Abstract

In an interview with Elizabeth Hoover, Muckleshoot nutrition educator Valerie Segrest remarked,
“When our foods cease to exist, so do we as a people.” For Indigenous peoples, food takes on
meanings beyond simple sustenance; it serves as a conduit between us and the land we occupy
with its own complex histories, acting as both an agent of cultural significance and a metric of
power. To analyze this Indigenous understanding of food, I will explore the contributions of the
federal nutrition assistance programs in the disruption of Indigenous food systems and, more
specifically, how the Food Distribution Program on Indian Reservations (FDPIR) undermines
foodways and Native nation sovereignty as a consequence. This assessment will be juxtaposed
with a narrative representation of the cultural history and modern power dynamics surrounding a
single native seed: manoomin. Through this chronicle, I aim to emulate the style of Robin-Wall
Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass to demonstrate how plants can teach us about power, culture,
violence, and healing. This narrative will position a region-specific story of one native plant
against a broader discussion of culturally significant foods and Indigenous food sovereignty at a
federal level. The combination of these two dialogues puts forth an understanding of the
paradoxical position of food as not only a life-giving source but also a medium of colonial
violence.

Who is manoomin?

“It’s almost a slogan that we say, ‘Let the food bring us together.’ In our
community, sharing the bounty is one of the primary community connections—our
foods are an opportunity to bring generations together and bind families around
the dinner table and connect them to other families when they share their bounty
… It’s easy for many Native communities to feel isolated from other communities
or to feel a sense of remoteness, but gatherings like these show that’s just an
illusion. We are all very connected and gatherings like this are key to keeping
those bonds strong.1” -Ken Hoyt

In Anishinaabe tradition, as the Creator gathered the elements and began sculpting Turtle

Island, the last to be formed was Nanabozho, the Original Man. Part-man and part-spirit,

Nanabozho defined what it means to be human and did so through learning from those predating

his existence: the plants, the animals, and the land. Through their teachings, he made Turtle

1
“Traditional Foods.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention,
August 16, 2021. https://www.cdc.gov/diabetes/ndwp/traditional-foods/index.html.
Island his home, a home which supported him in exchange for his reciprocal generosity.2 In his

journeys, Nanabozho oftentimes struggled as he stumbled along learning to live through the land.

Returning home from a hunt without having gathered food, Nanabozho noticed a duck sitting

near his warming kettle. Upon his return, the duck flew away, leaving behind a bundle of wild

rice floating atop the boiling water. The next day, Nanabozho traveled in the direction of the

duck in hopes of understanding the source of this gift and was greeted by a plant who had found

a home in water. This home, of course, was a wild rice bed; its resident was manoomin.3 It was

because of the kindness of the duck that Nanabozho learned the virtue that would be passed

down through generations to come: rice is life.

Years later, the children of Nanabozho came to sow their own relationship with

manoomin. As the Anishinaabe were residing in an area now known as the east coast, they were

visited by seven prophets. Each of these spirits brought with them Seven Fires, divinations of the

times to come. The Seven Fires acted as the compass, guiding the Anishinaabe away from

impending violence and towards their new home, a land where “food grows on water.”45 Through

the prophecies, the Anishinaabe returned to the lands walked by their original ancestor and

became Indigenous to a once-unfamiliar part of Turtle Island. Who is manoomin? For

Anishinaabe peoples, manoomin is an unraveling of time, intertwining legacies of history and

modern foundations of community.6

2
Wall-Kimmerer, Robin. “In the Footsteps of Nanabozho: Becoming Indigenous to Place.” Chapter. In Braiding
Sweetgrass, 205–215. Canada: Milkweed Editions, 2013.
3
LaDuke, Winona. “Wild Rice Moon.” Sierra 85, no. 5 (2000).
4
“Prophecy of the Seven Fires.” Passamaquoddy at Sipayik. Pleasant Point Tribal Government. Accessed
November 16, 2021. http://www.wabanaki.com/wabanaki_new/Seven_Fires_Prophecy.html.
5
Kaminski, June. “7 Fires Prophesy.” Chi Manidoo: Great Spirit of my Anishinabe Ojibwe Ancestors, 2005.
http://www.chi-manidoo.com/7fires.html.
6
Courtney Calia and Kathy Smith. What is wild? Manoomin (wild rice) harvesting w/ Courtney and Kathy. The Red
Nation Podcast. Podcast audio. October 28, 2019,
https://open.spotify.com/episode/2LrkFI9agQphbcVZck5JTr?si=1t_FXp4AT6GZT9f3KWDk2g
Thanks, Adam Smith
Through systemic land displacement, climate violence, and other manifestations of settler

colonialism, the state currently known as the U.S. government and its subscribers have disrupted

