dialogue
about our colonization, health, well-being, and decolonization, fosters a
return to well-being, strength, and wellness.
110 T. McGuire-Adams

The Start of the Circle: Colonial Displacement

Many of the women reflected on their grandmothers’ or great-­

grandmothers’ tenacity and strength and how it was garnered from their
connection to the land. For instance, Shirley recalled that her great-­
grandmother had an enduring strength that was gained as the result of
raising three of her great-grandchildren, tending to farm animals, prepar-
ing daily home-cooked meals, preparing game by skinning and process-
ing the meat, and making clothing. Shirley reflected on her grandmother’s
strength and skills: “There was nothing she could not do; it was just
amazing … to me, there aren’t that many women like that. I haven’t met
that many women like that ever again.” Similarly, Rosalie reflected on her
grandma’s daily tenacity for getting up at 6 a.m. to then work all day until
the sun went down, but how these traits are not seen today:

My grandmother [used to] trap until she was 70, because she was built
strong and was naturally tough. It was second nature to her because that’s
what her grandmothers had done prior to her time. It’s kind of like that’s
how it always was for our women. It’s just some of the women that grew up
in cities, they don’t really have that strength, that attitude. It’s more like the
traditional women who utilize their territory were that way.

The transition from living off the land to urban living was also shared by
Sherry, who grew up on the land in Listuguj First Nation:

I’m 53 and I remember [as a child] pulling a net in the mud with all these
salmon on it to help our father. I grew up on the land. I gutted animals. I
killed my own moose years ago. I know how to gut a moose … just to feel
my hands inside the moose. You wouldn’t believe the feeling you get; he
survived to help me survive. It’s a way of survival. I always say that, because
it is a way of survival. We need those tools. Now we all live in the city. Look
at this. Right there we have a cell phone, “beep, beep, beep. I want a pizza
please,” and that’s where I think we lose our identities.

Sherry shared that she still lives off the land as much as she can; she
raises chickens and turkeys and has a big garden, and it is important to
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 111

her to practise her spirituality (e.g., smudging and offering tobacco).

Upon reflecting on Sherry’s story, Rosalie added:

We don’t have the traditional consciousness anymore. Well some people

have it, those that practice [it] everyday, like you were saying [motioning to
Sherry], but I think the millennial age, they lost that traditional conscious-
ness, [that is] what’s missing in finding that consciousness and I think that’s
what needs to be focused on.

Shirley, Sherry, and Rosalie all raised their concerns about the transition
from land-based activities to urban environments. Their stories suggest
that Indigenous women’s displacement from the land signalled a parallel
displacement of Indigenous women’s physicality and determination. The
women articulated that there have been lasting effects on Indigenous
women’s well-being and physical strength due to their displacement from
land-based living to more colonial-based lifestyles.

 he Circle Continued: Critical Consciousness

T
of Marginalization

In one of the Wiisokotaatiwin sessions, I provided the women with an

overview of the health disparity literature regarding Indigenous women’s
ill health. The women then had the opportunity to reflect upon the health
disparity literature that positions Indigenous women as prevalently ill
when compared to non-Indigenous People. Tracy shared that she saw the
disparity literature as a baseline:

This is where we are right now. I mean, the numbers aren’t lying, right? We
do know that there’s obesity and it’s all linked to colonial order; it’s all
linked to poverty. Those are our numbers, and those are the things we have
to deal with. That’s what the data tells us. Groups like this, and leaders in
our community … will help lift us out of that, and I think it just keeps
going and going, and if we bring people to get away from that baseline data.
112 T. McGuire-Adams

Julia explained that she “doesn’t like the implication in the text that
we’re not healthy. I think we all have the potential to be healthy, but at
times our bod[ies] are seen as bad, intrinsically diseased or weak.” Tracy
also considered how marginalization is connected to the disparity
literature:

I think that some of the [health] limitations that we were talking about …
I think we talked about physical limitations and economical limitations of
Indigenous women being in the margins, but I think it goes deeper than
that. We are also marginalized in our own heads, so you stop and you say,
“Oh, I can’t do this.” We’ve been in the margins for so long that this is
where we’re used to being, and it affects our self-confidence, and our ability
to think that we can actually do something.

Julia agreed with Tracy and reflected on how racism and stereotypes
affects Indigenous women:

I agree. I grew up in the city, and I often think about my experiences grow-
ing up. For example, when you’re one of the few Aboriginal people at
school it’s always like, “Oh we don’t want her on our team.” You’re always
experiencing these negative things coming toward you from different direc-
tions. Teachers didn’t think you had the same capacity as other people and
that still happens today. So, you experience that, and then it doesn’t get
better in high school maybe you want to try out for a team, and maybe not
having the skills. You aren’t comfortable being around your basic environ-
ment that other people were comfortable being in. That keeps coming
back, and later on you begin to apply this to other aspects of your life,
[such as] going to the gym [and feeling] embarrassed or [wondering] are
people still looking at me? It’s hard to navigate new environments when
you’re faced with subtle racism and stereotypes that impacts your health
mentally, emotionally, and social life. It impacts your ability to want to
fulfill your goals.

Kelly provided another account of the marginalization she experienced

because of choosing to live a healthy lifestyle:
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 113

In my work, it’s [part of ] my job to be that [healthy] role model, but I get
made fun of a lot for what I eat or what I don’t eat. If I’m seen eating a slice
of pizza it’s like, “oh no Kelly’s eating pizza.” I’m like “what do you mean?
Pizza is my favorite.” So, it’s kind of the opposite end where if you’re trying
to eat healthy or you’re seen as trying to stand out as the good one outside
of everyone else who are eating bad, or what they perceive as bad. And [it
is the] same with fitness too, people in the community who are exercising
a lot or being really active they are often like, “oh they are always out at the
gym and not with their family” and when we go back home it’s always in
our plan to go to the gym and it’s what we do on our off time, but for them
it’s like “oh well you don’t want to hang out with us? You’re only down here
for a couple of days and you’re going off to the gym,” and it’s like “yeah
that’s just part of our lifestyle.”

Kelly’s story shows that, at times, marginalization occurs in the very

spaces where community support should exist. Brandi-Lee provides a fur-
ther reflection upon this space that some Indigenous women navigate,
“[In] Western culture versus ours, we always celebrated our strengths.
And I think [because of ] colonialism how hyper critical we have learned
to become over so many things.” Brandi-Lee also shared that she believes
“[everyday] moments in [our] journeys should be celebrated” in addition
to the bigger moments in our lives. The women emphasized how they are
treated unequally, as seen through their experiences with marginalization
and subtle racism. Their experiences showed that by continually being
treated as unequal by discourses of colonial normativity, and prevalently
ill in the case of the health disparity literature, Indigenous women are
conditioned over time to become internally oppressed.

 losing the Circle: Restoring Wellness by

C
Enacting Community

The women reflected on their involvement in Wiisokotaatiwin and what

it meant for them. They highlighted the importance of creating a com-
munity by gathering women together for physical activity. For instance,
114 T. McGuire-Adams

Brandi-Lee shared that she and Kelly had reflected on the space that
Wiisokotaatiwin created:

I think it was helpful to come together as a group … Kelly and I were talk-
ing about how great it was to be with a lot of likeminded people and just
have that kind of communal sense again and all sharing that same goal.
And realizing that we [all] shared so much … there’s so much in common
with all of us and the things that we had to go through as Aboriginal women.

In particular, they found that their experiences as Indigenous women

navigating various effects of colonialism resonated with other women.
For instance, Alexia shared that she enjoyed coming together as a group
to hear others’ stories and further acknowledged that “we’re all so diverse,
but we all share this common dark part.” Similarly, Sherry noted, “I think
as women we connect easier with each other, especially as we’re all First
Nations. We all come from different communities, but we can connect
somehow because we share [similar] stories of our ancestors.”
Wiisokotaatiwin created enthusiasm for physical activity, which was
highlighted by several women. Julia explained that she would attend
workout classes at mainstream gyms, but there was never a community
connection, which influenced her motivation:

You can go to workout classes but often if you don’t make that connection
with other people in class then it’s not as motivating to go. So, I really like
the fact that we had the workout together, then we had the sharing. [It]
made it more motivating to come here.

Similarly, Alexia noted in our group dialogue that she had been work-
ing out at the gym and running as a result of attending Wiisokotaatiwin.
She explained:

[I feel] a boost in my confidence to start working out again. I always feel

good when I leave here. I’ve been trying to come to the gym every day, at
least for half an hour … [and when I first started] I could run for 20 min-
utes and now I can do 45 minutes.
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 115

The women also spoke about the importance of creating community

spaces where women can come together. Julia explained that while
Wiisokotaatiwin was a space to discuss physical health:

we [also] talked about our lives as women … we do share things in com-

mon but everybody had these different perspectives so for me it helped [me
to] look at things a different way and to get new ways of thinking
about things.

Brandi-Lee further explained:

It’s so important to come together as a community to remind each other

that it is possible. These limitations that we place on ourselves aren’t …
sometimes they’re just in our minds. The biggest take home for me would
be mindset, and knowing it is possible to get where you want if that’s your
goal. Even just the changes in several weeks is amazing. For me, it got me
on a kind of good start back into exercising more. Having a peer group, it
just makes you more committed. You just want to be there and meet with
your group. It kind of becomes your group after. Something you look for-
ward to on Sundays.

Rosalie and Julia correspondingly reflected on how Wiisokotaatiwin

provided them with a comfortable space to connect with other Indigenous
women for physical activity, which further built their sense of community:

I never really worked out at all [in the past]. I always wanted too. I even
bought a membership, but I cancelled it because I would just never go and
I would never have that motivation. It needs to be community. And you
need to feel comfortable. So, this also gave me a space to come and try to
get healthy and be comfortable also. (Rosalie)

This felt like a body positive space. I like that I felt comfortable here.
Sometimes I go to the gym and there’ll be uber healthy people on those
spinning classes and I’m just huffing and puffing away. So, this felt good. I
felt comfortable. (Julia)
116 T. McGuire-Adams

The supportive, comfortable, Indigenous women-led community that

Wiisokotaatiwin provided enabled the women to gain confidence in
other areas of their lives. Tracy noted:

I felt very proud of … the group, and myself, because your part of some-
thing that is really strong—not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually,
and mentally. You feel that strength just by doing physical stuff with people
who are like-minded. [Additionally] I really love our group here because,
where I work, it drains me. I come here and I’m able to take that confi-
dence and that strength, and [apply it to] how I carry myself at work.

Having discussed the importance of community in fostering the

broader health and well-being of Indigenous women, the women also
discussed the issues they see with the lack of funding to promote wellness
in a community. Kelly, who is employed at a local Indigenous health
organization, brought attention to how funding usually goes towards
chronic disease care and hardly any funding towards fostering health and
well-being:

A lot of the funding goes to management programs for chronic diseases

rather than prevention. So [my organization] gets very little in comparison
to help live healthy lives, versus the management of diabetes for exam-
ple … I feel like that’s backwards. It should be the other way around …
When we leave here, we feel really good, right? But how do you report on
something like that? To [report] “we feel awesome! We should invest more
here versus diabetes.” We see so many people on insulin, and that’s what
paid more attention to because of these [disparity] statistics.

