How To Practice Spirituality Without Cultural Appropriation | STEP 1 | Arrete, Acknowledge, Apologise, Ally

The conversation we’re about to have was spawned from my own ignorance. I had contacted Vanessa to be part of a shoot I was doing on ‘How To Make Your House More Hygge, Sustainably‘ for my blog. I had asked to borrow a bowl she had made in collaboration with another local female entrepreneur to display ‘my palo santo’. She had responded quickly, kindly, and constructively, saying I was welcome to use the bowls, but with her mystic kindling to replace the sacred palo santo wood (her mystic kindling is produced with locally harvested birch she and her husband cut, sand, and season). 

She sips her coffee and begins gently, “I just feel like white woman are a lot of the problem, in that they think they can start these spiritual businesses but then they don’t realize that they are appropriating or causing hurt, because they are coming from a place of trying to help”. She sighs softly and takes another sip of coffee, I can see she still holds a sense of guilt which has not yet passed, “but even if you come from that place, that positive place, you can still be wrong. That’s what my lesson was, even though I felt I was trying to contribute in this positive way, I was contributing negatively and encouraging negativity simultaneously”.

Vanessa had been selling Palo Santo (and White Sage) online, just like me. I fell in love with it on Willie Nelson’s ranch during SXSW when I discovered it being sold in bundles by Imogene and Willie (they’re still selling it) at the beginning of my journey into greener living. After finding out it is harvested sustainably, I ordered a bundle from a middle man with certifications assuring me it was also produced ethically. But it didn’t dawn on me, until Vanessa wrote to me, that I was appropriating so ignorantly. 

Palo Santo grows on the coast of South America and has been used by the Incas and indigenous people of the Andes for centuries for energy cleansing and healing. It is often used by shamans in sacred plant spirit ceremonies such as Ayahuasca (another thing we whites appropriated). The wood comes from naturally fallen tree branches which lie on the forest floor for 4-10 years before they are wild-harvested, local Indigenous communities since the dawn of time, have only taken what they need for ceremony. But just like anything else which gets heavily commodified by white culture, it is now overharvested and has made its way on to the IUCN Redlist of endangered species, reducing local Indigenous tribe. It is also upsetting their biosphere since fallen branches are now not left to decay and return nutrients to the earth the biodiversity of the soil is diminished, threatening the health of the forest and all living things which rely on it. 

After Vanessa and I spoke, I stop selling Palo Santo immediately. I took it offline, gifted the rest of the stock I had to friends, and donated the few profits I made to a not-for-profit restoration project working to regenerate the tree. As a carrier of this knowledge, I try to educate others who sell or buy Palo Santo, assuming, that with a similar tie to the positives of spirituality that I hold, others will also want to edit their practices to reflect the reverence and respect these plants and their people deserve.

This was not; however, the first mistake I’d made. I had started my Indigenous allyship early, entirely by accident, by accompanying my mother, along with my sisters, to the various activist groups she was a part of in protection of Indigenous rights in what we now call Canada. At some point, someone taught me how to make a dreamcatcher, and the crafty tv-less child I was relished in the meditative skill I’d been gifted. I didn’t understand at that point what I was doing was wrong, this was the early 90s, long before Indigenous arts had been deemed ‘cool’ by the likes of Free People, Urban Outfitters, Anthropologie, Coachella, Burning Man, and so on. Appropriation had not yet become a widespread problem.

I made a dreamcatcher for each of my 14 Jesus-loving cousins, my two brothers, my two sisters, my dad and my grandmothers. Then I made 20 more for a craft fair, where I sold them alongside femo nativity scenes.

Sitting in at my little pop-up table with my random display of creations, a Cree woman who had known me since I was a baby, came up to the table. “Holly”, she said gently, “your dreamcatchers are beautiful, but you should not be selling them”. I was embarrassed, I had been a fan of hers for as long as I could remember and thought of her as a Hollywood star. She would later be my inspiration for beginning a brief career in acting myself. “Why?” I asked, probably feeling the first sweep of anxiety my short life had yet offered me. “You’re not Native”, she said, “the crafts of my people should be profited from by my people, not yours”. I apologized and she helped me take them down from my stall and package them up. “You have to give them away”, she said, and I did. On my way home dropped each piece off at the houses of the various children I babysat at the time, whose parents had afforded me the money to buy the materials they were made from. Though I felt guilty for not knowing better, I felt empowered by my ability to let go.

