This story was written by Leslie Arbogast for The Clyde Fitch Report. CFR produces and publishes opinion and reporting at the crossroads of arts and politics.
Indigenous communities across North America continue to unite in resistance against oil pipeline construction. These actions take many forms and demonstrate the pride, collective cohesion and resilience of our First Peoples. Thriving in various social and political contexts, they point to countless human rights and treaty violations associated with the construction of pipelines.
Dance plays a central role in this type of artistic and cultural activism. Whenever asked to focus on dance alone in my writing, I know better than to attempt it; dance does not and cannot function properly on its own in Indigenous cultures: the song and the music that accompanies dances, and the people embodying them, are all vital to the movement itself. All parts function together as one artistic system — in this case, to raise awareness of the importance of establishing and maintaining social justice.
One example is Round Dances, which span generations in North America and evolved over time to serve both ceremonial and social purposes. The Idle No More movement — a Canadian grassroots effort to build allies supporting Indigenous sovereignty and protection of land and water — often hosts rallies and demonstrations featuring Round dancing. To that end, a wave of Round Dance flash mobs swelled across various Canadian provinces in 2012. This example broke out at North America’s largest shopping mall in Edmonton; it was strategically planned during the heavily-trafficked Christmas season:
In the US, a recent example of dance activism was the protest by thousands of Jingle Dress dancers at Standing Rock. These dancers, as reported by Tiffany Midge of Indian Country Today, “gathered on the main highway and took to the front lines, dancing about 150 yards away from where roughly nine armored police vehicles remained behind a wall of concrete barriers.” Their appearance was timely: it occurred shortly after the Morton County Sheriff’s department’s brutal altercation with the Standing Rock protestors on Oct. 26, 2016, resulting in injury from their vicious use of rubber bullets and tear gas, leading to a mass arrest of 141 Water Protectors.
Jonelle Fast Elk is quoted in Midge’s article:
…That was a terrible, terrible day and our hearts were sick and weak, but when we saw the Jingle Dress dancers rising at the hill’s crest, it gave us hope and our spirits were lifted.
This is empowering. This is healing. A soothing of physical and emotional wounds from unjustified violence inflicted on a group of human beings dedicated to protecting water resources not only meant for themselves, but for the entire planet.
After the dancing, two tribal elder women offered an explanation of the Jingle Dress dance to non-Native observers at Standing Rock. As reported by Antonia Juhasz in the Pacific Standard, one of the tribal elder women explained:
All the Jingle dancers understand the power of the dress and the feeling that we get when we dance the Jingle Dress dance — this is how we say our prayers, send our prayers up.
She then offered a passionate and heartfelt declaration:
...we have come to dance for our people.
In addition to traditional dance, different forms of contemporary fusion techniques are also playing a role in this resistance. Social-justice choreographer and Ananya Dance Theater founder Ananya Chatterjea defines her company’s work as responses to global issues, and has been working in partnership with Native Americans in the US. She was invited directly by Dakota friends and relatives to create a danced offering at Standing Rock.
In a recent phone interview that I conducted with Chatterjea, she called her contribution “a meditation offered in great humility.” She explained that it was an act of support in 100% solidarity with the Water Protectors rather than a performance. As a non-Indigenous ally, she was very clear in expressing that she would not have contributed in such a manner without having been specifically invited to do so.
Chatterjea mentioned that she was dealing with a long-standing foot injury during this danced demonstration in the freezing North Dakota winter temperatures, yet she did not experience pain. How could this be? She explained that prior to her offering the ground was prepared with prayer, allowing her to fulfill her purpose without distracting discomfort. She also continually dropped jewels of wisdom into our talk — for which I am incredibly grateful. For example, she characterized her perception of the role of dance in activism as a “pathway into a greater purpose.”
Another visionary and humble powerhouse in danced activism is Rulan Tangen, founder of Dancing Earth Indigenous Contemporary Creations. (I previously wrote about her and her company in January.) I remember attending a riveting performance of her work, Walking at the Edge of Water, years ago at Stanford University. It starts with dancers wearing gas masks. According to Tangen, Walking at the Edge of Water was
...motivated by the urgings of Native grandmothers and invokes powerfully relevant water themes of creation, destruction and renewal.
In an email exchange, Tangen also shared with me that after returning from Standing Rock, numerous activists remarked that it reminded them of the first scene of Walking at the Edge of Water: