Language and Cultural Revitalization

Part of the violence of colonization has been enacted through the erasure or silencing of languages. This erasure is woven into colonial maps that are typically in the language of the colonizer (often English or Spanish, in the above case of New Mexico). Many modern maps feature place names that have been poorly translated or entirely re-named as yet another means of eclipsing knowledge. In one of this module’s readings about the Zuni Map Art Project, Chelsea Steinauer-Scudder (2018) writes:

For thousands of years, the names of places were interwoven with experiences and stories of the landscape. Increasingly, younger generations do not know the original names of—nor the original connection to—culturally significant places. Instead, they see maps that assert reservation borders, intersected by Indian Service roads and military outposts.

For the Zuni, who have been forced to work within colonial language systems on maps and other governing texts, hearing and sharing stories of place told in their language is a crucial force of cultural revitalization and orientation with homelands. The mapping project draws on archival materials while also actively archiving and preserving ancestral language for the community. In doing so, it mobilizes the knowledge that comes from the language and the land, which are understood as interconnected.

Another frequently-cited example of a language revitalization and place re-naming project, is Ogimaa Mikana, an Anishinaabe-led project that is described by artists as:

an effort to restore Anishinaabemowin place-names to the streets, avenues, roads, paths, and trails of Gichi Kiiwenging (Toronto) – transforming a landscape that often obscures or makes invisible the presence of Indigenous peoples. Starting with a small section of Queen St., re-naming it Ogimaa Mikana (Leader’s Trail) in tribute to all the strong women leaders of the Idle No More movement, the project hopes to expand throughout downtown and beyond.

Hunt and Stevenson (2017) highlight the Ogimaa Mikanaproject in their article on Indigenous counter-mapping practices on Turtle Island (Turtle Island is an Indigenous name for the land known as North America; note how the naming of the land changes the meanings attached). They explain how renaming street posts creates a new relationship with the land and its history, which are often overlooked in the busy urban setting of Toronto:

The labelling of settler street-posts with Indigenous names and phrases contests the organizing logic (or, perhaps more specifically, the organizing language) of city grids by introducing another language, one which has more historical purchase to the landscape. (14)

As evidenced above, the artists behind the Ogimaa Mikana collective made their work accessible – and especially more visible – at local levels through the use of street signs and billboards to spark community interest about place names in Anishinaabemowin (in addition to Toronto, they did indeed expand their interventions to other cities like Thunder Bay and North Bay, for example). The collective made the project accessible in other ways through the use of social media pages (Tumblr and Facebook), which created a digital archive of photographs and invited alternative forms of interaction from local to global scales. As Hunt and Stevenson point out, the Ogimaa Mikanaproject is a form of activism that combines multiple ways of “making sense” of (and through) place, from street-level walking to virtual action.

Of course, there are many other examples of language revitalization through counter-mapping and place re-naming. We encourage you to explore these on your own time, considering how each is unique to a particular place or community, yet also highlights connections across projects.