Tracy agreed with Kelly and reflected on how the needs of the people are
not fitting current programmes:

Our needs, our aspirations are not fitting into their square mold, so that’s
when we need to shift things around and insist. Especially now, in the place
that we’re at with this government, we have to say “the way you operate
your program doesn’t work for me, so this is how we need to do it.” I think
taking ownership, and insisting that they start meeting our needs, not the
funders’ [needs]. That’s the battle we have to take [on].
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 117

This led Kelly to question why there has not been more of a challenge
to top-down funding directives, which then guided her to think about
other community-led opportunities to address our health:

Why haven’t we challenged it more, you know? Just to get that confidence
to be able to do that—then potentially thinking about other sources of
funds. Do we have to go through the government? I don’t know. What
other options are there? How can we mobilize as a community to do this
work, or to do it [our] way? There’s a lot of really positive things happen-
ing, like with kettlebells, and bringing that into a space like Wiisokotaatiwin.
I think it’s related back to workouts like this, that make you feel strong
physically, that translate out there, and you begin to feel strong mentally.
You can take that and bring it into those kinds of conversations that are
tough to have, but you feel stronger as an Indigenous woman to be able
to do that.

Through coming together for a purpose, the women explained that

Wiisokotaatiwin fostered the development of a sense of community and
promoted the women’s self-confidence, which some connected to
decolonization.
Many of the women also described how Wiisokotaatiwin helped them
with acknowledging the role of decolonization in gaining confidence. For
instance, Shirley recognized the importance of the multi-faceted discus-
sions that occurred around decolonization:

I really enjoyed that [Wiisokotaatiwin] incorporated a lot of stuff. Our

physical well-being, our emotional well-being … and talking about the
connection between us and decolonization. I think it empowered each one
of us here in the room to acknowledge, “yes, [colonialism] happened, and
now we’re moving on.” To see where we once were, where we are now, and
where we’re going in the future. So, I think that this [space] helped me to
feel all of that.

Tracy agreed with Shirley and added that for her:

[Wiisokotaatiwin] affirmed and really clarified the whole connection

between physical fitness and building strength in all elements of your body,
118 T. McGuire-Adams

to decolonization. I mean, I can see the real connection. The power I feel
around this circle is just amazing and it makes me proud to be here.

The sharing that occurred between the women encouraged a level of

comfort to discuss personal stories regarding how colonialism has affected
them, envision programming where well-being is enhanced, and connect
their well-being to decolonization.

Indigenous Women Creating Community

Through Physical Activity
Indigenous health researchers have noted that transformative ideas are
needed from Indigenous community members themselves to address our
health and well-being (Reading 2009), especially in relation to physical
activity (Lavallée 2007; Rolleston et al. 2017). Thus, I implemented
Wiisokotaatiwin to bring together urban Indigenous women to explore
how directed physical activity, coupled with critical dialogues regarding
colonization, decolonization, health, and well-being, may influence
them. The results from the seven-week session of Wiisokotaatiwin empha-
size that an Indigenous-led critical dialogue about health and wellness,
coupled with directed physical activity, can serve as an important motiva-
tor for Indigenous women to engage in physical activity.
The women discussed the displacement from land-based living to
colonial-based lifestyles. Specifically, Shirley, Rosalie, and Sherry noted
how city-based living caused Indigenous Peoples to disconnect from their
land-based lifestyles, which they saw as negatively affecting Indigenous
women’s physical strength and identities. This resonates with what many
scholars have articulated concerning the devastating effects that
Indigenous Peoples’ displacement from their lands has had upon their
health (Alfred 2005; Kelm 1998; Walters et al. 2011). For instance,
Alfred (2005) explained that Indigenous Peoples’ ill health is related to
our “disconnect[ion] from our lands and from our traditional ways of
life” (p. 31). While traditional ways of life are often assumed to occur in
reserve-based settings, there have been other scholars who suggest that
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 119

Indigeneity is present regardless of urban or rural location (Bang et al.

2014) because Indigenous Peoples “carry [our attachments to lands] …
wherever we go” (Walters et al., p. 170). To only envision Indigenous
Peoples as authentically existing in the past, however, “trap[s] Native peo-
ple in a time warp, [that] insist[s] our past was all we have. No present.
No future. And to believe in such a past is to be dead” (King 2003,
p. 106). In our efforts to foster health and well-being, it is important to
acknowledge that our existence is not solely enacted through land-based
living. Without a doubt, regenerating our land-based activities is funda-
mental for our collective drive towards regenerating our respective gover-
nance systems and fostering decolonization (Alfred 2005; Coulthard
2014; Simpson 2014). I argue, however, that corresponding practices of
decolonization can be enacted through physical activity that is mindfully
connected to our ancestors’ physicality.
The women spoke of the physical strength of their ancestors, which
shows the importance of ancestral stories to assist Indigenous Peoples in
“bridging the past and present” (Schultz et al. 2016, p. 27), and fostering
health and well-being in an urban-based Indigenous community setting.
Recently, Schultz et al. (2016) emphasized how Indigenous Peoples’ com-
mitment to physical activity and healthy living is a significant way to
“reconnect to ancestral strength and visions of health” (p. 26), which also
enacts our relational responsibilities to our ancestors and future genera-
tions. The qualities of tenacity, determination, and strength that the
women expressed were traits of their grandmothers that are also present
within them and can be enacted through physical activity. Thus, as we
remember our ancestral stories of physical strength, rather than viewing
them as tethered only to past ancestral practices, we can use the stories to
propel us to engage in physical activity that replicates our ancestral
strengths and enhances our relationships to our ancestors.
Moreover, as reported by the women, Wiisokotaatiwin created a com-
munity of women, through physical activity and critical dialogue, where
they self-reported gaining holistic well-being such as feeling strong physi-
cally, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally, and having enhanced self-­
confidence. Correspondingly, as the weeks progressed, the women’s
participation in Wiisokotaatiwin helped to alleviate some of their daily
experiences of marginalization. While physical wellness was the driving
120 T. McGuire-Adams

force, the women shared that they felt good after each session of
Wiisokotaatiwin, which relates to enhancing overall well-being. The
women explained that they left Wiisokotaatiwin feeling good and were
motivated to continue with their own physical activity. This motivation
led some women to gain confidence in addressing other areas of margin-
alization, such as going to the gym or facing workplace or other criti-
cisms. Lavallée and Lavallée and Poole (2010) explained that dispelling
stereotypes and building confidence through physical activity enhances
Indigenous health. The space that Wiisokotaatiwin created assisted the
women to engage in self-reflection with other women, which was found
to have reverberating effects on the women’s overall well-being, as they
reported feeling good after each session. This finding resonates with
Lavallée’s (2007) study where Indigenous women enhanced their holistic
well-being through a martial arts programme.
The women showed a critical consciousness of marginalization, as seen
through their lived experiences and the knowledge that they carried.
When asked to reflect on the health disparity literature that positions
Indigenous women as prevalently ill when compared to non-Indigenous
People, the women connected it to the effects of colonialism and how it
related to other experiences of marginalization. For instance, some of the
women explained that they felt marginalized from mainstream society
(e.g., in educational settings) and, in some cases, judged for leading active
lifestyles. It is significant that the women spoke about the intricacies of
marginalization and the internal oppression that they navigate, as colo-
nialism is realized through everyday actions, in addition to structural
forms of authority, such as is seen through the health disparity literature.
Kelm (1998) discerned how the colonial government, the medical profes-
sion, and other colonial state partners are well versed in purposefully
positioning Indigenous Peoples as weak, ill, and dying, which has worked
to solidify “the embodiment of inequality [as] a powerful tool in legiti-
mizing [colonial] authority” (p. xvii), especially over Indigenous bodies
and territories. A more recent article (Hyett et al. 2019) further critiques
the deficit approach that is replicated when non-Indigenous researchers
study the health disparities between Indigenous and non-Indigenous
Peoples. Hyett et al. (2019) challenge the deficit approach in health
research by offering an Indigenous-centred authority of the research as
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 121

“ensuring that Indigenous Peoples have authority over how they are
researched and how they are portrayed as a result of that research is criti-
cal to producing effective and beneficial research” (p. 107).
The women also discussed how current health programmes tend to
focus on the treatment of chronic disease, rather than prevention. Indeed,
the prevention of chronic disease would ultimately challenge the colonial
discourses that rely on our illness to normalize colonial authority over
Indigenous Peoples and Lands. Further, governmental campaigns
addressed at increasing physical activity tend to focus on individual
behaviour and not on emphasizing the community or social support that
are necessary to motivate individuals to enhance physicality (Alvaro et al.
2011; Forneris et al. 2013). Creating Indigenous-led physical activity
spaces, like Wiisokotaatiwin, is one example of how this occurs and cor-
responds with the literature on the importance of community for sup-
porting physical activity and wellness (Howell et al. 2016; McHugh et al.
2015; Thompson et al. 2003). The community that Wiisokotaatiwin cre-
ated resulted in the women gaining confidence with physical activity and,
for some, it helped them gain self-confidence in other areas of their lives;
as a result, Wiisokotaatiwin simultaneously challenged their internal
oppression while also helping them to articulate and, in some cases, chal-
lenge the marginalization they experience.
What was it about Wiisokotaatiwin that fostered the women’s confi-
dence and enhanced their overall well-being? McHugh et al. (2015) clari-
fied that coming together in a sport (e.g., hockey) “fosters [a] sense of
belonging and interaction that is central to community” (p. 81), which
was previously shown to be an essential feature to foster confidence and
well-being (Howell et al. 2016; Thompson et al. 2003). I believe that
gathering together for a purpose, Wiisokotaatiwin, also ignites a deep
ancestral trait in Indigenous women—to come together during times of
change in order to maintain a community that fosters well-being and
safety (Child and Calloway 2012). It is my position that the community
that Indigenous women create can also be applied to organize physical
activity that centres Indigenous ways of being. Therefore, through train-
ing together with kettlebells, in conjunction with creating a supportive
space to critically dialogue about their health and other important issues,
the Indigenous women created a community that empowered them to be
122 T. McGuire-Adams

confident. Importantly, Wiisokotaatiwin provided a welcome counter

narrative to the marginalization, racism, and the disparity literature that
Indigenous women encounter.
Kerslake (2017) interviewed a Cree medical doctor, James Makokis,
who explained that to confront the effects of colonization on Indigenous
Peoples’ health, Indigenous-led thinking about health, as opposed to top-­
down, incremental government policies, must be recognized and sus-
tained for lasting changes in health and well-being to take hold in our
communities. This resonates with Wilson’s (2008) contention that when
research and policy are framed by non-Indigenous researchers/policy-
makers, it ultimately results in the focus on illness, rather than health or
wellness. Wiisokotaatiwin used Indigenous-led thinking and practices in
research and broke free from the hegemony of the dominant health sys-
tem (Wilson 2008), demonstrating the significance of using an
Anishinaabemowin, gikendaasowin, and izhitwaawin in research. Using
the concept of Wiisokotaatiwin to guide this research acknowledges that
our language contains “unique bodies of knowledge that may contain
some of the most critical solutions to the problems we face as humans”
(Hutton 2020, para. 7). Moreover, as the research was framed within an
Anishinaabeg inaadiziwin, it resulted in concentrating on the women’s
strengths and looked to them as the experts about their health and well-­
being, rather than focusing on their health issues (Paraschak and
Thompson 2014). Likewise, when I encountered challenges, be it con-
ducting research or personal, my Anishinaabeg gikendaasowin and izhit-
waawin reminded me that I was continually guided by my ancestors to
undertake the work; this allowed me to create an Anishinaabeg research
methodology from which to build meaningful relationships with my
research women and is an innovative addition to the field of sociology
of sport.