Indigenous food systems and traditional agricultural practices since contact.7 In response to

Indigenous self-advocacy surrounding food insecurity, the U.S. government began to extend

welfare programs to Native Nations in the 20th century, including Supplemental Nutrition

Assistance Programs (SNAP) outlined in the Agricultural Adjustment Act (AAA) of 1933.

SNAP, however, proved unsuccessful in solving the so-called problem of Indian food shortages

and similar legislation has been repeatedly passed to supplement this New Deal program since its

inception. In 1973, under the Agricultural and Consumer Protection Act, Congress established

the initiative which later came to be known as the Food Distribution Program on Indian

Reservations (FDPIR) to be administered through the United States Department of Agriculture

(USDA). This was primarily in response to a lack of substantive change in the food status on

reservation lands, a shortcoming that governmental officials attributed to a lack of sufficient

SNAP offices. 8

The Agricultural and Consumer Protection Act outlines steps towards bolstering federal

assistance using the language of “commodity distribution” when describing the formation of the

FDPIR.9 This verbiage gestures to the inscription of the settler-capitalist idea of food as

commodity as a foundational feature of this food pathway. Gilio-Whitaker describes this

7
Gilio-Whitaker, Dina. “Food Is Medicine, Water Is Life.” Chapter. In As Long as Grass Grows: The Indigenous
Fight for Environmental Justice, from Colonization to Standing Rock. Beacon Press, 2019.
8
Finegold, Kenneth, Nancy Pindus, Diane Levy, Tess Tannehill, and Walter Hillabrant. “Tribal Food Assistance: A
Comparison of Food Distribution Program on Indian Reservations (FDPIR) and the Supplemental Nutrition
Assistance Program (SNAP).” The Urban Institute, November 2009.
https://www.urban.org/sites/default/files/publication/28396/412034-Tribal-Food-Assistance.PDF.
9
House of Representatives, “Agriculture and Consumer Protection Act of 1973” (2019).
phenomenon as settler-industrialism, the process by which colonizers strip previously existing

economies and replace them with their own.10 What effects does this ideological imposition have

on the relationship between Indigenous peoples and their food? The answer is not particularly

succinct but can be explored through discussions of the ways in which Indigenous peoples have

responded and resisted FDPIR.

Manoominike Giizis and Lighting the Eighth Fire

“It's Manoominike Giizis, the wild rice making moon on a string of lakes in the
heart of Ojibwe country. There is nothing so defining of Ojibwe people, perhaps
as the wild rice harvest, and this year looks to be a good one--the rice falls gently
into the canoes, laughter sounds across the lake, and boats pull in with men and
women full of rice worms and smiles.11” -Winona LaDuke

August marks the beginning of the Wild Rice Making Moon, Manoominike Giizis, a

celebration of history, community, and the gift of rice. After their migration to the Great Lakes

region, Anishinaabe peoples trusted in manoomin and maple for sustenance during their time of

uncertain foundations. The harvest of wild rice in the fall sustained them all throughout the

winter; right as the rice grew depleted, the time for syrup harvesting cycled around to provide

nourishment into the spring. The manoomin and maple trees work together, taking turns in

conversation to keep the food system balanced.12 Through Manoominike Giizis, the people honor

this natural harmony and follow the example set by these plants, acting together in community to

harvest, process, and store manoomin. The accompanying teachings are twofold: a keeping of

culture and a dialogue of ecological knowledge. In this annual collective of sharing and learning,

10
Gilio-Whitaker, 2019.
11
LaDuke, Winona. “Manoominike Giizis.” The Circle: News from the American Indian Perspective. October 1,
2009, sec. 1.
12
Calia and Smith, 2019.
Anishinaabe keep their stories alive through generations and preserve what is now frequently

referred to as sustainable agricultural practices.13

Manoominike Giizis does not only hold significance for Anishinaabe localized near their

homelands. The last part of the prophecy of the Seven Fires is the lighting of an Eighth Fire–

there will come a time when people seek reconnection, to “retrace their steps to find what was

left by the trail.”14 Like the outstretching of roots, Manoominike Giizis reaches out to carry

