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A rallying cry for Afro-Indigenous people: the musical album Constitution by the Afro-Métis Nation.
"For his final paper for my grad course, "Assembling the Afro-Metis Syllabus: Some Preliminary Reading," Mr. Guillaume Laliberte, a Montreal-area grad student, decided to focus on Constitution (2019) as an example of folks awakening to a (new) racial identity. Although I did not include the record as an actual part of the course, I did list it as "recommended." Well, Mr. Laliberte surprised me by focussing part of his paper on the first Afro-Metis CD. I am very happy to share (with permission) Mr. Laliberte paper below." - George Elliott Clarke
Guillaume Laliberté
Professor George Eliot Clarke
ENG 5080
April 16, 2024
Developing Afro-Indigenous Racial Identity
Much research and academic work has been done in an attempt to properly understand how racial identity is formed and what shape it might take. In the United States, that work has tended to focus on African American identity while many Indigenous scholars from around the world have taken up the task to write about their own construction of racial identity. Much of this very important work, however, has had a fairly major gap in its scope as scholars tend not to view racial identity through a composite lens. This leaves some identities, those who straddle racial lines, largely unexplored and in serious want of recognition and scholarly work to preserve their archives and restore history. One such identity, the one under study in this essay, lies at the intersection of African American and Indigenous identities in North America. While this identity has many names like African-Native American, Red Black Indian, or, for some, Afro-Métis, this essay will generally refer to this racial identity as Afro-Indigenous as it seems to be the most generic and inclusive term.
In order to determine what Afro-Indigenous racial identity might be, I want to look at a specific work that seems to serve as a sort of rallying cry for Afro-Indigenous people: the musical album Constitution by the Afro-Métis Nation. While the album focuses specifically on the experience of the Afro-Métis population of Canada, the principles it espouses and the social role it fulfills can easily be extrapolated and extended to reflect on Afro-Indigenous identity as a whole. Through examining Constitution, theoretical works that deal with racialized identities, and a personal testimony from an Afro-Indigenous individual, I want to examine what Afro-Indigenous identity is in relation to African American and Indigenous identities and how and why individuals come to embrace Afro-Indigenous identity.
Racial Identity Development and Race
Before we directly engage with Constitution, it is important to properly establish what racial identity development is, and why it matters or should matter to Afro-Indigenous people. In describing some of the key features of racial identity development, Geneva Gay identifies that “Positive ethnic identification for most American racial minorities does not happen automatically; nor does it happen for all individuals” (49) which necessarily positions racial understanding and identification on a spectrum, especially so when considering how identification with two simultaneous racial groups might severely compound the issue. Furthermore, Gay further argues that the process of racial identity development functions much like a psychological rebirth: “Part of this rebirth is the replacement of feelings of ethnic shame and denigration with self-ethnic pride and acceptance” (49). From this, we can understand that racial identity development is about more than simply being a particular ethnicity or race, but rather a more comprehensive and holistic view of how race and identity intersect with a particular society or environment.
Another key element of racial identity development is the awakening because “Seeing one’s racial-cultural predicament in a new light and forging a new and different understanding of “what is possible” is central to the current study of racial-cultural awareness” (Neville 103). The awakening or epiphany, in the context of racial identity, is the point where an individual must reckon with the social constructions and challenges inherent to most racialized identities. The idea of racial identity owes a lot to Frantz Fanon and in Fanon we see one of the most striking examples of an awakening when a little French girl repeatedly calls him a racial slur and he is forced to face his blackness:
I was responsible not only for my body but also for my race and my ancestors. I cast an objective gaze over myself, discovered my blackness, my ethnic features; deafened by cannibalism, backwardness, fetishism, Racial stigmas, slave traders, and above all, yes, above all, the grinning Y a bon Banania (Fanon 92)
In this passage lies one of the great conflicts of Black Skin, White Masks, the opposition between the European or white construction of blackness and Fanon’s own conception of his and his compatriot’s blackness. The words of the little girl forcing Fanon to “cast an objective gaze” over himself is a striking image as it positions the insults Fanon receives as the key moment where he becomes aware of the profound implications of racial alterity. Paradoxically, the dehumanizing experience he suffers is what allows Fanon to reconstruct his humanity free from the racialized shackles of European expectations and racial identities. What is also interesting is that Fanon also becomes aware of his history, of “his ancestors”, “fetishism”, and “slave traders”. Fanon thus awakens not only to his own condition but also to the historical conditions that have led him and people like him where they are. This positions racial awakenings as having social, historical, and political dimensions as well as personal and psychological ones.
To expand further on the political dimensions of racial identity, Glen Sean Coulthard writes at length about how Indigenous identity can be constructed in a settler colonial state. This introduces issues of sovereignty and nationhood to the racial identity question that are largely absent when engaging with African American racial identity. Coulthard expands on Fanon and integrates his thinking into a practical Indigenous framework. For example, Coulthard explains that one of the key problems of recognition politics in Indigenous identities is that it alters the “subject positions of Indigenous people and communities over time” (77). Coulthard further argues that land claims have shifted Indigenous perspectives from “being informed by the land in a system of reciprocal relations and obligations” to being “increasingly for land, understood now as material resource” (78). Coulthard’s argument here is a complex one as Indigenous identities were traditionally tied to the land to some degree or another. This makes dispossession and settler colonialism particularly hurtful but makes for a difficult problem. If land is tied with identity, how then is identity understood if the very meaning of land changes as it becomes capital under settler colonialism? Through Coulthard, we can thus see that some of the issues pertaining to identity are tied up in larger social and political frameworks that make it difficult to parse how identity changes across social and ethnic groups. This also introduces the idea that racial identity development might not be static and that the meaning of identity might change over time. As such, Indigenous identity as it was a century ago might look vastly different from what it is today. In understanding Afro-Indigenous racial identity, it is thus highly important to also look at the material conditions that form identity, or that exist in tension with it.
