Why I start classes with a land acknowledgement

by Alana

I’m writing this post from the traditional territories of the Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee, and Chonnonton. My house is located on the Haldimand Tract, which includes 9.5 kilometers on either side of the Willow River.

If you’ve been to my classes, you’ve heard me start off with a similar territorial acknowledgement. It’s nearly the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation here in Canada, which has me reflecting on the importance of honouring the land we occupy.

The land that Kitchener-Waterloo resides on

As a settler, I’ve attended workshops, events, and read books to better understand the history of Indigenous peoples in Canada, the genocide that was our residential school program, and the checkered road to reconciliation. Each part of the land acknowledgement reveals parts of this past.

The traditional territories of the Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee and Chonnonton

• Anishinaabe – means ‘original people’. You might also hear Ojibway, Chippewas, or Mississaugas to refer to this group. Anishinaabe is the term the group chose for themselves. They speak Ojibwe.

• Haudenosaunee – means ‘people of the longhouse.’ Also known as the Six Nations. Comprises of the Iroquois-speaking nations that formed the Haudenosaunee Confederacy – the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca, and Tuscarora.

• Chonnoton – means ‘people of the deer. Also known as the Neutral or Attawandaron. The Neutral was the name French colonizers gave to this group. The Attawandaron label was bestowed on them by another group, the Huron-Wendat. You hear a lot of varieties on this part of the land acknowledgement in the KW area. I used to say Neutral until I was given feedback after a class that Neutral is a more colonial term since it was imposed by the French.

The Haldimand Tract

In 1784, Sir Frederick Haldimand, the governor of Quebec, signed a decree granted 950,000 hectares of land to the Haudenosaunee in recognition of their alliance with the British during the American Revolution. The decree is known as the Haldimand Treaty.

Today, only 48,000 acres remain Indigenous-owned. This is the Six Nations of the Grand River, which lies between Brantford and Caledonia. The Nations have been in active litigation against both the governments of Canada and Ontario since 1995, contesting the Crown’s handling of the lands.

9.5 kilometers on either side of the Willow River

There is an ongoing movement in Kitchener-Waterloo to reclaim a non-colonial name for the Grand River. The Mohawk originally called the river O:se Kenhionhata:tie, meaning Willow River, for the drooping trees that line its banks. Indigenous advocacy groups are lobbying both to rename Victoria Park in downtown Kitchener (to Willow River Park) and the river itself. In solidarity with this movement, I’ve chosen to use Willow River in the land acknowledgement.

What does this have to do with yoga?

Yoga is, at its core, a practice of liberation.

For the self, that can be liberation from preconceived expectations and from the purely empirical, sensory experience of our world. The eight-fold path of yoga outlined in Patajanali’s Yoga Sutras culminates in samadhi, a state of spaciousness between yourself and your body that allows for pure contemplation. Numerous sutras (sutra II.18, for example) outline yoga’s capacity for helping the thoughtful practitioner transcend beyond ego, to an deeper experience of self-understanding.

For society, it can be a means of building connection, of practicing ahimsa (non-violence) as a collective, and for encouraging the kind of reflection that motivates social change and community support. Where I work, I do this by creating an environment where my students build relationships with each other, and where I, as a teacher, can offer free classes or support charitable organizations.

As it’s practiced in the west, yoga often requires a monetary component. A physical and safe space to gather. A fee to compensate a teacher. Props, tools, clothes that are made to feel essential, even though they aren’t. A practice that was once free and passed down generationally has become transactional, and as a teacher who relies on my yoga income to pay my bills, I am beholden to this system.

But none of that would be possible without the colonization that transformed the lands of the Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee, and Chonnoton into Kitchener-Waterloo of today. Yoga unfolds in studios across Canada on land that was once solely occupied by Indigenous peoples.

To participate in a practice that advocates for togetherness, kindness, and liberation while obfuscating that history feels hypocritical to me. So, I include a land acknowledgement in many of my classes. I use playlists by Indigenous artists to mark specific occasions. Along with the studios where I work, I’ve donated to several Indigenous organizations both local and national and encouraged my students to do the same if possible.

These are small gestures in the face of Canada’s horrific historic treatment of Indigenous peoples. But they are a start, and I intend to continue to do this work and more in the years to come.