Raising Indigenous Kids in the Age of Pretendians | The Walrus

"The sun was murky and orange as forest fire smoke obscured it. The acrid smell that makes the back of your throat feel raw is a summer familiarity now. In the fairgrounds, the bright lights were flashing, the teddy bears were puffy, the popcorn and the Doukhobor bread were bursting out of their confines, and the majority of the thousands of kids-screaming in exhilaration from way above our heads, their hair flying around;"

"As we stood in line ourselves, we could hear Cree- and Dene-inflected banter about the number of hours everyone had driven to get to Saskatoon just for the night of entertainment; aunties throwing their heads back in big-mouthed laughter; young parents with carefully braided hair, pushing their candy-floss-tangled toddlers in strollers; couples in summery outfits hurriedly crossing the street from the hotels close to the fairgrounds; and acne-faced teenagers delightedly checking each other out and holding hands-everyone, by far, visibly Indigenous."

A summer visit to a Saskatoon fairground occurred under a murky orange sun from wildfire smoke and an acrid, throat-raw smell common in summer. Bright lights, flashing rides, popcorn and Doukhobor bread created a lively atmosphere. Thousands of children—predominantly Indigenous, brown-skinned and dark-haired—filled the grounds, laughing, screaming on rides, and waiting in line. Cree- and Dene-inflected banter and aunties' loud laughter punctuated the scene. Young parents pushed candy-floss-tangled toddlers in strollers; teenagers checked each other out and held hands. The crowd resembled other Indigenous-majority spaces such as powwows, Arctic assemblies, or communities in Mexico and Greenland.

Read at The Walrus