When comparing Coulthard and Fanon we can also see one of the first rifts between black and Indigenous racial identities that make Afro-Indigeneity such a complex issue. Fanon wrote of black identity at large while Coulthard was specifically focused on Northern Canadian Indigenous nations. While both groups find commonality in the politics of recognition outlined in Fanon and Coulthard, the material reality of African Americans and Indigenous people is very different. As such, keeping in mind how deeply material conditions affect racial identity, if both racial groups develop their racial identity in different ways with different aims, what happens with Afro-Indigenous racial identity development? A key issue in this discussion and a potential solution is that Afro-Indigenous people not only identify as members of both black and Indigenous communities or identities but also as members of a separate, composite dual identity. It is important to recognize that Afro-Indigeneity is not merely people identifying as black and Indigenous but rather as a separate identity that encompasses both but is more than the sum of its parts. Indeed, Afro-Indigenous people have a distinct shared history and occupy a particular place in discourse about racial identity and belonging. As such, this specific racial identity, the material conditions informing its development, and the outcomes of such an identity need to be understood on their own terms. Many of Fanon’s theoretical concepts will, however, be useful as they expand beyond the mere scope of black identity and apply to many more racial identities.
Racial Identity and Afro-Indigeneity
Now that I have laid out some of the core characteristics of racial identity that are relevant here and examined some of the issues that arise when mixed-race identities are in question, I want to look at a personal account of an Afro-Indigenous person. The lack of documentation regarding Afro-Indigenous stories and histories means that in order to form a better understanding of Afro-Indigeneity we must look at personal narratives and accounts. One of the most striking accounts of an Afro-Indigenous person is Dorothy Mills-Proctor’s Born Again Indian. Mills-Proctor describes herself as a “light-skinned Black Indian woman” (55), but she did not always identify with that label. Indeed, Mills-Proctor’s narrative details how she came to recognize and embrace her Indigenous heritage fairly late in her life. Mills-Proctor relates that when she was in “Indian country” (63) she was first asked “what band [she] belonged to” (63). This eventually led to Mills-Proctor passing for Indigenous as there was “an automatic assumption that [she] was Indian and [she] grew weary of trying to convince people otherwise” (66). The prolonged contact and proximity with Indigenous communities came to an interesting conclusion for Mills-Proctor when she experienced visions from her childhood and remembered “forgotten moments sitting on the lap of [her] full blooded Mi’kmaq great aunt, Annie” (68) which, ironically, confirmed that she was indeed Indigenous and not merely pretending. Dorothy Mills-Proctor’s journey to awakening her Indigenous racial identity is interesting because, in almost all respects, it conforms to the elements of racial identity development I outlined earlier.
One of the more telling moments is when Mills-Proctor writes: “No longer did I, or do I feel disgust whenever I see a drunken India, I can only feel intense sadness and yes anger. My tears are prayers for my people and all Indigenous people” (70). This passage in particular indicates the shift in racial consciousness that occurred once Mills-Proctor realized she was Indigenous. More than a mere shift from an out-group to an in-group, her realization that she was Indigenous forced her to confront her personal history, as well as the whole history of Indigenous people in the Americas. In particular, Mills-Proctor’s notion of “Blood Memory” (74) that occurs following the awakening of her racial identity reinforces the idea that her awakening was on the scale of a whole population rather than an individual; she awakened to a collective identity that goes back many millennia in history.
Following her grand experience of awakening and new-found social and racial consciousness, Mills-Proctor goes on to describe how her life changed after she embraced her Indigenous heritage in interesting terms: “That experience was my anointing and that’s when I became a Born-Again Indian. In the past twenty some years I’ve been the proud caretaker of many eagle feathers. When I see someone else needs power – like a youth or a sick person, I pass the feather on to them” (86). The idea of Mills-Proctor becoming a “Born-Again Indian” following an “anointment” is interesting as it employs a very strong Christian vocabulary. This seems to elevate the experience of racial identity development to a quasi-religious experience; the racial awakening becomes more akin to an epiphany. Furthermore, the part about the eagle feathers is highly important as it is one of the most striking examples of not only community building but also racial education. Much like receiving an eagle feather was an awakening and affirming experience for Dorothy Mills-Proctor and her Indigenous identity, her doing the same will, potentially, produce that same effect in someone else. That Mills-Proctor is doing this kind of work is very important because, as Hilary Weaver notes with regards to Indigenous identities: “A person must be integrated into a society, not simply stand alone as an individual, in order to be fully human. Additionally, identity can only be confirmed by others who share that identity” (Weaver 245). As such, Mills-Proctor seems to be taking on the work of a guide or counsellor to Indigenous or Afro-Indigenous people who may be struggling with how to properly affirm their identity.
An important factor in Mills-Proctor’s experience of racial identity awakening is that she was guided in the process by being at the heart of an indigenous community. That it took her until late in life and being identified as Indigenous for a prolonged period of time to realize she was indeed Indigenous clearly shows the importance of an individual’s environment and material conditions in their racial identity awakening. However, not every Afro-Indigenous individual has access to the kind of environment that facilitated Mills-Proctor’s awakening, nor will every experience be as pleasant and fulfilling as hers. This potential lack of access to and awareness of Afro-Indigenous identity and history is where Constitution comes to bridge the gap in a very important cultural intervention.
Constitution and Racial Identity Development
As I discussed earlier, the abandoning of pre-racial thinking and the association of race with positive identifications does not and cannot happen without a trigger of some kind. Following this awakening event, however, the Afro-Indigenous individual must attempt to reconstruct the ethnocentric parts of their identity. However, what happens when there is nowhere to turn to, no guide to show the way ahead? The lack of documentation, research, information, and positive and radical racial representation of Afro-Indigenous individuals means that the post-awakening stages of racial identity development are much more difficult to accomplish. In that sense, then, there needs to be a solid body of literature and media for Afro-Indigenous individuals to construct a community even when space and time pose an issue. It is here that Constitution offers its most important intervention in the Afro-Indigenous and Afro-Metis canon. As I argue, Constitution not only provides the political and racial education that allows for a dual, or second, awakening event to occur, but it also provides hope and positive racial material to allow for a smooth post-awakening process.