I grew up with Indigenous people in Manitoba, an Ojibwe midwife brought both my sisters into this world, one of my sisters has a Dakota name, ‘Leotie’, meaning prairie flower, given to her in honour of the ancestors of those whose land we were born on. I was educated on the beliefs of the Indigenous people who I grew up around, I had/have Indigenous friends, attended Indigenous spiritual ceremonies, read books by Indigenous writers, learned Indigenous crafts, and went to so many powwows I can’t hear the beat of a prayer drum without my heart leaping in elation. But I have not, nor should I ever, have the right to profit from these experiences, no matter how much I cherish them. That’s the thing about sharing, it becomes theft when you take what’s offered and repurpose it as your own. 

Fast forward to a few months ago, and I’m at home in Paris on a Saturday night reading Archipelago of Hope (which is about how Indigenous people hold the wisdom to reversing climate breakdown). A friend sends me a post by another Winnipeg based ‘Influencer’ named ‘Kiera Fogg‘ who runs a shop called Little Box Of Rocks Shop selling crystals, healing stones, white sage bundles, and palo santo.

She’s posted a smiling picture of herself, likely taken in a studio created in the spare bedroom of her suburban home. She’s about as white-passing as they come, bleach blonde with teeth to match, wearing a light blue button-up and standing over a confusing array of flowers, cacti, rose quartz, and palo santo. 

The caption exuberantly expresses that the ‘labor of love’, a book she wrote on ‘Smudging Rituals’ has been sent to print. She describes the contents as “30 of [her] absolute favourite aromatic combinations for herbal cleansing wands, mists and even bath bombs! [which she] can’t wait to fiiiiiinally share”.

Now, as most of us know, white sage has been a medicinal and spiritual part to the many Indigenous cultures since time immemorial.  Smudging, like all rituals built through thousands of years of spiritual practice, has been passed down through the generations throughout the various Indigenous tribes of Turtle Island (North America). The sacred medicinal qualities the plant offers are reinforced by the act of the ceremony, it’s not something you can achieve with “bath bombs and mists” as Kiera suggests.

In addition, the plant has become a point of concern for conservationists because over-harvesting of the species for commercial gain has begun to negatively affect wild populations. In June 2018, four people were arrested for the illegal harvest of 400 pounds of white sage on a Californian nature reserve where the plant was already officially endangered. 

In the 58 comments below Kiera‘s book announcement, I see a comment from a Cree woman I know, Nicole (the creator of Cree Ryan). It indicates that information about the issues with white people profiting from smudging had already been shared with Kiera, this isn’t ‘new news’ to her.

“This is a conversation that I’ve had with you / your team via @littleboxofrocksshop in the past”, Nicole writes, ” It’s disheartening to see that despite the information that I (and others) have provided you, you’ve chosen not to alter or correct your course”.

Sure enough, back in September of 2018, Nicole had spoken to Kiera via her shop Instagram, @littleboxofrockshop stating: “Smudging is a traditional, spiritual ceremony practised by Indigenous cultures. As an Indigenous woman, it’s important for me to inform you that using the word ‘smudge’ contributes to cultural appropriation. I trust that you’ll take action to research this further from an Indigenous perspective — the perspective in which the practice of smudging originates — and adjust accordingly. I realize that this is becoming a trend in modern spirituality, but it’s important for leaders like you to be engaging in this conversation as opposed to contributing to the problem”. 

At the time, @littleboxofrocks shops replied: “@creeryan Thank you for bringing our attention to this issue. This was of course not our intention and we apologize for the mistake. We are doing our research and will be making adjustments to the way we portray the products!”.

