Creative and Critical Studies, Faculty of (Okanagan)
DSpace
UBCO
Delfs, Erin
Master of Arts - MA
University of British Columbia
We are living in a global climate emergency, driven by interlocking structures and processes of settler colonialism, white supremacy, racism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, and ableism (Armstrong and Klein 2023; IPCC n.d.; United Nations, n.d.; Combahee River Collective 1977). syilx communities have been taking care of the land and lifeways of syilx territory in sustainable ways for thousands of years (Maracle et al. 1993; Cohen and Chambers 2021; Armstrong 2009). Yet, manifestations of environmentalism and climate activism in the Okanagan commonly center (often white) settler experiences, perspectives, laws, and priorities over those of syilx communities. I utilize the concept “white settler environmentalism” (WSE) to encompass and interrogate these settler-centric approaches and practices of climate activism. Though syilx knowledge keepers like Jeannette Armstrong have called on settlers to show up for syilx sovereignty and climate justice (Armstrong and Klein 2023), many settler activists in the Okanagan are unsure about how to do this. Furthermore, even when settlers act with good intentions, we are wont to perpetuate WSE characteristics (e.g. white saviorism and fragility, self-centeredness, and conflict avoidance) that risk harming syilx people and hindering syilx-led actualizations of climate justice. This thesis demonstrates a process I am engaging in alongside fellow settler activists and settler-dominant activist groups in the Okanagan as we work on transforming processes and practices of WSE into processes and practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. I explore this topic primarily through (1) building a set of practices to transform WSE and work towards collaboration with syilx communities from a personal level; and (2) facilitating teach-and-learn-in workshops with other settler activists to collectivize this work. These methods extend from a theoretical framework of transnational Indigenous, Black feminist, and activist voices grounded in syilx scholarship, and are further guided by methodologies of web-weaving (Cohen 2001), emergent strategy (brown 2017), and transformative praxis (Smith 2005). Settlers in the Okanagan are encouraged to use this thesis to reflect critically on their complicities in WSE, consider what they have to offer to syilx sovereignty and climate justice, and practice showing up to syilx-led collaborations in respectful, reciprocal, and generative ways.
TRANSFORMING “WHITE SETTLER ENVIRONMENTALISM” IN THE OKANAGAN: SETTLER ACTIVISTS WORKING TOWARDS SOLIDARITY WITH SYILX SOVEREIGNTY AND CLIMATE JUSTICE by Erin Delfs B.H.K., The University of British Columbia Okanagan, 2022 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS in THE COLLEGE OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Interdisciplinary Studies - Community Engagement, Social Change and Equity) THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Okanagan) May 2025 © Erin Delfs, 2025 ii The following individuals certify that they have read, and recommend to the College of Graduate Studies for acceptance, the thesis entitled: Transforming “white settler environmentalism” in the Okanagan: settler activists working towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice submitted by Erin Delfs in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts Examining Committee: Dr. Anita Girvan, Faculty of Creative and Critical Studies Co-supervisor Dr. Virginie Magnat, Faculty of Creative and Critical Studies Co-supervisor Dr. Bill Cohen, Okanagan School of Education Supervisory Committee Member Dr. Onyx Sloan Morgan, Irving K. Barber Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences Supervisory Committee Member Dr. Susan Frohlick, Irving K. Barber Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences University Examiner iii Abstract We are living in a global climate emergency, driven by interlocking structures and processes of settler colonialism, white supremacy, racism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, and ableism (Armstrong and Klein 2023; IPCC n.d.; United Nations, n.d.; Combahee River Collective 1977). syilx communities have been taking care of the land and lifeways of syilx territory in sustainable ways for thousands of years (Maracle et al. 1993; Cohen and Chambers 2021; Armstrong 2009). Yet, manifestations of environmentalism and climate activism in the Okanagan commonly center (often white) settler experiences, perspectives, laws, and priorities over those of syilx communities. I utilize the concept “white settler environmentalism” (WSE) to encompass and interrogate these settler-centric approaches and practices of climate activism. Though syilx knowledge keepers like Jeannette Armstrong have called on settlers to show up for syilx sovereignty and climate justice (Armstrong and Klein 2023), many settler activists in the Okanagan are unsure about how to do this. Furthermore, even when settlers act with good intentions, we are wont to perpetuate WSE characteristics (e.g. white saviorism and fragility, self-centeredness, and conflict avoidance) that risk harming syilx people and hindering syilx-led actualizations of climate justice. This thesis demonstrates a process I am engaging in alongside fellow settler activists and settler-dominant activist groups in the Okanagan as we work on transforming processes and practices of WSE into processes and practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. I explore this topic primarily through (1) building a set of practices to transform WSE and work towards collaboration with syilx communities from a personal level; and (2) facilitating teach-and-learn-in workshops with other settler activists to collectivize this work. These methods extend from a theoretical framework of transnational Indigenous, Black feminist, and activist voices grounded in syilx scholarship, and are further iv guided by methodologies of web-weaving (Cohen 2001), emergent strategy (brown 2017), and transformative praxis (Smith 2005). Settlers in the Okanagan are encouraged to use this thesis to reflect critically on their complicities in WSE, consider what they have to offer to syilx sovereignty and climate justice, and practice showing up to syilx-led collaborations in respectful, reciprocal, and generative ways. v Lay Summary We are in a global climate emergency (IPCC n.d.; United Nations, n.d.). syilx communities have lived on syilx territory in sustainable ways, for thousands of years (Maracle et al. 1993; Cohen and Chambers 2021). In the best interest of everyone living on unceded syilx territory in the present and future, syilx leaders like Jeannette Armstrong are calling on settlers in the Okanagan to contribute to syilx-led climate justice (Armstrong and Klein 2023). However, many settler activists are unsure how to contribute to this work, or how to do so in ways that are actually helpful and respectful to syilx communities. This study explores how settler activists in the Okanagan can go about understanding and practicing our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways. This thesis also offers examples of how settler activists can transform the ways we currently do climate activism to better support syilx sovereignty and climate justice. vi Preface This thesis is original research that is unpublished and was conducted by the author, Erin Delfs, to fulfill degree requirements of a Master of Arts in Interdisciplinary Studies (Community Engagement, Social Change, and Equity) at the University of British Columbia, Okanagan. Research question creation, data collection, data transcription, data analysis, and writing of the thesis was done by Erin Delfs, with supervision and support from co-supervisors Dr. Anita Girvan and Dr. Virginie Magnat and committee members Dr. Bill Cohen and Dr. Onyx Sloan Morgan. Research participants contributed to reviewing data transcription and analysis. Insights from IndigenEYEZ’s Earth Sense program and the Sncəwips Heritage Museum guided some of Delfs’ thinking throughout the thesis process and are respectively credited throughout this document. This thesis was supported in part by a 2023 Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council Canada Graduate Scholarship-Master’s (CGS M). The data collection of this thesis was approved by the UBC Ethics Certificate number H24-01606. AI technology (e.g. Otter.ai, Grammarly, Chat GPT, etc.) was not used in this thesis. vii Table of Contents Abstract ......................................................................................................................................... iii Lay Summary .................................................................................................................................v Preface ........................................................................................................................................... vi Table of Contents ........................................................................................................................ vii List of Abbreviations .....................................................................................................................x Acknowledgements ...................................................................................................................... xi Dedication ................................................................................................................................... xiii Chapter 1: Introduction ................................................................................................................1 1.1 Background ..................................................................................................................... 1 1.2 Tracing the web of experiences and relationships that shape my entry into this work .. 4 1.3 Research questions and objectives .................................................................................. 8 1.4 The web, shifting and expanding .................................................................................. 12 1.4 A bird's eye view of this thesis ..................................................................................... 15 Chapter 2: Literature Review .....................................................................................................17 2.1 Introduction ................................................................................................................... 17 2.2 Theoretical framework: grounding diverse perspectives in syilx territory ................... 17 2.3 Structures and processes of climate (in)justice ............................................................. 23 2.3.1 Defining climate (in)justice ...................................................................................... 23 2.3.2 Colonialism and climate (in)justice .......................................................................... 27 2.3.3 Settler colonialism and climate (in)justice on syilx territory .................................... 31 2.3.4 White supremacy, racism, and climate (in)justice .................................................... 38 2.3.5 Heteropatriarchy and climate (in)justice ................................................................... 41 2.3.6 Capitalism and climate (in)justice ............................................................................ 45 2.3.7 A note on settler anti-capitalist activism ................................................................... 48 2.3.8 Ableism and climate (in)justice ................................................................................ 50 2.4 Unpacking white settler environmentalism .................................................................. 51 2.4.1 Defining white settler environmentalism .................................................................. 52 viii 2.4.1 White settler environmentalism in practice .............................................................. 57 2.5 Transforming WSE into solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice ............ 64 Chapter 3: Methodology ..............................................................................................................66 3.1 Methodology ................................................................................................................. 66 3.1.1 Web-weaving, emergent strategy, and transformative praxis ................................... 66 3.1.2 Caring for knowledge ............................................................................................... 71 3.2 Methods......................................................................................................................... 76 3.2.1 Personal practices ...................................................................................................... 77 3.2.1.1 Visiting with land and lifeways ................................................................. 78 3.2.1.2 Centring syilx knowledge and laws ........................................................... 80 3.2.1.3 Participating in and contributing to syilx-led initiatives ............................ 81 3.2.1.4 Engaging in critical and reflexive writing and dialogue ............................ 82 3.2.1.5 Contributing to activist communities ......................................................... 83 3.2.1.6 Navigating and embracing conflict and repair ........................................... 84 3.2.2 Teach-and-learn-ins .................................................................................................. 85 Chapter 4: Findings & discussion ..............................................................................................99 4.1 Introduction ................................................................................................................... 99 4.2 Participants .................................................................................................................. 101 4.3 Themes ........................................................................................................................ 104 4.3.1 Challenging the settler monolith and nuancing settler/Indigenous bifurcations ..... 104 4.3.2 Conceptualizing and engaging in climate justice as an interconnected struggle .... 115 4.3.2.1 Subverting WSE and mitigating pitfalls to solidarity .............................. 116 4.3.2.2 Our responsibilities are shared, yet different ........................................... 122 4.3.2.3 Showing up to syilx-led climate justice and syilx sovereignty ................ 123 4.3.2.4 Learning from and for the interconnected lifeways of syilx territory ...... 125 4.3.3 Centring syilx knowledge ....................................................................................... 128 4.3.4 Tensions and ideas around moving from knowledge to action ............................... 135 4.3.4.1 Tensions: Seeking syilx leadership ........................................................... 136 4.3.4.2 Tensions: Forming reciprocal connections ................................................ 139 4.3.4.3 Ideas: Decentring ourselves ....................................................................... 141 ix 4.3.4.4 Ideas: Building capacities and preparing to be led .................................... 145 4.3.4.5 Ideas: Moving against colonial structures and processes .......................... 148 4.3.5 Connecting, Collaborating, and Committing .......................................................... 153 4.3.5.1 Connecting ................................................................................................ 155 4.3.5.2 Collaborating ............................................................................................ 157 4.3.5.3 Committing ............................................................................................... 159 4.4 Conclusion .................................................................................................................. 161 Chapter 5: Conclusion ...............................................................................................................163 Bibliography ...............................................................................................................................178 Appendices ..................................................................................................................................205 Appendix A - Recruitment poster ........................................................................................... 205 Appendix B - Recruitment message ....................................................................................... 206 Appendix C - Consent document ............................................................................................ 207 Appendix D - Teach-and-learn-in Zebra mussel & Chinook salmon dialogue ...................... 214 Appendix E - Emergent questions .......................................................................................... 217 x List of Abbreviations NYSHN: Native Youth Sexual Health Network ONA: Okanagan Nation Alliance UBC: University of British Columbia UBCO: University of British Columbia Okanagan UN: United Nations WEA: Women’s Earth Alliance WSE: White Settler Environmentalism xi Acknowledgements Thank you to the syilx land, lifeways, and communities who work intergenerationally, creatively, and continuously to sustain a future for all of us here on unceded syilx territory. Thank you to the eagle, heron, osprey, crow, owl, and magpie neighbours who remind me of the bigger picture, to the salmon navigating the currents of the creek, and to the spider collaborators who weave webs through the garden. Thank you to IndigenEYEZ, Earth Sense facilitators Kelly, Carrie, Sarah, and Astrida, and fellow Earth Sense participants for co-creating emergent, relational, and imaginative spaces to learn with syilx land and each other. Thank you to everyone who offered such thoughtful and impactful contributions to this research, interpersonally and as research participants. Thank you to the activist communities who show me that climate justice, decolonization, and collective liberation are possible and worth fighting for. The people, united, will never be defeated. Thank you Anita, for your care, humour, support, nuance, humility, and relational practices. Thank you for the Black feminist and ecological collective wisdoms you continually draw on to teach others about the generative power of tension and paradox; the possibilities provoked by asking emergent questions; and the importance of acknowledging the liberatory work that has unfolded transnationally, intersectionally, between human and more-than-human relations, and across generations to shape the ways many of us think, relate, and do activism. I have felt so lucky to have you as my supervisor, and I am grateful to know you. Thank you Virginie, for being another supportive supervisor I am so grateful for. Your Qualitative Research Methods course created space for myself and many other students to engage with the possibilities of doing research creatively and through community, and helped me to show up to the world in more generous and loving ways. Throughout this thesis, you have given me the courage to work xii beyond normative research structures and you have emboldened me to shift from knowledge to action, time and time again. Thank you so much. Thank you Onyx, for the ways you model showing up to Indigenous sovereignty and climate justice work in respectful and generative ways, for your attention to detail, and for your critical questions that have strengthened this thesis in countless ways. I am grateful for the ways you continue to show up for me and many other students with deep care, unwavering support, and good humour. Thank you Bill, for the caring and generous ways you have brought captíkʷɬ teachings, transformative pedagogies, and insights on the importance of diversity to this thesis work. Thank you for encouraging me to find my bringing-tmixw-back-to-life-song, and for encouraging me and many others to find ways to work in the entanglements between people and between struggles. Every time we communicate, I feel the webs I belong to shifting and growing. Thank you Shawn Wilson and Lindsay DuPré for the ways you each created space in our Indigenous Research Methods course for understandings of Indigenous/Indigenist ontologies, epistemologies, and axiologies to emerge, deepen, and fundamentally transform the ways myself and many other students understand and interact with the world. Thank you Christine Schreyer and Joanne Carey for teaching me, showing me, and supporting me to practice and revere community-engaged work. Thank you Alex Kent and Lisa Knox for being there for me through some really tough grad school moments - I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. Thank you to my silly, caring, and vibrant friends and loved ones. Thank you to everyone I have met through the IGS program. Thank you to my parents, brother, and grandparents (living and passed) who have taught me what it means to work through conflict while loving each other, maintain an open mind, and show up for other people. This thesis emerged through this web of relationships, and I am grateful for every strand. xiii Dedication I dedicate this thesis to everyone finding ways to live reciprocally with the land and lifeways of syilx territory, which includes finding ways to live reciprocally with one another. I also dedicate this thesis to everyone refusing to abandon each other and to everyone resisting genocide and violence, from syilx territory and the many territories of Turtle Island to Sudan, Haiti, Congo, Yemen, Syria, Ethiopia, Iran, Bangladesh, Palestine, and beyond. 