Anishinaabe peoples back to their ancestral geographies, reminding everyone of their past and

present relationship with the earth. Not only does the festival draw in Anishinaabe from across

Turtle Island but it also draws members of other Native Nations, serving as a representation of

the multicultural identities and a unification of Indigenous peoples through shared harvest. Kathy

Smith, a member of the Keweenaw Bay Indian Community, reflects with adoration upon the

lighting of the Eighth Fire: “We’re all going to come together and become one.”15 Manoominike

Giizis is, thus, not only about the preservation of tradition and history but also about reimagining

and building a more equitable, unified landscape. Who is manoomin? Manoomin is a teacher

through which we can understand the complex functions assumed by culturally significant plants

for Indigenous peoples, providing context to the greater food sovereignty movement.

Aid Ain’t Equity

In a recent article, the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium (ANTHC) celebrated the

expansion of FDPIR in Alaska —from 32 people at its inception to 827 participants in 2018.16 A

13
“Akiing: Where The Wild Rice Grows.” Honor The Earth. Accessed November 16, 2021.
https://www.honorearth.org/akiing_where_the_wild_rice_grows.
14
“Prophecy of the Seven Fires.” Passamaquoddy at Sipayik. Pleasant Point Tribal Government.
15
Calia and Smith, 2019.
16
“Celebrating 10 Years of the ANTHC Food Distribution Program on Indian Reservations.” Alaska Native Tribal
Health Consortium, August 27, 2018.
https://anthc.org/news/celebrating-10-years-of-the-anthc-food-distribution-program-on-indian-reservations/.
2009 study by the Urban Institute found that the national enrollment rate generally levels out

around 80-90 thousand participants17; this is in comparison to the hundreds of thousands of

Indigenous people living below the poverty line on reservation lands.18 What mechanism

underlies this relative low rate of enrollment? One possible explanation is the lack of culturally

significant foods available through FDPIR. FDPIR and other governmental food assistance

programs rely heavily on Western foods such as beef, bacon, flour, coffee, salt, and sugar. The

rapid forced adoption of a high-calorie European diet yet low in nutritional value has been cited

as a possible underpinning of the higher rates of chronic health conditions in Indigenous

communities.19 This includes diabetes, which is one of the leading causes of death on

reservations and whose rates are about 15.9% across Nations as compared to the national average

of 11.7%, but it may reach upwards of 33% in some communities such as the Navajo Nation.20

The formation of FDPIR and related programs can be understood as reactionary policies

aiming to reverse some of the impacts of systematic land displacement, serving instead to

strengthen the colonial relationship between the federal government and Native Nations.

Assistance programs characterized by malnutritious foods are, thus, a form of violence against

Indigenous bodies, erasing culturally significant foods and exacerbating health disparities. The

low rates of enrollment in FDPIR may be viewed as a form of resistance to this ongoing

colonialism; this protest is directly connected to the growing Indigenous reclamation of

traditional foods through the establishment of sovereign food systems.

17
Finegold et. al, 2009.
18
“Living Conditions.” Native American Aid. A Program of Partnership with Native Americans. Accessed
November 16, 2021. http://www.nativepartnership.org/site/PageServer?pagename=naa_livingconditions.
19
Hoover, Elizabeth. “‘You Can't Say You're Sovereign If You Can't Feed Yourself’: Defining and Enacting Food
Sovereignty in American Indian Community Gardening.” American Indian Culture and Research Journal 41, no. 3
(2017): 31–70.
20
Gillio-Whitaker, 2019.
The Rights of Manoomin

“Seed sovereignty is to me when you have an understanding of your inherent right

to save seed and pass it on to future generations, and that you are exercising it at
that same time. It also means that you as a person or as a community are
self-informed and dictate your relationship to seed; that says that there are seeds
that really do not belong to anyone. They belong to us as a community in the
commons but that we can define our relationship to that seed based upon our own
values and not the values of anyone else outside of our community.”21 -Rowen
White

Cut from the tool book of colonialism, slow violence is a patiently calamitous force with

the capacity to undercut the deepest rooted communities. It is characterized by a passive but

intentional disruption of health, safety, culture, and knowledge.22 Such is the case of one

population, which found itself under threat of an encroaching colonial force by the name of

Bayer CropScience in 2006. Backed by Bayer, an invader quietly slithered into aboriginal

habitats and inscribed itself over this native population, superimposing unto the land and

threatening generations to come. Agrobusiness, however, is not the only perpetrator in this

violence: academica-endorsed seed mutation working behind the smokescreen of scientific

progress likewise serves as a longstanding threat to the conservation of manoomin.