Before engaging with the text of the songs themselves I want to look at the presentation of the album as I believe it to be highly important. First and foremost, the name of the group “The Afro-Métis Nation” is relevant because it evokes a sense of sovereignty and unity that lies at the center of the community-centered exercise the album is engaging in. It positions the Afro-Métis identity as being about more than the individual, but a whole community. Then comes the album title Constitution which follows the general theme or mission statement that seems to be outlined in the name of the group. However, Constitution holds another important meaning in the Canadian context as it positions itself in direct opposition to the Canadian constitution that has done so little for Métis people: “[Métis] have received the least attention from non-Aboriginal governments to date in constitutional efforts, Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) recommendations, and especially in tangible efforts to reach agreements on self-government” (Groves 261). We can thus understand the title as an attempt to remediate the lack of attention given to Métis, and by extension most Afro-Métis and Afro-Indigenous groups, by the government of Canada. If the federal government is unable, or unwilling, to properly define the rights, sovereignty and nationhood of the Afro-Métis people of Canada, then someone else has to do it instead. From the title alone we can then see that the album is, at least in part, a serious attempt to be an important document that enshrines the rights, sovereignty and culture of the Afro-Métis people. Furthermore, the historic image of Afro-Métis people that serves as the cover of the album, reinforces the notion of constitution and nationhood as it adds an element of temporality to the concept of Afro-Indigeneity. For better or worse, notions of race and identity tend to be predicated on claims of authenticity and seem to be worth more socially the older they are, the farther back a lineage can be traced. As such, the photographic proof that Afro-Indigeneity has a long and storied history is important to the claims of its existence and its right to sovereignty and identity.
The first song I want to look at on the album is fittingly enough the first song of the album: Skin. The choice of which song is first on an album is important as it sets the tone and expectations for the whole project, being the first thing most listeners will hear. In this case, Skin begins the album with a pretty explicit racial theme. The first two lines of the song “That baby’s too dark - to pass for our kin / Too dark - see the colour of that skin” are highly reminiscent of Fanon’s conception of racial recognition but with an interesting twist. Indeed, whereas Fanon was discussing the recognition of blackness in a colonial system, that is a system that opposed white and black racial identities, Skin seems to offer a different way in which recognition might happen. The line “too dark – to pass for our kin” seems to indicate that the song is not just operating within a white-black dichotomy, but that different shades of blackness and racialized identities are also in tension with one another. If we understand this within the context of Afro-Métis or Afro-Indigenous racial identity, the song seems to suggest that the recognition of the child’s blackness precludes any recognition of Indigeneity, the child is simply “too dark”. The word “pass” is also important here as it indicates that the child is indeed Afro-Métis, but that the perception of race supersedes the reality of racial identity and ancestry. It matters not if a child is both black and Indigenous, if one phenotype or another is too strong, they will fail to be recognized. The lines align disturbingly well with Fanon when he argues, “at the first white gaze, [the black man] feels the weight of his melanin” (128), with the only exception that the child is not made to feel a white gaze, but an Indigenous or black gaze. Skin thus articulates how skin and the perception of race affect belonging and racial identity, even amongst mixed-raced and Afro-Indigenous people.
Skin also asks an important question about the core of Afro-Indigeneity in relation to black and Indigenous communities. The chant “where does he fit it? Where does he fit in? Where does he fit in? With his color of skin” is a common refrain in stories of mixed-race people being unable to fit in both racial groups they should be a part of. The song thus presents one of the core problems of Afro-Indigeneity within the current racial paradigm: Afro-Indigenous people are too black to be considered Indigenous which suppresses that part of their identity and leaves them looking for a way to live authentically as both black and Indigenous. In terms of racial identity development then, we might be able to understand that Afro-Indigenous people will typically first identify as black, since the colour of their skin will be subjected to the colonial recognition of blackness that Fanon identifies. Then, as Skin so aptly exemplifies, an initial rejection from Indigenous identity will follow, once again on the grounds of Afro-Indigenous people’s skin colour, which leaves Afro-Indigenous people looking for the place where they belong, their most authentic racial identity. We can thus understand that the denial of Indigeneity might be, for many Afro-Indigenous people, the moment they awaken to the necessity to form a racial identity and community that is neither solely black nor Indigenous.
Following the awakening moment of Skin, the third song on the album, More of this Land seems to represent the development of an ethnocentric consciousness, of sovereignty, and an affirmation of the right to self-identify with a particular racial identity. The opening line of the song “I am more of this land than you”, which also serves as somewhat of a refrain throughout the song, presents an interesting claim to land and Indigeneity. Firstly, the phrasing of “of this land” indicates a non-capitalist relationship with the land as it acknowledges that the speaker is born from the land rather than its owner. This point of view immediately positions the speaker within a discourse of indigeneity, something which the speaker seems to claim. Furthermore, this first line introduces an addressee, a “you” that remains unnamed and mostly uncharacterized except for the line “Say I ain’t here” from which we can gather the opposition that is staged in the song. The addressee seems to be invalidating the claims of belonging and indigeneity of the speaker, potentially even wholly invalidating their presence. The speaker’s claims of belonging to the land in the song can be understood as a form of pushback against the invalidation of identity. In that sense, the more the Afro-Métis and Afro-Indigenous identities are dismissed, the stronger their self-identification and sense of racial identity becomes.
What really ties the song together and most impresses the strong Indigenous identity of the speaker unto the reader, however, is the line “I have a crown, jewels of black red & brown”. The colour of the jewels in particular, “black red & brown” is important as they symbolize the different ethnicities that make up Afro-Indigenous identity. Black and red are often used to describe or identify black and Indigenous respectively, with brown often being used in a more general sense to refer to many racialized groups. Typically, the crown jewels refer only to the most important and precious things so to have markers of racial identity be the said crown jewels indicates the central place of racial identity in the speaker’s life. Furthermore, the equal importance that is placed on each colour, none of them being more emphasized than the other, speaks to the lack of racial hierarchy in the construction of Afro-Indigenous identity. Mixed-race individuals often identify with one ethnicity in particular, usually the one with the most pronounced phenotypes, but that does not seem to be the case here. This departure once again speaks to the particular nature of Afro-Indigenous identity as unifying black and Indigenous identities and not simply juxtaposing or subordinating them. As a metaphor, then, the crown jewels equally elevate all aspects of Afro-Indigenous and Afro-Métis.
