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UCLA INDIGENOUS PEOPLES’ JOURNAL OF LAW, CULTURE & RESISTANCE

Please Circulate

The UCLA Indigenous Peoples’ Journal of Law, Culture & Resistance is accepting art and poetry submissions for Volume 3, to be published later this year.
The UCLA Indigenous Peoples’ Journal of Law, Culture & Resistance (IPJLCR) is a law journal at the University of California Los Angeles School of Law that is interdisciplinary in nature, consisting of scholarly articles, legal commentary, poetry, and artwork. We publish scholarly articles and student comments written about legal issues important to Indigenous communities in the United States and throughout the world, as well as works by artists that relate to or comment on legal issues. We also seek works on issues or aspects of life in Indigenous communities that are impacted by law, whether tribal law or the laws of nation-states.
The first two volumes contain, in addition to articles on legal, political, and cultural issues, poetry and prose pieces by Kathy Ainsley, Joy Harjo, Mahealani Kamauu, Sara Littlecrow-Russel, Harvest McCampbell, Lawrence T., Shawna Sunrise, and Cecilia Vicuña, and artwork from Wendy Red Star, Anna Tsouhlarakis, Elizabeth Whipple, and Nadema Agard Winyan Luta Red Woman.



Please mail submissions to:

UCLA Indigenous Peoples’ Journal of Law, Culture & Resistance
UCLA School of Law
Box 951476
Los Angeles, California 90095-1476


Please e-mail submissions to: ipjlcr@lawnet.ucla.edu

In Honor of the Grace of Patricia Grace

Wednesday night was a highlight of the season. The Maori writer, Patricia Grace read and spoke to a full auditorium at UH. She read from my favorite novel, Baby No-Eyes and a more recent novel, inspired by her father’s journals of his service in the military in WWII to Italy, Tu. Baby No-Eyes was inspired by an actual event in the community. A Maori woman gave birth to a stillborn child in a New Zealand hospital. She wanted the child’s body to take home and properly bury. The staff couldn’t find it at first, then it was found in the trash. The hospital then decided there must be an autopsy. When they handed the child’s body to the grandmother it had no eyes. When the hospital personnel turned over they eyes, they were in a plastic bag. Before burying the child the eyes were taped to the belly, because there is where seeing comes from. (This is similar to the Mvskoke beliefs.)

Thursday was a panel. Panels tend to run to extremes. They’re either dreadful or great, and I say this because I’ve been both participant and audience on many occasions. This panel, “Indigenizing the Novel in Aotearoa: The Role of Culture and Identity” included several Polynesian writers and scholars included Robert Sullivan, Maori poet, Naomi Loesch, Hawaiian language scholar, Paul Lyons, scholar, Jodi Byrd, Chickasaw scholar, Patricia Grace, Reina Whaitiri, Maori scholar, Caroline Sinavaiana, Samoan writer and scholar, and Albert Wendt, Samoan writer and Citizen’s Chair. This panel was one of the best. Here are some notes:

Grace started writing because she wanted to “write about people who hadn’t been written about before”. She stressed that each writer has to find their own way, their own voice.

“The world is where we are.”

I especially appreciated Grace’s remarks on how a writing project comes together. One of the panelists discussed Grace’s spiral approach to narrative, something arguably distinctly indigenous. She said she “pulls different ideas to the center, close to me”.

(It’s not a linear process, doesn’t follow western story arc notions. This is freeing to me. It is my approach and it is how I work through to find, hear and eventually be the story or song.)

Then she said: “Maybe a spiral is imbedded in our lives.”

She emphasized that there are so many ways to be Maori.

Robert Sullivan, a Maori poet who is now teaching at the University of Hawaii inspired me with these words: “When I use Maori in English texts it carries spirit beyond etymology.”

And Witi Ihimaera, the Maori novelist and scholar was quoted by Albert Wendt: “Novels should be constructed like a house with a heart.”

I especially enjoyed seeing Patricia’s husband Waireki (sp.) again. Shining eyes and soul.