No stranger to colonialism, Indigenous people and proximal agricultural organizations

began to recognize this discreet erasure and brought it to the surface in the early 2000s. For

Bayer, this attention culminated in a lawsuit, accusing them of allowing their appetizingly named

“LibertyLink” rice to contaminate and threaten local rice beds. Having not yet even received

USDA approval for this genetically modified strain, Bayer lost the lawsuit, but the damage to

21
Hoover, 2017.
22
Nixon, Rob. “Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor.” Introduction. In Slow Violence and the
Environmentalism of the Poor. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013.
native rice farms had already been thoroughly executed.23 As native seeds received this blow in

one area of the country, researchers at the University of Minnesota were being called out for the

same attempted modification of manoomin in the Midwest. Winona LaDuke points to the

importance of bringing “ethics into relationships with Indigenous people” in order to “stop the

destructive patterns of research” characterizing the genetic modification of seeds.24 Genetic

modification directly threatens seed sovereignty and, consequently, cultural pervasiveness and

brilliance. Who is manoomin? Manoomin is a survivor of colonial violence.

Sovereignty (As Defined by Someone Other than George W. Bush)

Blooming out of the dregs of failed FDPIR programs is an intertribal movement towards

food sovereignty across the Native Nations. Operating under the understanding that a nation

cannot be considered sovereign without a self-sustaining food system, food sovereignty is a

direct dissension from the attempted power-grab central to federal food programs. Food

sovereignty is not just a matter of power, however; it also proposes a complete restructuring of

how food is gathered, emphasizing intergenerational responsibility and a rebuilding of

relationships with the land. Restructuring Indigenous foodways offer a path towards

self-determination and emphasizes communal participation, ensuring that every individual has a

say in where and how their food is procured.25

One method for operationalizing this proposition is through the formation of

community-based farming and gardening projects. In her ethnographic research, Elizabeth

23
LaDuke, Winona. "Manoomin, Seed Sovereignty and Genetics." News from Indian Country, Oct 30, 2006.
http://turing.library.northwestern.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/manoomin-seed-sovereignty-
genetics/docview/367455256/se-2?accountid=12861.
24
LaDuke, Winona. "WILD RICE AND ETHICS." Cultural Survival Quarterly, Fall, 2004, 15,
http://turing.library.northwestern.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/magazines/wild-rice-ethics/docview/1974
52713/se-2?accountid=12861.
25
“Traditional Foods,” 2021.
Hoover discusses this work in depth as well as the various ripples flowing from food sovereignty

movements—most topically, the procurement of Native seeds (like manoomin), a revival of

tribal health, and a restoration of reciprocal relationships with the land. Much like Native

languages and other cultural elements put under attack, a continual push towards the preservation

of heritage seeds assumes a large role in food sovereignty.26 This cultivation aims to liberate

seeds from patenting rather than perpetuating the hegemonic relationship with them asserted by

agrobusiness. In terms of health impacts, as discussed in the documentary Gather, a return to

Native foods may have strong implications in restoring the health of Indigenous peoples and

lowering rates of diabetes and cardiovascular diseases.27 Moreover, the effects of this movement

go beyond cultural and health impacts, galvanizing a complete and ideological shift of

worldview. Diverging from the language of commodification central to federal food policy,

Indigenous food sovereignty is grounded in spirituality and rejects the notion of human-nature

dualism. Through this affirmation, these localized food economies enable Indigenous peoples to

create individual connections with the land and re-envision this relationship for future

generations.