The exclusion from Indigenous communities and identities that is presented in some of the songs I have analyzed has a nefarious effect beyond the initial rejection of identity, the loss of history. In order to properly discuss this, I want to look at the songs Bannock and Beans and It’s a Wonder side by side. In It’s a Wonder, the speaker is amazed to have made it this far, despite the historic hurdle standing in the way of him and his people. The first of those hurdles and challenges that the speaker introduces is his lack of knowledge about his past: “There are people in my bloodline / I don’t know a thing about / Don’t know their names, don’t know their stories”. The plain language of these first few lines does a lot to convey the banal devastation of a forgotten history. The tragedy on display here is a quiet one, with no bloodshed or tears but simply the emptiness of a buried past. For many racialized groups, an understanding of the past and how they got to where they are now is a crucial part of their identity. As such, not knowing the past is the same as having pieces of your identity missing. As the song eloquently puts it in the lines “this is what my people did / So I could walk this land”, the struggles of the ancestors are a necessary precondition for existence today. As such, to forget those struggles, that history is to forget where and why Afro-Indigenous people can thrive today.
The song Bannock and Beans provides an interesting counterpoint to the lost histories and stories of It’s a Wonder as it fills out some of the gaps, some of what has been lost due to the lack of an Afro-Indigenous archive. The premise of Bannock and Beans is exceedingly simple: it is a song about bannock and beans, a common Indigenous dish. What makes the song special, however, are the lines “Bannock and beans, that’s what my kukum made for me” and “It’s so good, I’m just teaching you a little history” as they reveal a crucial socio-historical dimension to the song. Indeed, while the song is unambiguously a celebration of a staple of Indigenous cuisine, it also attempts to connect it to Afro-Indigenous history and share this history with Afro-Indigenous people who might be unaware of what bannock is or its significance. The song thus bridges one of these potential knowledge gaps. The line “Bannock and beans, that’s what my kukum made for me” is crucial to this endeavour as it positions the speaker as a cultural insider. By using the word Kukum, grandmother in Cree, the speaker positions themselves within Indigenous culture and language. Furthermore, that it is a grandmother who prepared the meal indicates a long and personal familial history with the cultural meal. This recenters Afro-Indigenous identity as being authentic and true to the Indigenous parts of their heritage as they share key cultural elements. From this position of authority within Indigenous culture, the speaker then says “It’s so good, I’m just teaching you a little history” after defining what bannock is to the listener. This line serves to introduce the Afro-Indigenous listeners to Indigenous culture and, with the speaker as a teacher, enables them to learn and connect with parts of their racial identity and history they might not be aware of. As such, Bannock and Beans is an answer of sorts to It’s a Wonder as it shows how it might be possible for Afro-Indigenous racial identity to thrive and develop.
Following from the search and desire for Afro-Indigenous history in Bannock and Beans and It’s a Wonder, For the Murdered and the Missing is a very important song in the context of racial identity development. The song’s search for answers and justice in response to murdered and missing Indigenous women exhibits strong signs of the post-awakening development of a strong racial consciousness and solidarity. If the construction of Afro-Indigenous racial identity in Constitution were to be solely focused on personal identity and issues, the argument I am making about the role of the album as a guide in the process of racial identity development would be much weaker. The outrage and anger expressed in the song are crucial to the conception of racial identity as it indicates a larger awakening of consciousness, one that is focused on community and solidarity, what is generally referred to as the “Internalization-Commitment” (Neville 102) stage, the final stage, of racial identity development. Textually, the anger and cries for justice exhibited in the song are most clear in the lines “Someone’s flag looks like blood on snow! Someone’s History’s a / damn crime show! To hurt my daughter so she weep”. The reference to the flag seems to be directly implicating the Canadian government in the heinous crimes committed against Indigenous women. The “blood on snow” points to the colours of the Canadian flag but inverts and negates the flag’s meaning as a symbol of national pride to shame the inaction of the government. In that sense, then, the song serves as a rallying cry or a call to action of sorts for Indigenous and Afro-Indigenous to demand justice and reparations from the federal government. The repeated call for “Justice for our massacred” at the end of the poem speaks volumes about the shared trauma caused by the violence against Indigenous women. The use of the possessive “our” is also indicative of a real solidarity and sense of community that is, through the medium of music, transmitted and impressed upon the listener.
Conclusion
If an Afro-Indigenous listener who is only more or less conscious of his racial identity were to listen to this album, all of the crucial steps of racial awakening would be present, and a great deal of collective history, as much as can fit on an hour-long album, would be shared with them. As far as Afro-Indigenous and Afro-Métis racial identity are concerned, Constitution functions in two distinct and equally important ways: first as a model for other Afro-Indigenous people, and second as an archive of sorts.
The album’s role as a guide is deeply related to the awakening of an Afro-Métis or Afro-Indigenous identity as it provides the social, historical, and racial consciousness to facilitate racial identity development. While the album is an interesting listen for everyone owing to its musical styles, the lyrics and subject matter are particularly relevant to people who either already identify as Afro-Indigenous or are questioning whether or not this racial identity is applicable to them. To those two core audiences, then, Constitution provides crucial information to help Afro-Indigenous people around the continent know who they are, and that there are other people like them with whom they can form a community. By discussing how Afro-Indigenous racial identity differs from black or Indigenous identity and some of the core problems that face Afro-Indigenous people, Constitution is able to play a key role in helping people realize what being Afro-Indigenous means, and how they can effectively mobilize to help each other. Constitution thus provides a great example and a blueprint to guide other Afro-Indigenous and Afro-Métis people along the path to a healthy and fulfilling racial identity development.
The other important role of Constitution is as an archive of Afro-Métis material and history. One of the lesser-known results of Afro-Métis identity having been sidelined, both by the government and other Indigenous groups, is that there have been fewer efforts overall to create an archive of Afro-Métis literature and historical material. Without that archive, it has been much harder for Afro-Métis people to reconstruct their past and build an accurate or complete version of their past. Since identity is so tied in with the past, this lack of an archive has made it exponentially harder for Afro-Métis people to develop a racial identity that reaches back into history. Constitution’s focused effort on restoring many facets of Afro-Métis history that would otherwise be difficult to access thus helps to alleviate the problem of a lacking archive. However, as the impassioned cries for justice on many of the songs on the album make clear, much work remains to be done for Afro-Indigenous identities to be recognized and for justice to be served.