Limitations
There are a few limitations to the research study. First, I cannot determine
if the women sustained their commitment or motivation to engage in
physical activity. As a result, I cannot conclude if the collective feeling of
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 123

overall wellness and confidence was sustained. Second, there was no land-­
based physical activity in the programme. Wilson (2003) found that a
connection to the land through land-based activities, such as hunting,
trapping, or collecting medicines, is an “integral part of First Nations’
identity and health” (p. 83). Given the important discussions that
occurred between the women regarding ancestral strength gained from
the land, any future application of Wiisokotaatiwin should consider inte-
grating some land-based experiences. Third, beyond the offering of
tobacco, there were no cultural ceremonies included in Wiisokotaatiwin
(e.g., smudging or prayer). As spiritual connection is an important factor
in promoting holistic well-being, future research or community program-
ming of Wiisokotaatiwin may wish to include some ceremonial aspects,
under the guidance of Elders or other cultural practitioners.

Indigenous-Led Research
The displacement of Indigenous women from the land caused lasting
health consequences that researchers have identified as needing to be
viewed through an Indigenous-based lens (Reading 2009; Wilson 2003).
Western-based analyses of Indigenous Peoples’ health compared to non-­
Indigenous People’s health have exposed disparities in such areas as
chronic diseases and indicators of well-being. However, in response to the
health deficit research, and despite extensive research, few improvements
of Indigenous Peoples’ health have occurred (Reading 2009). Rather than
looking to Western research approaches that create recommendations for
Indigenous women’s ill health, which do not necessarily resonate with
Indigenous Peoples (Ahenakew 2011; Macdonald et al. 2010), Indigenous
health researchers have argued that Indigenous Peoples’ voices, ideas, and
visions must be looked to in order to find novel resolutions. As such, I
implemented Wiisokotaatiwin, an Indigenous research methodology and
method, to discern what a subset of urban Indigenous women thought
about their health and well-being as they relate to colonization, decoloni-
zation, and improving health and wellness, while simultaneously engag-
ing in physical activity. I argue that creating supportive spaces for
Indigenous women to connect and share our perspectives, while also
124 T. McGuire-Adams

engaging in physical activity, is a key element for improved health and

well-being. Indeed, the women noted feeling more motivated, self-­
confident, and generally good after the weekly sessions.
Finally, it is my hope that Wiisokotaatiwin may be used as an adapt-
able tool for Indigenous health researchers and/or Indigenous-led com-
munity programmes to further investigate how physical activity promotes
health and wellness research. Importantly, while I chose kettlebells as the
physical activity for Wiisokotaatiwin, any form of physical activity may
be used to foster critical dialogue. What is needed is support to host ses-
sions of Wiisokotaatiwin and an Indigenous community leader and/or
programme to implement it/oversee it. Thus, a significant recommenda-
tion includes funding for spaces that gather women to intently focus on
physicality and community. Finally, in furtherance of Indigenous-led
research, and given how Indigenous health research has long been led by
non-Indigenous researchers, Wiisokotaatiwin should be used, and fur-
ther developed and implemented, by Anishinaabeg researchers. Indeed,
as Indigenous researchers continue to use our knowledge to apply and
mature our Indigenous research paradigms, this will lead to “theory, prac-
tice, and methods that are uniquely Indigenous” (Wilson 2008, p. 16).
By centring Anishinaabeg gikendaasowin in my research, I showed the
utility of using an Anishinaabeg approach, and I would encourage
Indigenous Peoples from other Nations to make similar contributions
using their worldviews. For instance, it would be beneficial to have other
Indigenous researchers reach into their own Indigenous Knowledge and
ontologies to further develop an approach such as Wiisokotaatiwin, based
on their own languages. Such practices will promote Indigenous-led solu-
tions to health disparities, which will enrich the methodological
approaches that Indigenous health researchers can utilize.

Note
1. Pseudonyms were initially assigned to all women; however, some women
chose to use their real names, and in these instances, their names are
included.
 6 Wiisokotaatiwin: Kettlebell Training, Critical Dialogue… 125

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 7
Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic
of Anishinaabeg Self-Discipline

In this chapter, I examine discourses on discipline to determine an

approach for an Anishinaabeg ethic of self-discipline to be applied to
physical activity. An Anishinaabeg ethic of self-discipline broadens under-
standings of decolonization among Indigenous Peoples to disrupt our
apparent trajectory of ill health. This chapter has three goals. First, I posi-
tion discipline in health discussions, looking to Jocko Willink’s use of
disciplined physical activity as one example. Within this discussion, I
demonstrate how the ideology behind nationalistic drives to discipline
bodies has roots to Canada’s residential school system, which enforced
nationalistic physical activities to assimilate Indigenous children. Second,
to contextualize the nationalistic and colonial drive for this type of disci-
plined physical activity, I explore Foucault’s (1977) concept of discipline
as it relates to the control mechanism that the colonial state employs in
modern society. I then provide a parallel discussion of discipline from
Indigenous perspectives to show how self-discipline has deep connections
to Indigenous ways of being, which connect to community ethics. Third,
I consider how stories of physical strength shared by the Elders from
Naicatchewenin (in Chap. 3) and the dibaajimowinan of the Anishinaabeg
women (in Chaps. 4 and 5) all speak to a form of self-discipline. Their

© The Author(s) 2020 129

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1_7
130 T. McGuire-Adams

enactment of self-discipline relates to restoring individual and commu-

nity health and well-being, presently and for future generations. Thus, in
this chapter, I argue that through a sustained commitment to physical
activity (as shown in key chapters of this book), Indigenous Peoples
strengthen not only our bodies but our connections to our ancestors and
future generations. As we strengthen our bodies and ultimately improve
our well-being and vitality, we also provide contention to settler
colonialism.

Colonial Discipline Through Physical Activity

In recent years, there has been a trend of militaristic or boot camp-style
fitness programmes in mainstream physical activity circles. A particular
aspect of this trend is to see ex-military personnel becoming physical
activity trainers (Men’s Journal n.d.). One example of bridging military
training and physical activity comes from the popular Instagrammer
(with 1.2 million followers) and podcaster Jocko Willink, who is a white
man based in the United States and is a retired Marine. A published
author, Willink rationalizes why military training is an important feature
of his discipline to being physically active. His particular rationale for his
disciplined approach is presented in his 2017 book, Discipline Equals
Freedom Field Manual.
In online health and fitness circles (e.g., Instagram and podcasts),
Willink is well known, especially for his dedication to waking up at
4:30 a.m. every morning to work out. One need only glance at his
Instagram page to see the multitude of pictures of his watch showcasing
his daily wake-up time. Wanting to learn more about enacting early
morning discipline (e.g., the benefits of getting up early to work out or
getting up early to write), I bought his book. On reading Willink’s book,
while certainly appreciating the significance of enacting discipline to
maintain one’s health, I was taken aback by his rationale; his book read as
militaristic filibuster. He attributes his daily discipline to be strong and
healthy to his allegiance to the military, which he attributes to being a
Navy SEAL commander (now retired) for the United States. He speaks of
an intense style of military training wherein he prepared his body
 7 Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic of Anishinaabeg… 131

physically to meet his enemies on the battlefield and then transferred this
type of military training to his approach to disciplined physical activity.
For instance, Willink tells his readers of the value of taking a warpath
approach to training:

And that is what I am doing—and what I have always been doing …

whether it was the actual war against our nation’s enemies or the war against
my own weaknesses—that is what I am doing: preparing, sharpening my
sword, honing my skills. Maintaining the unmitigated daily discipline IN
ALL THINGS [emphasis original] (p. 23) … in order to stay on the righ-
teous path, the disciplined path, [to stay] on the warpath. (p. 49)

Willink evangelizes his daily disciplined physical activity routine with a

fervid allegiance to the settler-colonial regime—a regime that continues
to enact settler-colonial violence on bodies, in particular, Indigenous,
Black, and Hispanic bodies, without question, which is not unexpected
coming from a Navy SEAL commander. In the following paragraphs, I
show a connection between disciplined physical activity and the disci-
pline that Indigenous children experienced in residential schools. After
all, this type of nationalistic disciplinary regime is not new to Indigenous
Peoples in what is currently known as Canada.
The residential school system in Canada (for more information please
visit the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation at www.trc.ca)
forcefully indoctrinated a similar style of regimented physical activity
upon children. The priests and nuns in charge at residential schools,
which were fully sanctioned, regulated, and funded by the settler-colonial
state (Habkirk and Forsyth n.d.), wielded power to enact violent assimi-
latory practices in many ways, and physical activity was one of them.
Using Foucault’s theories of discipline and bio-power, Forsyth (2013)
shows how physical activity in residential schools worked to create disci-
plined, docile bodies with the overall goal to participate in and maintain
colonial authority. Physical activity in residential schools ranged from
calisthenic drills, military drills, such as marching and standing like sol-
diers, cadet training, mass gymnastic displays, and sports such as hockey
(Forsyth 2013). There were also recreational forms of physical activities
such as jumping, ball games, and running, which also aided in the
132 T. McGuire-Adams

assimilation of the mind and body (Downey 2018). The purpose of these
regimented and recreational physical activities was to indoctrinate the
children in the colonial practices of physicality that were necessary to
achieve assimilation and were “designed to replace tribal allegiances with
a sense of patriotic duty” (Forsyth 2013, p. 23). Through regimented
physical activity in the residential school system, the child was indoctri-
nated with colonial-driven physicality to produce a docile body in servi-
tude to the settler-colonial regime. The aim was to forcefully disrupt their
connection to their land-based epistemologies and physicalities so that
they could be replaced with an allegiance to the Christian God and colo-
nial systems. For the assimilatory and colonization goals of Canada to be
realized, policies were created that prevented any practice of Indigenous
governance (e.g., ceremony, language, territorial freedom to be on the
land, community ethics, and leadership), while at the same time settler-­
colonial policies with the goal to achieve assimilation and erasure of
Indigenous presence and practices were enforced (e.g., Christianity, resi-
dential schools, confinement to reserves, etc.). What ensued was a replace-
ment of Indigenous practices with colonial ones, where sport and physical
activity “helped to accomplish this [assimilatory] task” (Forsyth 2007,
p. 98). Forsyth (2007) explained that for the regulation of Indigenous
Peoples to work, Indigenous modes of physicality needed to be erased
and replaced with colonial sport and physical activity.
The assimilation of Indigenous Peoples was facilitated by the replace-
ment of land-based forms of physicality with colonial sport and physical
activity to create an allegiance to colonial religion, citizenry, and patrio-
tism (Forsyth 2007). The colonial system explicitly used colonial meth-
ods of discipline on Indigenous bodies to help them realize settler
colonialism. What has yet to be considered, however, is when Indigenous
children arrived at residential schools in the 1800s and early 1900s, many
were already strong and fit as a result of land-based living1—living that
was informed and maintained by Indigenous governance systems that
fundamentally connected to the land (Alfred 2005).
As shown in the dibaajimowinan of the Anishinaabeg in this book,
Anishinaabeg families hunted, fished, and trapped, which created physi-
calities that were strong, agile, and adept at cardiovascular exercise. Living
off of the land required a person to be physically well and strong to
 7 Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic of Anishinaabeg… 133

provide for oneself, their family, and their community. For instance, with
land-based living, one needed to be proficient in running for hunting
purposes and to carry messages between communities, such as the mich-
itweg mentioned in Chap. 5; one needed to be physically strong to pro-
cess and carry game when hunting, as mentioned by the Anishinaabeg
Elders in Chap. 3; one needed to have agility and strength to set nets or
portage from lake to lake for fishing purposes; and one needed to have
endurance and strength to harvest manoomin (Anishinaabeg term for
wild rice) and plants for medicine, as mentioned in Chap. 3. Land-based
living required self-discipline—discipline to maintain bodily strength,
cardiovascular adeptness, and agility—so that one could be helpful to
their family and community. The priests and nuns who operated the resi-
dential schools, worked to erase and replace this land-based physicality
with colonial regimented forms of physical activity in order to solidify
their assimilatory and settler-colonial goals.
Physical activities in residential schools were sites where colonial power
and authority were ingrained in Indigenous children (Forsyth 2013),
where their land-based physicality was replaced with colonial and assimi-
latory practices of physical activity. In the next section, I explore Foucault’s
positioning of militaristic and nationalistic notions of discipline and
power to better contextualize how these discourses were enforced in the
residential schools and how they are reproduced by such militaristic dis-
courses promoted by the settler-colonial ideology promoted by Jocko
Willink.