Tales of Tar Sands and Tyranny

“Rice is life, and it’s a part of that water. You know, they go hand in hand. So,
without clean water, we don’t have rice. Without rice, we can’t eat. Without that,
we have nothing. We have no food or water. So, what happens to our people?28”
-Courtney Calia

While agronomical and academic institutional forces have endangered the genetic

makeup of manoomin, pipelines threaten to render the species’ home uninhabitable and, in

26
Hoover, 2017.
27
Gather. Netflix, n.d. Accessed November 20, 2021.
28
Calia and Smith, 2019.
consequence, the health and culture of connected communities. Horticulturally speaking,

manoomin is unique in that it exists at the intersection of land and water, highlighting the

interconnectedness of the two ecosystems. In the same way that Western contact spread an

ontological separation of humans from other lifeforms, colonialism enforces a severance of land

and water, the first being imposed with the label of private property and the next being exploited

as an imperial resource.29 Manoomin accentuates the importance of incorporating water into any

discussion of mending relationships to the land and, more directly, emphasizes how crucial

waterways are to our food systems. It is unsurprising then that manoomin has emerged as central

to the opposition of Line 3 and the continued work of Winona LaDuke.30

Building upon the doctrine Rights of Nature, a newfound notion that (some) landmasses

are in fact living and should be protected and treated as such, the White Earth Band of Ojibwe

ratified a law guaranteeing the Rights of Manoomin in December 2018. According to this

legislation, manoomin has “the right to clean water and freshwater habitat, the right to a natural

environment free from industrial pollution, the right to a healthy, stable climate free from

human-caused climate change impacts, the right to be free from patenting, the right to be free

from contamination by genetically engineered organisms.31 These outlined Rights of Manoomin

have been invoked by LaDuke and other water protectors in their fight against Enbridge and the

now-operational tar sands pipeline. Born out of migration stories, the personhood of manoomin

has evolved again and again: it is an agent of cultural significance, an organizer of communities,

29
“Mapping Chicagou/Chicago: A Living Atlas.” Issuu, September 17, 2019.
https://issuu.com/settlercolonialcityproject/docs/20190910_sccp_mcc.
30
LaDuke, Winona. "Extending Wild Rice, the "Rights of Manoomin"." News from Indian Country, 03, 2019.
http://turing.library.northwestern.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/extending-wild-rice-rights-m
anoomin/docview/2226738208/se-2?accountid=12861.
31
“First ‘Rights of Nature’ Enforcement Case Filed In Tribal Court To Enforce Treaty Guarantees.” Stop Line 3.
Stop Line 3, August 5, 2021. https://www.stopline3.org/news/manoominvdnr.
a subject of genetic erasure, and, finally, an emblem of resistance. Who, then, is manoomin?

Manoomin is a way of life – “our freedom.32”

Food as Power, Growing as Resistance

Using manoomin as a case study, it is evident that food takes on greater importance for

Indigenous communities beyond simple sustenance. Manoomin serves as a medium through

which ancestral legacies are understood. As a cross-cultural unifier, it carries Anishinaabe

peoples back to their homelands, creating a space through which tradition is preserved and

futures are reimagined. Much like the people to which it holds significance, not only has

manoomin been put under threat of erasure in the form of genetic modification but it also takes

on roles central to direct action as in the case of Line 3. Grounded in this understanding,

harvesting manoomin is itself an act of resistance; it is a rejection of the colonial undermining of

Indigenous ecological knowledge and ontologies, linking Anishinaabe ancestral perseverance to

the modern assertion of sovereignty through the growing of traditional food.

32
LaDuke, Winona. “Honoring Manoomin and Fighting for Its Survival.” The Circle (Minneapolis, Minn.). 2021.
 While food, in this way, can be considered as a tool of liberation, it can also serve as a

channel for colonial violence. This can be seen in the implementation of federal food assistance

programs and, specifically, FDPIR. This program, like many other federal programs operating

under the guise of welfarism, forces reliance of the Native Nations on the U.S. government for

necessities, undermining tribal sovereignty and amplifying colonial frameworks. This is without

considering the actual effects of such federal nutrition assistance programs, which ultimately

exacerbate Indigenous health disparities through the imposition of a European diet. Coming out

of this paradoxical legacy as a source of resistance and tool of subjugation is a new

understanding of what the food sovereignty movement means for Indigenous peoples. While

water is life, food is power. After all, “you can’t say you’re sovereign if you can’t feed yourself.”
33

33
Hoover, 2017.