Speaking Truth and Strengthening Spirits
TawahumBige and the Power of Spoken Word
by Jesse Pottinger & Ivy Edad
Tawahum Bige performs his poem, Sanctum. Video by Ivy Edad and Jesse Pottinger
The healing journey can take many forms, and the Indigenous peoples of Turtle Island are finding resilience in the continued revival of millennia-old cultural practices, languages, and stories of generations before them.
For Tawahum Bige, a non-binary, Two-Spirit student at Kwantlen Polytechnic University, much of that healing journey has been woven into his words as a poet, writer and activist.
Bige begins our discussion by acknowledging his ancestors, noting the importance of “establishing a protocol of being an uninvited guest on these territories, and not saying that I’m actually from Kwantlen, Katzie, Semiahmoo, Tsawwassen, Coquitlam, Kikait and Musqueam Nations.”
Born and raised in Surrey, and now living in Vancouver, the 25-year-old has spent his entire life in what we now call the Lower Mainland. But the territory of his ancestors lies to the north and to the east of the place he calls home.
“I’m Lutselk’e Dene and Plains Cree, as well as Hungarian on my dad’s side and a little bit British, and a little bit of this thing called Heinz 57, which is some strange European mutt breed as far as I understand.”
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-Tawahum Bige
Tawahum Bige discusses life as an Indigenous non-binary two spirit poet in a white supremacist society. Photo by Ivy Edad
“I’m Lutselk’e Dene and Plains Cree,” he says, as well as “Hungarian on my dad’s side and a little bit British, and a little bit of this thing called Heinz 57, which is some strange European mutt breed as far as I understand.”
Through his poetry, Bige explores his Indigenous roots and discusses his experience as an Indigenous person “in a white supremacist society,” focusing on themes like intergenerational trauma, healing, nature and his perception of the city and world around him.
“Often I’m talking with imagery that either reflects the manufactured quality of our environment or the natural quality of our environment, or tying the two together,” he says.
“[I’m] reaching into my family history, reaching into pretty much everything I’ve lived and how that has informed my political lens as well.”
Bige attended his first poetry slam at 20 years old, where he recalls being “brought into a world of the poet’s making.” He specifically remembers a poem about being a mermaid that alluded to gender violence.
“The whole thing was under water, and the audience was brought underwater with this person, and I was like how, how do I do that?”
Discovering the healing capacity of poetry came later, when he took a creative writing class with fiction author Aislinn Hunter. His mentor’s encouragement led him to share personal stories in his writing, and while he acknowledges that it was difficult, it also led him to begin untangling the question of why?
Poetry, for Bige, is an especially powerful healing tool in the context of decolonization.
Tawahum Bige reaches into his family history in his poerty.
Photo by Ivy Edad
Tawahum Bige attended his first poetry slam at 20 years-old.
Photo by Ivy Edad
“Poetry and poetics have been part of an Indigenous framework since the beginning of time,” he says.
“We’ve used spoken word to communicate our stories, using all sorts of poetic devices to make sure that we can actually remember them, so it feels like it directly connects me to my ancestors.”
For all its cleansing power, the creative process can, at times, be emotionally overwhelming. It was particularly difficult in his early days as a poet, when he began addressing the grief of losing his older brother.
“I spun out for months after that, trying to cope with some of the stuff that I was now having to face,” he recalls. “But even still, I know there are some experiences where, once I start talking about it, I can possibly trigger myself.”
Before diving into a subject, he asks himself questions like “how far have I processed this thing yet? And am I ready to turn this into a poem? Is it actually healing for me to jump into this or am I re-traumatizing myself?”
But the challenges he faces as an Indigenous poet are not only internal, they also relate to how his poetry is perceived.
“I don’t necessarily deal with a lot of the racism in terms of people seeing the colour of my skin…but once I start speaking, that’s when I start facing the challenges of racism in the community.”
There are times when his use of Dene and Cree symbolism is misunderstood at poetry slams, and he can find himself pigeonholed into the “angry Indian” stereotype.
“It’s a lot of covert stuff…it’s hard to describe the passive-aggressive ways in which people interact with you,” he says.
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He also faces the task of striking a balance between remaining authentic in the themes of his work, and playing into the expectation of what an Indigenous poet should be saying.
Tawahum Bige attributes the success of his poetry to the poets who came before him. Photo by Ivy Edad
The idea of being self-made is a myth. I am standing on the shoulders of a lot of great poets who have gone before me."
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-Tawahum Bige
It’s an unfortunate Catch-22 – without making that cultural connection, he severs his own connection to the words he writes and can be perceived by the audience as “some white boy poet” instead. But by remaining true to his roots, the audience may fail to see his complexity as an individual.
That challenge hasn’t stopped him from searching for ways to incorporate Cree and Chipewyan language into his writing – something he sees as extremely important because “our language contains our worldviews.”
Bige has maintained an unwavering dedication to the art form since he discovered his passion for poetry – taking every opportunity to learn from mentors, attend events and perform, in part to improve his skills, but also to “honour the community” that granted him the opportunities in the first place.
He acknowledges that beyond his own effort, he owes his success to his mentors and the community that allows him to thrive, as well as the earlier generations of Indigenous creatives who paved the way for people like him.
“The idea of being self-made is a myth,” he says. “I am standing on the shoulders of a lot of great poets who have gone before me… Lee Maracle or Joanne Arnett or Leanne Simpson. Billy-Ray Belcourt is a recent one, same with Joshua Whitehead. Or other Indigenous writers in general like Richard Van Camp…folks like Janet Rogers who mentored me. All these people who have done a lot of work to make it so that anyone who is Indigenous can even have a chance of getting stage time or getting published, have made it possible for me to do what I’m doing.”
Bige earned the Cree name Tawahum – meaning North Star – in ceremony.
“The first man was named Tawahum and we came from the North Star,” his Elders explained to him.
“And so I have the name of the first man as well as its meaning to strike on target and on balance…bullseye.”
A fitting title for the rising young artist, with his work reaching for the lessons and wisdom of those who came before him. His targets set on the resurgence of Indigenous voices, the protection of Indigenous rights and the shaping of a brighter future.
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Tawahum Bige’s writing can be found in numerous publications, including Contemporary Verse 2, EVENT, Oratorealis, Poetry Is Dead, Prairie Fire, pulp MAG, Red Rising Magazine and Yellow Medicine Review. Keep an eye out for his first book “Political and Personal,” coming to print in June via Metatron Press.