"For his final paper for my grad course, "Assembling the Afro-Metis Syllabus: Some Preliminary Reading," Mr. Guillaume Laliberte, a Montreal-area grad student, decided to focus on Constitution (2019) as an example of folks awakening to a (new) racial identity. Although I did not include the record as an actual part of the course, I did list it as "recommended." Well, Mr. Laliberte surprised me by focussing part of his paper on the first Afro-Metis CD. I am very happy to share (with permission) Mr. Laliberte paper below." - George Elliott Clarke
Guillaume Laliberté
Professor George Eliot Clarke
ENG 5080
April 16, 2024
Developing Afro-Indigenous Racial Identity
Much research and academic work has been done in an attempt to properly understand how racial identity is formed and what shape it might take. In the United States, that work has tended to focus on African American identity while many Indigenous scholars from around the world have taken up the task to write about their own construction of racial identity. Much of this very important work, however, has had a fairly major gap in its scope as scholars tend not to view racial identity through a composite lens. This leaves some identities, those who straddle racial lines, largely unexplored and in serious want of recognition and scholarly work to preserve their archives and restore history. One such identity, the one under study in this essay, lies at the intersection of African American and Indigenous identities in North America. While this identity has many names like African-Native American, Red Black Indian, or, for some, Afro-Métis, this essay will generally refer to this racial identity as Afro-Indigenous as it seems to be the most generic and inclusive term.
In order to determine what Afro-Indigenous racial identity might be, I want to look at a specific work that seems to serve as a sort of rallying cry for Afro-Indigenous people: the musical album Constitution by the Afro-Métis Nation. While the album focuses specifically on the experience of the Afro-Métis population of Canada, the principles it espouses and the social role it fulfills can easily be extrapolated and extended to reflect on Afro-Indigenous identity as a whole. Through examining Constitution, theoretical works that deal with racialized identities, and a personal testimony from an Afro-Indigenous individual, I want to examine what Afro-Indigenous identity is in relation to African American and Indigenous identities and how and why individuals come to embrace Afro-Indigenous identity.
Racial Identity Development and Race
Before we directly engage with Constitution, it is important to properly establish what racial identity development is, and why it matters or should matter to Afro-Indigenous people. In describing some of the key features of racial identity development, Geneva Gay identifies that “Positive ethnic identification for most American racial minorities does not happen automatically; nor does it happen for all individuals” (49) which necessarily positions racial understanding and identification on a spectrum, especially so when considering how identification with two simultaneous racial groups might severely compound the issue. Furthermore, Gay further argues that the process of racial identity development functions much like a psychological rebirth: “Part of this rebirth is the replacement of feelings of ethnic shame and denigration with self-ethnic pride and acceptance” (49). From this, we can understand that racial identity development is about more than simply being a particular ethnicity or race, but rather a more comprehensive and holistic view of how race and identity intersect with a particular society or environment.
Another key element of racial identity development is the awakening because “Seeing one’s racial-cultural predicament in a new light and forging a new and different understanding of “what is possible” is central to the current study of racial-cultural awareness” (Neville 103). The awakening or epiphany, in the context of racial identity, is the point where an individual must reckon with the social constructions and challenges inherent to most racialized identities. The idea of racial identity owes a lot to Frantz Fanon and in Fanon we see one of the most striking examples of an awakening when a little French girl repeatedly calls him a racial slur and he is forced to face his blackness:
I was responsible not only for my body but also for my race and my ancestors. I cast an objective gaze over myself, discovered my blackness, my ethnic features; deafened by cannibalism, backwardness, fetishism, Racial stigmas, slave traders, and above all, yes, above all, the grinning Y a bon Banania (Fanon 92)
In this passage lies one of the great conflicts of Black Skin, White Masks, the opposition between the European or white construction of blackness and Fanon’s own conception of his and his compatriot’s blackness. The words of the little girl forcing Fanon to “cast an objective gaze” over himself is a striking image as it positions the insults Fanon receives as the key moment where he becomes aware of the profound implications of racial alterity. Paradoxically, the dehumanizing experience he suffers is what allows Fanon to reconstruct his humanity free from the racialized shackles of European expectations and racial identities. What is also interesting is that Fanon also becomes aware of his history, of “his ancestors”, “fetishism”, and “slave traders”. Fanon thus awakens not only to his own condition but also to the historical conditions that have led him and people like him where they are. This positions racial awakenings as having social, historical, and political dimensions as well as personal and psychological ones.
To expand further on the political dimensions of racial identity, Glen Sean Coulthard writes at length about how Indigenous identity can be constructed in a settler colonial state. This introduces issues of sovereignty and nationhood to the racial identity question that are largely absent when engaging with African American racial identity. Coulthard expands on Fanon and integrates his thinking into a practical Indigenous framework. For example, Coulthard explains that one of the key problems of recognition politics in Indigenous identities is that it alters the “subject positions of Indigenous people and communities over time” (77). Coulthard further argues that land claims have shifted Indigenous perspectives from “being informed by the land in a system of reciprocal relations and obligations” to being “increasingly for land, understood now as material resource” (78). Coulthard’s argument here is a complex one as Indigenous identities were traditionally tied to the land to some degree or another. This makes dispossession and settler colonialism particularly hurtful but makes for a difficult problem. If land is tied with identity, how then is identity understood if the very meaning of land changes as it becomes capital under settler colonialism? Through Coulthard, we can thus see that some of the issues pertaining to identity are tied up in larger social and political frameworks that make it difficult to parse how identity changes across social and ethnic groups. This also introduces the idea that racial identity development might not be static and that the meaning of identity might change over time. As such, Indigenous identity as it was a century ago might look vastly different from what it is today. In understanding Afro-Indigenous racial identity, it is thus highly important to also look at the material conditions that form identity, or that exist in tension with it.