It seems to me it is such an aberration to be a writer in an indigenous community.

And, why not, when writing a novel or collection in mainly English with some indigenous language, write the English in italics, the Mvskoke (for instance) in regular type?
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And so I am inspired to continue to create and to believe in our voices despite the prevailing attitudes against us, and I thank Patricia and the community for all this.

Racing in the Wind and Ropes of Intention

Another morning but where in the loop does consciousness start, begin or end? There is always a morning, or beginning somewhere in time, and a dusk or signal of an opposing arc of a cycle.

I have been asleep. How many hours has my spirit closed its eyes and dozed in fear, distrust or paranoia in this body, this life?

I was awake as we paddled out last night from the beach at Maunalua Bay into fierce wind gusts. We caught our rhythm and were in it. We were waves of blown ocean, Koko Head, the rhythm of paddles hitting and pulling, clouds broken by torque and force. The intention of the winds is to clear and clarify to sweep clean debris. Our intention was to move the canoe with each other, to go forward, strengthen ourselves, test ourselves against ourselves and eventually each other.

We went out in two-double hulls. This was safer as Wednesday night is visitor’s night and we had unexperienced paddlers. We crossed under the bridge with instructions to go to the marina, to Hancock Island and circle back. We extended the paddle through various channels in the marina, sometimes forced ourselves into the flat hard faces of the winds and sometimes flying with the winds behind us. There were even whitecaps in the usually relatively placid waters of the marina!

At one point our canoes went two different directions around a particular point. The other canoe came out about five boat lengths ahead. We decided to beat them and went into race mode. I was in a stroker’s seat on the right. (A double hull is two single six-man (sic) canoes bound together, so there are two stroker seats.) The stroker sets the pace, the rhythm. You also have the best view. You can also feel everyone in the canoe. I threw my intention past the canoe ahead of us and we went for it. We caught up and beat them. Exhilarating. We had to make a collective decision and pull up resources from within as it was the end of about an hour non-stop paddle. Both canoes were pretty evenly distributed according to power and experience so the race was well-matched. I’m ready to go back out tomorrow.

Intention is a powerful thing, like a rope of energy. Ropes can have different sizes and strengths. Intention is built from will, desire and emotional pull. The effect also depends on where you put it. Throw a seed on concrete and you won’t get corn. You’ll get a sad seed and indifferent concrete. A little wind might move the seed to a crack and it will have a chance—and maybe it’s intention that forces that chance.


It’s cold here. In the sixties. Unusual. It seems to be the consensus of the wise and spiritually aware ones that I have spoken with everywhere from Alaska to Oklahoma that we are in the middle of a pole shift. It’s cold where it’s usually warm, and vice versa. One informant at Isleta Pueblo says the birds don’t even know which way to fly. We are in the middle of a turn. Pay attention. Make your own notes and observations for your descendents. They will look back and ask fierce questions.

February 9, 2006 Thursday

Glitches, postings: at least this isn't the Kama Sutra virus

I apologize to all subscribers re: the recent batches of emails. This was not intended. The site is being put back in order.

Will have a podcast up here, SOON.

Monday Monday

This new technology is amazing and/or a distraction. Skipped paddling yesterday morning because I trashed my back and bicep muscles at the gym the day before, and pulled a muscle while helping another crew pull the canoe up. I'll be out again late this afternoon. Lonely for the water.

I upgraded to iLife 3 and decided to experiment with a new website that I could easily add videos, podcasts and images to--(or so I thought, I recorded a little sax bit and some voice and still haven't been successful in getting it to play--any ideas?). That site is:

http://web.mac.com/nativesax/iWeb

I am taking a podcast class later this week and will begin to regularly podcast. Will keep you advised.

My current site at the www.joyharjo.com address has a promised unveiling this next week. Stay tuned.

And mvtos, mahalos, thanks, gracias forever and ever for Karen Strom for faithfully maintaining this one.