1 Chapter 1: Introduction [syilx people] are the best protectors of syilx lands, waters and timixw, and we need everyone who lives here on [syilx] territory to feel and act that way. syilx scholar and knowledge keeper Jeannette Armstrong What has gone wrong is that we live within, and benefit from (albeit unevenly), a world built through colonization, Indigenous genocide, enslavement, human trafficking, and the commodification of beings. Indigenous genocide, Indigenous and African enslavement, and the horrors of “settlement” by Europeans and Euro-Americans released so much carbon that it literally changed the atmosphere of our planet…we have work to do. Black feminist and environmental justice scholar Esme Murdock 1.1 Background We are living in a climate emergency, driven by unfair structures and processes of power (Armstrong and Klein 2023; Cohen and Chambers 2021; IPCC n.d.; United Nations, n.d.). Human and more-than-human1 beings in every corner of the world have been facing life-altering and life-threatening symptoms of these structures and processes, including the intense droughts 1 I use the phrase “more than human” here while thinking with the How Food Was Given captikwl and Armstrong’s (2009) PhD dissertation, both of which convey the syilx perspective that land and lifeways carry much older knowledge than humans, and that the surviving and thriving of humans is dependent on reciprocal and regenerative relationships with the land and lifeways (229-237). Some scholars use the phrasing of “other-than-human,” “more-than-human,” “relatives,” “non-human people,” “kin,” etc. to describe plants, animals, and lifeways within the ecologies that we are each a part of. In Undrowned: Black Feminist Lessons From Marine Mammals, for example, Gumbs (2020) intentionally blurs the lines between humans and marine mammals to reveal our entanglement and interdependence. Furthermore, in “Indigenous Place-thought & agency amongst humans and non-humans (First Woman and Sky Woman go on a European world tour!)”, Anishnaabe and Haudenosaunee scholar Vanessa Watts points out that whereas in “traditional Euro-Western thought” (21) humans see themselves as both separate from and dominant over nature, an Indigenous point of view understands that “all elements of nature possess agency” and “thus, habitats and ecosystems are better understood as societies” with “ethical structures, inter-species treaties and agreements.” (23). 2 (McIntyre 2022), sky-swallowing forest fires (Joannou 2023), extreme heat (Vaski 2024), and rapid biodiversity loss (Armstrong and Klein 2023; Whitehouse 2023) experienced in the Okanagan. While syilx2 Okanagan communities have lived and thrived in reciprocal relationship with their land and lifeways for over 10 000 years (Armstrong 2009, 229-237; Cohen and Chambers 2021, 39; and Sam 2008, 11, 172), ongoing acts of settler colonial land theft, resource extraction, and development on syilx land have violated syilx laws (Armstrong and Klein 2023) and impacted syilx people’s responsibilities and practices “to keep good relations with the natural biodiversity of [their] territory” (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 39). Despite the reality that syilx people have been taking care of this place for thousands of years, mainstream environmentalism and climate activism and their manifestations in the Okanagan tend to center settler experiences, knowledges, priorities, laws, and lives over the experiences, knowledges, priorities, laws, and lives of syilx people and communities. Throughout this thesis, I attempt to articulate the term “white settler environmentalism” (WSE) to refer to and trouble these settler-centric – often white settler-centric – patterns of activism. In particular, I conceptualize WSE as an ongoing structure and process – rooted in structures and processes of white supremacy and colonialism – that shapes and encapsulates certain climate activist perspectives, practices, and characteristics. As detailed in Chapter 2, WSE perspectives, practices, and characteristics tend to: perpetuate whiteness and settler coloniality (Flowers 2015, 35-38); inflict harm on Indigenous people and communities (Robinson 2018), and hinder the 2 syilx journalist Kelsie Kilawna (2023) writes: “According to some n̓syilxčn̓ language keepers, there are no capitalizations in the spellings of any n̓syilxčn̓ words. In an egalitarian society, capitalization insinuates there is something that holds more importance over another, and that does not fall in line with syilx ethics.” With respect to these ethics, I have written nsyilxcən words throughout this thesis using lower case letters. I acknowledge that this protocol may differ across syilx speakers, communities, and contexts. 3 actualization of place-based Indigenous sovereignty and climate justice for all (Curnow and Helferty 2018, 148-149). These harms and hinderances can occur even when the activists perpetuating them are acting with good intentions and climate justice in mind. Although there are harms and hinderances associated with WSE, many settler activists in the Okanagan are unsure of how to transform WSE patterns of activism in order to work in respectful solidarity and collaboration with syilx communities towards climate justice. This is an issue given that syilx scholars, leaders, educators, and knowledge keepers like Jeannette Armstrong (Armstrong and Klein 2023), Bill Cohen (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 40-41, 50), Tessa Terbasket (Hemens 2024e), Wilfred (Grouse) Barnes (Hemens 2022a), and Pauline Terbasket (Terbasket 2019, 53-54) have expressed how everyone living on syilx territory has a responsibility to future generations who will be living in this place. These leaders are calling for everyone to step up and find ways to contribute to syilx sovereignty and the regeneration of the land and the lifeways – the tmixw and tmxwulaxw3 – of syilx territory. This thesis responds to the calls to action of these syilx leaders through illustrating an emergent process I am engaging in alongside fellow settler activists and settler-dominant activist communities in the Okanagan, as we take intentional time to figure out how to transform practices of WSE into practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. I engage in this process as a white, cisgender, queer settler activist and graduate student with many able-bodied and class-based privileges4. As I situate myself, I would like to clarify that WSE does not represent a rigid 3 In her dissertation, Armstrong (2009) describes tmixw “as strands fanning continually outward from a source not physically visible and refers to each life form including the human. Nature as life-force is tmixʷ.” (159-160). She describes tmxwulaxw as “things-spreading-outward-in-cycles-as-the-here/now” (150), and as “land animated by tmixw” (2). Learn more about tmixw here: https://syilx.org/natural-resources/tmix%ca%b7-wildlife/; and tmxwulaxw here: https://syilx.org/natural-resources/land/. 4 I build on my positionality – a set of dynamic relationships to overarching structures and processes of power such as settler colonialism, racism, white supremacy, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, and ableism (Girvan, Mcgreer, and Lesann 2023)– throughout this thesis. In a few pages, I articulate how my European ancestries position me as a settler on unceded and stolen syilx territory. In Chapter 2, I explain how certain queer 4 identity category. Rather, activists of diverse identities may be participating in and perpetuating WSE perspectives, practices, and characteristics, whether they realize it or not. Furthermore, many of the activists who contributed to this thesis as research participants identify as settlers of colour. That said: I am a white settler who has noticed WSE tendencies manifesting most prominently and frequently among myself and fellow white settler activists. I have further received these critiques from friends and activists who are Black, Indigenous, and people of colour. Thus, in many places this thesis skews towards holding settlers who are white particularly accountable to transforming the ways we show up to syilx sovereignty and climate justice work. 1.2 Tracing the web of experiences and relationships that shape my entry into this work In 2022, I5 began my master’s program while diving into activism and organizing. According to the Activist Handbook (2023), “activism means collective efforts to create change from the grassroots” [emphasis original]. While I had long felt angry about many overlapping social and climate injustices, I did not start actively participating in local activist communities to contribute to transforming these injustices until I started my master’s degree. Witnessing folks in my graduate program participate in activist and community work together – in-between classes, at the bus stop, at social gatherings – taught me that imagining and organizing beyond existing norms and structures is possible, necessary, difficult, and joyful. I joined local climate action Black feminist scholar-activists offer perspectives to this work which transcend my own, while also finding resonances with my queer identity and experiences. I also interrogate how my able-bodied privilege has prompted me and other able-bodied activists to unfairly relegate matters of Disability Justice to the side in many activist movements and spaces. In Chapter 3, I discuss how my role as a settler graduate student comes with a responsibility to resist extracting knowledge from research participants and syilx communities. 5 I write in first-person throughout this thesis to take accountability for my words and positionality and to push back against the normative assumption of researcher objectivity. My relationships to structures and process of power influence how I witness, interpret, and move through the world, thereby shaping this work. (Gumbs 2020, introduction; McKittrick 2021, 25; hooks 1984, 30). 5 groups, mutual aid efforts, and movements in solidarity with Wet’suwet’en against the Coastal GasLink Pipeline (The Narwhal n.d.) and big banks funding “carbon bomb” LNG projects (Rosane 2024). I joined movements in solidarity with Palestine against the illegal Israeli occupation (OHCHR 2024), calling on the University of British Columbia (UBC) to adhere to international human rights law and divest their endowment funds from weapons manufacturers and other corporations complicit in Israel’s war crimes (UBC Divest 2025). Working in the intersections between these movements, I began to understand climate justice within a framework of collective liberation – a term that conceptualizes how struggles against colonialism, oppression, and injustice are connected and therefore must be mutually and simultaneously addressed in order to yield meaningful change (hooks 1994; Lorde 1984). Over subsequent months and years, I became informed of harmful patterns across the activist groups and movements I was participating in. I was hearing stories shared by fellow activists about Indigenous resistance spaces being taken over by white settler “allies”6, and was wondering alongside fellow settler activists about how to respectfully practice solidarity with Wet’suwet’en Nation while on unceded syilx land. At one point, a close friend of mine asked whether I thought one of the climate activist groups I am part of (which is composed largely of white settlers) would be an enjoyable space for them, or whether they would be exhausted by the space and required to act as “a cultural expert for the room” as a Métis-settler person (Pierson & Delfs, forthcoming). I wasn’t able to give them a clear answer to their question, and was in fact 6 I use quotations to draw attention to tensions surrounding the discourse of “allyship.” Flowers (2015), for example, reflects on settlers who strive to seek recognition from Indigenous people to prove they are a “good settler” or “ally”, critiquing the ways in which this recognition-driven behaviour centers settlers in decolonial resistance (38). Hayes (2023) points out that liberal organizations and the white settlers they influence often default to linear and episodic interventions (e.g. positionality statements) which help white settlers to check a box and feel like an ally, but do not necessarily contribute to abolishing/unravelling colonial and white supremacist powers. In a zine titled “Everyone Calls Themselves an Ally Until it is Time to Do Some Real Ally Shit,” Ancestral Pride (n.d.) interrogates a common pattern of settlers calling themselves “allies” with no action to back up this proclamation. 6 leaning towards the reality that our activist space would be exhausting, and perhaps even harmful for them as an Indigenous person. Along this same timeline, I was participating in a book club in which a few white men were letting their voices dominate the voices of queer, femme, disabled, nonbinary, and people of colour in the group, and were devaluing texts by Indigenous and Black feminist authors that other members were wanting to read7. Processing our frustration, a fellow book club member messaged me a copy of Black feminist scholar-activist bell hook’s (1994) essay “Love as the practice of freedom.” This essay unpacks the importance of doing revolutionary work with an ethic of love. An ethic of love, hooks explains, reveals that one system of oppression (e.g. capitalism) cannot be undone by perpetuating another (e.g. sexism and racism), provoking us to examine how these systems interlock and shape our lives, and encouraging us to transform these systems collectively. Prompted by these different interactions – stories from friends about harmful white settler “allies”, uncertainty about how to be in solidarity with one Nation while on the lands of another, questions from an Indigenous friend about the safety of a climate activist space, and a book club in which an ethic of domination was at play – I began thinking hard about how the ways myself and the people in my life were showing up to various community and activist spaces8. Then, in November of 2023, I attended a powerful talk at the University of British Columbia Okanagan (UBCO) between Jewish Canadian climate writer and activist Naomi Klein 7 Perhaps this speaks to how powerful these texts truly are? 8 Of course, many Black, Indigenous, and activists/organizers/land defenders of colour have been calling on white settler so-called allies to do better, and have been putting unpaid time and labour into creating accessible resources on how we can do better, for a really long time. Creators and resources which have been influential to my unlearning/learning include but are not limited to: “An Open Letter to Mary Daly” by Audre Lorde; “Everyone Calls Themselves an Ally” by Ancestral Pride; “Contradictions of Solidarity” by Curnow and Helferty; “Refusal to forgive” by Rachel Flowers; Zoe Todd; Marie Beecham [Instagram], Dr. Autumn BlackDeer [Instagram], Leah Manaema [Instagram], The Indigenous Anarchist [Instagram], and What’s One More Pothos [Instagram]. 7 and syilx scholar and knowledge keeper Jeannette Armstrong. At this talk, Armstrong emphasized that “[syilx people] are the best protectors of syilx lands, waters and timixw, and we need everyone who lives here on [syilx] territory to feel and act that way”. In addition to this call to action, Armstrong demonstrated the relationship between syilx sovereignty and climate justice by asserting that “The breaking of our syilx laws here, on our unceded lands, creating ongoing destruction and obstruction to its recovery needs you to stand as allies with us to find solutions together. Our experiences have equipped us with knowledge and skill on making solutions to navigate catastrophic environmental changes here in our rivers and within our limited capacities on our lands.” (Armstrong and Klein 2023). Armstrong expressed further that “It is not enough to stand by and wait for someone to do something. We can act together.” (Armstrong and Klein 2023). I was in attendance at this powerful dialogue alongside many fellow settler activists. Around this time, many of my friends and I had been grappling with what it means to do climate activism as settlers on stolen Indigenous lands. On syilx land. I have not been taking care of this land since time immemorial, and neither have my ancestors, who come from Sweden, Germany, Scotland, France, England, and Latvia9. Though we heard clearly Dr. Armstrong’s calls to action and felt the power and pull towards showing up in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, we expressed to each other that the “how” part felt murky. Simultaneously, we understood that it isn’t Dr. Armstrong’s responsibility to tell us precisely where, when, and how to show up to syilx sovereignty and climate justice10. This understanding is informed by scholars 9 As Maracle et al. (1993) assert, the freedom and sovereignty of syilx people on syilx territory is “a right coming out of having looked after the land for thousands of years without destroying it,” and that “no guns, nor foreign laws on paper of other people, who destroyed their own land, can change that truth.” (7). Even within a colonial legal framework, though, Maracle et al. (1993)9 explain in detail that we may look towards the 1763 Royal Proclamation (27), the Canada Act (70), and court cases like The Flett Case, The Sioui Case, The Sparrow Case (75), and the Delgamuukw Case (77) to understand that settler presence and land ownership on syilx territory constitutes an illegal occupation. 10 After reading and re-reading the transcript of this conversation between Armstrong and Klein over the course of my thesis, it has become clear that Dr. Armstrong indeed offered many “hows” to the audience in terms of how to show up for syilx-led climate justice. Read https://climatejustice.ubc.ca/news/armstrong-klein-syilx-led-climate-justice-in-a-global-context/ and reflect: What are some key climate justice 8 like Walia (2012), Powys Whyte (2018), and Murdock (2021) who critique the frequency with which settlers ask Indigenous people and people of colour “What can I do?”. These scholars critique how this question is sometimes deployed by settlers in order to evade meaningful reflection and transformative action regarding their complicities in settler colonialism and white supremacy. Further, these scholars posit that there must be a shift in labour towards settlers taking responsibility for acting and showing up to collaborative and coalitional activist spaces and movements in less harmful, and more helpful, ways. As argued by Murdock (2021), “We cannot attempt to confront the climate crisis and climate change by evading responsibility.” 1.3 Research Questions and Objectives Ultimately, the web of relationships and experiences discussed in the previous section culminates into two overlapping research questions that respond to these experiences. Feeling the importance of showing up in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice while not quite knowing how, I decided to use the time and space offered by my thesis to explore: 1. How can settler activists in the Okanagan go about understanding and acting on our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways? 2. How can settler activists in the Okanagan transform practices of “white settler environmentalism” into practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice? issues Armstrong identifies? Who holds the knowledge about how to address these issues? What role might syilx law play in advancing climate justice on these lands? Who are some of the key figures and institutions we must hold accountable for destruction on syilx land? Why is resource distribution critical to syilx sovereignty and climate justice? Why is collaboration between syilx and non-syilx people important? If we understand that syilx people are the experts of caring for this land, how might our feelings and actions reflect this? 9 This study is grounded in a theoretical framework that centers syilx scholarship while also drawing on diverse perspectives from syilx territory and beyond, appreciating climate justice and solidarity as transnational constructs. Extending from this theoretical framework, I am studying structures, processes, practices, and participants of WSE – namely settler activists who are figuring out how to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice – as a critical unit of analysis. This exploration is layered insofar as this critical unit of analysis includes myself as a settler activist, thereby requiring research methods grounded in both personal and collective practices. Here, a tension emerges: I am striving to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, yet this thesis centers the voices and reflections of many settler activists, including my own voice and reflections. Scholars, activists, and collectives like Davies (2022, 411) Gatheru (2020), Paperson (2014, 117-118), Gomez (2020, 65-66), and Ancestral Pride (n.d.) critique the tendency of WSE to center the voices of white settler activists over people and communities who: are “hurt first and worst by climate change” (Lorenzen and Drew 2023, 120); hold intimate and intricate understandings of the intersecting structures and processes of power, which produce climate injustices (Murdock 2021; Combahee River Collective 1977; Armstrong and Klein 2023; Baker 2021); and have faced and resisted disaster and injustice time and time again (Whyte 2018; Maynard and Betasamosake Simpson 2022, 15). At the same time, I am listening to syilx leaders and knowledge keepers as they are calling settlers to step up, and are naming syilx-settler collaboration as a key path forward to liveable futures for everyone on syilx territory (Armstrong and Klein 2023; Cohen and Chambers 2021, 40-41, 50; Terbasket 2019, 53-54). As I feel my entanglement and complicity in various structures and processes of white supremacy and settler colonialism, which continually produce 10 climate injustices on syilx territory, I simultaneously feel a responsibility to contribute to transforming these structures and processes within myself and my relationships. This thesis is rife with tensions and paradoxes that I draw attention to throughout. To address another tension right from the get-go: it is important to acknowledge that while this thesis illustrates relatively early stages of a lifelong process of settler activists building foundations of collaboration and actualizing solidarity with syilx people, sovereignty, and climate justice, this thesis does not emerge directly from a collaboration or partnership with a syilx community or organization. This is critical to note, given that in an article that parses out the difference between “allies” and “accomplices” to Indigenous-led liberation work, Indigenous author Rudy (2014) posits, “Accomplices are realized through mutual consent and build trust. They don’t just have our backs, they are at our side, or in their own spaces confronting and unsettling colonialism.” The pages of this thesis focus mostly on the latter portion of this quote - on transforming WSE in settler-dominant activist spaces. At the same time, myself and my collaborators (committee members, fellow activists, friends, etc.) are slowly building relationships and collaborations with syilx people, communities, and organizations so that we might work side-by-side. Both streams of work align with my goal of working in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice on syilx territory for the long haul. While collaborations with syilx organizations and initiatives are discussed and credited throughout this work, they are not analyzed nor researched so as to give these collaborations space to organically and relationally evolve, and so as to turn the mirror on ourselves as settler activists who may be causing harm in collaborative/activist/solidarity spaces and are wishing to do better. I do not anticipate finding clear, specific answers to the overarching research questions, nor do I believe there is a prescriptive set of steps settlers must take to be “allies” with syilx 11 people. Rather, settlers have important labour to take on to: show up and contribute to syilx-led initiatives (Armstrong and Klein 2023); to hold ourselves accountable to our various inherited privileges and complicities in unfair structures and processes of power and the injustices they create (Shotwell 2018); and to transform our activist and relational practices – often shaped by these inherited privileges and complicities – so that our showing-up is meaningful and helpful, not harmful, to the syilx communities we wish to support (Flowers 2015; Robinson 2018). Being realistic about the scope of a master’s thesis in comparison to how long it takes to build reciprocal and sustainable relationships of collaboration between different people and communities, the primary, interconnected, and mutually-reinforcing objectives of this thesis are: i. Objective 1: Learn, unlearn, and take action. Participate in personal and collective opportunities11 to learn, unlearn12, and take action to support syilx sovereignty and climate justice. ii. Objective 2: Cultivate spaces and practices. Identify, create, and engage in personal and collective spaces and practices for “doing better” as settler activists striving to support syilx sovereignty and climate justice. iii. Objective 3: Build foundations for collaboration. Envision and contribute to spaces from which collaborations of solidarity between settler activists and syilx communities and knowledge keepers may13 emerge and grow. 11 On my own time, with my committee, and with my activist friends and groups as they are interested and available. 