When comparing Coulthard and Fanon we can also see one of the first rifts between black and Indigenous racial identities that make Afro-Indigeneity such a complex issue. Fanon wrote of black identity at large while Coulthard was specifically focused on Northern Canadian Indigenous nations. While both groups find commonality in the politics of recognition outlined in Fanon and Coulthard, the material reality of African Americans and Indigenous people is very different. As such, keeping in mind how deeply material conditions affect racial identity, if both racial groups develop their racial identity in different ways with different aims, what happens with Afro-Indigenous racial identity development? A key issue in this discussion and a potential solution is that Afro-Indigenous people not only identify as members of both black and Indigenous communities or identities but also as members of a separate, composite dual identity. It is important to recognize that Afro-Indigeneity is not merely people identifying as black and Indigenous but rather as a separate identity that encompasses both but is more than the sum of its parts. Indeed, Afro-Indigenous people have a distinct shared history and occupy a particular place in discourse about racial identity and belonging. As such, this specific racial identity, the material conditions informing its development, and the outcomes of such an identity need to be understood on their own terms. Many of Fanon’s theoretical concepts will, however, be useful as they expand beyond the mere scope of black identity and apply to many more racial identities.
Racial Identity and Afro-Indigeneity
Now that I have laid out some of the core characteristics of racial identity that are relevant here and examined some of the issues that arise when mixed-race identities are in question, I want to look at a personal account of an Afro-Indigenous person. The lack of documentation regarding Afro-Indigenous stories and histories means that in order to form a better understanding of Afro-Indigeneity we must look at personal narratives and accounts. One of the most striking accounts of an Afro-Indigenous person is Dorothy Mills-Proctor’s Born Again Indian. Mills-Proctor describes herself as a “light-skinned Black Indian woman” (55), but she did not always identify with that label. Indeed, Mills-Proctor’s narrative details how she came to recognize and embrace her Indigenous heritage fairly late in her life. Mills-Proctor relates that when she was in “Indian country” (63) she was first asked “what band [she] belonged to” (63). This eventually led to Mills-Proctor passing for Indigenous as there was “an automatic assumption that [she] was Indian and [she] grew weary of trying to convince people otherwise” (66). The prolonged contact and proximity with Indigenous communities came to an interesting conclusion for Mills-Proctor when she experienced visions from her childhood and remembered “forgotten moments sitting on the lap of [her] full blooded Mi’kmaq great aunt, Annie” (68) which, ironically, confirmed that she was indeed Indigenous and not merely pretending. Dorothy Mills-Proctor’s journey to awakening her Indigenous racial identity is interesting because, in almost all respects, it conforms to the elements of racial identity development I outlined earlier.
One of the more telling moments is when Mills-Proctor writes: “No longer did I, or do I feel disgust whenever I see a drunken India, I can only feel intense sadness and yes anger. My tears are prayers for my people and all Indigenous people” (70). This passage in particular indicates the shift in racial consciousness that occurred once Mills-Proctor realized she was Indigenous. More than a mere shift from an out-group to an in-group, her realization that she was Indigenous forced her to confront her personal history, as well as the whole history of Indigenous people in the Americas. In particular, Mills-Proctor’s notion of “Blood Memory” (74) that occurs following the awakening of her racial identity reinforces the idea that her awakening was on the scale of a whole population rather than an individual; she awakened to a collective identity that goes back many millennia in history.
Following her grand experience of awakening and new-found social and racial consciousness, Mills-Proctor goes on to describe how her life changed after she embraced her Indigenous heritage in interesting terms: “That experience was my anointing and that’s when I became a Born-Again Indian. In the past twenty some years I’ve been the proud caretaker of many eagle feathers. When I see someone else needs power – like a youth or a sick person, I pass the feather on to them” (86). The idea of Mills-Proctor becoming a “Born-Again Indian” following an “anointment” is interesting as it employs a very strong Christian vocabulary. This seems to elevate the experience of racial identity development to a quasi-religious experience; the racial awakening becomes more akin to an epiphany. Furthermore, the part about the eagle feathers is highly important as it is one of the most striking examples of not only community building but also racial education. Much like receiving an eagle feather was an awakening and affirming experience for Dorothy Mills-Proctor and her Indigenous identity, her doing the same will, potentially, produce that same effect in someone else. That Mills-Proctor is doing this kind of work is very important because, as Hilary Weaver notes with regards to Indigenous identities: “A person must be integrated into a society, not simply stand alone as an individual, in order to be fully human. Additionally, identity can only be confirmed by others who share that identity” (Weaver 245). As such, Mills-Proctor seems to be taking on the work of a guide or counsellor to Indigenous or Afro-Indigenous people who may be struggling with how to properly affirm their identity.
An important factor in Mills-Proctor’s experience of racial identity awakening is that she was guided in the process by being at the heart of an indigenous community. That it took her until late in life and being identified as Indigenous for a prolonged period of time to realize she was indeed Indigenous clearly shows the importance of an individual’s environment and material conditions in their racial identity awakening. However, not every Afro-Indigenous individual has access to the kind of environment that facilitated Mills-Proctor’s awakening, nor will every experience be as pleasant and fulfilling as hers. This potential lack of access to and awareness of Afro-Indigenous identity and history is where Constitution comes to bridge the gap in a very important cultural intervention.
Constitution and Racial Identity Development
As I discussed earlier, the abandoning of pre-racial thinking and the association of race with positive identifications does not and cannot happen without a trigger of some kind. Following this awakening event, however, the Afro-Indigenous individual must attempt to reconstruct the ethnocentric parts of their identity. However, what happens when there is nowhere to turn to, no guide to show the way ahead? The lack of documentation, research, information, and positive and radical racial representation of Afro-Indigenous individuals means that the post-awakening stages of racial identity development are much more difficult to accomplish. In that sense, then, there needs to be a solid body of literature and media for Afro-Indigenous individuals to construct a community even when space and time pose an issue. It is here that Constitution offers its most important intervention in the Afro-Indigenous and Afro-Metis canon. As I argue, Constitution not only provides the political and racial education that allows for a dual, or second, awakening event to occur, but it also provides hope and positive racial material to allow for a smooth post-awakening process.