Foucault on Discipline
Foucault’s theories have been applied in several sport and physical activity
realms (Markula and Pringle 2006): in coaching (Gearity and Mills
2012), in feminism and sport (Markula 2003), and in disability studies
and sport (Peers 2012), to name a few. While Foucault’s theories have
been applied to the study of sport and physical activity in several impor-
tant ways, here I add to the scholarly use of a Foucauldian approach to
better contextualize the differences between militaristic discipline (as seen
in Jocko Willink’s popular writing and the residential schools form of
134 T. McGuire-Adams

discipline) and the self-discipline inscribed from an Indigenous way

of being.
Foucault based his theorizing of discipline, in part, on analysing the
daily, regimented structure of a detention centre for youth in 1837
(Gutting 2005). In this case, the regime included starting the prisoner’s
day at 5 or 6 a.m., depending on the time of year, to then work all day,
with day’s end at 8 or 9 p.m. From this regime, Foucault eventually would
theorize discipline, as a “gentler way of punishment, the product, it
would seem, of a more civilized, more humane approach to punishment”
(Gutting 2005, p. 80), as opposed to public killing displays, common
during the eighteenth-century France. The crux of Foucault’s argument is
that the disciplinary techniques applied in penitentiaries become the
mode in which control and discipline pervades society (Gutting 2005).
Foucault (1977) described discipline as an anatomy of power that
infiltrates every aspect of our society (e.g., schools, hospitals, prisons,
military, medical system) that has made “discipline their principle of
internal functioning” (p. 216). Key to this understanding is how disci-
pline as a form of power has infiltrated nearly every aspect of our society
and operates at the “most minute and distant elements” (p. 216). Foucault
(1977) expands on the mechanism of discipline through his understand-
ing of the panopticon.
Foucault (1977) explores the idea of the panopticon to determine the
role of surveillance in discipline. He states, “the major effect of the pan-
opticon is to induce in the inmate a state of conscious and permanent
visibility that assures the automatic functioning of power” (p. 201).
Panopticism serves as a “generalized surveillance” that improves the
methods and modes in which society may be subtly controlled and
coerced (Foucault 1977, p. 209). Foucault (1977) explained:

He who is subjected to a field of visibility, and who knows it, assumes

responsibility for the constraints of power; he makes them play spontane-
ously upon himself; he inscribes in himself the power relation in which he
simultaneously plays both roles; he becomes the principle of his own sub-
jugation. (Foucault 1977, pp. 202–203)
 7 Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic of Anishinaabeg… 135

Foucault shows that through discipline from surveillance a person does

not rely on an outside authority to govern their actions, which is seen in
the case of prisons, but rather, the person themselves monitors their own
behaviour. Through such disciplinary control, as vetted through daily
colonial state systems and surveillance that “produces homogenous effects
of power” (Foucault 1977, p. 202), the state maintains its control over its
citizens, and physical activity is one such mechanism.
The elements of modern disciplinary control include military training,
not only in the actual preparedness for killing people but in the physical
training to create a body that mimics a soldier’s physicality—for instance,
Willink’s daily servitude to maintaining the warpath metaphor for his
physical activity or the recent proliferation of boot camp-style physical
activity programmes, which have surged in popularity in mainstream fit-
ness spaces. The idea is that through sustained “systemic training”
(Gutting 2005, p. 81), one can form their body into a soldier. Gearity
and Mills (2012) provide further context to this form of discipline:

The technologies of discipline are more than the distribution of time and
space, but are a strategy to achieve a goal … a precise system of command,
and the athlete, like the disciplined soldier, was only considered good if his
or her obedience is prompt and blind. (pp. 130–131)

And further, “the use of exercise or other corporal forms of punishment

[read: discipline] were used correctively to ensure conformity and nor-
mality” (p. 132). Discipline, when considered from a Foucauldian lens,
initiated a powerful set of control mechanisms aimed at reproducing sub-
servience to power within and to the presumed normality of a settler-­
colonial order of living. Foucault and Gordon (1980) describes how this
style of disciplinary training relates to broader forms of power:

As always with relations of power one is faced with a complex phenome-

non … mastery and awareness of one’s own body can be acquired only
through the effect of an investment of power in the body: gymnastics,
exercises, muscle-building … all of this belongs to the pathway leading to
the desire of one’s own body, by way of the insistent, persistent and meticu-
lous work of power on the bodies of children or soldiers, the healthy ­bodies.
136 T. McGuire-Adams

But once power produces this effect, there inevitably emerge the respond-
ing claims and affirmations, those of one’s own bodies against power, of
health against the economic system [etc.]. Suddenly, what had made power
strong becomes used to attack it. Power, after investing itself in the body, finds
itself exposed to a counter-attack in that same body. (p. 56) [emphasis added]

The phenomena that Foucault is speaking to relate to the body being a

source of control through the discourse of a controlled body produced by
the state, as seen, for example, in the soldier or the efforts of the residen-
tial school system, but the key point that resonates with this chapter is
that while one’s body can be controlled by militaristic or colonial drivers,
it can also be used against such power. This counter-discourse to chal-
lenge power is created when one connects their effort to be physically
active to a set of values that works against colonial control, such as decol-
onized physical activity, that is, physical activity that is based within and
driven by regenerated Indigenous ways of being that address the effects of
colonialism on our bodies. I now turn to key Indigenous scholars who
have also discussed forms of self-discipline, in particular from the lens of
challenging the disruption caused by colonization on Indigenous bodies.

Indigenous Understandings of Self-Discipline

A number of important Indigenous scholars have looked to self-­discipline
within a decolonial lens (Alfred 2005; Waziyatawin 2012). Alfred (2005),
a Kanien:keha’ka scholar, was among the first to describe the importance
of aligning one’s physical activity within a decolonial and self-disciplined
lens. His book, Wasase: Indigenous Pathways of Action and Freedom,
explores how Indigenous folks might reconnect to ancestral teachings
that amplify Indigenous resurgence practices to provide “creative conten-
tion” (p. 59) to the ongoing disruptions caused by colonialism. This
includes enacting self-discipline to reconnect with the ancestral embodi-
ment of physical health and strength, through a reenactment of a warrior
ethic, to foster our individual and collective regeneration. He states,
 7 Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic of Anishinaabeg… 137

Think of the societies and cultures of our ancestors and the integrity of the
spiritual, social, and political fabric of their lives. For them, the main char-
acteristic of a warrior was to embody the power that the ethic of self-­
sacrifice, restraint, and social unity produced. How was that strength and
unity achieved by ancient warriors? What I have called a “culture of resis-
tance” combined with discipline, courage, and spirituality was the norm
for our ancient peoples. Human beings haven’t changed in any fundamen-
tal way; what has changed is that we have been colonized. (p. 83)

Alfred’s nod to discipline is directly connected to community, culture,

and spiritual aspects (among others) of Indigeneity. Our ancestors,
respectively, fostered self-discipline that was firmly entrenched within the
ethos of our respective Indigenous communities; discipline was main-
tained for the benefit of the community, or social unity, as stated by
Alfred. Without enacting individual self-discipline, the community
would be affected. And it was, by the forced and violent process of colo-
nization that disrupted our communities, and our health and well-being.
Alfred suggests that to address the long-standing effects of colonization
on ourselves and our communities, we must focus on the self, first and
foremost. He explained that “we will begin to make meaningful change
in the lives of our communities when we start to focus on making real
change in the lives of our people as individuals” (p. 32). Indeed, this is the
main argument in his book, to foster a reconnection to the ethics of a
warrior who is committed to decolonization and regeneration for each
person who wishes to challenge the effects of colonization on their being
as a pathway to freedom—a pathway to reconnect to the ethics of our
ancestors to assist us in healing from colonization. Importantly, Alfred’s
use of warrior is not one that is steeped in violence, as in a soldier-­enacting
combat (i.e., Jocko Willink’s metaphor of the warpath); rather, a warrior
ethic is one that is in servitude to community and Indigenous ethics of
care, humility, and strength.2 Alfred suggests that to address the ramifica-
tions of colonization on our being, we must attend to our physicality (in
addition to our spiritual connections) through taking up a traditional
diet and engaging in “regular hard physical labour and exercise” (p. 87),
which will help to address the obesity and diabetes epidemics in our com-
munities. For those who find this option desirable, it can ultimately
138 T. McGuire-Adams

provide a pathway to regeneration from the burden of colonialism on our

minds, spirituality, and bodies. While discipline was not the sole aim of
Alfred’s book, he nonetheless positions the importance of self-discipline
to disrupt the lasting effects of colonization, which aims to foster regen-
eration of Indigenous communities and Indigenous vitality. Waziyatawin
(2012) broadens the concept of physical activity enacting self-discipline
through her vision of creating a youth cultural immersion camp.
Waziyatawin (2012), a Dakota scholar, envisioned implementing
forms of physical activity that train one’s physicality to that of a warrior
through her vision for the Zuya Wicasta Naka Icahwichyapi (Raising
New Warriors) immersion camp. Her camp would invite Dakota youth
to participate in an immersive culture and land-based programme that
attends to their mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical health. A core
component for her vision is to implement a daily strenuous physical
activity that would replicate ancestral warrior training. Whereas Dakota
warrior ancestors would conduct early morning swims, run long dis-
tances, wrestle one another, and practise with traditional weaponry, con-
temporarily these practices might be revived and amplified with martial
arts training and other various sports that “require a rigorous physical
workout regime” (p. 132). By raising new warriors within a Dakota-­
based, culture-informed camp, which focused on individual strengthen-
ing that was deeply rooted in regenerating community well-being,
Waziyatawin sought to make profound changes at the individual level.
And in so doing, ensuring the broader community’s well-being was also
cared for. She explained that before colonization, “all members of our
nations were expected to contribute to the greater whole. Everyone
helped procure food in some way. Everyone worked toward the well-­
being of the community” (p. 131) and physical activity was a way of
well-­being for oneself that helped sustain well-being for the community.
While her vision was laid out in her chapter, it is not known whether she
and her community implemented it and the effects it may have had on
the youth. Nonetheless, her vision to foster the physicality of ancestral
warriors is one that shows the relevance of physical activity that is con-
nected to the ethics of Indigenous ways of being.
One could argue that Willink’s approach to physical activity is not all
too different from Alfred and Waziyatawin’s approaches, in that they all
 7 Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic of Anishinaabeg… 139

speak to a daily routine of self-discipline. However, what is fundamen-

tally different are the ideologies driving their commitment to self-­
discipline. As already mentioned, Willink’s drive for discipline is a
continuance of military and settler-colonial forms of discipline, whereas
Alfred and Waziyatawin argue for a return of Indigenous ancestral physi-
cality, a physicality that was enacted through a broader connection to our
lands and spirituality and fosters our personal and collective decoloniza-
tion from the long-term effects of colonization on our bodies. Thus,
through this regenerated form of physicality, one can create a counterat-
tack to the settler-colonial forms of disciplined physical activity, which,
again, was executed through the residential school system, to revive expe-
riences of physical activity fostered by the drive to disrupt settler colonial-
ism and engage decolonization, for oneself and for community.
Chapters 3, 4, and 5 are where I presented the gikendaasowin of the
Elders and Anishinaabeg women. In the Anishinaabeg worldview, gain-
ing knowledge through stories is continually animated by returning to
them to learn new ways of thinking. Therefore, I succinctly return to
these dibaajimowinan in this chapter to highlight the Anishinaabeg val-
ues or practices of self-discipline that are present.
In Chap. 4, I provided an analysis of the women’s dibaajimowinan,
describing how their experiences related to fostering gwekisidoon gibi-
maadiziwin, an Anishinaabeg concept that means transforming oneself
into a better life. In each of their dibaajimowinan, they shared how their
commitment to physical activity fostered a transformation in their lives,
which created a simultaneous benefit to their families and communities.
Each of the women described that through their commitment to their
physical activity, they felt confidence and empowerment. Their confi-
dence was created by their accountability to their physicality, and they
began to reap the benefits of their enactment of self-discipline. For
instance, training for a marathon, daily exercise commitments, and com-
mitment to lifting heavy weights, all share the same root element: being
self-disciplined. By being accountable to their physical activity, their self-­
discipline contributed to their personal and community well-being. Their
self-discipline to their physical activity manifested in feelings of confi-
dence and empowerment, and these feelings had a simultaneous effect
upon their families and communities.
140 T. McGuire-Adams

The discipline that is tethered to servitude to the settler-colonial state,

discussed above, and discipline that amplifies community well-being are
fundamentally different because of the motivation propelling one’s disci-
pline. The women’s dibaajimowinan show aspects of self-discipline and
are simultaneously connected to the benefit of their communities. For
instance, while they learned to commit to their respective forms of physi-
cal activity, which often was initiated by a friend or family, they also con-
nected their physical activity to the broader well-being and mentorship of
the community. Two key examples discussed previously in the book are
shown: first, Janelle’s dibaajimowinan about Kwe Pack. Starting with 5
members, it grew to over 100 by encompassing the Anishinaabeg values
such as self-discipline, coming together to support each other, and never
leaving anyone behind. Second, Maria’s community run. Having embod-
ied the benefits of her commitment to running, she coordinates annual
community runs to foster the community’s access to running, which also
brings awareness to the still missing girls from the community of Kitigan
Zibi, Maisy and Shannon. Similarly, the Anishinaabekweg runners, as
discussed in Chap. 5, spoke to the importance of connecting with other
Anishinaabeg women when running, which helped to propel their moti-
vation to run and created a deep connection to the community, and how
important it was to set a good example for their children through com-
mitting to running. Overall, the women’s dibaajimowinan show that
when a person commits their self-discipline to physical activity, it not
only directly affects how they feel about themselves, but simultaneously
encourages their families and communities to also become active. Thus,
by living with daily acts of gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin, they simultane-
ously propel others to also enact a commitment to physical activity.
Within Indigenous thought, one cannot separate the well-being of
oneself from the well-being of the community—they are co-dependent.
This point was also highlighted by the Elders from Naicatchewenin First
Nation. In Chap. 3, they shared details about their journeys with healing
from trauma and embodied settler colonialism. In discussing how people
may heal from grief and trauma, Gilbert shared that it must “start from
within and grow from there” (see Chap. 3). This key point from Gilbert
may be understood as the individual’s choice to make a change, which
resonates with gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin and self-discipline. In this
 7 Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic of Anishinaabeg… 141

sense, self-discipline applied within a healing lens, one choosing to make

a change also relates to the overall well-being of one’s family and com-
munity. In Chap. 3, I also discuss the Elders’ stories about the physical
strength of their mothers and grandmothers created from trapping, work-
ing in the bush, and other forms of hard physical work, which was a
fundamental part of Anishinaabeg community ethics and taking care of
one’s family.
Thus, self-discipline, when rooted within an Indigenous way of think-
ing, propels overall community well-being. The main difference between
colonial disciplined physical activity and Indigenous forms of self-­
discipline is that Indigenous Peoples operate within a family- and
community-­first perspective, wherein what an individual accomplishes is
for the overall benefit of their family and community. Discipline is, there-
fore, understood as an individual achievement, insofar as it can be trans-
ferred to a community level, rather than the colonial individualistic
modes of power, which primarily function to advance self-interests. James
Vukelich, an Anishinaabemowin theorist, who is from Turtle Mountain
Reservation located in northern North Dakota, provides a profound
teaching of why this is so by sharing the Anishinaabeg word and concept:
niin (me, myself, I).
Vukelich offers brief weekly lectures, titled Ojibwe word of the day, on
Anishinaabeg words delivered on social media (i.e., on his Facebook page
that has over 21,000 followers and on his website and podcast where he
shares the same lectures.). Being a fluent speaker of Anishinaabemowin,
he not only shares the translation of words on a social media platform but
offers mini lectures that describe and locate the ancestral meanings of a
specific word. One such word that resonates deeply with the concept of
placing family and community first is niin. Vukelich describes niin as a
daily word one uses to indicate me, myself, and I in conversation (e.g.,
niwiisin—I am eating). Being an Anishinaabemowin linguistic theorist,
he also offers how this word relates to a profound Anishinaabeg teaching,
one that contains ancestral knowledge about why Anishinaabeg centre
family and ancestors in our lives. In the next section, I summarize his
lecture to show how this teaching is relevant to the discussion of
Anishinaabeg forms of self-discipline (to view his lecture please visit the
link noted in the references).
142 T. McGuire-Adams

Summary of Lecture
With niin, there is an everyday context of this word (e.g., to indicate
personal possessives), and there is also a spiritual perspective of this word,
which relates to a deep ancestral and spiritual teaching of niin. For
instance, within Anishinaabeg knowledge we have the concept of the
next seven generations, whereby we are mindful of our actions today as
we understand that they will affect seven generations into our future.
Vukelich shows an example of how this occurs in Anishinaabemowin by
discussing how niin is connected to indaanikoobijigan, which carries a
dual meaning—indaanikoobijigan means referring to one’s great grand-
parents or ancestors, and it also means referring to one’s grandchild.
The root word is niin, which connects to our ancestors and our future
generations. Vukelich explains it as follows: we see niin in the following
framing of our families. Niin, the centre, is you, or I. Reaching back, niin
also connects to noos and ninga (my father and my mother), then
nimishomis and nookomis (my grandfather and my grandmother),
which is referred to as indaanikoobijigan (my ancestors). Starting again at
niin, you or I, then reaching forward, relates to ningozis and nindaanis
(my son and my daughter), which then connects to noozhis (my grand-
child), which is also referred to as indaanikoobijigan, my
great-grandchildren.
In Anishinaabemowin, indaanikoobijigan indicates “that person I am
inextricably interconnected too; that person I am interlinked with”
(Vukulich 2018). For instance, a great-grandparent would call their great-­
grandchild indaanikoobijigan, and a grandchild would call their great-­
grandparent indaanikoobijigan. In Anishinaabemowin, when we use this
word, we are establishing that we are inextricably linked together, and
“whatever happens to me, will be passed down to you,” as described by
Vukulich. He further explains that from an Anishinaabeg perspective, my
great-grandparent’s experiences will be passed down through niin, me,
but will also be passed down to my great-grandchild; this is how we are
inextricably linked and interconnected. In further analysis of this con-
cept, Vukulich clarifies that niin also includes a deep understanding that
we are at one time representing and interconnected with all of our
 7 Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic of Anishinaabeg… 143

relatives “going all the way back, and going all the way forward,” which is
further described in the seven generations teachings. Vukelich explains,
“therefore I am all of my relatives, and all of my relatives are me.” If we
act selfishly, to only think of ourselves, we acknowledge that we might
cause harm to our future generations. Or, when we live a good life, we are
ensuring that our future generations will be affected in positive and lov-
ing ways, which is why Anishinaabeg live by the seven sacred or grandfa-
ther teachings and strive to live every day with minobiimadiziiwin, to live
a good life. Our ancestors were conscious of the teaching that niin, I,
does not exclude other relatives, both from the past and the future.
As Wilson (2008) described, our languages contain huge amounts of
knowledge and teachings inside of them, and Vukulich’s example of niin
is an important example of this. From an Anishinaabeg perspective, when
we situate ourselves, in particular when we foster our health and well-­
being through physical activity, we connect to this very deep and mean-
ingful teaching that was given to us by our ancient ancestors. We
understand that as we individually act to heal from the onslaught of colo-
nialism or to practise gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin, it then reverberates
directly to future generations and our ancestral generations. Similarly,
when I say self, in self-discipline, from an Anishinaabeg perspective, I
understand that self is not divorced from our relatives, both future and
past. Indeed, the self is deeply interconnected to our ancestors and future
generations. Therefore, our actions today not only affect us as individuals
but directly affects seven generations from now, just like the actions of
our ancestors seven generations ago have led us to where we are today.

Relational Well-Being
In this chapter, I explored the differences between discipline from a
settler-­colonial perspective and Indigenous and Anishinaabeg perspec-
tives to determine a different way of thinking about self-discipline. I
explored discipline from a militaristic and settler-colonial perspective by
analysing Jocko Willink’s ideology of disciplined physical activity and
how this ideology was implicated in Canada’s residential school system.
Foucault’s theorizing helped to contextualize why disciplined physical
144 T. McGuire-Adams

activity proliferates settler-colonial control through bodies. I then situ-

ated an Indigenous perspective of self-discipline to show how Indigenous
ethics of self-discipline broadly help to ensure the well-being of our com-
munity and future generations. I then returned to the previous chapters
to discern elements of self-discipline from the Anishinaabeg women and
Elders, as they are demonstrating how self-discipline cannot be separated
from the well-being of our families and communities. Thus, by enacting
our drive for self-discipline through physical activity, it not only fosters
our health and well-being but that of our families and communities. As a
result, Indigenous informed practices of self-discipline in physical activ-
ity are a profound act of taking care of our future generations.

Notes
1. In the 1900s many children were also sick with starvation and colonial
diseases when they arrived at residential school. Also, there are occur-
rences where many arrived well but then succumbed to infection and sick-
nesses, such as tuberculosis at residential schools (Daschuk 2013;
Kelm 1998).
2. Alfred also served in the military as infantry for the Marines in the 1980s.
He contextualizes his military experiences as one where he began critical
self-reflection—see lecture where he contextualizes his lived experiences
here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=
0HZAQH27rlE.