12 Learning how to show up in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice also requires unlearning inherited norms and practices of the settler colonial society we live in, such as norms and practices of WSE. 13 Dr. Bill Cohen has emphasized that forming radical collaborations, e.g. between settler activists and syilx knowledge keepers, are key to transforming colonial structures/people-eating monsters. At the same time, the year over which I am doing this master’s thesis is not necessarily enough time to form radical collaborations or partnerships between myself and my activist communities, and syilx organizations and communities. As I do this research, I am figuring out what strengths and resources I, and the groups I am part of, can bring to possible collaborations with syilx people, organizations, communities, and initiatives. 12 1.4 The web, shifting and expanding The web of experiences and relationships that shapes my entry into this thesis work is continually shifting and expanding (Cohen 2001, 140). Learning from syilx scholar, educator, artist, poet, and committee member Dr. Bill Cohen, participating in a syilx-grounded, Indigenous-led program called Earth Sense, and engaging in various syilx-led initiatives relative to syilx sovereignty and climate justice are key experiences and growing relationships which I detail over the next section. These experiences and relationships have shaped some of the ways this thesis and my thinking have unfolded; the ways the web I am part of is shifting and expanding. Learning from Dr. Bill Cohen has informed my understanding of how settlers might go about understanding and enacting our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways, and has grounded this understanding in syilx territory and captíkʷɬ teachings (syilx creation and governance stories)14. When I wrote a one-pager for my thesis for the first time, I colloquially asserted that settler climate activists need to “figure our shit out.” My co-supervisor and Occitan scholar-practitioner Dr. Virginie Magnat forwarded this one-pager to Dr. Cohen, who read it and agreed to join my committee. When Dr. Magnat, Dr. Cohen, and my co-supervisor and Caribbean-British arrivant15 scholar Dr. Anita Girvan and I all gathered for the first time, Dr. Cohen spoke about the importance of committing to transformative work and struggle, 14 Okanagan Nation Alliance describes captíkʷɬ as “a collection of teachings about Syilx Okanagan laws, customs, values, governance structures and principles that, together, define and inform Syilx Okanagan rights and responsibilities to the land and to our culture. These stories provide instruction on how to relate to and live on the land. captikʷł stories serve as reminder of Syilx Okanagan natural laws and protocols that need to be followed in order for future generations to survive in harmony with the tmixw. These stories are embedded in our culture and language and play a vital role in cultural renewal and revitalization.” Learn more here: https://syilx.org/about-us/syilx-nation/captikwl/ 15 Chickasaw scholar Jodi A. Byrd (2011) borrows the term “arrivants” from African Carribean poet Kamau Brathwaite, to refer to how millions of people were violently stolen from their countries and communities and brought to the Americas by European colonizers, differentiating them from settlers of European descent. 13 referencing a recurring captíkʷɬ theme whereby senklip, Coyote, is destroyed time and time again by his harmful perspectives and behaviours, and xwylxʷ, Fox, takes on the role of collecting the bits, the shit, and the mistakes to bring senklip back to new life (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 43). senklip and xwylxʷ draw parallels with the concept of “figuring our shit out” or “getting our shit together” as settlers in order to show up in solidarity and collaboration with syilx sovereignty and climate justice in respectful and reciprocal ways. In reference to the How Food Was Given captíkʷɬ (Kou-skelowh/We Are the People and Okanagan Tribal Council 1984), Dr. Cohen also emphasized that, as Fly contributed to singing Chief Black Bear/Chief skəmxist back to life, settlers need to find our singing-tmixw-back-to-life songs. Within the context of this thesis and the ways Dr. Cohen shared these teachings, I understand that senklip and xwylxʷ have a lot of guidance to offer settlers, instructing us to commit to the ongoing, often uncomfortable and undesirable process of learning from our mistakes and the mistakes of our ancestors in order to show up for syilx sovereignty and climate justice in better ways. Further, I understand the singing-tmixw-back-to-life teaching as instructing settlers to find our own unique ways of contributing to the regeneration of tmixw on syilx territory. I circle back to these two teachings shared by Dr. Cohen throughout this thesis. In addition to everything I have been learning from Dr. Cohen, participating in the IndigenEYEZ Earth Sense program has further informed my understanding of my responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways and how to enact them in a generative way, as well as my understanding of whether “climate justice” is even a useful term on syilx territory and within syilx sovereignty. Last year, I was co-organizing a workshop with Latvian settler and feminist environmental scholar Astrida Neimanis when they mentioned overlap between a 14 program led by the organization IndigenEYEZ that they and my committee member –queer, non-binary Irish-Scottish settler and critical geography scholar Dr. Onyx Sloan Morgan – were supporting. This program, titled Earth Sense, is a year-long program primarily serving “Indigenous Peoples who work in community and dream of using land-based learning to strengthen connections to themselves, each other, and all beings”, and secondarily grappling with whether the language of “climate justice” is useful to syilx communities doing work on syilx territory (IndigenEYEZ n.d.; Delfs 2025). Earth Sense is co-facilitated by syilx scholar, bridge-builder, community leader and IndigenEYEZ co-founder Kelly Terbasket, syilx youth and environmental advocate, scholar, and writer Carrie Terbasket, and Anishnabek decolonial and land-based educator, scholar, and program designer Sarah Sandy, with supported facilitation from Dr. Neimanis. There are many ways in which my participation in Earth Sense shapes my engagement in this thesis. That said, my participation has not been intended to be ethnographic, but rather to learn, connect, and build collaborations with fellow participants and contributors (See Chapter 3 to understand how I am caring for the knowledges I learn through Earth Sense). This thesis is about settlers taking up our work, and draws insights from settler research participants. At the same time, I acknowledge influences from Earth Sense at multiple points, with consent from Earth Sense facilitators. Finally, this thesis is shaped by a series of syilx-led initiatives that I have been engaging in alongside fellow activists over the past few years. Around the time of the public talk between Armstrong and Klein, my climate activist group and I had started taking small steps to intentionally engage with syilx knowledge, laws, and learning opportunities as a means of figuring out how to align our climate activism with syilx perspectives, and to address our glaring lack of reciprocal relationships with syilx communities. Not knowing how exactly to create this 15 alignment or build these relationships, we thought that self-education and showing up were accessible places to start. We organized a group tour to Sncəwips Heritage Museums, for example, and began engaging with publicly-available syilx knowledge at the beginning of each of our weekly meetings (e.g. swiłkw Water Declaration; Wildlife Corridor Action Plan, etc.). Once I started my thesis, I began using some of my time and resources to organize more collective learning opportunities for everyone – a Community Core Tour through Sncəwips, as well as another museum tour. Members of many of the activist groups and mutual aid collectives I was part of have been consistently attending various syilx-led workshops, nsyilxcən classes16, and community events, discussed more in Chapter 4. Once again, my/our participation in these initiatives has focused on learning, connecting, and building foundations for collaboration with syilx folx, communities, and organizations, and ultimately influences many of the ways this thesis unfolds. Specific insights and learnings from these initiatives are highlighted throughout the thesis. 1.5 A bird’s eye view of this thesis Chapter 1 (Introduction) has explained that this thesis is exploring how settler activists in the Okanagan might go about understanding and acting on our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways, as well as how we can transform practices of “white settler environmentalism” into practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Chapter 2 (Literature review) articulates a theoretical framework which grounds diverse perspectives in 16 “nsyilxcən for everyone” classes are offered through partnership between syilx organization Wildrose Native Traditions and Kelowna Museums. Learn more here: https://www.kelownamuseums.ca/event/learning-a-language-nsyilxcen-for-everyone-level-1-12/ 16 syilx territory and scholarship, illustrates climate (in)justices as arising from, and resisting interlocking structures and processes of power (namely settler colonialism, white supremacy and racism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, and ableism), and interrogates WSE to underscore why it is critical for settler activists in the Okanagan to transform WSE in order to show up for syilx sovereignty and climate justice in respectful and reciprocal ways. Chapter 3 (Methodology) brings methodologies of web-weaving (Cohen 2001), emergent strategy (brown 2017), and transformative praxis (Smith 2005) together to shape two key research methods: (1) a set of personal practices I am engaging in to build my capacity to contribute meaningfully to syilx-led collaborations and initiatives relative to climate justice; and (2) two teach-and-learn-in workshops which bring fellow settler activists together to collectively face truths of settler colonization and climate injustice on syilx territory, unpack WSE, and brainstorm ways to transform WSE towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Chapter 4 (Findings & discussion) works through five key themes/findings that emerged from the teach-and-learn-ins, identifying multiple potential ways settler activists in the Okanagan may begin/continue: understanding and acting on our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways; transforming WSE; and building relationships of solidarity and collaboration with syilx communities. Finally, Chapter 5 (Conclusion) identifies numerous questions, strengths, and generative limitations raised by this thesis, gesturing to multiple openings through which this transformative solidarity work may continue to evolve. 17 Chapter 2: Literature Review 2.1 Introduction In this chapter, I articulate a theoretical framework of diverse voices grounded in syilx territory and scholarship, and then build from this framework to make three key moves. First, I conceptualize climate injustice as arising from entangled structures and processes of power (namely settler colonialism, white supremacy and racism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, and ableism) and climate justice as emerging from resistance to these structures and processes. Second, I unpack and problematize “white settler environmentalism” (WSE) as a structure and process shaping settler-dominant environmental work and causing various harms and hindrances to Indigenous sovereignty and climate movements. Third, I illustrate the critical importance of settler activists in the Okanagan taking on the labour of transforming practices of WSE in order to show up in meaningful and respectful solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. 2.2 Theoretical framework: grounding diverse perspectives in syilx territory and scholarship To set the stage for this literature review and subsequent chapters, I would like to discuss how my theoretical framework centers syilx land, lifeways, knowledges and laws while also drawing on the wisdom of Black feminist scholars, Indigenous scholars from other Nations, and land defenders, activists, and organizers who are present within and beyond these groups. Provocations from syilx scholars and knowledge keepers Jeannette Armstrong (Armstrong and Klein 2023; Armstrong 2020) and Bill Cohen (Cohen and Chambers 2021; UBC Studios Okanagan 2024) inform my understanding that centering the perspectives of syilx people 18 and communities is critical to informing effective environmental and solidarity work on syilx territory, and therefore critical to this thesis. In her discussion with Klein, for example, Armstrong expressed: “We here, with whatever power we may have, need to promote and undertake urgent actions needed in community-led solutions by advancing the theories and practice of environmental justice by engaging Indigenous knowledge and laws” (2023). In a chapter in White Space - a book interrogating forces of whiteness, settler colonialism, and neoliberalism as they shape life in the Okanagan Valley – Cohen likewise asserts: “It’s a critical time for Indigenous Peoples to contribute knowledge and imagination to the ways we humans live in relation to the water, earth, plant and animal communities that give us everything we need to live well and peacefully” (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 50). Whereas structures and processes of WSE tend to decenter the perspectives of Black, Indigenous, and people of the global majority (see section 2.4.2), I hear Armstrong and Cohen speaking to the importance of centering Indigenous knowledges, laws, and imagination in climate justice work taking place on Indigenous lands. As Armstrong and Cohen advocate for centering Indigenous perspectives in climate justice work on Indigenous lands broadly, they also specify that syilx perspectives are integral to climate justice work on syilx territory. For example, Armstrong (2020) asserts that the work that she does is “about all of the community. I’m talking about all of the people who live in the Okanagan and people that we reach outside of that. Not just the Indigenous people, because at this time in our lives, what our elders have said is that unless we can Okanaganize those people in their thinking, we’re all in danger in the Okanagan. While it sounds simple, it often seems an overwhelming task (169).” Furthermore, in a video honouring his 2024 Provost’s Award for Teaching, Cohen explains that “syilx-izing acknowledges that syilx – which includes the 19 Swknaqínx, the Okanagan, all of the peoples whose language is nsyilxcən – we’ve been here for 10 000 years or more, and we’ve learned how to live in a good way with this land, this ecology, so we can learn from that (UBC Studios Okanagan 2024).” From what I understand, “Okanaganizing” and “syilx-izing” locate the concept of “Indigenizing” to syilx territory. These terms explain that since syilx people have been on syilx territory for thousands of years and have learned how to build sustainable relationships and live in balance with the land and lifeways here during this extensive time period, a paradigm shift17 among everyone living on syilx territory towards syilx worldviews, laws, and environmental ethics is pragmatic and integral to all of our survival and the survival of future generations (UBC Studios Okanagan 2024; Armstrong 2020). Taking seriously Armstrong and Cohen’s advocacy for centering Indigenous ways of knowing and doing, especially syilx ways of knowing and doing, in climate work on syilx territory, this thesis engages with specific texts written by syilx educators, scholars, and knowledge keepers. As calls for settlers to step into action extended by Armstrong and Klein (2023) and Cohen and Chambers (2021) influenced my decision to take up this thesis work, I return to these calls numerous times throughout this thesis. Throughout this literature review, I turn mainly to the following texts to grapple with historical impacts of European settler colonialism on syilx territory: Okanagan Sources by Jean Webber and the En'owkin Centre18 17 When I hear “paradigm shift,” I hear: transformative changes in the assumptions and knowledges people have about the world, which in turn guide how we act within the world. What are your assumptions about your place in the world? What relationships do you hold, nurture, or neglect to land, water, and lifeways in this place you are in? Where do you think these assumptions came from? Who do these assumptions serve? Who do they harm? Read Chapter 6 of Dr. Armstrong’s dissertation “Chapter 6: Tmixʷ centrism: The Syilx Environmental Ethic.” Where does this ethic align with your beliefs about the world? Where does it differ? What would happen if everyone living in the Okanagan learned to embody and enact this ethic together? 18 Located on lands of Penticton Indian Band and “a registered Private Post Secondary Institute and member of The Indigenous Adult and Higher Learning Association”, the En’owkin Centre “is a dynamic institution, which puts into practice the principles of self-determination and the validation of cultural aspirations and identity. An Indigenous cultural, educational, ecological and creative arts organization, En'owkin plays a lead role in the development and implementation of Indigenous knowledge and systems, both at the community and international levels.” Learn more here: https://www.enowkincentre.ca/ 20 (1990); Q’sapi: A History of Okanagan People as Told by Okanagan Families by syilx historian Shirley Louis (2008); and Okanagan Women’s Voices: Syilx and settler writing and relations, 1870s-1960s by Jeannette Armstrong and settler scholars Lally Grauer and Janet McArthur (2021). I also turn to news articles by journalists Kelsie kilawna (syilx), Athena Bonneau (Okanagan syilx and Northern Cree), and Aaron Hemens (Filipino-European settler) to illuminate ongoing settler colonialism and climate injustices on syilx territory. To ground my methodology (Chapter 3), I draw on a metaphor articulated by Cohen (2001) about gathering diverse perspectives and shifting paradigms to weave new webs of knowing and relating to one another. I also engage frequently with Armstrong’s prolific scholarship (2020; 2009; 2018; 2005) as it offers insights around syilx environmental ethics, syilx Okanagan worldviews, and intersections between racism and settler colonialism specific to syilx territory. Finally, with encouragement from Dr. Sloan Morgan who has pointed out the importance of centering syilx law in work that aspires to support syilx-led climate justice, I read We Get Our Living Like Milk from the Land, a book written as “a tool to help protect [syilx] land and [syilx] rights” (x), throughout my data transcription and analysis process. We Get Our Living was researched and compiled by the Okanagan Rights Committee and the Okanagan Indian Education Resource Society, and edited by scholars Lee Maracle (Stó:lō), Jeannette Armstrong (syilx), Delphine Derickson (syilx), and Greg Young-Ing (Opaskwayak Cree) (1993). Beyond this literature and as mentioned in Chapter 1, this thesis is iteratively and experientially shaped by various syilx-led initiatives. See Chapter 3 to understand how I am incorporating these experiential learnings with care. As this thesis focuses on settler activists working on transforming WSE and showing up in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, it is critical to ground this work in syilx 21 perspectives, knowledges, experiences, and laws. Yet, I also draw on numerous scholars throughout this thesis who are not syilx. How do I justify this? At a Sncəwips Heritage Museum19 tour I attended with activist friends last fall, syilx artist and educator Coralee Miller spoke memorably about the strength that comes from entwining multiple strands of sp’its’n/dogbane hemp together into rope, drawing on this metaphor to explain the importance of relationship-building within and beyond syilx communities. Armstrong (2009) also explains in her doctoral dissertation that tmixw - the life force of the land/tmxwulaxw – is comprised of “many strands which are continuously being bound with each other to form one strong thread coiling year after year always creating a living future.” (43). Furthermore, Cohen (2001, 140-141) and Cohen and Chambers (2021, 38, 41, 42, 49) name cultural and ecological diversity as a critical tool for transforming the hegemonic, “people-destroying monster” of colonization and its many moving limbs (e.g. WSE structures and processes). In sum: diversity generates strength (Miller n.d.), emerges from the very land I am doing climate activism on/with/for (Armstrong 2009), and offers tools for transforming WSE in the Okanagan (Cohen 2001; Cohen and Chambers 2021). Thus, I am choosing to weave contributions from diverse scholars with diverse embodied and place-based experiences - both local and transnational to syilx territory - into my theoretical framework, all the while striving to honour place-based20 syilx knowledge and consistently recentring syilx territory, voices, knowledges, and laws. 19 Visit Sncəwips! Book a tour here: https://www.sncewips.com/services 20 My attempt to honour and learn from place-based syilx knowledge is flawed and incomplete. Traditional syilx territory covers approximately 72 000 km2 (Baker 1990, 10; Armstrong et al. 2021, ii-x), and there are seven member communities of the Okanagan Nation Alliance (Maracle et al. 1993). Most of the time I have spent on syilx territory has been on or proximal to the lands of Westbank First Nation and Okanagan Indian Band, with a bit of time spent learning on the lands of Penticton Indian Band at Enow’kin. 22 There are many non-syilx scholars whose diverse perspectives are invaluable to this learning and thesis work. Potawatomi scholar Kyle Powys Whyte, Leey’qsun scholar Rachel Flowers, and Kwakwaka’wakw scholar Sarah Hunt/Tłaliłila’ogwa, for example, extend resonant critiques of the white colonial structures and processes through which much environmentalism and climate activism unfolds, and recentre Indigenous resistance and resurgence. Furthermore, Black feminist scholars like bell hooks (1984; 1994), Audre Lorde (1984), adrienne maree brown (2020; 2017; 2024), Angela Davis (2016), Alexis Pauline Gumbs (2020), and Mariame Kaba (Hayes and Kaba 2023) insist upon building radical collaborations through simultaneously: working across difference; connecting struggles; engaging in transformative justice and pedagogy; and relating to and learning with more-than-human relatives. These scholars do not reveal equivalencies between (in)justices on syilx territory and elsewhere, however they do reveal patterns and interconnections which point us towards root structures and processes of climate injustice, and therefore towards the necessity of unravelling these structures and processes collectively and intersectionally. Given that a great many of the non-syilx theorists who I weave into this work identify as Black feminist, queer, ecological and abolitionist scholar-activists (see list above), and given that one of my supervisors, Dr. Girvan, has taught me about the importance of not taking these voices for granted or carelessly inserting them into a thesis mainly focused on settler solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, I would like to explain that I am engaging with these scholars to theoretically inform my explanations of the interconnectedness of climate (in)justices, and to center perspectives that are powerful and transcend my own standpoint. To elucidate: in this chapter I conceptualize climate (in)justice as emerging from and responding to the entanglements between settler colonialism, white supremacy, racism, heteropatriarchy, 23 capitalism, and ableism. As Gumbs (2020) explores clear and speculative connections between the experiences of marine mammals and experiences of Black people whose ancestors were “kidnapped across an ocean” under global colonialism and “racial gendered ableist capitalism,” Davis (2016) discusses how feminist methodologies allow scholars and activists to explore and embody the connections between (and contradictions within) struggles (43), and the Combahee River Collective (1977) describe their work as “the development of integrated analysis and practice based upon the fact that the major systems of oppression are interlocking. The synthesis of these oppressions creates the conditions of our lives. As Black women we see Black feminism as the logical political movement to combat the manifold and simultaneous oppressions that all women of color face.” As Black feminist scholars offer lived and theoretical insights on entangled processes and structures of power, this thesis work has a lot to learn from them. On a personal level as someone who is queer, I further experience resonances with theorizations from Black feminists like Lorde, Gumbs, and brown who bring queerness into their scholarship and activism. That said, I experience my queerness through my whiteness. By drawing on Black feminist scholar-activists I am able to bring perspectives into this thesis that transgress my standpoint, ultimately challenging the work, strengthening the work, and cracking it open to multiple, possible ways forward (Ahmed 2021; hooks 1984, 29-34). 2.3 Structures and processes of climate (in)justice 2.3.1 Defining climate (in)justice As mentioned in Chapter 1, I have learned through the Earth Sense program - especially from program co-facilitator Carrie Terbasket - that climate justice is not always a useful term on syilx territory, since living sustainably through relationships of respect and reciprocity between 24 people, land, water, and animals has been a way of life for syilx communities for thousands of years (Maracle et al. 1993; Cohen and Chambers 2021; Armstrong 2009). In a blog post describing the Earth Sense program, Carrie expressed: “Colonialism or in this context, Climate Justice, is not an adequate container to fit a (in my context) syilx worldview. There are connections to be uncovered, waters to be crossed, skies to navigate and stories to be told.” (FEELed Lab 2025). At the same time, I repeatedly use the term “climate justice” throughout this thesis21. It is not my place as a non-syilx settler to define what “climate justice” means on syilx territory nor propose alternative terminology, and grappling with and expanding this phrase is an ongoing process Earth Sense is engaged in. Furthermore, the discourse of climate justice is useful as it is taken up transnationally to connect and advance struggles. Propelled by these understandings, I am moving through this thesis with/within the limitations, tensions, and possibilities of the term “climate justice”. My ultimate intention is to find ways of supporting and collaborating with syilx-led initiatives which advance land and lifeway regeneration, regardless of whether these initiatives use the language of “climate justice”. I utilize the language of climate justice throughout this thesis, but how do I understand this concept? As I will unpack throughout this chapter, I approach this thesis with an expansive and flexible understanding of climate injustice as continuously produced by interconnected structures and processes of power, namely: settler colonialism, white supremacy, racism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, and ableism. Simultaneously, I understand climate justice as emerging from acts of resistance to, and transformation of, these structures and processes. This language of “structures and processes” is informed by Kauanui (2016), Jafri (2017), and 21 Carrie and Earth Sense prompt me to continually reflect: When/how is the term climate justice useful for finding common ground between people, places, and struggles, and when/how does this term erase place-based and ancestral Indigenous knowledges, laws, and sovereignty? 25 Dhamoon (2015). Kanaka Maoli/Native Hawaiian scholar J. Kēhaulani Kauanui (2016) explains how conceptualizing settler colonialism as a structure reveals that it is alive and present, rather than an event of the past. Queer/feminist of colour scholar Beenash Jafri (2017) builds from Kauanui (2016) to argue that conceptualizing settler colonialism and colonization not only as structures, but also as ongoing processes helps us: to better understand the entanglement of settler colonialism with other ongoing processes (racism, heteropatriarchy, etc.); to realize “the possibility of intervention and transformation” of settler colonialism given its dynamic and procedural state; and to recentre the experiences of Indigenous peoples “who are still here, and still resisting colonialism.” Finally, political science scholar Rita Dhamoon (2015) agrees that understanding settler colonialism as a process allows us to understand both the dispossession of Indigenous lands and the creation of interlocking hierarchies of oppression (e.g. racism) as “dynamic, ongoing, and continuous” (32). As mentioned on page 23, my ability to understand climate (in)justice as interconnected with various structures and processes of power is paradigmatically informed by Black feminist theorizations around interlocking oppressions and intersectionality, as well as by relational Indigenous ontologies as articulated by Opaskwayak Cree scholar Shawn Wilson and queer white settler scholar Margaret Hughes (2019), particularly as Wilson and Hughes explain that an Indigenous ontological perspective sees our relationships with places and people as continuous, asserting that we exist within these continuous relationships and cannot be separated from them. We are relationships (8), and we experience the world through these relationships, including our relationships to different structures and processes of power. As I understand climate (in)justice as entangled with various structures and processes of power, I also understand climate (in)justice as transnational. As detailed in Chapter 4, the 26 biodiversities and ecologies of syilx territory are intertwined with global biodiversities and ecologies, revealing that climate disasters and ecological impacts affect each other from across colonial and geographical divides. Furthermore, critical geography scholars Amber Murrey and Sharlene Mollett (2023) point out how processes which perpetuate climate disasters and ecological impacts, such as mining and extraction, operate across borders. In thinking not only about the impacts of, but also resistance to, climate injustice, I turn to Dhamoon (2015) who describes transnationalism as a feminist concept whereby minoritized and non-elite groups organize across imposed borders and against hegemonic forces to bring about change (26). Public talks about Indigenous knowledges, syilx leadership, and climate justice delivered between Armstrong and Klein (Armstrong and Klein 2023), and Armstrong and Ngati Kahungunu ki Wairoa, Ngati Pākeha scholar Christine Winter (Armstrong and Winter 2024) spark further conversation and understanding around climate justice as both a place-based and transnational construct. As discussed in Chapter 1, climate chaos and ecological collapse are serious issues threatening lifeways across the world. In her conversation with Klein, Armstrong explained: the clear cutting of forests here, on syilx territory, started years ago. We witnessed its effects in the declines and extirpations of our wildlife and its consequences in accessing our major harvested foods sources. We have felt deeply the ongoing drying up and dying of once lush and abundant forested habitats. I have seen my hunter brother’s tears when staring out at barren stump lands in the highlands, that had changed from one year to the next. I have felt it when I went to the bushes I once picked with my mother and my grandmother, and they were piled up and burning (Armstrong and Klein 2023). 27 Here, Armstrong provides a vivid example of how, due to settler colonialism, climate chaos and ecological collapse are not new to syilx communities. Moving transnationally, Hunt (2022) affirms that “globally, Indigenous peoples are among those most affected by climate change.” (135). Throughout the next section, I elucidate the link between settler colonialism and climate injustice and offer a non-exhaustive background on how settler colonialism in the Okanagan has impacted syilx people, laws, land, and lifeways. Then, understanding that settler colonialism is entangled with multiple interlocking processes and structures of power - all of which must be accounted for in order to effectively disrupt the settler colonial relations that produce and sustain climate injustices (Girvan and Chua 2021, 3; McGuire-Adams 2021, 764) - I engage with relevant intersections of white supremacy, racism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, and ableism. 2.3.2 Colonialism and climate (in)justice As put by Cohen (2001), “the ominous threat of ecological systems failure [is] yet another contribution to the planet by colonization.” (141). Examining the root causes of climate injustice and its manifestations on syilx territory, then, requires critically examining interlocking systems and structures of settler colonialism. In this section, I engage with numerous scholars to elucidate links between settler and global colonialisms and climate injustices. Unangax̂ scholar Eve Tuck and scholar K. Wayne Yang (2012) point out that “settler colonialism is different from other forms of colonialism in that settlers come with the intention of making a new home on the land.” They explain how settler colonialism is a structure in which “land is what is most valuable, contested, required” (5), and through which Indigenous sovereignties and land relations are continuously and violently disrupted. Thinking transnationally, Tuck and Yang (2012) affirm that settler colonialism is entangled with global 28 colonial forces and processes (21). This entanglement is illustrated by scholars like Nigerian American scholar Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò, who works “in the converging processes of trans-Atlantic slavery and colonialism” which he terms “the global racial empire” (10). Given that the form of colonialism that continually unfolds on syilx territory is settler colonialism, this is the colonialism I interrogate most throughout this thesis. Given how settler colonialism is entangled with other colonialisms, however, in this section I examine connections between climate (in)justices and both settler and global colonial structures and processes. There are many angles into understanding the link between settler and global colonialisms and climate change. Emphasizing that climate change began prior to the industrial revolution, for example, Táíwò (2022) reflects on the negative ecological impacts which resulted from early European colonizers bringing “a historically unprecedented flow of plants, animals, and pathogens into environments [in the Americas] which had never dealt with them before” (159) during what is known as the “Columbian exchange” trade period. Compounded by war, genocide, and enslavement, these ecological shifts led to the death of 56 million Indigenous People (90% of inhabitants) in the Americas from 1492-1600 (159). This violence unfolded alongside and in entanglement22 with transatlantic forced migration and enslavement, which caused the death of millions of people kidnapped from Africa by European colonizers (United Nations, n.d.-b; Táíwò 2022, 45-46). Gumbs (2020) sheds more light on the causal link between colonialism and ecological harm by describing how one of the very first things Columbus and his fellow colonizers did upon arrival to the Caribbean was kill six Caribbean monk seals. Following 22 I highlight some of these entanglements in Section 2.3.3, however I recommend reviewing Táíwò’s (2022) work which details the connections between settler colonialism, white supremacy, and racial capitalism, such as through drawing on James Baldwin who has “connected the specific plight of…Indigenous peoples killed so their land could be transformed into white profit to the plight of…people of African descent who were enslaved to wreak the transformation.” (17). 29 this, colonizers proceeded to hunt these monk seals to extinction in order to use their blubber to lubricate plantation machinery. Together, Táíwò (2022) and Gumbs (2020) exemplify how European colonizers sparked ecological disaster and genocide through the transatlantic enslavement of African Peoples and the colonization of Indigenous Peoples, lands, and lifeways across the Americas. Red River Métis/Michif scholars Zoe Todd (2022) and Max Liboiron (2021) further elucidate the relationship between settler colonialism and climate injustice. These scholars explain that resource extraction, pollution, and ecological harm in most parts of the world arise from a precedent of colonizers feeling entitled to land and resources that do not belong to them, following which these colonizers displace and commit genocide against the people who have existed on and taken care of such lands for thousands of years, and then relentlessly extract from and harm those same lands (21-22; 5). Scholar Dina Gilio-Whitaker (Colville Confederated Tribes) (2019) provides an example of this displacement-land theft-ecological destruction relationship by describing how European settler colonizers strategically murdered tens of millions of buffalo from the 1870s-1890s in order to starve Indigenous Peoples of the Northern and Southern Plains into complying with the reservation system, rendering it easier for these colonizers to steal and extract resources from Indigenous land (58-59). This colonial pattern of displacement, land theft, and ecological destruction continues as Israel actively drop bombs on Palestinian schools and hospitals, fills waterways with cement, and destroys food systems in a genocidal attempt to seize land from Palestinians, in part to grow the Western colonial outpost/control of the region while also expanding oil and gas exploration (Amnesty International 2009; Visualizing Palestine, n.d.; Manna 2022; Kulthum 2023). Thinking with the struggles of Palestinians, Armstrong’s earlier reflections on destructive clear cutting on syilx 30 territory, and the transnationality of climate (in)justice, I pause here to think a video of a Palestinian man in the West Bank crying out in front of an olive tree that was lit on fire by an Israeli settler - “The olive trees! What did the olive trees do? The olive tree that prays to God, what did it do?” (5 Broken Cameras 2018). Similarly to Armstrong’s previous quote, this video illustrates Indigenous land relations and ecologies being violently disrupted by colonial forces. Táíwò (2022), Gumbs (2020), Todd (2022), Liboiron (2021), Gilio-Whitaker (2019), and the livestreamed genocide and resistance in Palestine collectively demonstrate how climate injustices arise from colonial power dynamics. To offer another example of this link between colonialism and climate injustice, Murrey and Mollett (2023) and The Red Nation (2021, 14) discuss how resources (e.g., oil, lithium, human labour, etc.) are disproportionately extracted from communities and people in colonized places (including Nations across Turtle Island, the Caribbean, Africa, and South America) in order to meet the “consumptive cultures of affluence and steady demand” (Murrey and Mollett 2023, 764) of settler colonizers in Canada, the US, Western Europe, the UK, etc. Across mainstream environmental discourses, however, colonizers evade scrutiny. The United Nations (2024), for instance, describes the climate emergency as arising from a vague “humanity’s burning of fossil fuels” [emphasis added]. Maynard and Simpson (2022) clarify that “it is not ‘humanity’ that poisoned so much earthly human and non-human life, but a small and highly powerful minority of humanity, and the order they have imposed on all earthly life.” (22). Meanwhile, “Indigenous Peoples across the Americas have been” taking care of their lands since time immemorial and “rising up for 500 years, presenting multivalent forms of resistance to colonial violence, femicide, epistemicide, and ecocide” (Pilar and Wilson 2017, 33 in Truscello and Nangwaya 2017). Indigenous Peoples are stewarding 22% of the world’s surface, much of which is a carbon sink that mitigates global warming, and 31 defending their lands and land rights against fossil fuel projects (Alook et al. 2023, 20). Further, a report by Dakota and Dine writer-organizer Dallas Goldtooth et al. (2021) shows that Indigenous resistance over the last decade is keeping 1.587 billion metric tons of carbon dioxide emissions out of the atmosphere (12). Indigenous Peoples across the world are caretaking and defending 80% of remaining biodiversity, despite comprising ~6% of the world’s population (Nitah 2021, 907; The Red Nation 2021, 25). 2.3.3 Settler colonialism and climate (in)justice on syilx territory Shifting from the climate justice leadership of Indigenous Peoples across the world back to syilx territory: syilx people have taken good care of their territory for over 15 000 years, attributable to sustainable worldviews, laws, and practices (Armstrong et al. 2021, ii; Baker 1990, 46; UBC Studios Okanagan 2024). Since the early-mid 1800s, however, European settler colonizers have been both intentionally and implicitly distorting and severing the relationships between syilx people, land, and lifeways, perpetuating genocidal injustices and ecological harms therein. This section non-exhaustively details some of these injustices and harms, while also illuminating a few of the many powerful and persistent ways syilx communities are upholding their sovereignty and practicing their responsibilities to their land and lifeways in the face of ongoing settler colonialism. One of the many ways European colonizers have impacted the relationships between syilx people, land, and lifeways is through restricting the mobility of syilx people and communities. In 1846, the British-American establishment of the 49th parallel divided traditional syilx territory and “profoundly disrupted the Syilx way of life and relations to the land.” (Armstrong et al. 2021, iv). Osoyoos Indian Band Chief/y’ilmixwm ki law na Clarence Louie 32 clarifies that “The Americans and the British decided [this] against our wishes — they didn’t consult our people.” (Hemens 2024). In 1859, French Catholic missionaries arrived and settled in the Okanagan, imposing surveillance and restrictions on syilx people’s daily rhythms and travel throughout their own territory (Thomson 1990, 127-139). In 1865, “settlers began pre-empting land and building fences, so that the Syilx became literally barred from adjacent range lands and access to water” (Armstrong, Grauer, and MacArthur 2021, 258). On July 23, 2024, however, syilx Okanagan Nation and Secwépemc Nation co-led a horseback “Unity Ride” on July 23, 2024 across the 49th parallel to move in solidarity with one another and affirm their mobility rights as First Nations (Hemens 2024). Furthermore, July 5 2023 marked the 22nd annual “Sukwnaqin July 4th Canoe Journey” across the border led by syilx Okanagan Nation members alongside Secwépemc, Nlaka’pamux, and Stʼatʼimc allies, to honour their sovereignty and rights to their unceded territory as well as to resist divisions inflicted by the colonial border (Hemens 2023a). Colonizers have further distorted syilx land relations through impacting syilx food systems (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 37). Through these systems, syilx people have fed their communities while also maintaining good relations with the tmixw and tmxuwlaxw over thousands of years. Reflecting on the How Food Was Given captikwl/syilx creation story, Cohen (2001) conveys the syilx worldview that the survival and wellbeing of humans and nature exist in Food Chief relationships of mutual responsibility (143). As the Four Food Chiefs gave their lives in order for humans to survive, “humans must in turn ensure the survival of the natural communities and ecosystems” (143). Colonial disruption of syilx food systems is depicted in a 1910 letter from Chiefs of the Shuswap (Secwépemc), (syilx) Okanagan, and Couteau (Nlakaʼpamux) Nations, who came together to write to then-Prime Minister Wilfred Laurier. 