Then it gets worse. A former creative communications student leaves a comment on the post: “I recall you saying that you don’t believe in the crystals you sell. I presume you don’t believe in smudging either. Kindly explain how this is not appropriation of Indigenous culture”, another former creative communications student chimes in, “When [Kiera] spoke to our class she admitted not knowing much about smudging but said she was going to write the book”.

Not only does Kiera‘s not want to learn, she choosing not to listen, and to make matters even murkier, she genuinely doesn’t know, or seem care, about what she’s selling.

We learn when we’re quite young that taking things without asking isn’t kind. Just because we want something, or enjoy it, doesn’t mean we have the right to snatch it like a gleeful gander of Golems to covet as our own.

Our behaviour in terms of appropriation of culture is similar to our behaviour towards the planet, we (mostly white people) take what we want (mostly from marginalized communities), hoard it, abuse it, sell it for a profit, and then act surprised when the results of our actions are negative. At best, we retract, apologize, and change. At worst, we become defensive and divisive, turning a blind eye to the problem and continuing the abuse. 

I was astounded, after creating some stories on my Instagram page in response to Kiera Fogg‘s smudging book debacle, how many white women wrote me in defence of their practices. I was offered various ignorant antidotes like: “would Indigenous people like to not use the methods of building houses and modern education because ‘white people’ invented them?” … The Turks invented houses, actually, and modern education was yet another gift from the Egyptians. Just more proof our white-centric history swings to the side of ignorance too often.

Others insisted that Indigenous groups should “compromise”, or asked me why we should “punish ourselves for what our ancestors have done”. I was even more surprised that most of these women spouting racist rhetoric my way, were women participating in ethical fashion promotion, a movement rooted in ensuring the rights of marginalized people are considered.

To understand why you can’t take what you want from Indigenous people, and why we should consider what our ancestors have done, you have to understand the history of colonization in the Americas. It is complex but horrific, and if you’re not familiar with it, then it is time you get to know it.

White people massacred indigenous people all over the world, in Canada, what surpassed is now considered genocide (the atrocities were repeated throughout South, Central and North America, as well as Australia and New Zealand).

Canada’s first prime minister, Sir John A. MacDonald made it policy to starve First Nations people to death, he criminalized powwows, Potlatch, and all religious practices and restricted First Nations from leaving their reservation without permission from their Indian agent while he continued to steal land from under their feet.

From the 1880s until 1996, the Canadian government kidnapped 150,000 Indigenous children, some as young as 4-years-old, from their parents and placed them in residential school systems in a bid to aggressively assimilate them. These church-run schools forcibly and often violently stripped children of their language, culture, identity, spirituality, parents, community, and siblings. Throughout their years of forced Euro-Canadian and Catholic education, students lived in substandard conditions and endured physical, emotional, spiritual, psychological and oftentimes, sexual abuse, for the entirety of their childhood and teen years.

The lasting cultural impact on Indigenous communities has been, unsurprisingly, extensive, widespread, and heartbreaking. Wreaking havoc on the mind, body and soul of multiple generations. It has not come to an end either, recently, the coerced and forced sterilization of Indigenous Women (and men) in Canada and the U.S was uncovered, with minimal coverage from the media.

In Canada, Indigenous people did not have the right to vote until 1960, 44 years after women were given that right to vote in the same country. Indigenous people were also not allowed to practice dances and ceremonies again until 1951 in Canada, while in America, Indigenous religious practices were outlawed until 1978. Just to give you some perspective on recent this is, my husband was born the same year, and the publisher of Kiera Fogg‘s ‘smudging book’ mentioned above, Llewellyn Books, has been publishing books 77 years longer than Indigenous people have had the right to even practice smudging rituals without being jailed, killed, or forced to convert in response.

So, no. It doesn’t really make sense Kiera Fogg, Llewellyn Books, nor any non-Indigenous person should profit from what’s left of their cultural practices, does it?
The Indigenous peoples of what we now call the Americas have suffered in unimaginable ways for hundreds of years at our hands due to the ambition of our ancestors, and we still haven’t relented. The more we continue to perpetuate pain, the longer their pain will extend. We don’t get to tell them to “get over it” or “compromise” we get to help them heal in any way we can, and we get to apologize.