References
Alfred, T. (2005). Wasase: Indigenous pathways of action and freedom. New York,
NY: Broadview Press.
Daschuk, J. (2013). Clearing the plains: Disease, politics of starvation, and the loss
of Aboriginal life. University of Regina Press.
Downey, A. (2018). The Creator’s game: Lacrosse, identity, and Indigenous
Nationhood. UBC Press.
Forsyth, J. (2007). The Indian Act and the (re)shaping of Canadian Aboriginal
sport practices. International Journal of Canadian Studies, 35, 95–111.
 7 Disciplined Physical Activity as an Ethic of Anishinaabeg… 145

Forsyth, J. (2013). Bodies of meaning: Sports and games at Canadian residential

schools. In J. Forsyth & A. Giles (Eds.), Aboriginal peoples and sport in
Canada: Historical foundations and contemporary issues (pp. 15–34).
Vancouver, Canada: UBC Press.
Foucault, M. (1977). Discipline and punish: The birth of the prison (A. Sheridan,
Trans.). Vintage Books.
Foucault, M., & Gordon, C. (1980). Power/knolwedge: Selected interviews &
other writings 1972–1977 by Michel Foucault. New York, New York:
Pantheon Books.
Gearity, B., & Mills, J. (2012). Discipline and punish in the weight room. Sports
Coaching Review, 1(2), 124–134.
Gutting, G. (2005). Foucault: A very short introduction. Oxford University Press.
Habkirk, E., & Forsyth, J. (n.d.). Truth, reconciliation, and the politics of the body
in Indian Residential School history. [Active History website]. Retrieved from
http://activehistory.ca/papers/truth-reconciliation-and-the-politics-
of-the-body-in-indian-residential-school-history/#_ednref21.
Kelm, M. (1998). Colonizing bodies: Aboriginal health and healing in British
Columbia, 1900–1950. UBC Press.
Markula, P. (2003). The technologies of the self: Sport, feminism, and Foucault.
Sociology of Sport Journal, 20(2), 87–107.
Markula, P., & Pringle, R. (2006). Foucault, sport and exercise: Power, knowledge
and transforming the self. Routledge.
Men’s Fitness Editors. (n.d.). Meet 8 veterans of the United States Armed
Services who are now personal trainers. Men’s Journal. Retrieved from https://
www.mensjournal.com/health-fitness/meet-8-veterans-united-states-armed-
services-who-are-now-personal-trainers/.
Peers, D. (2012). Interrogating disability: The (de)composition of a recovering
Paralympian. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise, and Health, 4(2), 175–188.
Vukulich, J. (2018, January 25). Ojibwe word of the day: Niin. [Video file].
Retrieved from https://www.facebook.com/james.vukelich.7/videos/
vb.1102011293/10214745774493606/?type=2&theater.
Waziyatawin, W. (2012). Zuya wicasta naka icahwicayapi (Raising new war-
riors). In W. Waziyatawin & M. Yellow Bird (Eds.), For Indigenous minds
only: A decolonization handbook. School of Advanced Research Press.
Willink, J. (2017). Discipline equals freedom field manual. St. Martin’s
Publishing Group.
Wilson, S. (2008). Research is ceremony: Indigenous research methods. Black Point,
Canada: Fernwood Publishing.
 8
Conclusion

Settler colonialism is a consistent structure that seeks to erase Indigenous

Peoples in order to secure their territories (Veracini 2013). Settler colo-
nialism differs from colonialism in that settlers intend to take the land as
their new home, which works in tandem with asserting settler sovereignty
on Indigenous lands (Wolfe 2006). As the land is inscribed with our sto-
ries and practices of well-being, settler colonialism causes a violent “dis-
ruption of Indigenous relationships to land … that is reasserted each day
of occupation” (Arvin et al. 2013, p. 5). Thus, settler colonialism is not
finished; it is an ongoing process that seeks to disempower, erase, and/or
assimilate Indigenous Peoples into the colonial institutions and systems
(Battell Lowman and Barker 2015). A poignant example of the continu-
ance of settler-colonial erasure happened when I was finalizing this
research.
In May 2017, while completing the research that this book presents,
two more Anishinaabeg youth were found drowned in my hometown,
Anemki Wekwedong, the Place Where the Thunderbirds Live, or Thunder
Bay, Ontario, Canada: Tammy Keeash and Josiah Begg—two more youth
added to the growing list, now numbering seven, of dead Anishinaabeg
in Thunder Bay found in rivers. Tanya Talaga (2017), who has ancestry

© The Author(s) 2020 147

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1_8
148 T. McGuire-Adams

from the Anishinaabeg Territory where Thunder Bay is located, wrote a

profoundly important book called Seven Fallen Feathers: Racism, Death
and Hard Truths in a Northern City. In her book, Talaga goes into detail
investigating the deaths of Indigenous youth in Thunder Bay. She, like
many of us, was struck by the seeming normalcy of having youth found
dead in Thunder Bay. I could not stop thinking about Tammy and Josiah.
They deserved to have long, fulfilling, love-filled lives. But, as a result of
the enduring, palpating anti-Indigenous violence in Thunder Bay, they
were erased, and with them went the future of their ancestral legacy. This
is settler colonialism: the ever-present but rarely discussed measures by
which Indigenous Peoples disappear.
Indigenous Peoples are systematically erased by death as we stand in
the way of settler sovereignty on Indigenous Territories, settler well-
being and safety, and settler futures. Had seven white youth been found
dead in the waters of Thunder Bay, the city, the police, and its residents
would not have rested until those responsible had been found and dealt
with accordingly. But for our youth, it is rationalized that “they took
their own lives,” “there was no foul play,” or “they were drunk,” much
like the similar rationalizations that disparage Indigenous women,
noted in the Introduction. The youth were just Indians, meant to disap-
pear by any means necessary. Basil Johnson shared that as Anishinaabeg,
it is our responsibility to find our path in life and use our skills to help
the Anishinaabeg Nation. This book is my endeavour to find answers to
the looming reality of settler-colonial erasure, especially within the con-
text of health and well-being, and it is my contribution to the
Anishinaabeg Nation.
Before colonization, Indigenous Peoples had to be physically strong to
live a healthy life on the land. The forced removal of our bodies from the
land is related to the ill health that Indigenous Peoples’ experience;
Indigenous women in particular experience ill health in nearly every cat-
egory of examination (Arriagada 2016; Bourassa et al. 2004). Previous
research on Indigenous women’s ill health is contextualized within a his-
torical and socio-economic context and shows that cultural identity and
community-based programme initiatives are protective factors to ill
health (Halseth 2013; Wilson 2004). Indigenous women’s ill health,
however, cannot be separated from the context of settler colonialism
 8 Conclusion 149

(Browne et al. 2005, 2009). Still, further analysis was necessary to under-
stand how our bodies are affected by embodied settler colonialism, in
addition to learning how Anishinaabeg and urban Indigenous women
resist settler colonialism.
Thus, this book looks to Anishinaabeg women’s physical activity to
deepen understandings of personal decolonization, health, and well-­
being. To date, health researchers have mainly focused on Indigenous
Peoples’ health as deficient when compared to non-Indigenous People,
which perpetuates a settler-colonial view of our health. Through my
research, I provide a counter narrative to the deficit-based literature by
describing how Anishinaabeg and other Indigenous women understand
their health, well-being, and personal decolonization as it relates to physi-
cal activity.
There are three reasons why this book is about women. First, we are at
greater odds of experiencing ill health due to the effects of colonization.
Second, our erasure helps to ensure the erasure of our future generations,
generations of Anishinaabeg who are connected to the territories that set-
tler colonialism demands. Three, Anishinaabekweg have always been,
and will continue to be, the catalysers of change in our families, commu-
nities, and Nations. As the survivors of forced erasure, we have continu-
ally adapted in response to settler colonialism, and as this book shows,
this adaptation is still ongoing—Anishinaabeg women continue to adapt
our practices of physical activity to align with decolonial physical activity,
which assist us in thriving and resisting embodied settler colonialism.
Child (2012) demonstrates that before modern settler colonialism,
Anishinaabe women had great influence in their communities as leaders
in economic ventures (through the production of manoomin, or wild
rice), were powerful healers and medicine people, and were revered for
the ability to “hold our world together,” which is the title of Child’s
(2012) book. The author states that these attributes were not lost to the
history of settler colonialism, but rather, Anishinaabe women continue to
thrive with these same qualities by adapting to modern leadership roles,
and I assert that this is a profound enactment of Anishinaabekweg gik-
endaasowin (female knowledge).
Indigenous feminist theorists have examined how Indigenous women
are connected to and removed from the land, which functioned to secure
150 T. McGuire-Adams

settler colonialism. What has yet to be considered in Indigenous feminist

analysis is how it is embodied. Therefore, Indigenous women who are
strong and resist embodied settler colonialism pose a direct threat to the
maintenance of settler colonialism, which fundamentally requires the
erasure of Indigenous Peoples generally (Arvin et al. 2013; Veracini
2013), and Indigenous women specifically (Anderson 2011; Dhillion
2015; Simpson 2014, 2017). Indigenous feminist theory provided me
with a necessary theoretical lens to engage in research concerning decolo-
nization and Indigenous women’s health and well-being. Indigenous
feminist theory is an essential tool to assist in the reconstruction of our
being and in unravelling how settler colonialism influences our health
and well-being. The dibaajimowinan from the Anishinaabekweg, Elders,
and urban Indigenous women presented in this book advance Indigenous
feminist theorizing regarding how physical activity can foster
decolonization.
The principal question guiding my research was whether physical
activity that encompasses a decolonization approach (Alfred 2005;
Lavallée and Lévesque 2013) can be a catalyst for regenerative well-being
for Anishinaabeg women. Additionally, I sought to understand how we
can overcome the embodied presence of settler colonialism and practice
decolonization through our physical activity. To answer these questions,
I interviewed Anishinaabeg women who are exemplars of physical activ-
ity, I held a sharing circle with Anishinaabeg Elders from Naicatchewenin
First Nation, and I partnered with the Urban Aboriginal Healthy Living
Program at the Odawa Native Friendship Centre to implement
Wiisokotaatiwin, an applied Anishinaabe research method, which
included seven consciousness-raising sessions with Anishinaabeg and
other Indigenous women.
In the remainder of the conclusion, I provide a summary and interpre-
tation of the important findings from the chapters. I then discuss the
broader implications of my research and the contributions it makes to
Indigenous feminist theory and the fields of Indigenous health and soci-
ology of sport. Finally, I make suggestions for future directions in research
and urban Indigenous health programming.
 8 Conclusion 151