33 This letter provided an overview of how colonization and land theft was unfolding in these Chiefs’ territories, and asked Laurier to make things right. Though for thousands of years, “fire, water, food, clothing and all the necessities of life were obtained in abundance from the lands of each tribe, and all the people had equal rights of access to everything they required” (2), the Chiefs articulated living in debilitating conditions under “the severe restrictions put on us lately by the government re hunting and fishing; the depletion of salmon by over-fishing of the whites, and other matters affecting us. In many places we are debarred from camping, traveling, gathering roots and obtaining wood and water as heretofore. Our people are fined and imprisoned for breaking the game and fish laws and using the same game and fish which we were told would always be ours for food.” (4). This quote critiques colonizers using tools of control and deceit to assert their laws over the laws of syilx people, land, and lifeways - to the immediate and disproportionate detriment of syilx people and syilx lifeways, and to the eventual detriment of everyone living and relying on syilx land and lifeways. In their letter to Laurier, the Chiefs emphasized fishing restrictions as a key issue. Scholars Maria Correia, Sarah Alexis (syilx), and Aleksandra Dulic (2024) further explain that while syilx people have depended on fishing for material, cultural, and spiritual wellbeing, colonial exploitation and development over the 19th century, “particularly the construction of hydroelectric dams and the canalization of the Okanagan River for agricultural development and flood control, destroyed fish and their habitats.” (n.p.). Armstrong et al. (2021) name the McIntyre Dam as a significant structure which blocked salmon passage and impacted syilx salmon fishing camps (8). Today, Okanagan Nation Alliance (ONA) has worked concertedly with partners to bring Okanagan sockeye salmon from near-extinction and back into the Columbia River (Correia, Alexis, and Dulic 2024). ONA continues to work in partnership with 34 Ktunaxa Nation, Secwépemc Nation, Canada, and British Columbia to continually reintroduce and care for salmon in shared waterways (Bringing the Salmon Home 2024). Just recently, a project led by Penticton Indian Band and several partners23 established the East Salmon Passage at Okanagan Lake Dam, allowing millions of salmon and other fish to access Okanagan Lake for the first time in many generations (ONA 2025a). Colonial restrictions on syilx waterways and fishing practices, as well as syilx resistance to these restrictions, speak to issues of food sovereignty, a term that refers to “the right of peoples to define [and practice] their own food systems which are ecologically, socially and culturally appropriate” (Blanchet et al. 2021, 2). As illustrated by the following quote from the Okanagan Mountain-K’nmalka Wildlife Corridor Action Plan, colonial disruption of syilx food sovereignty interlocks with harm to land and lifeways: Shortly after the arrival of the first settlers, the wildlife in the valley began to decline. Bounties were placed on grizzly bears, which decimated their numbers. Deer, elk, and moose were culled to make way for cattle grazing. Habitat loss and over-hunting eliminated caribou from the region. Dams obstructed salmon from returning to the lake. Wildlife was further decimated in the 1930s and into the 1950s as bounties were placed on wolves, porcupines, coyotes, and cougars. (Okanagan Nation Alliance & Okanagan Collaborative Conservation Program 2023, 4). Whereas this report, the Chiefs’ letter, and Correia, Alexis, and Dulic (2024) demonstrate how colonial harm to syilx land and lifeways has harmed syilx people, syilx scholar and ONA executive director suiki?st Pauline Terbasket inversely asserts that “to care for the land is to care 23 The City of Penticton, the Province of British Columbia, and Fisheries and Oceans Canada, with funding from the Habitat Conservation Plan, the Habitat Subcommittee of the Priest Rapids Coordinating Committee, and TD Friends of the Environment Fund. 35 for the people” (50). Explaining how “returning to the land and to our [syilx] original foods” (50) is a practice of reciprocity and responsibility towards the Four Food Chiefs and the tmixw, Terbasket draws attention to how “ONA contributes to a wide range of traditional food initiatives, including on-the-land camps to ensure that our food systems continue despite ongoing challenges” (51). She explains further that “harvesting is grassroots. It is so important to acknowledge that our community members are out there doing this informal, unseen work of connecting with the land and sustaining their families.” (51), illustrating how syilx people having sovereignty to access their traditional foods simultaneously contributes to the land, lifeways, and climate. Adding to how settler colonizers have impacted syilx people, land, and lifeways through establishing colonial borders and fences, building obstructive dams, and overhunting wildlife, gold rushes in the British Columbia Interior in the 1850s-1860s (such as gold rushes to Rock Creek and Similkameen, Thomson 1958, 113) mark a time wherein settler colonizers significantly violated their “guest-host relationship” with the syilx people (Thomson 1958, 35). In an essay titled “Indians of the Okanagan Valley” that is featured in Okanagan Women’s Voices (Armstrong, Grauer, and MacArthur 2021), syilx writer Marie Houghton Brent refers to the gold rush as an invasion which “not only disrupted [syilx people’s] usual mode of living and crumpled up and destroyed their old-established customs and usages which had endured for centuries, but it deprived them of their country as well. They were soon exiled to the reservations.” (76). In 1864, these reserves were reduced in size by gold commissioner and Irish settler J.C. Haynes. In their 1910 letter to Laurier, Secwépemc, syilx, and Nlaka’pamux Chiefs express that reserves came into effect without their consent, and that their lands remain 36 unceded24: “After a time when they saw that our patience might get exhausted and that we might cause trouble if we thought all the land was to be occupied by whites they set aside many small reservations for us here and there over the country.” (3). Scholar Duane Thomson (1985) and the Chiefs draw attention to how as syilx people lost access to resources, European settlers gained access (122; 4). Within the context of the Fraser River Gold Rush (which neighboured and impacted syilx territory and people), settler scholar John Douglas Belshaw (2015) further discusses the environmental impacts of colonial gold mining, citing sediment spills which compromised salmon spawning grounds, and deforestation to create mine posts which led to soil erosion. Belshaw further notes that Euro-American gold miners would kill Indigenous people (including syilx people) “who got in their way”, drawing links between climate injustice, resource extraction, and genocide. Pointing out an additional layer of injustice and struggle, Secwépemc leader Arthur Manuel (Manuel, Klein, and Derrickson 2015) explains that the 1860s gold rush and establishment of reserve lands in the Interior was happening while Indigenous Peoples were still dealing with deadly waves of disease (e.g. smallpox) from European settler colonizers (26). In an essay on Okanagan oraliture, Armstrong (2018) mentions the impacts of smallpox on syilx people which killed as many as 90% of the population (see also Sam 2008, 48). In this same essay, Armstrong speaks to captikʷɬ as using “an oral literature method of environmental knowledge transfer” (1), prompting readers to think about the loss of both life and knowledge 24 Unceded refers to having never been sold, traded, or handed over. In the words of the Chiefs: “[the reserves] was their proposal not ours, and we never accepted these reservations as settlement for anything, nor did we sign any papers or make any treaties about the same.” 37 through disease epidemics. Cohen and Chambers (2021) extend this point into a discussion of epistemicide – the killing and/or devaluing of a knowledge system – whereby: a blanket of [colonial] residential, agricultural and commercial development, and exploitative resource extraction distorted the natural ecosystems, limiting vision, making it hard [for syilx people] to see and to keep good relations with the natural biodiversity of our territory. Animals, plants, habitats, landforms, cultural markers, and story symbols have been diminished. Within seven generations, thousands of years of sustaining cultural and ecological relationships expressed through Syilx Okanagan societal practices have been largely replaced with the English language, Anglo-Canadian white his-story and knowledge, and the institutionalized denial of Syilx existence, sovereignty, and legitimacy (39). However, Cohen and Chambers (2021) also remind readers that syilx people are “still here,” (47), reconnecting with and drawing on their “place-based experiential cultural lifeways that have maintained ecological and economic health, food security, and distribution” (50). On a similar note, Armstrong, Derickson, Maracle & Young-Ing (1994) emphasize that “Learning and teaching the natural laws on the land is necessary for humans to love and to continue on…Understanding the living land and teaching how to be part of that is the only way we, the syilx, have survived” (2). Despite ongoing settler colonial violence, syilx communities have resisted and persisted to care for and connect with the land, lifeways, and each other. Furthermore, per the earlier-mentioned concepts of Okanaganizing/syilx-izing (UBC Studios Okanagan 2024; Armstrong 2020), if settlers want to contribute to regenerating land and 38 lifeways in the Okanagan, we must listen to, collaborate with, and follow the leadership of syilx people. 2.3.4 White supremacy, racism, and climate (in)justice The previous two sections illustrated settler colonial processes such as border creation, overextraction, and mass killing of wildlife which served to confine and displace Indigenous Peoples, steal their lands, and build structures of extraction and profit (e.g. gold mines, agriculture, settler colonial states) using what was stolen. As both ecological harms (e.g. wildlife extirpations, sediment spills, deforestation) and mass genocide of Indigenous Peoples were perpetuated throughout these processes, an entanglement between settler colonialism and climate injustice is made evident. At the same time, Girvan and critical scholar and educator from the Philippines Rina Garcia Chua (2021) argue that to “glamorize one issue at a time betrays the interlocking complexities of colonization, racialization, and environmental degradation that have been foundational to what we know as “Canada” today” (3). Thus, it is critical to discuss how settler colonialism and climate (in)justice are entangled with other structures and processes of power, starting in this section with white supremacy and racism. In a dialogue with Chinese-Canadian migrant labour activist and scholar Roxana Ng titled Deconstructing Race, Deconstructing Racism, Armstrong (2005) draws connections between white supremacy, racism, and settler colonialism. First, Armstrong explains that settler colonialism has used white supremacy as a weapon, particularly through “subjugation of peoples in their interactions on their lands, about making sure people who had privilege over others maintained their privilege over others.” Armstrong further describes racism as an “Othering” mechanism whereby “in a class-structured society, the privileged members of society believe 39 that ‘It’s better to take from them than from us, better to enslave them than us, better to make them work than us.’” Finally, Armstrong explains that the subjugation and enslavement of certain people and groups “became entrenched within the entire system of colonization,” and “inevitably created the kind of systemic violence that continues in this country, in all of the Americas, and in all of the colonized countries of the world.” (33), drawing links between settler colonialism, white supremacy, and racism. Scholars such as Todd (2022) agree that white supremacy - which mentally and materially situates white European settlers in positions of domination over Black, Indigenous, and people of colour, land and water, and other-than-human beings (20-22) – advances settler colonialism, and as explained earlier, settler colonialism and climate injustice are linked. Geography scholar Laura Pulido further articulates how white supremacy and racism structure resource extraction and production so that profits disproportionately accrue in white pockets, while costs (e.g. poisoned water supply, polluted air, cancer, premature death) disproportionately accrue in the bodies and communities of Black, Indigenous, socioeconomically disadvantaged, and people of colour (Al-saleh and Rosenfeld, 2016). Geography scholar Thom Davies (2022) describes this process as environmental racism, a global pattern whereby “environmental risks are commonly placed in the path of least resistance, near communities with the smallest reserves of political, economic, and social capital.” (416). Environmental racism describes a way in which white supremacy and racism interlock with climate injustice. Táíwò (2022) illustrates environmental racism as he explains how the devastating impacts of Hurricane Katrina on land, infrastructure, and communities in colonially-known25 25 I use the phrase “colonially-known” throughout this thesis to acknowledge where place names erase Indigenous land, sovereignty, and stewardship. “Louisiana,” “Canada,” “the United States,” etc are names of settler colonies, and are not of the land itself. 40 Louisiana resulted from oil extraction in swamp lands beginning in the 1920s26, the creation of racially-stratified neighbourhoods and withholding financial services from them in the 1930s, and the state’s negligence to create floodgate infrastructure to protect Black neighbourhoods in more recent years (150-154). Mercury poisoning among residents of Grassy Narrows/Asubpeeschoseewagong First Nation and residents of Binche Whut’en due to dumping from the Dryden Chemical Company and pollution from the Pinchi Mine, respectively, are also examples of environmental racism (Da Silva 2024; Mergler et al. 2023; UBC Centre for Climate Justice, n.d.). The decision of the City of Halifax to place a “health menace” open air dump nearby Africville, a previously thriving Black community (Khan 2021); and continually exposing underpaid migrant workers from Mexico and Jamaica to wildfire smoke and pesticides on Okanagan orchards (Weiler 2023), are additional examples of environmental racism. Whereas environmental racism refers to structures and processes whereby environmental hazards disproportionately impact Black, Indigenous, socioeconomically disadvantaged, and communities of colour (Women’s Earth Alliance and Native Youth Sexual Health Network 2017, 15), environmental justice refers to a grassroots movement which responds to environmental racism and envisions other ways of living with each other and nature (Whyte and Comeau 2016, 13). In the colonially-known United States, attendees of the 1991 First National People of Color Environmental Leadership Summit collaborated to create 17 principles of environmental justice which highlighted intersections between environmental justice and workers’ rights, reparations, anti-capitalism, Indigenous sovereignty, and more. Gilio-Whitaker (2019) notes that these 17 principles were among the first articulated visions of environmental 26 Wetlands like swamps can absorb or divert water and help mitigate the impacts of flooding. 41 justice to incorporate Indigenization (18). Meaningful consideration of Indigenous rights and worldviews is integral to articulating a decolonial environmental justice framework, Gilio-Whitaker argues, because resource extraction, wealth generation, and environmental consequences in the Americas arise from “centuries of violent Indigenous displacement, genocide, and land theft.” (24). Nishnaabeg (Michi Saagiig) scholar and artist Leanne Betasamosake Simpson (2017) adds to Gilio-Whitaker’s argument by expressing her desire to participate in “constellations of co-resistance” (231) between different communities targeted by white supremacy, racism, and colonization. Namely, Simpson speaks to the power that lies in collaborations between Black and Indigenous people who possess diverse but overlapping experiences of living within, and resisting, oppressive colonial-capitalist systems (228-231). (3). In a book that unfolds in reciprocal dialogue between Simpson and Black feminist and abolitionist scholar Robyn Maynard (2022), Maynard posits that “Black and Indigenous communities are collectively positioned on the very forefront of the unfolding [climate] catastrophe.” (15). They explain further that these communities “have borne, already, multiple apocalypses that were inflicted upon us, if un-identically, from the ‘barbarity time’ of genocide/slavery/settler colonialism” (15), speaking to the transformative and liberatory power of world-building, solidarity, and collaborative approaches to climate (in)justices between Black and Indigenous people and communities (15, 27-29). 2.3.5 Heteropatriarchy and climate (in)justice Thus far, I have attempted to demonstrate how climate injustices are produced by multiple interlocking structures and processes of power. Therefore, all of these structures and 42 processes must be accounted for in order to actualize climate justice (Girvan and Chua 2021, 3; McGuire-Adams 2021, 764). Adding to the entanglements between settler colonialism, white supremacy, and racism, painting an even fuller picture of climate (in)justice requires grappling with heteropatriarchy. Kanaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian), Unangax̂, and Klamath feminist scholars Maile Arvin, Eve Tuck, and Angie Morrill (2013) describe heteropatriarchy as spaces and systems that normalize/value male leadership and heterosexuality whilst abnormalizing/demonizing women, youth, nonbinary people, Two-Spirit people, and queerness (13). Within colonial-capitalist, racist, and heteropatriarchal structures, violence against Indigenous women, youth, queer, nonbinary, and Two-Spirit people is weaponized by colonizers to gain and maintain access to Indigenous lands and subsequent profits (Flowers 2015, 34; The Red Nation 2021, 45; Women’s Earth Alliance (WEA) and Native Youth Sexual Health Network (NYSHN) 2017, 20; Hunt 2023, 25). Because it is “a foundational dispossession force” (9), then, both Arvin, Tuck, and Morrill (2013, 9, 15) and Simpson (2017, 41) explain that interrogating and unravelling heteropatriarchy is essential to unravelling settler colonialism. Arvin, Tuck and Morrill (2013, 9, 15), Simpson (2017, 41), Flowers (2015), The Red Nation (2021), and WEA and NYSHN (2017) explain how colonizers oppress and murder Indigenous women as a means of severing ties to land, traditional governance, and future generations of Indigenous people who would otherwise have rights, title, and connection to their ancestral territories. Arvin, Tuck, and Morrill (2013), for instance, discuss how Canada used the 1876 Indian Act27 to destroy Indigenous governance and kinship systems by “regulat[ing] the 27 This legislation is still active and in place, under the same name. Maracle et al. (1993) explain that “although the Indian Act is a tool by which the government controls, it also sets out their legal duty to the Queen’s Treaties and Agreements. This legal duty is the Lands, Reserves and Trusts. It is these “trust responsibilities” in the Indian Act which protects the treaties and lands and aboriginal rights in Canada’s legal duty…It is the historical relationship of our Nations to the Crown.” (88) 43 marriage of Indigenous peoples to confer lines of descent, property, and landholding to men, even though most societies were matrilineal.” (15). On this note, Louis (2008) states that prior to colonial contact, syilx people lived in a matrilineal society (10-11). An example of ongoing heteropatriarchal violence against Indigenous women, youth, queer, nonbinary, and Two-Spirit people includes man camps - temporary and typically isolated housing facilities for people (mostly men) working on development projects, pipelines, etc. - which create contexts of money, substance use, and a high ratio of men to women (WEA and NYSHN 2017, 30) (Morgan, Hoogeveen, and Leeuw 2021; WEA and NYSHN 2017, 30). Reclaiming Power and Place: The Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls confirms there is “substantial evidence of a serious problem demonstrated in the correlation between resource extraction and violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people” (415), citing man camps specifically. Indigenous women, youth, and feminist land defenders (2017) centred in Violence on the Land, Violence on Our Bodies suggest that the life-giving capacity of Indigenous women is a real threat to colonization and extractive industry. This threat may lie in the literal reproductive capacity of some Indigenous women (which is sometimes impacted by the toxins that leech from extractive/pollutive projects, reflecting back to environmental racism; 14-17), and/or in their perspectives on sustainability that emerge from matrilineal wisdom focused on maintaining land and life for future generations (9, 18-20). In further consideration of the connections between violence to Indigenous women, youth, queer, nonbinary, and Two-Spirit people and violence to land and lifeways: Bonneau (2023) wrote an article about a syilx community meeting focused on protecting kɬúsx̌nítkʷ, Okanagan Lake, from “escalating development, pollution, and shifts in water temperature.” Of particular note, this meeting convened syilx women, youth, and 2SLGBTQIA+ members, 44 acknowledging the sacred and ancestral relationships these syilx groups have built and held to siwɬkw/water over thousands of years. The syilx people quoted in this article emphasized that their participation in this work is motivated by their responsibility and accountability to future generations. Bonneau conveys that respect for syilx women, youth, and 2SLGBTQIA+ folks and respect for the earth are intimately connected and implies that this connection is less about rigid gender identities, and more about the relationships that are cultivated between people, land, and lifeways. On this note, it’s important to listen to queer and Two-Spirit scholars like Alex Wilson (Opaskwayak Cree), who troubles the ways heteropatriarchal and essentializing norms rooted in settler colonialism sometimes seep into Indigenous spaces and ceremonies (Wilson 2018). In an article by Hemens (2022b), syilx, Ho-Chunk, and Anishinaabe Two-Spirit artist Madeline Terbasket describes how they too are troubling colonial heteropatriarchy and creating safer communities for queer and Two-Spirit people on syilx territory, partly through drag performance as well as through taking on a responsibility of “re-queering” traditional syilx stories. The importance of Indigenous woman, youth, queer, nonbinary, and Two-Spirit leadership in movements related to climate justice is present across multiple Indigenous Nations. Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate Dakota scholar Kim TallBear (2019), for example, speaks to how Indigenous women, youth, and Two-Spirit leadership were critical to Standing Rock, a movement grounded in Oceti Sakowin Nation which extended from the momentum of other Indigenous women-led movements such as Idle No More (13, 15). TallBear also reflects on the late Berta Cáceres, an Indigenous Lenca woman from Intibucá, Honduras who protected her community from a detrimental dam built by the world’s largest dam developer. TallBear emphasizes how Cáceres centred queer rights in her struggle, thereby linking “LGBTQ oppression to the oppression of Indigenous peoples by the same powerful interests who also 45 assault the planet” (15). Diné/Navajo (Honághááhnii clan) scholar and lawyer Michelle L. Cook (2019) offers another example of the power of Indigenous women leadership in climate movements by explaining how, in response to corporate banks that finance oil and gas projects which displace Indigenous Peoples while harming their land, there are many Indigenous women actively pursuing solutions. She refers specifically to Mnicoujou Lakota and Mandan-Hidatsa organizer Jacqueline Fielder, a founder of two organizations - Mazaska Talks (Money Talks) and SF Public Banks – which are providing Indigenous-led and community-driven alternatives to private banking. (112). Whereas heteropatriarchal forces like man camps inflict violence on Indigenous women, youth, queer, nonbinary, and Two-Spirit people, there are many ways these groups are resisting and upholding relationships to land, lifeways, and future generations. 2.3.6 Capitalism and climate (in)justice Intersections between heteropatriarchal norms, corporate banks, extractive industry, and violence to the land bring us to capitalism, another key structure and process that perpetuates climate injustice. Capitalism describes a political economic ideology which structures our thoughts, interactions, and lives towards accruing profit for a select few at the cost of the majority (Labonté and Ruckert 2019; The Red Nation 2021). In this section, I consider intersections of capitalism and climate (in)justice particularly in the ways that capitalist ideologies reveal incompatibilities with syilx values and laws, as well as in the ways that capitalism prevents many people from meeting their basic needs of living. I draw on several authors who demonstrate that, not only is capitalism preventing people from having the time, energy and resources to collectively and effectively tackle climate injustice, but climate justice itself must include priorities and sustainable strategies which house, clothe, and feed people. 46 Approaches to climate injustice which do not consider class – where one fits within an inequitable capitalist hierarchy of production and access to resources - are ill-equipped to deal with the material realities around us. As Armstrong (Armstrong and Klein 2023) amplifies the words of Indigenous rights advocate and climate activist Eriel Tchekwie Deranger (Athabasca Chipewyan First Nation) through asserting “the climate crisis cannot be addressed in any meaningful way without addressing its root causes – capitalism, colonialism and extractivism,” she addresses how capitalism interlocks with settler colonialism and climate injustice and must be addressed as such. Under colonial-capitalism, land, water, people, and other-than-human beings (like plants, rocks, animals, fossils) are seen as resources that can be owned and exploited. In contrast, at the 2025 syilx Water Forum, syilx knowledge holder xʕayluxalqs Trish Manuel emphasized that water, for example, “is not a resource…it’s mother earth’s life blood” (ONA 2025b). Furthermore, syilx values and laws such as egalitarianism (kilawna 2023), equal access to resources for living (Armstrong 2020, 165-166), collaborative decision making (Armstrong 2020, 166-167), generosity (Louis 2008, 11) and living in balance with nature (Maracle et al. 1993) are incompatible with capitalist ideologies and practices. Capitalism is not only incompatible with syilx laws and values – it is also incompatible with ensuring everyone has access to basic needs of living, and therefore incompatible with climate justice. That is - The Red Nation (2021), Alook et al. (2023), and Hayes and Kaba (2023) are some of the many thinkers who illustrate how access to food, water, shelter, and community are integral to climate justice. Through her thesis, my friend Kirstin helped me to see the very intentional structure of The Red Deal: Indigenous Action to Save Our Earth, whereby Section I “End the Occupation” and Section II “Heal Our Bodies” come before Section III, “Heal Our 47 Planet,” suggesting that Land Back and meaningfully addressing peoples’ suffering under colonial-capitalism (e.g. hunger, houselessness, domestic abuse) are foundational to climate justice (Pulles 2024). Bigstone Cree scholar Angele Alook et al. (2023) similarly argue that climate justice requires building “a regenerative economy rooted in care that allows opportunities for meaningful work for all and affords everyone access to the land, water, food, education, shelter, and community they need to live a good life.” (10). Similarly, Hayes and Kaba (2023) draw on wilderness survival educator and anthropologist Chris Begley to assert that community is key to “brav[ing] shifting conditions” (51) of the climate emergency. They argue that “we will have to strive to create communities ‘in which everyone’s basic needs are met,’ because ‘leaving people out eventually costs everybody.” (51-52). Capitalism prevents everyone’s basic needs from being met by creating material inequities among class divisions, whereby the exorbitant wealth of upper-class elites is made possible through the exploitation of lower-class workers, communities, and countries. As elites make billions from oil and gas, for example, the rest of the world is struggling to get by while also facing ecological fallout. These inequities are further compounded by settler colonial forces. Women’s Earth Alliance and Native Youth Sexual Health Network (2017), for example, name generational poverty as environmental violence, whereby Indigenous nations are often coerced into signing contracts with resource extraction and development industries to address this poverty (37). Both The Red Nation (2021, 141) and Alook et al. (2023) assert that widespread respect and support of Indigenous “knowledge systems and ways of knowing, being, and doing” (32) are critical to finding a way out of capitalist loops of land exploitation. The Red Nation (2021, 130-131) and Native Governance Centre (2021) clarify that this support must be accompanied by material resources, such as returned land, free legal services, and money 48 collected through mutual aid or voluntary land tax programs. Speaking to the importance of both Land Back and syilx values which run counter to capitalism, y̓ilmixʷm ki law na Chief Clarence Louie of Osoyoos Indian Band asserted that “Land is always more important than money. Always has been and always will be” (Hemens 2023b). 2.3.7 A note on settler anti-capitalist activism As I have reviewed some of the interlocking structures of climate injustice, I have intentionally grappled with settler colonialism first and capitalism later. This ordering has been partly informed by my friend Dani who has helped me to see a contraction in my activist communities whereby many white settler activists are focusing strongly on anti-capitalism in our actions whilst neglecting anti-colonialism, thereby disregarding the interdependence between these structures and processes. As will be discussed throughout Section 2.4, disavowing/failing to see the connections between climate justice and various structures and processes of power is characteristic of WSE. To Dani’s point, Tuck and Yang (2012) express that settlers who are advancing Marxism, for example, on Indigenous land are advancing colonization insofar as they are working to position themselves as workers in control of resource distribution rather than Indigenous Nations. In Red Pedagogy, Quechua scholar Sandy Grande (2004) suggests that Marxism is also rooted in colonialism when it pictures human liberation as the end goal of revolution, rather than the liberation of human and more-than-human relatives as interdependent equals (as is centred in some Indigenous praxis and Black ecological feminism) (27). Simpson (2017) adds to this discussion by pointing out that “Indigenous peoples have extremely rich anti-capitalist practices in our own histories and current realities” (73). Continuing to build out the connections between structures and processes of power, abolitionist activist-scholar Ruth Wilson 49 Gilmore argues that “all capitalism is racial capitalism,” and that “capitalism requires inequity, and racism enshrines it” (Card 2021). Understanding all capitalism as racial capitalism challenges white settler anti-capitalist activists who do not meaningfully consider, nor work in the intersections, between different struggles. Interrogating capitalism is arguably critical to advancing climate justice. However, radical collaborations, solidarity, and liberation for all from systems of colonial-capitalism and climate injustice are hindered when the “white left…approach Indigenous or other non-European communities as allies but present solutions that have been developed in isolation, are paternalistic, and/or are inappropriate to the context” (Pilar and Wilson 2017, 35). Among activist circles, I sometimes hear about and witness class reductionism - the idea that all forms of oppression arise from class oppression – crop up and overshadow the intricacies of other knowledges and perspectives, such as Black abolitionist and Indigenous decolonial perspectives articulated by scholars like Gilmore (Card 2021) and Simpson (2017). I think often of a friend when they argued that even if we agree with anti-capitalism, we shouldn’t have to approach everything from a Marxist lens. “What about when we read the Four Food Chiefs?” They asked a group of leftist settler activists. “Can’t we let the Four Food Chiefs speak for themselves?” As mentioned at the beginning of this literature review, a diversity of perspectives is key to transforming harmful systems. Supremacy and paternalism occur, however, when settlers believe that operationalizing Eurocentric anti-capitalist theories is more important than learning about, and learning how to support, the egalitarian and inherently anti-capitalist practices that have sustained syilx communities and ecologies for over 15 000 years. As explained by Cohen and Chambers (2021), turning to the place-based knowledge and cultural practices of Indigenous 50 Peoples is what has the potential to overturn “people-eating monsters” of colonization and the many injustices these monsters create and sustain (50-51). 2.3.8 Ableism and climate (in)justice When I initially wrote this literature review, I did not discuss ableism, and I want to acknowledge how this paucity reflects a common tendency of many activist groups and spaces to relegate matters of ableism and Disability Justice to the sidelines. This relegation enacts an ethic of domination (hooks 1994) and receives important critique from Disability Justice28 scholars, educators, and activists, such as disabled nonbinary femme of color and transformative justice practitioner-writer Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, and Disability blogger and creator Imani Barbarin (@Crutches_and_Spice). Ableism interlocks with the many structures and processes of power described up to this point, and Piepzna-Samarasinha (2018) demonstrates this through drawing links between the institutionalization of disabled people in “homes” and “sanitoriums,” the institutionalization of Indigenous children in residential “schools,” and the institutionalization of “Black, brown, poor, criminalized, trans, queer, and sex working people” in private prisons (25). Barbarin (2018) further explains how organized responses to climate disaster often neglect disabled people in deadly ways, and critiques how mainstream environmental “solutions” (think paper straws, restricting access to single-use materials, etc.) are ignorant of how important some of these items are for the autonomy and wellbeing of disabled people within capitalist individualist societies. 28 Piepzna-Samarasinha (2018) clarifies that this term emerged from disabled Black, brown, queer, and trans activists and artists. 51 Small yet important ways activists might start actualizing Disability Justice in our spaces and movements might include, but not be limited to practices of preventing the spread of illness through regular N95 masking (Wu, Ji, and Shi 2023), staying up to date on vaccinations, taking two COVID-19 rapid tests within 48 hours when sick (Mole 2022), purchasing an air purifier and using it at meetings (Liu et al. 2022), incorporating Piepzna-Samarasinha’s “Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice” into book club rotations, making spaces more accessible to hard-of-hearing/deaf/Deaf people (check out this Zine29 by Melchior 2025), and more. Piepzna-Samarasinha (2018) explains that “a Disability Justice framework understands that all bodies are unique and essential, that all bodies have strengths and needs that must be met”. (14). This quote draws parallels with a teaching/learning from the How Food was Given captíkʷɬ which articulates everyone has something to contribute (e.g., to the regeneration of land and lifeways) (Kou-skelowh/We Are the People and Okanagan Tribal Council 1984). While my minimal critical engagement with ableism and Disability Justice throughout this thesis is a limitation of this work, what possibilities might emerge beyond this thesis through thinking with the intersections between Disability Justice perspectives and syilx How Food Was Given teachings? 2.4 Unpacking white settler environmentalism The previous section traced connections between interlocking structures and processes of power – namely settler colonialism, white supremacy, racism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, and ableism – as they produce and perpetuate climate injustices, while also highlighting pockets of resistance various communities are engaging in to transform these structures and processes 29 https://drive.google.com/file/d/1wibqzCfWkrO-u7x_nAX7HKTlZhNngRpW/view 52 towards climate justice and more liveable futures for all. The current section unpacks yet another structure and process – white settler environmentalism (WSE) – which is in turn shaped by the aforementioned interlocking structures and processes of power, especially settler colonialism and white supremacy. WSE comprises the critical unit of analysis of this thesis. Over the next several pages I attempt to define WSE, articulate how WSE takes shape and hinders climate justice work on syilx territory and elsewhere, and illustrate why settler activists must take on the labour of transforming this structure and process as we shift into solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. 2.4.1 Defining white settler environmentalism I am using WSE as an umbrella term to refer to and problematize certain characteristics, perspectives, and practices commonly enacted by (often white) settler activists in the Okanagan. WSE is both rooted in, and reproductive of, white supremacy and settler colonialism – two interlocking structures and processes, interlocking with other structures and processes (ableism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, etc.), which create various social and climate injustices and harms (refer back to Sections 2.3.1-2.3.3). My conceptualization of WSE is underpinned by three relevant concepts present in the current literature: mainstream environmentalism (Curnow and Helferty 2018), white environmentalism (Gomez 2020; Purifoy 2018), and settler environmentalism (Paperson 2014; Helferty 2020). These differently-named concepts find multiple points of convergence, and each work to critique hegemonic forms of environmentalism and climate activism and the harms they perpetuate. To offer an example of this convergence: activist-scholars Joe Curnow and Anjali Helferty (2018) and La Paperson (2014) respectively articulate mainstream environmentalism and settler environmentalism as rooted in terra nullius, a 53 colonial legal construct which European colonizers have wielded to justify taking “empty” Indigenous land for themselves. Liboiron (2021) affirms that colonial forms of environmentalism are premised on an “assumed entitlement to Indigenous Land” (9). As Paperson (2014) describes settler environmentalism as a process of settlers trying to naturalize themselves on stolen Indigenous land through rewriting themselves as “ecological stewards” (117, 121), Curnow and Helferty (2018) argue that mainstream environmentalism emerges from colonial nature conservation grounded in “racist, sexist, and classist notions of wilderness protection in order to serve urban, bourgeois, white men’s desire[s]” (148) as well as the idea that protecting land means removing people from it. Queer, genderqueer, Mexican and Central American scholar Kayla Gomez (2020) similarly argues that white environmentalism separates humans from nature, “perpetuating the thought that [people] are not part of the ecosystem or among the species that need saving” (66). On this topic of human/nature divides, Gilio-Whitaker (2019) explains how European colonizers created a myth that Yosemite, Yellowstone, etc. were in “pristine” conditions upon colonial contact due to being left untouched by humans in order to obfuscate thousands of years of stewardship from Indigenous communities, and to displace these communities from their lands to create settler-controlled national parks (92-99). These various examples reflect terra nullius as they frame land as “empty”, “untouched”, and/or available to be taken from Indigenous Peoples and controlled by settlers. In addition to mainstream environmentalism, settler environmentalism, and white environmentalism being premised on colonial ideologies and laws of terra nullius, these concepts find overlap as they highlight environmental approaches which homogenize environmentalism as a single-issue matter, and center (primarily white) settlers while decentring/erasing the struggles and resistance of Indigenous, Black, and communities of colour. That is - whereas multiple 54 discourses and movements conceptualize climate justice as a response to various, interconnected struggles (e.g. struggles for socioeconomic equality, racial justice, Indigenous sovereignty, etc.), Gomez (2020) argues that white environmentalism separates itself from intersectional social justice movements (66), and Paperson (2014) argues that settler environmentalism tends to overlook “the complex relationships” between land and “Indigenous, Black, and ghettoized communities” (117). Furthermore, Gomez (2020) argues that white environmentalism erases the ongoing history of climate justice as a fight led by Black, Indigenous, and communities of colour (65), and Paperson (2014) posits that settler environmentalism is characterized by the silencing of Indigenous voices (117-118) and the idea that communities of colour need “saving” by white settlers (120). While Curnow and Helferty (2018) point out that mainstream environmentalism has adopted a discourse of climate justice to consider disproportionate impacts of the climate emergency on southern countries and Black, Indigenous, and communities of colour, they argue that this shift has been more semantic than actionable (148). Mainstream environmentalism, settler environmentalism, and white environmentalism further converge as they are described as reproducing structures and processes of capitalist-colonialism and focusing on settler desires and interests. To elaborate: Gomez (2020, 66), Curnow and Helferty (2018, 147), and Paperson (2014, 120) interrogate how hegemonic environmentalisms tend to focus on the consumer as the primary location of environmental change, and often glorify “green” solutions and technologies rooted in capitalistic growth. Liboiron (2021) helps us to understand these capitalist patterns as interlocking with settler colonialism particularly as they argue that “environmentalism does not usually address colonialism and often produces it” (11), gesturing towards “environmental solutions to pollution such as hydroelectric dams, consumer responsibility, and appeals to the commons [which] 55 assume access to Indigenous Land and its ability to produce value for settler and colonial desires and futures” (11). The terms “mainstream environmentalism,” “white environmentalism,” and “settler environmentalism” operate to flag and interrogate a particular set of approaches to and practices of environmentalism and climate activism. Such approaches and practices include ones that: reflect colonial ideologies and laws (e.g. terra nullius); conceptualize environmentalism and climate justice as a single-issue matter; overlook and erase the perspectives of Indigenous, Black, and communities of colour; assume access to Indigenous lands and advance capitalist-colonialism; and centre the interests and desires of (primarily white) settlers. These approaches and practices characterize a structure and process I am terming WSE. Whereas Curnow and Helferty (2018) articulate mainstream environmentalism as a movement that is rooted in whiteness and coloniality and is distinct from environmental justice and Indigenous resurgence movements (146), Gomez (2020) brings white supremacy to the forefront of their critique of hegemonic environmentalisms through the term white environmentalism. Though geography and environmental scholar Danielle Purifoy (2018) acknowledges white environmentalism as entangled with settler colonialism, Gomez’s conceptualization does not clearly address this entanglement. Inversely, Paperson’s (2014) conceptualization of settler environmentalism puts forth “settler” as a monolithic category and risks obscuring the diverse complicities of diversely-positioned settlers (e.g. settlers of colour, immigrant settlers, queer lower/upper-class white settlers/settlers of colour, etc.). I am therefore using the language of “white settler environmentalism” in an attempt to explicitly capture both settler colonialism and white supremacy as entangled and influential of certain characteristics, perspectives, and practices enacted by often white, often settler activists on syilx territory and other Indigenous lands. 