The Stink-Eye Olympics and Podcasting

Friday and a rainy morning in Honolulu. Sticky. Wednesday was rainy but I headed out to Moanalua Bay to paddle anyway. The shore was croweded with paddlers though the clouds were heavy with rain. We had enough for two double-hull canoes. We went out for an hour, up to Top Island though we always prefer the ocean. The rain held back. And the sunset revealed eternity.

Last Sunday morning when we were paddling our canoe was consistently beating our coach’s canoe. She stood up dramatically in her canoe after we'd stopped at the midway goal and gave us stink-eye. You know the look. It's that slanted tight cut-eye look that is absolutely directed and means you’d-better-listen-or-stop-what-you’re-doing or the, you’re-going-to-die-or-wish-you-had look. That look is called “stink eye” here in Hawaii. She didn't want our canoe beating her boat. She would have an excellent chance at the Stink-Eye Olympics.

Subscribers: Please note, my website is under construction and the subscription list was disabled. It will be or corrected by February 1st, if not before. Sorry for any inconvenience.

Also note, I'm exploring podcasting and expect to add it as a feature. Any suggestions for programs are welcome. mekkopoet@earthlink.net. Another note: I have my mail set on high spam. You might get an email back saying your email is in the holding tank. I check them all out and let those into my mailbox that aren't trying to sell me cheap mortgages, penis enlargers or get me to give them my bank account number so they can deposit millions in my bank account from Nigeria.

Have a good one.

A Winter Wednesday Morning in Honolulu

It's a rainy Wednesday morning here in Honolulu. I'm still fresh from dreams, and fresh into this one called "Wednesday morning in Honolulu in the time of corrupt warring governments". Hurray for Harry Belefonte. He told the truth. "The President is a liar." And to see it told in the muck of innuendo brings a shine, let's some light in.

I've begun to think that this life is a dream. Not dream in the Disney-sense of "everything's going to turn out alright-you'll find a Prince or Princess and live happily ever after". That "dream" has ruined many lives. No, not that. Rather a complex, ironic, paradoxical, mythic, dynamic and rich dreaming. This earthly dreaming is the teaching and learning field. When you start to look real close it's moving energy. The other side is just right here. Where we've been and where we're going is right here. Everything matters. Every thought is creative.

Scary.

(The following copied from Indigenous News Network. If the creator of this is out there, please advise.)
You Maybe a Techno-Indian if:

You have several CPU's up on blocks in your living room.

There is a satellite dish for high speed wireless on your Hud House
(insert Hogan, trailer, apt, etc)

Your wife doesn't want to hear that lame old "my server was down" excuse
anymore.

That “hope my system doesn’t crash” song is always in your head

You think a floppy disk slot crammed with tobacco and flat cedar will
somehow increase your connection speed.

At least 2 giga-bytes of pow-wow, flute, Joy Harjo, hand game,
traditional, Indigenous, Ulali music, etc are in your mp3 files

You send aaaayyyyyymail.

Three Words: pirated native Jpegs

Your mail address is DancesWithModems@hotmail.com.

AOl will no longer cash your per-cap checks.

Googling Fry Bread Recipes or Tribes is a usual event

Before you attend a powwow, you need to check its website first.

Your mouse is coated with frybread grease.

Had a petition to get your council to install wireless nodes around the
rez

You ask chicks for their email address at gatherings.

If you are on dial and up use the connect time to braid your hair every
morning

Your password is something about your tribe or something in your
language

Trying to create a laser pointer to use with your power point that you
control with your lips (or chin depending on where you are from)

You have a beaded zip drive.

Bookmarks include ICT, Tribal Website, or an online bead store

Head to mapquest before the next tournament

You know what .nsn means

You know a hard drive isn't just the road home from the 49!