Before engaging with the text of the songs themselves I want to look at the presentation of the album as I believe it to be highly important. First and foremost, the name of the group “The Afro-Métis Nation” is relevant because it evokes a sense of sovereignty and unity that lies at the center of the community-centered exercise the album is engaging in. It positions the Afro-Métis identity as being about more than the individual, but a whole community. Then comes the album title Constitution which follows the general theme or mission statement that seems to be outlined in the name of the group. However, Constitution holds another important meaning in the Canadian context as it positions itself in direct opposition to the Canadian constitution that has done so little for Métis people: “[Métis] have received the least attention from non-Aboriginal governments to date in constitutional efforts, Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) recommendations, and especially in tangible efforts to reach agreements on self-government” (Groves 261). We can thus understand the title as an attempt to remediate the lack of attention given to Métis, and by extension most Afro-Métis and Afro-Indigenous groups, by the government of Canada. If the federal government is unable, or unwilling, to properly define the rights, sovereignty and nationhood of the Afro-Métis people of Canada, then someone else has to do it instead. From the title alone we can then see that the album is, at least in part, a serious attempt to be an important document that enshrines the rights, sovereignty and culture of the Afro-Métis people. Furthermore, the historic image of Afro-Métis people that serves as the cover of the album, reinforces the notion of constitution and nationhood as it adds an element of temporality to the concept of Afro-Indigeneity. For better or worse, notions of race and identity tend to be predicated on claims of authenticity and seem to be worth more socially the older they are, the farther back a lineage can be traced. As such, the photographic proof that Afro-Indigeneity has a long and storied history is important to the claims of its existence and its right to sovereignty and identity.
The first song I want to look at on the album is fittingly enough the first song of the album: Skin. The choice of which song is first on an album is important as it sets the tone and expectations for the whole project, being the first thing most listeners will hear. In this case, Skin begins the album with a pretty explicit racial theme. The first two lines of the song “That baby’s too dark - to pass for our kin / Too dark - see the colour of that skin” are highly reminiscent of Fanon’s conception of racial recognition but with an interesting twist. Indeed, whereas Fanon was discussing the recognition of blackness in a colonial system, that is a system that opposed white and black racial identities, Skin seems to offer a different way in which recognition might happen. The line “too dark – to pass for our kin” seems to indicate that the song is not just operating within a white-black dichotomy, but that different shades of blackness and racialized identities are also in tension with one another. If we understand this within the context of Afro-Métis or Afro-Indigenous racial identity, the song seems to suggest that the recognition of the child’s blackness precludes any recognition of Indigeneity, the child is simply “too dark”. The word “pass” is also important here as it indicates that the child is indeed Afro-Métis, but that the perception of race supersedes the reality of racial identity and ancestry. It matters not if a child is both black and Indigenous, if one phenotype or another is too strong, they will fail to be recognized. The lines align disturbingly well with Fanon when he argues, “at the first white gaze, [the black man] feels the weight of his melanin” (128), with the only exception that the child is not made to feel a white gaze, but an Indigenous or black gaze. Skin thus articulates how skin and the perception of race affect belonging and racial identity, even amongst mixed-raced and Afro-Indigenous people.
Skin also asks an important question about the core of Afro-Indigeneity in relation to black and Indigenous communities. The chant “where does he fit it? Where does he fit in? Where does he fit in? With his color of skin” is a common refrain in stories of mixed-race people being unable to fit in both racial groups they should be a part of. The song thus presents one of the core problems of Afro-Indigeneity within the current racial paradigm: Afro-Indigenous people are too black to be considered Indigenous which suppresses that part of their identity and leaves them looking for a way to live authentically as both black and Indigenous. In terms of racial identity development then, we might be able to understand that Afro-Indigenous people will typically first identify as black, since the colour of their skin will be subjected to the colonial recognition of blackness that Fanon identifies. Then, as Skin so aptly exemplifies, an initial rejection from Indigenous identity will follow, once again on the grounds of Afro-Indigenous people’s skin colour, which leaves Afro-Indigenous people looking for the place where they belong, their most authentic racial identity. We can thus understand that the denial of Indigeneity might be, for many Afro-Indigenous people, the moment they awaken to the necessity to form a racial identity and community that is neither solely black nor Indigenous.
Following the awakening moment of Skin, the third song on the album, More of this Land seems to represent the development of an ethnocentric consciousness, of sovereignty, and an affirmation of the right to self-identify with a particular racial identity. The opening line of the song “I am more of this land than you”, which also serves as somewhat of a refrain throughout the song, presents an interesting claim to land and Indigeneity. Firstly, the phrasing of “of this land” indicates a non-capitalist relationship with the land as it acknowledges that the speaker is born from the land rather than its owner. This point of view immediately positions the speaker within a discourse of indigeneity, something which the speaker seems to claim. Furthermore, this first line introduces an addressee, a “you” that remains unnamed and mostly uncharacterized except for the line “Say I ain’t here” from which we can gather the opposition that is staged in the song. The addressee seems to be invalidating the claims of belonging and indigeneity of the speaker, potentially even wholly invalidating their presence. The speaker’s claims of belonging to the land in the song can be understood as a form of pushback against the invalidation of identity. In that sense, the more the Afro-Métis and Afro-Indigenous identities are dismissed, the stronger their self-identification and sense of racial identity becomes.
What really ties the song together and most impresses the strong Indigenous identity of the speaker unto the reader, however, is the line “I have a crown, jewels of black red & brown”. The colour of the jewels in particular, “black red & brown” is important as they symbolize the different ethnicities that make up Afro-Indigenous identity. Black and red are often used to describe or identify black and Indigenous respectively, with brown often being used in a more general sense to refer to many racialized groups. Typically, the crown jewels refer only to the most important and precious things so to have markers of racial identity be the said crown jewels indicates the central place of racial identity in the speaker’s life. Furthermore, the equal importance that is placed on each colour, none of them being more emphasized than the other, speaks to the lack of racial hierarchy in the construction of Afro-Indigenous identity. Mixed-race individuals often identify with one ethnicity in particular, usually the one with the most pronounced phenotypes, but that does not seem to be the case here. This departure once again speaks to the particular nature of Afro-Indigenous identity as unifying black and Indigenous identities and not simply juxtaposing or subordinating them. As a metaphor, then, the crown jewels equally elevate all aspects of Afro-Indigenous and Afro-Métis.