56 I am conceptualizing WSE as a structure and a process to convey how it is interlocking with and emergent from other structures and processes of power (Dhamoon 2015; Jafri 2017); present and ongoing (Kauauni 2016); and thereby open to transformation (Jafri 2017). WSE is not necessarily a rigid identity category comprised solely of white settler activists, but a dynamic structure and process wherein multiple people of diverse identities may be present and exhibiting particular characteristics, perspectives, and practices whether they realize it or not. This conceptualization builds from scholars like Purifoy (2018), Curnow and Helferty (2018), and Jafri (2012). Purifoy (2018), for example, clarifies that white environmentalism is not termed “white” because white people are the only people who care about environmentalism, or are the only people who participate in this structure and process. Rather, Purifoy argues, white environmentalism is prefaced as white because “its primary considerations reflect the interests of mostly white and wealthier people – to the literal exclusion of nonwhites.” Furthermore, Curnow and Helferty argue that “mainstream environmentalism… includes settlers of color, and they/we are implicated in the settler colonial project as well, though differently. However, the existence of diversity does not preclude the domination of white culture.” (147). Jafri (2012) fleshes out this point by asserting that while settlers of colour living on stolen Indigenous land are complicit in the settler colonial project, they do not tend to experience the same privileges and benefits from settler colonialism as white settlers do given the interdependence of settler colonialism and white supremacy. As articulated by Caribbean-British arrivant scholar Anita Girvan, Irish-Jamaican scholar Priscilla McGreer, and Métis scholar Makayla Lesann (2023), our personal identities, beliefs, and behaviours are shaped by and reflective of expansive relationships to power structures and processes. How a given settler activist shows up to a climate justice space or movement, then, is 57 nuanced by their multiple and dynamic relationships to settler colonialism, heteropatriarchy, white supremacy, etc., rather than a static set of identities and traits. That said, though people of various identities may find themselves participating in and perpetuating WSE, white settlers comprise the majority of its participants, and the term WSE also strives to acknowledge this hegemony. 2.4.2 White settler environmentalism in practice This section continues to unpack WSE through looking at examples of how this structure and process manifests through settler activists, settler-led movements, and the ways settlers show up to coalitional and solidarity spaces30. In particular, I examine how WSE emerges through epistemic injustices, settler missteps and moves to innocence (Tuck and Yang 2012) which hinder meaningful solidarity action, and the centring of white perspectives, agendas, and feelings. In addition to responding to Curnow and Helferty (2018) who point out that the white colonial roots of mainstream environmentalism are not often addressed in the literature, this section may serve as a series of prompts for settler activists, especially white settler activists, to reflect and consider where WSE manifests in their own activist spaces and practices. Helferty (2020) discusses how use of the specific term “settler environmentalism” is limited in the literature, yet its characteristics and manifestations are thoroughly experienced, recognizable, and discussed across academic circles and communities (10). Likewise, there are likely many more ways WSE is witnessed and understood in climate justice and activist spaces than are detailed here. 30 Girvan (2025) describes coalition as emerging from the work of Black feminist collectives, and as encapsulating processes through which people work together across different relationships to, and experiences within, structures and processes of power, understanding that liberation is a collective endeavour. Coalition is discussed further in Chapter 4. 58 WSE often decenters, undermines, and/or neglects entirely the robust knowledges, perspectives, and calls to action of Indigenous, Black, Brown, and colonized people (Gatheru 2020; Paperson 2014, 117-118; Gomez 2020, 65-66) – a process often labelled as epistemic injustice or epistemic violence (Davies 2022). A zine titled “Everyone Calls Themselves an Ally Until it is Time to Do Some Real Ally Shit” by Ahousaht First Nation-based collective Ancestral Pride (n.d.) posits that environmental groups who act without meaningfully acknowledging and working with the people who have stewarded these lands for time immemorial are perpetuating oppression (7). Environmental departments at universities are filled with white faces and built on Euro-western frameworks (Girvan and Chua 2021, 6), climate policies are often developed without meaningful engagement from Indigenous Nations (Deranger 2021, 2), and many environmental activists who loudly decry, for instance, industrial imposition on their favourite parks and trail systems (e.g. “Defend Alberta Parks" 2021) often stay silent when Indigenous land defenders are arrested for protecting the land and water of their traditional territories (Helferty 2020, 40-41). These examples demonstrate epistemic injustices characteristic of, and perpetuated by, WSE. To offer a place-based example of WSE epistemic injustice: when my climate activist group and I attended the aforementioned Sncəwips Heritage Museum tour a few months back, syilx artist-educator Coralee Miller shared with us that mainstream environmentalist organization Greenpeace once registered the Ogopogo as an “endangered species” as a symbolic conservation move. Though well-intended, Coralee explained how Greenpeace’s actions misappropriated n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ, a syilx water spirit and relative, while simultaneously obscuring syilx ontological understandings and respect for water/siwlɬkʷ embodied by this relative (Cecco 2021). This story interrogates settler-dominant environmental work that denies/ignores the land-based knowledge of syilx people. As Armstrong has pointed 59 out, settlers must understand that syilx communities hold the answers to climate justice on syilx territory. A shift away from these aforementioned epistemic injustices towards this understanding is critical to regenerating and sustaining syilx land and lifeways for future generations (Armstrong and Klein 2023). In addition to creating and perpetuating various epistemic injustices that center (often white) settler voices and priorities while decentering the voices and priorities of Black, Indigenous, and people and communities of colour, WSE may manifest through several “moves to innocence.” Tuck and Yang (2012) define moves to innocence as strategies settlers enact to relieve themselves of the guilt of colonization without actually making any real changes in the ways they engage with and contribute to the world (10). Whyte (2018) further argues that these moves to innocence are underpinned by an unwillingness among (often white) settlers to give up the privileges they accrue through living on stolen Indigenous land – privileges like economic security, career goals, connections to nature, etc. Common moves to innocence (Tuck and Yang 2012) among settlers and settler activists may include: claiming distant Indigenous ancestry to shirk off complicity in settler colonialism (10-13); absorbing Indigenous epistemologies and cultural practices into colonial structures (13-17); labelling social justice struggles which do not in fact strive to unravel settler colonialism as “decolonial” (18-19); assuming that the unlearning of settler colonialism (“decolonizing the mind”) constitutes sufficient decolonial action (19-22); fighting for workers’ rights and wealth redistribution without accounting for whose land this wealth has been stolen from in the first place (23-28); and appropriating Indigenous worldviews and practices such as through resettling land as “homesteads” (28). Whyte (2018) expands on Tuck and Yang’s list of settler moves to innocence by discussing the “same-boat” approach to climate justice, whereby white settlers argue that the 60 climate emergency threatens us all and therefore do not wish to spend time on acknowledging or working across our differences. While WSE movements are trying to avoid dystopias/apocalypses rife with ecosystem collapse, greedy corporations, and fascist governments, Whyte (2018) explains how, in concurrence with Maynard’s earlier point (Maynard and Simpson 2022), many Indigenous Peoples “are already living in what our ancestors would have understood as dystopian or post-apocalyptic times.” Whyte also discusses the “romantic” approach to allyship as a move to innocence, whereby settlers romanticize and lift up Indigenous knowledge and spirituality but don’t take actionable steps to address the inequitable material realities Indigenous communities have been facing, and are further unequipped to understand certain contradictions (e.g. why some Indigenous Nations might agree to pipeline projects) due to a shallow understanding of colonization and its effects. Black feminist and environmental justice scholar Esme Murdock (2021) argues that ignorance or feigned ignorance, such as wallowing in “not knowing what to do” about colonially-created climate disaster, is another move to innocence insofar as it evades taking action. Flowers (2015) describes colonizers seeking recognition from the colonized and thereby positioning themselves “at the heart of decolonization movements” as another strategy of innocence (38), while Shotwell (2018) critiques the tendency of white people to separate themselves from harmful histories and people as a grasp for innocence. “I’m not bad like those white people – I’m one of the good ones!” These many settler moves to innocence, similar in the ways they involve a lack of action meaningfully rooted in decolonization and anti-racism, are prevalent in WSE (Powys Whyte 2018; Tuck and Yang 2012, 30; Murdock 2021). Many of the epistemic injustices and moves to innocence which manifest through structures and processes of WSE reflect a centring of settler perspectives and priorities over 61 Indigenous perspectives and priorities. This centring lends itself to understanding how even when settlers show up with good intentions, we can inflict tangible harms and hinderances on Indigenous-led movements, people, and communities we wish to support. For example, Flowers (2015) offers reflections on a demonstration that was held against the energy company Kinder Morgan on Burnaby Mountain in 2014. She notes that “the amount of support from settlers was overwhelming. Their intentions, however, as I came to understand them, were to prevent the destruction of a Conservation Area and confront corporate greed, rather than to oppose the infringement of Indigenous sovereignties.” (35). These intentions were made clear by settler actions that rebelled but did not advance change - “Rather than securing bodies at the front line of an Indigenous-led protest, settlers chose to glorify arrests (and their arrests dominated headlines); their rebellion did not transform the context.” (36). Similarly, Curnow and Helferty (2018) reflect on how white settler allies at Standing Rock (Dhillon and Estes 2019) “who were unfamiliar with the histories of settler colonialism and racialization and were unprepared to recognize and check their own Eurowestern ways of knowing and being, or often inadvertently perform white saviorism, proved to be particularly problematic” (146). Settlers exhibiting patterns of centring colonial paradigms and personal desires rather than the paradigms and desires of Indigenous communities and organizers begs the question: who is this activism for? It is clear that (especially white) settlers have work to do to transform the ways we show up to coalitional, solidarity, and Indigenous-led spaces and movements, and Indigenous, Black, and people and communities of colour have been saying this for a long time. One hurdle to listening, and to transforming WSE, however, lies in white settlers allowing our feelings to take up space, limit personal growth, and wreak interpersonal harm. Take for example scholar Mamta Motwani Accapadi's (2007) conceptualization of “white woman tears,” whereby a white woman 62 called out for her racism responds by weaponizing her tears (either consciously or subconsciously), and thereby accrues sympathy from onlookers meanwhile the Black, Indigenous, or person of colour who called her out/in are seen as more problematic than the racist behaviour driving the interaction (209-210). Gender studies scholar Kyla Schuller (2018) elaborates further that in white hegemonies, the feelings of white people are typically prioritized over the lives of Black, Indigenous, and people of colour. Schuller adds that who white people extend sympathy to is largely shaped by white supremacy and racism, however even when white people relocate the humanity in themselves to feel devastated by cops murdering Black and Indigenous People, for instance, these feelings alone do not prevent these deaths from happening. Continuing the discussion of how white settler feelings tend to take up space yet do not advance social change, Helferty (2020) describes white fragility as a series of defensive moves (e.g. intense displays of emotion, arguing, or avoiding the situation) which result from white people being shielded from “‘race-based stress’” for most of their lives, as well as from a deep, implicit fear of losing power and privilege (161). Aboriginal Australian (Goenpul) scholar Aileen Moreton-Robinson (2015) speaks more to this latter point within the context of colonially-known Australia, suggesting that the fragilities and anxieties white settlers feel arise from a deep-seated knowing that they are existing on land that is not theirs (xxiii, 138, 148), leading them to act defensively and possessively. Indeed, Armstrong, Derickson, Maracle, and Young-ing (1994) draw attention to both the fragilities of white settlers as well as the need for us to recognize how our struggles are wrapped up in the struggles of syilx people: If the poor landless people from Europe had not been so busy fencing off properties for their governments, they might have learned a great deal from the syilx. We might not be 63 living in the middle of the savageness we see every day in the news and on the streets everywhere. Perhaps if landless poor people in Canada would look at the unjustness which the legal system really protects, the way we see it, we would not be in the mess we are today. Perhaps they would know that they too have human rights, to live in health on the land in peace. (16) In addition to white anxieties and fragilities, erasure of Indigenous rights and stewardship can be perpetuated by certain positive feelings settlers experience, too. Hunt (2023) points this out in their critical analysis of how British settler artist Emily Carr has painted coastal landscapes over the existence and “intimate relationships of management, governance, and decision-making” (7) between Coast Salish Peoples and their territories. Whereas it has taken Hunt great effort to find limited information about her great-great grandmother Lucy Homiskanis, who carried extensive “social, cultural, political, legal, and linguistic” (13) Kwakwaka’wakw knowledge and informed (without due credit) many famous anthropologists and historians, Hunt sees Emily Carr everywhere. This leads Hunt to interrogate the popularity of Carr’s work, suggesting that “the spiritual identification with the nature of the forests affirms settler belonging through a type of selective amnesia, allowing the knowledge of Indigenous existence to suddenly fall away because of the good feelings that come from being one with the land” (23). Recontextualizing this discussion of “good [settler] feelings” into a context of climate activism makes me reflect on how many white settlers (including myself at times) wish to participate in Indigenous-led movements to reduce our own feelings of guilt/anxiety and make ourselves feel good. In other scenarios, white settlers participate in climate activism to try and secure a liveable future for themselves. Again, these behaviours exhibit a centring of whiteness, a reinforcement of 64 white supremacist and colonial structures and processes, and a barrier to building mutual solidarity with Indigenous communities. This is WSE. 2.5 Transforming white settler environmentalism into solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice Given the ways in which WSE can perpetuate harm, and given Armstrong and Cohen’s emphases on “Okanaganizing”/“syilx-izing” the perspectives/paradigms of settlers living on syilx territory to advance syilx environmental ethics and promote the collective survival of future generations, it is critical that settler activists in the Okanagan progressively transform WSE perspectives, practices, and characteristics in ourselves and our activist groups while we work to show up in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. As mentioned in Chapter 1, syilx leaders and knowledge keepers like Jeannette Armstrong are calling settlers to show up for syilx sovereignty and climate justice (Armstrong and Klein 2023; Cohen and Chambers 2021, 40-41; Terbasket 2019, 54). However, the previous section reviewed various epistemic injustices, moves to innocence, settler-centric agendas, and settler feelings as characteristics and enactments of WSE, detailing some of the ways in which well-meaning settlers may perpetuate harm and hinder the work of Indigenous-led movements they are attempting to support. Fortunately, transformation is possible. Pedagogical scholars like Cohen (2001, 140) and hooks (1984, 12) speak to education as a site of transforming ways of knowing and doing. Furthermore, activist-organizers like brown (2020) build from Black feminist and abolitionist movements to speak about transformative justice, a process involving “clear naming of harm; education around intention, impact, and pattern breaking; satisfying apologies and consequences; new agreements and trustworthy boundaries; and lifelong healing resources for all involved.” (11). In sum: syilx 65 leaders are calling settlers to show up to syilx-led movements. Various aforementioned enactments and characteristics of WSE and the harms they cause, however, emphasize the critical importance of settlers taking on our labour of doing things differently; of getting our shit together; of transforming our practices and processes in order to show up in solidarity with syilx communities in respectful, reciprocal, and generative ways. The ultimate question is now “What will we do about it?” (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 38). How can settler activists in the Okanagan go about understanding and acting on our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways? How can settler activists in the Okanagan transform practices of “white settler environmentalism” into practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice? 66 Chapter 3: Methodology 3.1 Methodology Building from the theoretical foundation of diverse voices grounded in syilx territory and scholarship described in Chapter 2, the methodology of this thesis emerges at intersections between web-weaving (Cohen 2001), emergent strategy (brown 2017), and transformative praxis (Smith 2005), further embedding considerations around how to treat collective syilx and activist knowledges with care. This methodology gives rise to two, related methods: (1) a set of practices I am engaging in to understand my own responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways and to build capacity to contribute to collaborations with syilx communities and initiatives; and (2) two teach-and-learn-in workshops which collectivize the work of transforming processes and practices of WSE into practices of collaboration and solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Over the next several pages, I describe how I arrived at this methodology and explain the methods that ensued. 