Some thoughts on land, memory and DNA.

Pain.

It is truly remarkable how we all feel this sensation in different ways. I have always been told that we respond in three ways; fight, flight or freeze.

For some, it appears as anger, frustration, rapid-fire of hot-headed reactions that leave a bitter taste.

Fight.

For others, it is the time spent in our heads that gets the worst of us. Circular thoughts making us distraught.

Freeze.

I was never a person to run away from fear, I never understood that it was an option. How do we run away from something inside us?

They say that trauma can be passed down through our DNA, it changes our biology entirely.

Epigenetics?

What does it mean? How do we experience it?

Researchers have been analyzing how specific events can change the way DNA is expressed and passed down. It is truly fascinating stuff, small chemical tags are added or removed from our DNA in a response of our environments, enabling us to adapt to conditions without necessarily creating permanent changes in our genetics.

For over 150 years, Indigenous peoples have been failed by our systems. Children have been removed from their families, adults died in the care of health practitioners, the list is endless. The 60s scoop, residential schools, the failure of our health care systems, the list goes on. They say “just get over it” — how can we do this if the trauma is engrained within our DNA?

Unpacking trauma.

That feeling of fear, without being able to exactly point out what we are scared of — could it be something engrained within our DNA?

I have been reflecting a lot recently, mostly about land.

Last semester I had a huge paper to write and I based my research on the settlement of my family. Over many conversations with my professor, I kept repeating “how do I find sources for things I already know, I’ve known these things since I was a child”. The professor understood this and suggested I adopt a methodology of ‘wilderness’. I know how that sounds, trust me. I didn’t know how I could apply this to a formal research paper? no way. But then it hit me — my connection to the land was so much more than a formal research paper, it shaped who I was.

The beautiful thing about our lands is that no matter how much they physically change over-time, it holds memory – it spreads much further from our lifetimes. There is a sense of nostalgia that comes with land-connection, it is a feeling like no other. Spaces and places are dynamic and ever-changing, they influence how we feel, behave and live. As humans, we transform these environments. Where trees once stood 100ft into the air, we now have apartment buildings, business towers. How often do we really take a step back and reflect on what these spaces looked like prior to colonization?

In 2018, I was contracted to paint a skeleton canoe at Fort York, I believe this to be the start of my understanding of land and memory. I was told that the canoe was to be a simple shell, to pay homage to the lost rivers in Toronto. After a few searches I realized that under exact site in which I was standing was once home to the Garrison Creek — just one of many Toronto waterways that we have lost. In the 1800s, Garrison was moved underground — it became another forgotten space.

Skeleton canoe painted at Fort York

It is likely that trauma can be passed down but what about our knowledge? There are things we are taught from a young age — right and wrong, our manners, political views. What about unspoken things? When I moved to Halifax I felt like I’ve already been here, how can this be explained?

I don't have all the answers, but this is my process of understanding the why.

The same way we apply epigenetics to trauma, I feel as though it can be applied to our ancestors’ experiences. We are a product of our history, the importance of our lands may have been lost but that connection can never be broken. All of this is to say, keep learning, keep searching and keep growing, our ancestors are proud.