Summary of Chapters
In Chap. 2, I set the theoretical foundation of the book, which is to use
an Indigenous feminist theoretical lens to better understand how
Anishinaabeg women resist settler colonialism. Recent Indigenous femi-
nist theorizing has clarified how Indigenous women are disproportion-
ately targeted for erasure via the logics of settler colonialism. Yet, there is
a lack of attention to the specific ways that Indigenous women resist this
targeting. The Anishinaabekweg in the book showcased a resistance to
settler colonialism by purposefully connecting their physical activity to
ceremony, healing, inspiring others, and achieving personal health and
well-being. The dibaajimowinan from Anishinaabeg women greatly adds
to Indigenous feminist theorizing by illuminating how physical activity
creates spaces to engage in decolonization, which simultaneously fosters
a regeneration of Anishinaabeg presence on the land, health, and well-­
being. This chapter also contributes to the sociology of sport literature by
going beyond the research that has shown the role of sport in colonizing
Indigenous women’s bodies (Bloom 2000; Forsyth and Wamsley 2006;
O’Bonsawin 2015) and, instead, showing how sport can be used to resist
such colonization attempts.
In Chap. 3, I sought to better understand how Anishinaabekweg
ancestral stories of physical strength contribute to our decolonization
efforts. As I have a relationship with Naicatchewenin First Nation, I held
a sharing circle with the Elders to understand how they conceptualize
challenging embodied settler colonialism, which they expressed is experi-
enced as historical trauma, grief, substance abuse, and ill health. Next is
to remember our ancestral stories of physical strength. Invoking our
ancestral stories further enacts a reciprocal relationship to them, whereby
we take on the responsibility to implement their lessons in our lives as we
seek to learn from our ancestors. This chapter adds to Indigenous femi-
nist theory by describing how settler colonialism is embodied. Indigenous
feminist theorists have illuminated how settler colonialism works to
maintain the disconnection of Indigenous women to their territories
(Dhillion 2015; Simpson 2014, 2017). Current theorizing has yet to
identify how settler colonialism is an embodied experience. As my
152 T. McGuire-Adams

research showed, understanding how settler colonialism becomes embod-

ied is necessary to further its disruption through enhancing our health
and well-being. The Elders’ stories show us how once we identify embod-
ied settler colonialism, we can address it by attending to our healing,
empowering us to reanimate our relationships to our ancestors through
remembering their stories.
In Chap. 4, to challenge the dominance of the deficit-based literature
regarding Indigenous women, I sought out the perspectives of seven
Anishinaabeg women who are exemplars of decolonized physical activity
to learn about why they became physically active, what drives them to
commit to physical activity, and why physical activity is important to
them. The results revealed three important factors that assisted the women
in committing to their physical activity practices: personal empowerment
and confidence; well-being for oneself, family, and community; and
group mentorship.
Upon closer analysis through the lens of Anishinaabeg gikendaasowin,
in each of the three themes, the women showed how they practise and
promote gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin (transforming oneself into a better
life). For instance, the women were aware of the health deficits that
Indigenous Peoples often experience, including the potential of living
with chronic diseases (e.g., type 2 diabetes). But through sustained com-
mitment to their physical activities, they fostered gwekisidoon gibimaa-
diziwin. This finding is important as it shows that Anishinaabeg women
are fully aware of the health disparity discourse that frames Indigenous
Peoples as unhealthy, but they do not passively accept ill health as an
outcome for themselves. Rather, they continually counter the health defi-
cit discourse to achieve well-being through physical activity, the effect of
which reverberates to their families and communities. Thus, it is my hope
that the results of this chapter may assist Anishinaabeg and other
Indigenous Peoples with connecting with gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin in
their personal practices of physical activity and also challenge the deficit
discourse that is so prevalent in Indigenous health research.
In Chap. 5, I explored the dibaajimowinan of Anishinaabeg women
runners (a subset of four out of the seven interviews with Anishinaabeg
women) to understand how running assists them in resisting the broader
effects of colonialism on their bodies. Given that the health disparities
 8 Conclusion 153

experienced between Indigenous Peoples and non-Indigenous People

comprise much of the focus within the literature, this chapter provides
counter narratives to the disparity discourses through the dibaajimowi-
nan of Anishinaabeg women runners to understand how their physicality
affects them. Their running, when connected to others in the commu-
nity, to ceremony, and to personal health goals, creates a decolonial resis-
tance to the continuance of settler colonialism. Through their commitment
to running, the women show their adaptation to responding to settler
colonialism; they run for their well-being and the well-being of their
families and communities.
In Chap. 6, I presented the results of Wiisokotaatiwin, a seven-week
consciousness-raising group and an applied Anishinaabeg research
method held with urban Indigenous women. While there has been con-
certed attention to the health disparities experienced by Indigenous
women (Bourassa et al. 2004; Findley 2011), the perspectives of
Indigenous women themselves—particularly urban Indigenous women—
are not prominent in the literature, especially regarding their views on
physical activity and decolonization. Therefore, I partnered with the
Urban Aboriginal Healthy Living Program at the Odawa Native
Friendship Centre to embark on a programme of research, using critical
dialogues, that focused on urban Indigenous women’s experiences of
physical activity.
Previous studies have shown the importance of engaging in physical
activity fostered within a collective community, especially for Indigenous
women (Lavallée 2008; Schultz et al. 2016). However, there is a dearth of
research regarding urban Indigenous women’s perspectives on their phys-
ical activity. To address this gap, my study brought participants together
to work out with kettlebells and ask them key questions about their phys-
ical activity, health, and well-being, which resulted in comprehensive
critical dialogues about their personal histories, challenges, and triumphs.
For instance, the Indigenous women reflected on the physical strength of
their grandmothers or great-grandmothers that had been gained by being
on the land but was disrupted because of Indigenous Peoples’ forced dis-
placement from the land, which has had lasting reverberations upon
Indigenous women’s health and well-being.
154 T. McGuire-Adams

The results of Wiisokotaatiwin showed that community, particularly

in an urban setting among Indigenous women, is an instrumental com-
ponent to fostering health and well-being. In addition, through
Wiisokotaatiwin, the participants demonstrated that critical dialogue
about health and wellness, coupled with directed physical activity, in this
case, kettlebell workouts, played important roles in engaging them in
physical activity. By bringing urban Indigenous women together to par-
ticipate in kettlebell training and engage in critical dialogues about their
health and well-being, the result was the creation of a community of
women nurturing each other to achieve holistic wellness. Through train-
ing together with kettlebells, in conjunction with creating a supportive
space to critically dialogue about their health and other important issues,
the Indigenous women created a community that empowered them to be
confident. Importantly, the process and outcome of Wiisokotaatiwin
provided welcomed counter narratives to the marginalization, racism,
and the health disparity discourses Indigenous women encounter. This
study shows that when Indigenous women enact Wiisokotaatiwin or
gather together for dialogue and physical activity, it contributes to
improving well-being and, thus, may assist in decreasing the health dis-
parities experienced by many Indigenous Peoples.
In Chap. 7, I offer an approach for an Anishinaabeg ethic of self-­
discipline. Returning to the chapters where Anishinaabeg gikendaasowin
was shared, I re-read the dibaajimowinan of the Anishinaabeg Elders and
women to discern an Anishinaabeg ethic of self-discipline. Anishinaabeg-­
informed self-discipline is connected to fostering the well-being of our
families, our communities, and our future generations. I contrast
Anishinaabeg self-discipline to the popular militaristic style of discipline
promoted by a key public figure, Jocko Willink. While other popular
figures in physical activity spaces align with a militaristic approach to
discipline (e.g., David Goggins, a former marine as well), I look to Jocko
Willink in particular because he is a well-known published author on the
topic; such an approach promotes settler-colonial informed self-­discipline
ideology, which was also implemented in the residential schools. In this
chapter, I argue that by applying an Anishinaabeg-informed self-­discipline
approach to our physical activity practices, we can take demonstrable
 8 Conclusion 155

actions to ensure the well-being of our future generations in efforts to

disrupt the continuance of embodied settler colonialism.

Research Implications
In this next section, I present the implications of my research for the
fields of Indigenous health research and community programming, and
the contributions it makes to theoretical and methodological
advancements.

Indigenous Health Research and Sociology of Sport

Recently, Albert Marshall’s “two-eyed seeing” approach to Indigenous

health and sociology of sport research has been taken up by researchers as
a useful way to combine Indigenous and Western-based approaches to
address Indigenous Peoples’ health (Iwama et al. 2009; Lavallée and
Lévesque 2013). Through my research, I departed from the two-eyed see-
ing approach to create an Anishinaabeg-informed study by specifically
using Anishinaabeg gikendaaswin (knowledge) and inaadiziwin (way of
being) because there is a need for research and associated methodologies
that “are inherently and wholly Indigenous” (Kovach 2009, p. 13). I
achieved this by framing my research within an Anishinaabeg izhit-
waawin, theorizing gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin, and applying
Wiisokotaatiwin as an Anishinaabeg research tool. In furtherance of
Indigenous-led research, and given how Indigenous health research has
long been led by non-Indigenous researchers, Wiisokotaatiwin should be
used, and further developed and implemented, by Anishinaabeg research-
ers in respectful and ethical partnerships with Anishinaabeg communi-
ties. Indeed, as Indigenous researchers continue to use our knowledge to
apply our Indigenous research methodologies and paradigms, this will
lead to “theory, practice, and methods that are uniquely Indigenous”
(Wilson 2008, p. 16). By centring Anishinaabeg gikendaasowin in my
research, I showed the utility of using an Anishinaabeg approach, and I
would encourage Indigenous Peoples from other Nations to make similar
156 T. McGuire-Adams

contributions using their worldviews. Such practices will promote

Indigenous-led answers to health disparities, enriching the methodologi-
cal approaches that Indigenous health researchers may utilize.
As my research has demonstrated, the narratives/stories of Anishinaabeg,
both ancestral and current, are valuable in both addressing ill health and
promoting well-being. I believe the approach that centres Indigenous sto-
ries and theory regarding health will greatly advance the field of Indigenous
health and sociology of sport research. There is much to learn from the
perspectives of Indigenous Peoples—especially women—about our con-
cepts of health, well-being, the land, stories of our ancestral strengths,
and in consideration of seven generations into the future.
Through Wiisokotaatiwin, the Indigenous women voiced their con-
cerns about current programme objectives that focus on treating
Indigenous Peoples’ chronic diseases/ill health. Certainly, funding for
such programmes is greatly needed. What was identified by the women,
however, is that an equal funding pool is required to promote well-being,
which is gained through physical activity coupled with community
engagement. It is not enough to simply fund a stand-alone physical activ-
ity; as my research showed, there are clear benefits to bringing urban
Indigenous women together to engage in physical activity coupled with
critical dialogue about health, well-being, and decolonization. This find-
ing is important for the Odawa Native Friendship Centre and other
community-­based organizations who seek to increase their funding or
create new programmes.
Another intriguing result of Wiisokotaatiwin was the clear desire for
the promotion of community-led programmes. One participant argued
that if funders do not fund programmes that promote spaces of physical
activity, dialogue, and community, Indigenous community members
would create this space. That certainly was the case in the examples of
Kwe Pack, or Team I am Anishinaabe, described in Chap. 5. It will be
important for both federal and provincial/territorial governments to
assist Indigenous Peoples in our drive to foster well-being by increasing
funding to physical activity/community spaces, especially given the cur-
rent climate of reconciliation in Canada.
 8 Conclusion 157

Theoretical Implications

Indigenous feminist theory provides a valuable lens through which to

understand how and why Indigenous women experience violence and
erasure as a direct result of settler colonialism. Further, Indigenous femi-
nist theory creates space for Indigenous women to reflect upon their
unique Indigenous worldviews and teachings and to then amplify the
field of Indigenous feminist theorizing. Indigenous feminist theory is
broadened by looking to ancestral stories of physical strength and
Indigenous women’s practices of physical activity as ways to challenge
settler colonialism. Thus, this research contributes to the growth of
Indigenous feminist theory by including Anishinaabeg women and
Elders and urban Indigenous women’s stories and images of ancestral
strength and current practices of physicality. As settler colonialism is
ongoing, engaging in activities that disrupt settler colonialism, especially
its embodiment, is of critical importance. By looking to our respective
Indigenous stories of strength, both current and ancestral, I believe that
Indigenous feminists will continue to be at the forefront in challenging
embodied settler colonialism.
Similarly, this research broadens the sociology of sport field by includ-
ing a culturally specific understanding of physical activity and sport, and
importantly, doing so within a decolonization framework. Ratna and
Samie (2017), along with Joseph et al. (2012), created strong founda-
tions upon which to continue theorizing from marginalized spaces.
Additionally, this book adds to the ways in which cultural knowledge and
practices are necessary to challenge the white normativity in the sociology
of sport field.
Indigenous Peoples have always adapted and thrived despite the vio-
lent attempts at erasure. Gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin and the applica-
tion of Wiisokotaatiwin is evidence of our continual adaptation. We are
not merely passive victims of colonialism, accepting a fate of death to
secure settler colonialism. To the contrary, Anishinaabeg women are lead-
ing the resistance to embodied settler colonialism through practicing
gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin, personal decolonization, and building
community, now and into the future.
158 T. McGuire-Adams