The exclusion from Indigenous communities and identities that is presented in some of the songs I have analyzed has a nefarious effect beyond the initial rejection of identity, the loss of history. In order to properly discuss this, I want to look at the songs Bannock and Beans and It’s a Wonder side by side. In It’s a Wonder, the speaker is amazed to have made it this far, despite the historic hurdle standing in the way of him and his people. The first of those hurdles and challenges that the speaker introduces is his lack of knowledge about his past: “There are people in my bloodline / I don’t know a thing about / Don’t know their names, don’t know their stories”. The plain language of these first few lines does a lot to convey the banal devastation of a forgotten history. The tragedy on display here is a quiet one, with no bloodshed or tears but simply the emptiness of a buried past. For many racialized groups, an understanding of the past and how they got to where they are now is a crucial part of their identity. As such, not knowing the past is the same as having pieces of your identity missing. As the song eloquently puts it in the lines “this is what my people did / So I could walk this land”, the struggles of the ancestors are a necessary precondition for existence today. As such, to forget those struggles, that history is to forget where and why Afro-Indigenous people can thrive today.
The song Bannock and Beans provides an interesting counterpoint to the lost histories and stories of It’s a Wonder as it fills out some of the gaps, some of what has been lost due to the lack of an Afro-Indigenous archive. The premise of Bannock and Beans is exceedingly simple: it is a song about bannock and beans, a common Indigenous dish. What makes the song special, however, are the lines “Bannock and beans, that’s what my kukum made for me” and “It’s so good, I’m just teaching you a little history” as they reveal a crucial socio-historical dimension to the song. Indeed, while the song is unambiguously a celebration of a staple of Indigenous cuisine, it also attempts to connect it to Afro-Indigenous history and share this history with Afro-Indigenous people who might be unaware of what bannock is or its significance. The song thus bridges one of these potential knowledge gaps. The line “Bannock and beans, that’s what my kukum made for me” is crucial to this endeavour as it positions the speaker as a cultural insider. By using the word Kukum, grandmother in Cree, the speaker positions themselves within Indigenous culture and language. Furthermore, that it is a grandmother who prepared the meal indicates a long and personal familial history with the cultural meal. This recenters Afro-Indigenous identity as being authentic and true to the Indigenous parts of their heritage as they share key cultural elements. From this position of authority within Indigenous culture, the speaker then says “It’s so good, I’m just teaching you a little history” after defining what bannock is to the listener. This line serves to introduce the Afro-Indigenous listeners to Indigenous culture and, with the speaker as a teacher, enables them to learn and connect with parts of their racial identity and history they might not be aware of. As such, Bannock and Beans is an answer of sorts to It’s a Wonder as it shows how it might be possible for Afro-Indigenous racial identity to thrive and develop.
Following from the search and desire for Afro-Indigenous history in Bannock and Beans and It’s a Wonder, For the Murdered and the Missing is a very important song in the context of racial identity development. The song’s search for answers and justice in response to murdered and missing Indigenous women exhibits strong signs of the post-awakening development of a strong racial consciousness and solidarity. If the construction of Afro-Indigenous racial identity in Constitution were to be solely focused on personal identity and issues, the argument I am making about the role of the album as a guide in the process of racial identity development would be much weaker. The outrage and anger expressed in the song are crucial to the conception of racial identity as it indicates a larger awakening of consciousness, one that is focused on community and solidarity, what is generally referred to as the “Internalization-Commitment” (Neville 102) stage, the final stage, of racial identity development. Textually, the anger and cries for justice exhibited in the song are most clear in the lines “Someone’s flag looks like blood on snow! Someone’s History’s a / damn crime show! To hurt my daughter so she weep”. The reference to the flag seems to be directly implicating the Canadian government in the heinous crimes committed against Indigenous women. The “blood on snow” points to the colours of the Canadian flag but inverts and negates the flag’s meaning as a symbol of national pride to shame the inaction of the government. In that sense, then, the song serves as a rallying cry or a call to action of sorts for Indigenous and Afro-Indigenous to demand justice and reparations from the federal government. The repeated call for “Justice for our massacred” at the end of the poem speaks volumes about the shared trauma caused by the violence against Indigenous women. The use of the possessive “our” is also indicative of a real solidarity and sense of community that is, through the medium of music, transmitted and impressed upon the listener.
Conclusion
If an Afro-Indigenous listener who is only more or less conscious of his racial identity were to listen to this album, all of the crucial steps of racial awakening would be present, and a great deal of collective history, as much as can fit on an hour-long album, would be shared with them. As far as Afro-Indigenous and Afro-Métis racial identity are concerned, Constitution functions in two distinct and equally important ways: first as a model for other Afro-Indigenous people, and second as an archive of sorts.
The album’s role as a guide is deeply related to the awakening of an Afro-Métis or Afro-Indigenous identity as it provides the social, historical, and racial consciousness to facilitate racial identity development. While the album is an interesting listen for everyone owing to its musical styles, the lyrics and subject matter are particularly relevant to people who either already identify as Afro-Indigenous or are questioning whether or not this racial identity is applicable to them. To those two core audiences, then, Constitution provides crucial information to help Afro-Indigenous people around the continent know who they are, and that there are other people like them with whom they can form a community. By discussing how Afro-Indigenous racial identity differs from black or Indigenous identity and some of the core problems that face Afro-Indigenous people, Constitution is able to play a key role in helping people realize what being Afro-Indigenous means, and how they can effectively mobilize to help each other. Constitution thus provides a great example and a blueprint to guide other Afro-Indigenous and Afro-Métis people along the path to a healthy and fulfilling racial identity development.
The other important role of Constitution is as an archive of Afro-Métis material and history. One of the lesser-known results of Afro-Métis identity having been sidelined, both by the government and other Indigenous groups, is that there have been fewer efforts overall to create an archive of Afro-Métis literature and historical material. Without that archive, it has been much harder for Afro-Métis people to reconstruct their past and build an accurate or complete version of their past. Since identity is so tied in with the past, this lack of an archive has made it exponentially harder for Afro-Métis people to develop a racial identity that reaches back into history. Constitution’s focused effort on restoring many facets of Afro-Métis history that would otherwise be difficult to access thus helps to alleviate the problem of a lacking archive. However, as the impassioned cries for justice on many of the songs on the album make clear, much work remains to be done for Afro-Indigenous identities to be recognized and for justice to be served.