SPAM list includes annoying pseudo-Indian “trading post’s”

Knowing that smudging your disk drive may help

Any of the following dangling from or resting on your monitor: Feather,
beads, pictures of brown people, url for a site that can help you find a
native date, fetish, special token, dried meat or fish -

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

"Empire's War on Extremism: Indigenous Peoples Write Back"
Guest Editors: Larry W. Emerson and D. Anthony Tyeeme Clark

Ongoing attacks by academics, journalists, and politicians on the political sovereignty and cultural autonomy of Indigenous Peoples highlight a disturbing anti-Indigenous racist trend disguised as public debate. Through what amounts to unchecked media access, writers around the globe use their privileged positions to promote western bias and dogma, deepen colonial trauma, and undermine futures of Indigenous Peoples. For instance, assertions by University of Auckland lecturer Elizabeth Rata that Kaupapa Maori "is a strategy of intellectual legitimatisation that promotes ethnic primordialism and culturalism determinism" and "weaken[s] the conditions essential for democracy" have currency in the climate created by the Bush administration's "war on extremism." Rata's rhetoric bears a resemblance to global right wing conservative messages that promote the notion that when "traditional fundamentalists" succeed in intervening into western power structures they contaminate and weaken western democracy.

The empire's war on extremism has engaged Marxists, African American and Latina/o critical theorists, feminists, and gay, lesbian, and queer writers. More recently, it has turned its predictable gaze on Indigenous peoples who not only support other oppressed groups but are also concerned with self-governance, cultural autonomy, ecologically-based kinship systems, and decolonization.

Indigenous sovereignty and self-determination embraces a non-western history, language, and worldview that express unique legal and spiritual ties to land, place, and community. These elements shape Indigenous political aspirations and method and often contradict modern and western ideology. Critical differences in Indigenous worldview emerge. The empire, therefore, approaches its global war on Indigenous Peoples in unique ways.

The Journal of Indigenous Nations Studies welcomes submissions that engage the empire's distinctive assaults on Indigenous peoples. We invite researchers and practitioners to share their findings and experiences to help shape a future INDIGENOUS research agenda that evolves critical theory and perspective. We welcome commentary, review essays, and research-based manuscripts.

Manuscripts may take issue with academics, politicians, journalists, and others who use their privileged access to educational resources, policy-making apparatuses, and mass media to undermine efforts to indigenize or decolonize scholarship, law, and culture. Manuscripts may also critique Natives who participate as empire's co-conspirators. Anti-Indigenism's long history veils issues of class, gender, economic privilege, power, and colonialism, blinding both settler and Native alike. Contemporary tribal government and organizational models, for example, risk reproducing unhealthy, dysfunctional, and colonialized relationships that may eventually destroy generations, cause various forms of exile, and create unhealthy

As We Smoked Prayers On the Stairs

Every damned thing matters
As does everything that’s blessed.
All our ancestors are in the gut together.
Something larger than this whole island
Is breathing. Tradewinds fly past this house
Stirring up ginger and plumeria.
The music’s about to start down
By the water, and young herds
Intoxicated with longing as they apply lipstick
Or aftershave for the evening, shine.
I can hear some teetering feedback, and
The “check one, check two”.
I was there once: the baby in the mirror
Or the last one down at closing time.
Tonight I’m so far from where I’ve been
I don’t know where I’m going.
So urgent, new and slick we were, every one of us
As we emerged from
The fierce and crazy story.

c Joy Harjo 1/06 Honolulu

Dreaming and Deconstruction

January 11, 2006 Honolulu

I imagine that I am dreaming after I wake up and pull on my earthly skin. I pull it up over bumps. I am in reconstruction. I've had to re-remember and remind myself that my manner of construction of art comes directly from dreaming, from within dreamtime. That’s how my poems came, my songs, how they are born and come forth. Those years at UCLA and teaching in that kind of atmosphere did not value dreaming, though none of the academic constructions would exist without dreaming. The buildings wouldn’t exist without dreaming, nor would the humans who work there, nor would the various programs exist without dreaming and intuition. Reason and logic is a very small part of it, but necessary, like a ruler, compass and protractor are necessary when constructing buildings. I am being forced to strip myself of false notions of art and the purpose of art, of how art is born, where it comes from, its path and have to reconsider my attachment to certain ideas about the process.

i've had to deconstruct to remember myself again. (A different take on that term!)