Recommendations for Future Research

In this final section, I offer recommendations related to future areas of
research regarding the inclusiveness of other gender identities, reciprocal
relationships, and land-based practices as a process of Indigenous nation-
alisms. I conclude by offering my reflections on including Anishinaabeg
inaadiziwin and izhitwaawin in Indigenous health and well-being
research.
My first recommendation concerns the field of Indigenous health. It
will be imperative for current and future Indigenous health researchers to
continue seeking out Indigenous Peoples’ stories/dibaajimowinan regard-
ing physical activity, health, and well-being from more Indigenous
women, Indigenous men, Indigenous Peoples who are non-binary and
gender fluid, in addition to our LGBTQ2IA communities, from their
specific identities (e.g., Inuit, Métis, and other Indigenous and/or tribal
Nations). Further, it is crucial that Indigenous health researchers build
meaningful and reciprocal relationships with research participants and
that they present participants’ stories with due care and respect, especially
in consideration of Indigenous research methodologies and relational
accountability.
My thinking and praxis are continually growing as I engage in perspec-
tives that include critical disability studies. I am mindfully aware that the
research presented in this book does not include the voices of Indigenous
women who live with disabilities. While this was not a wilful exclusion,
it nonetheless leaves out important voices, stories, and perspectives. I
acknowledge that I still have much to consider in my research and praxis
concerning health and well-being. As such, in my current and future
learnings, I am seeking to learn from and with people who live with dis-
abilities about their health, well-being, physical activity, and movement
desires from Indigenous theoretical and methodological frameworks.
A second recommendation is for Indigenous health researchers to look
to more specific land-based physical activities, such as harvesting tradi-
tional foods, trapping, hunting, or fishing, to learn how being on the
land may impact Indigenous Peoples’ overall well-being. For example,
how do land-based physical activities relate to Indigenous sovereignties or
 8 Conclusion 159

nationalism movements? As Coulthard (2014) emphasized, reconnecting

to Indigenous Territories (e.g., “walking the land”) assists in Indigenous
Peoples’ resurgence from settler colonialism. Such re-presencing on our
lands aids in our reconnection to places that inform our well-being. As
such, future research may look to specific forms of physical activity on
the land to better understand how such activities may affect individual
and community resurgence from settler colonialism. To this end, I under-
stand that individual actions will not wholly dismantle the deeply
engrained system of settler colonialism in what is currently called Canada,
which will require an entire system change. However, as the dibaajimowi-
nan included in this book has shown, our individual actions can make a
huge difference in the lives of our families and communities.
Finally, I offer my thoughts including Anishinaabeg inaadiziwin and
izhitwaawin within Indigenous health research. As I showed in my
research, the Anishinaabeg inaadiziwin and izhitwaawin allowed me to
create a space in academia to pursue Anishinaabeg-informed research
that also assisted in fostering meaningful relationships with Anishinaabeg
and other Indigenous women and Elders. As Indigenous health scholars
continue to look to our own ontologies, theories, and epistemologies in
our research, it is very exciting to contemplate the direction in which
physical activity and health research may go. What new Indigenous-led
theories will be envisioned, especially as they pertain to our bodies and
countering health disparities?

Concluding Thoughts
I have grown immensely from my time spent with Anishinaabekweg,
Elders, and Indigenous women. Their stories have inspired not only the
research contained in this book but also my own well-being as I traversed
this journey. Through listening to the stories from the Anishinaabekweg,
I learned to create a deeper connection to my personal practices of physi-
cal activity and to foster my own personal well-being. As well, the gentle-
ness, kindness, and love the Elders shared with me in the Roundhouse
taught me that even when we are challenging the hardships of settler
colonialism, as Anishinaabeg we must also share love and laughter. I am
160 T. McGuire-Adams

deeply humbled to have been able to use our Anishinaabeg gikendaas-

owin to assist in creating new ways to think about our health and well-­
being, which could not have happened without building reciprocal and
meaningful relationships with Anishinaabekweg, Elders, and the
Indigenous women who participated in Wiisokotaatiwin.
Niinwendimaaginaatok—All my relations

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Glossary

Anishinaabe words English translation

Aadizookaan Traditional legends, ceremonies
Akii Land
Animbiigo Zaagi’igan Lake Nipigon
Anishinaabekweg Woman: kwe, singular and kweg,
plural
Anishinaabemowin Anishinaabeg language
Biskaabiiyang Returning to ourselves
Dibaajimowin (single) Teachings, personal stories, histories
Dibaajimowinan (plural)
Gikendaasowin Knowledge
Gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin Making positive changes in your life
for well-being
Inaadiziwin Anishinaabeg way of being
Izhitwaawin Culture, teachings, customs, history
Manitous (single) Spirits or spirits
Manitouwag (plural)
Minobiimadiziiwin To live a good life
Mishomis Grandfathers
Nokomis (single) Grandmother or grandmothers
Nokomisag (plural)
(continued )

© The Author(s) 2020 163

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1
164 Glossary

(continued)
Anishinaabe words English translation
Niizhwaaswi Kchtwaa Kinomaadiwinan The seven grandfather teachings or
(also listed below) the seven sacred gifts
 Nbwaakaawin Wisdom
 Zaagidwin Love
 Mnaadendimowin Respect
 Aakwade’ewin Bravery
 Gwekwaadiziwin Honesty
 Dbaadendziwin Humility
 Debwewin Truth
Semaa Tobacco
Wiisokotaatiwin Gathering together for a purpose
 Index1

A ethics, 129, 132, 141

Ancestors, 130, 137, 138, 141–143 health, 130
Anishinaabeg-informed thematic Connection to land, 52, 58
analysis, 64, 67, 68 Consciousness-raising, 99, 102, 103
Anishinaabeg research paradigm, Counter narrative(s), 63, 79
5, 21–22 Critical dialogues, 99–124

B D
Bio-power, 131 Decolonization, 2, 4, 5, 10, 11,
15–18, 20, 33, 35, 40,
83–86, 91–94
C decolonized physical
Chronic disease(s), 6–8, 17, activity, 5, 136
31, 32, 39 land, 83, 93, 94
Colonization, 47, 52, 53, 55 personal decolonization/
Community, 100, 101, 104–109, personally decolonize,
111, 113–124 46, 48, 59

1
Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

© The Author(s) 2020 165

T. McGuire-Adams, Indigenous Feminist Gikendaasowin (Knowledge),
New Femininities in Digital, Physical and Sporting Cultures,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-56806-1
166 Index

Deficit narratives, 31 H
Dibaajimowinan (stories), 35 Health and well-being, 33
Discipline, 129–141, 143 Health disparities, 5–9, 12, 13,
16, 63, 79
health disparity discourses, 63
E Historical trauma, 45, 50–55, 58
Effects of colonialism on Indigenous
bodies (ill health, trauma,
grief ), 5 I
pathologizing of Indigenous Ill health, 31, 32, 38, 39
people, 8 Inaadiziwin (Anishinaabeg way of
Elders being), 109, 122
Anishinaabeg Elders, 40 Indigenous communities,
Elders’ knowledge, 33, 39 31, 34, 35
Embody/embodiment Indigenous feminist theory, 31–40
of determination, 31 indigenous feminism, 33–35
embodied settler Indigenous health, 148–150, 152,
colonialism, 31–40 153, 155–156, 158, 159
Indigenous people in sport and
physical activity, 9–12
F Indigenous research methodology,
Family, 2–4, 18, 19 99, 104, 123
Feminism/Indigenous Indigenous stories, 40
feminist theory, ancestral stories, 45–48,
2, 11, 18–21 50, 58–60
Funding, 156 storytelling, 40
Future generations, Indigenous Territories, 32, 36
130, 142–144 Indigenous women
ability/disability, 9
bodies, 4, 5, 9, 12, 15, 20
G connection to land, 32, 36–38
Gikendaasowin (Anishinaabeg femininity, 9
knowledge), 33 gender, 6, 9, 19
Grief, 45, 46, 50–55, 58, 59 Murdered and Missing
Gwekisidoon gibimaadiziwin Indigenous Women and
(transforming Girls, 37, 38
oneself into a sport, 2, 9–12, 14
better life), 64, 69, Izhitwaawin (Anishinaabeg
76–79, 80n1 culture), 122
 Index 167

K Physical strength
Kettlebells, 99–124 ancestors, 45–48, 55, 57–60
Anishinaabekweg physical
strength, 46, 55, 58–60
L decolonization, 45, 46, 48, 59
Land-based, 92 grandmothers physical strength,
Land-based forms of physicality, 46, 55, 57
132, 133 physically strong, 45, 47,
LGBTQ2IA, 38 48, 56, 57

M R
Marginalization, 100, 109, Race/racism/power/whiteness in
111–113, 119–122 sport, 9–10, 19
Mentorship, 64, 69, 73–76 sport as oppression, 10–12
Michitweg (messengers who ran Regeneration, 35
between communities), 85, 86 Relational accountability, 46, 60
Oshki-michitweg (new Residential school
runners), 83–94 reconciliation, 131
residential school system,
129, 131, 132, 136,
N 139, 143
Nationalism Truth and Reconciliation, 131
colonial, 129 Resistance, 36, 39
nationalistic ideology, 129 physical strength as resistance, 50
to embodied settler
colonialism, 50
P Runners, 65, 71, 74, 80
Personal empowerment, 64, Running, 65, 66, 69–72, 74–77
69–70, 76, 78 to connect with ceremony, 83,
Physical activity, 31, 32, 45, 46, 87–88, 93
48, 58, 60 to healing, 83, 87–88, 92
Physicality, health, well-being, to holistic well-being, 88
physical strength, 2–9, 12,
13, 15–18, 20
physical activity as regeneration S
cultural identity, 17 Self-discipline, 129–144
lack of, 8, 9, 14 Anishinaabeg ethic of self
self-esteem, 17 discipline, 129–144
168 Index

Settler colonialism, 1, 4–5, Stories/storytelling/restorying, 1–5,

12–16, 18–21 10, 16, 18, 20, 22
effects of settler colonialism, colonial narratives of Indigenous
31, 35, 39 health, 8, 13
embodied or embodiment
of settler colonialism,
31–40 T
erasure, 31–34, 36–39 Territories, 88, 92
forced and coercive
sterilization, 38, 39
in sport, 14 U
violence against or enacted against Urban Indigenous community, 101,
Indigenous women, 105, 119
33, 36–38
Sharing circles, 46, 49, 50, 54, 59
Sociology of sport, 150, W
151, 155–157 Warrior, 136–138
literature, 5 Well-being
white normativity, 157 community well-being, 71
Spirituality, 76 holistic well-being, 76
Sport, 131–133, 138 Wiisokotaatiwin (gathering together
Sport as resistance, 10 for a purpose), 99–124