3.1.1 Web-weaving, emergent strategy, and transformative praxis The very first proposal I drafted for this thesis described my research topic as responding to a “relational web of experiences” (see Chapter 1 – “Tracing the web of experiences and relationships that shape my entry into this work”). My ability to conceptualize the experiences informing my thesis topic as a web was initially informed by Wilson and Hughes’ (Wilson and Breen 2019) discussion of how an Indigenous ontological perspective sees people and knowledges as/existing within continuous relationships between other people and places (8). Shortly after I shared this one-page proposal with my supervisors and committee, I read Dr. Cohen’s (2001) work entitled “The Spider’s Web: Creativity and Survival in Dynamic Balance” 67 and connected with a particular quote wherein he speaks to the power of transformative dialogue to create webs: All of us carry our belief systems into the classrooms, and through respectful engagement and sharing, generate understanding and appreciation for the diversity of peoples and cultures: new ideas form, paradigm shifts occur, networks expand. Webs are created. (140). In an Indigenous Research Methods course I took with Dr. Wilson in my first year of graduate studies, I came to understand methodology as how we go about creating space for knowledge to emerge (Wilson and Breen 2019; Wilson 2008; Kovach 2021). As such, this quote from Cohen (2001) prompted me to wonder how I might approach my thesis work - grounded in a diverse theoretical framework of syilx and non-syilx voices – to create spaces from which paradigm shifts (e.g. shifts from WSE perspectives to deep belief in syilx sovereignty and leadership), and webs (e.g. webs of settler responsibilities to syilx people, land and lifeways; webs of solidarity between settler and syilx people, activists, communities, and organizations), might emerge. A few months following my engagement with “The Spider’s Web”, I was reading activist, writer, and facilitator adrienne marie brown’s (2017) Emergent Strategy - a Black feminist and abolitionist-informed process whereby a person or collective of people strive to build complex patterns and systems of change (which evolve into ecosystems, and eventually societies) through small but purposeful interactions and practices (4) - and began to see connections. Specifically, the process of interacting collectively and intentionally to create complex patterns and ecosystems reminded me of Cohen’s (2001) paper, and of spiders weaving 68 webs. Given that brown’s (2017) articulations of emergent strategy are grounded in “pleasure activism,” Black feminist science fiction perspectives, activist-organizing practices, and inspired by more-than-human relationalities, I began to understand emergent strategy as an activist-organizer version of Cohen’s (2001) explorations of web-weaving, grounded in syilx perspectives and pedagogical practices. I also began to wonder: what intentional interactions and practices – what emergent strategies – might settler activists cultivate to create broader structures and processes of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice? What intentional interactions and practices might settler activists cultivate to contribute to shifting paradigms and weaving webs? Shortly after I started exploring these connections between Cohen’s (2001) web-weaving and brown’s (2017) emergent strategy, Dr. Cohen suggested I might find Māori scholar Graham Hingangaroa Smith’s (2005) theorizations of transformative praxis - grounded in a Kaupapa Māori context but conveyed by Smith as relevant to other Indigenous contexts – useful as a guiding framework. Smith (2005) uses the concept of transformative praxis to assert that change and transformation arise from elements of conscientization, resistance, and transformative action working together in a continuous cycle (39), subverting western configurations of transformation as a linear process (38). Whereas conscientization31 describes political consciousness of the 31 There are various critiques put forth in the literature around how the concept of conscientization - particularly as articulated by Brazilian educator and philosopher Paulo Freire - is employed across contexts. Tuck and Yang (2012), for example, argue that in matters of decolonization, conscientization cannot “stand in for the more uncomfortable task of relinquishing stolen land” (19). They critique Freire’s conceptualization of conscientization and oppressed-oppressor dynamics as vague (20), and turn instead to French Martinican psychiatrist and scholar Frantz Fanon who specifies that decolonization specifically involves “Settler” and “Native” dynamics (rather than a vague oppressor-oppressed dynamic) and is a place and context-specific, messy and chaotic process. Smith (2005) concurs that conscientization is a place and context-specific construct as he emphasizes how his model of transformative praxis is grounded in Kaupapa Maori Theory and cannot be “uncritically exported” (30). At the same time, Smith (2005) posits that insights from the particular transformative process he is documenting may be useful for “other Indigenous communities and groups…as an instrument for conscientization, resistance, and transformation.” (30). In this thesis, I am using the term “conscientization” to describe consciousness-raising among settler activists in the Okanagan who are striving to transform WSE and work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. What conscientization, resistance, and transformative action mean in the context of this work are unfolding from this uncertain, continuously unfolding, and generative thesis and broader and longer process. Still, important questions to reflect on regarding conscientization include: 69 harms and limitations of hegemonic structures and processes, resistance means an active refusal to participate in these hegemonic structures and processes such as through creating alternatives and participating in those instead; and transformative action refers to actions which enable conscientization and resistance while exerting tangible impacts on/actually changing hegemonic structures and processes (39-41). In the context of this thesis, the hegemonic structure and process I am seeking to unravel is WSE. With prompting from both Dr. Cohen and Smith (2005), I started reflecting on how a framework of transformative praxis might motivate settler activists to not only raise our consciousness of the harms of WSE and the power of syilx-led climate justice, but also to find ways to resist and transform WSE, such as through stepping into action with syilx communities and organizations. Following these experiences, I am bringing the metaphor of web-weaving, concept of emergent strategy, and framework of transformative praxis together to form the methodology of this thesis; to guide the ways I am going about creating spaces for knowledge to emerge. Emergent strategy helps me to conceptualize transformation as a process of intentional, adaptive, and iterative practices. Furthermore, whereas brown (2017) has developed their conceptualization of emergent strategy through learning from patterns in nature32 - which she acknowledges as “an ancient practice” (21) and in turn reminds me of syilx communities learning from the land about how to survive and thrive collectively (Maracle et al. 1993) - web- • Within the context of decolonization, Tuck and Yang (2012) critique Freire’s articulation of conscientization as linear, simplified, and a misrepresentation of what decolonization requires. Does Smith’s (2005) spiral model of transformative praxis (which includes conscientization as one of three key elements) address this critique, and offer possibilities for settlers to move beyond the move to innocence of “decolonizing our minds” towards divesting ourselves of privileges and returning land to Indigenous Nations? • Smith (2005) emphasizes that his transformative praxis model is specific to, and emergent from a Māori context, yet process-oriented insights might be useful to other Indigenous contexts. What does it mean to employ this model within the context of this thesis which focuses on settler activists and WSE as a critical unit of analysis, and is unfolding on and with syilx territory? 32 E.g.: fractals/never-ending patterns that repeat across all growth stages of a ponderosa pinecone; the intentional and adaptative swimming patterns of shoals of salmon; the interdependence of tree roots and mycelium, etc. 70 weaving offers a land and lifeway-based metaphor grounded in the perspective of a syilx scholar (Cohen 2001) to learn from and return to. Finally, conscientization, resistance, and transformative action offer strategies for cultivating practices from which the transformation of WSE towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice may continually emerge. From a high level, the interactions of these different elements might be visualized as a spider using conscientization, resistance, and transformative action (transformative praxis) as intentional techniques/practices for weaving new webs (emergent strategy). What specific and intentional practices are settler activists using to weave webs of transformation, collaboration, and solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice? How do these practices include and cycle between conscientization, resistance, and transformative action? While I feel admittedly uncertain about using this non-traditional methodological approach, this feeling mirrors the uncertainty and humility I feel about naming and enacting practices of transforming WSE and building collaborations and solidarity between settler and syilx communities throughout this thesis. As such, the metaphor of web-weaving offers an opening to think about the precarity of individual strands (or individual people) doing this work, but also to think about the strength and diversity of webs that are woven and fortified collectively (through collaborations between many people). Where there is not a template for bringing web-weaving, emergent strategy, and transformative praxis into dialogue and working within the intersections, there is also not a template for settlers wishing to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. We move forward in generative uncertainty. 71 3.1.2 Caring for knowledge My chosen methodology requires me to move uncertainly, but also intentionally. I approach this work conscious of histories and continuances of settler colonizers doing harmful research on Indigenous people and communities, and conscious of some of the ways in which Indigenous communities are resisting these practices and reasserting sovereignty over their knowledges (Wilson 2008; DuPré 2019; Smith 2005). Simultaneously, I am conscious of how activists (especially queer, trans, Black, Indigenous, and activists of colour) experience disproportionate surveillance from capitalist-colonial governments, institutions, and corporations (Melchior 2024; Heh and Wainwright 2022; Gobby 2019). My consciousness of these issues has deepened through learning from Métis scholar and educator Lindsay DuPré and Dr. Wilson about how respecting and caring for Indigenous knowledges is a serious and important task, particularly while we all wrote a paper together on Indigenous visiting methodologies and knowledge emergence (Delfs, DuPré, Wilson, et al. forthcoming), as well as by my own experiences, shared with fellow activists, of being surveilled by institutions, corporations, and law enforcement while engaging in peaceful activism. My consciousness of these matters leads me to feel a sense of responsibility to resist (Smith 2005) perpetuating extraction – especially as I am situated as a white settler graduate student researcher focused on issues that pertain to syilx and activist communities – and to transform extraction into care and reciprocity for knowledge and the communities knowledges come from. As part of this resistance and transformation work, two reflexive questions I have asked myself throughout this thesis include: (1) How am I respecting and caring for collective syilx knowledges?; and (2) How am I respecting and caring for collective activist knowledges? I am using the term “collective” to acknowledge that knowledges are shared by communities (e.g. 72 syilx communities; activist communities), and that the words and actions of one community member have an impact on the community members they are connected to. My understanding of syilx knowledges as collective is partly informed by the “Syilx Communities Cultural and Intellectual Principles and Fundamentals” document available on the ONA website. Understanding syilx knowledges and activist knowledges each as collective and requiring care and respect is rooted in a broader understanding of relational accountability, conveyed by Opaskwayak scholars Peggy and Stan Wilson (1998) as an ontology of interconnectedness which generates a sense of responsibility between a person and their many relationships. Though this thesis focuses its analysis on WSE structures, processes, and participants and did not collect data from syilx people or communities, my theoretical framework centres syilx texts, knowledges, and laws, and my understandings are further shaped by interpersonal communications through participation in various syilx-led initiatives. Wilson, Breen, and DuPré (2021) remind me that as a researcher I have the power to extract, or the power to respect and amplify, Indigenous knowledges (422), and queer, trans, abolitionist activist Dean Spade (2025) reminds me that whether or not we realize it, we are always practicing something (3). Thus, I have consciously implemented practices throughout this work to cultivate care and respect for collective syilx knowledges. These practices centre on the following: • I am responsible for my interpretations of the texts I read. When I quote or paraphrase knowledge published by syilx authors, I strive to: (1) Situate these quotes within the contexts of the texts and the intentions of the authors, if any are expressed; and (2) Speak from my understanding of syilx texts, not for or on behalf of syilx texts or syilx people. This first practice is informed by Aboriginal Australian (Yuin Nation) scholar Stuart Barlo, who explains that it is a researcher’s responsibility to keep knowledge connected 73 to the context it arises from (Barlo et al. 2021, 45). This second practice of speaking from and not for is informed by Aboriginal Australian (Apalech Clan) scholar Tyson Yunkaporta (2020), who explains that while he can speak from his understandings and observations of patterns and processes, he also believes that since knowledges are shared between people and within communities and he does not know every detail, he cannot speak for these knowledges. • I am responsible for resisting knowledge extraction. My participation in Earth Sense, Sncəwips Museum tours, etc. were not ethnographic – I was not there to observe and collect data - I was there to learn and connect with others, nestled within the ultimate intention of working in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice and building the relationships that are integral to this work. This intention of course overlaps with, while also transcending, the scope of this thesis. That said, there are many ways in which the learning that happened in Earth Sense, Sncəwips tours, etc. influenced this thesis work, and it feels important to give credit where credit is due and emphasize how deep learning happens beyond the pages of academic articles and thesis papers. To prevent myself from misappropriating knowledges from these spaces, I employed two key practices. First, I focused on “sharing the learnings, not the stories.” I have encountered this phrase across multiple research and activist-based dialogues I have participated in and understand it as: there is a significant difference between sharing what we learn from participating a space, and sharing the stories other participants offered to that space. Secondly, I have obtained consent for every interpersonally-communicated piece of knowledge I have cited throughout this thesis. This consent-based practice is informed by a phrase I learned from syilx educator and artist Coralee Miller: “If in doubt, reach out!”. 74 Upon scheduling a defense date, I also extended an invitation to contributors with the intention of transparency, appreciation, and opportunity to see the work through. I am also reflecting on how to make this thesis more useful and accessible to syilx communities and organizations who might be grappling with settler collaborators perpetuating WSE tendencies. As quoted by Dennis Benjamin Moreton in the work of Moreton-Robinson (2015), “the problem with white people is that they think and act like they own everything.” (xi). In contrast, whilst critically reflecting on the entitlement some settler students feel to accessing Indigenous knowledges, DuPré explains: “It takes time, dedication, and relationships to know when and how to ask for different knowledge—and to know when it’s appropriate for you to share it.” (Wilson, Breen, and DuPré 2021, 422). Working on this thesis has required figuring out how to navigate this process of asking and sharing in respectful ways, and this work feels far from over. Centering, amplifying, and learning from syilx knowledges as a settler is an imperfect process. From Black feminist perspectives, hooks (1994) explains that “our ways of knowing are forged in history and relations of power.” (30). My ways of knowing – and ways of interpreting texts - are shaped by my relationships to white supremacy, racism, settler colonialism, ableism, capitalism, and heteropatriarchy. Armstrong (2009) explains further that an embodied or cognitive understanding of “Syilx Okanagan oral memory device and structure” enables fulsome understanding of the multiple layers of meaning expressed through syilx knowledge translation devices like captikʷł (2). Lacking these embodied and cognitive understandings myself as a settler on syilx territory, I am reminded to practice humility (King, Brass, and Lewis 2019, 119; Yunkaporta 2020, 85) and listen openly and deeply for the purposes of learning and transforming rather than obtaining expertise (hooks 1984, 103) whenever I engage with syilx texts. 75 Given that this thesis focuses on settler activists doing the work of figuring out how to transform our practices and work in effective and respectful solidarity with syilx people, I collected data from settlers who are involved in local activist communities. Thus, I have also implemented practices throughout this work to cultivate care and respect for collective activist knowledges. These practices are as follows: • I am responsible for maintaining the confidentiality of participants. In addition to reaching mutual agreement to “share the learnings, not the stories” during the consent process, I omitted participant names and identifying details from the transcripts and findings, and recruited activists who have already met and built relationships with one another through activism and organizing. These practices have been informed by my personal experiences navigating trust and confidentiality in activist and organizing spaces, as well as by community-based research ethics learned through my Community Engagement, Social Change, and Equity coursework. • I am responsible for conveying participant contributions in a way that does not risk jeopardizing activist projects or relationships. To ensure everyone felt comfortable with the ways I represented their contributions, I reached out for participant feedback at two timepoints following data collection – once to share the transcribed dialogues, and once to share a draft of my Discussion & Findings chapter - to ensure participants had multiple opportunities to edit, expand on, or withdraw their contributions from the thesis over the course of two weeks from each timepoint. The chapters I shared with participants had their contributions highlighted so they could choose to read the text in full, or just skim through the sections they contributed to. This process reflects scholars Karen Potts and Leslie Brown (2015) who point out that taking an anti-oppressive approach to research 76 involves ongoing consent and negotiations with contributors, emphasizing that researchers should not be entitled to complete control over the gift of participant data. I circulated these documents via a secure messaging app participants were comfortable with using, and again, when I scheduled a defense date, I extended an invitation to contributors with the intention of transparency, appreciation, and opportunity to see the work through. 3.2 Methods As mentioned in Chapter 1, exploration of the overarching research questions is a layered process given that the critical unit of analysis is WSE and its structures, processes, and participants – namely settler activists in the Okanagan striving to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice – and given that this unit of analysis includes myself. The methods of this thesis respond to this layered exploration. First, I provide an overview of six personal practices I have been engaging in throughout this thesis process while trying to understand my own responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways, and to transform practices of WSE present within myself and my activist relations into practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Leaning into the iterative, nonlinear, and process-oriented movement of web-weaving, emergent strategy, and transformative praxis (Cohen 2001; brown 2017; Smith 2005), as I describe these practices, I simultaneously discuss how they have been unfolding. Second, I provide an overview of two teach-and-learn-in workshops I hosted with fellow settler activists with the intention of collectively expanding our understandings of our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways; growing our consciousness of settler colonial and white supremacist patterns prevalent in many settler activist approaches and practices; and 77 generating ideas for acting on these responsibilities and transforming these approaches and practices towards solidarity and collaboration with syilx communities. 3.2.1 Personal practices While personal practices may centre the self in ways that run counter to the important work of decentring settlers in Indigenous-led climate justice work, I take seriously a suggestion from Dr. Cohen to map out rituals/practices for building radical collaborations and finding my bringing tmixw back to life song; my own way of contributing to the regeneration of the land and lifeways of syilx territory. A few months prior to Dr. Cohen sharing this suggestion, Dr. Wilson had put me in touch with his former PhD student Margaret Hughes who wrote a paper on the rituals/practices she engaged in whilst learning to be an Indigenist researcher in Bundjalung Country (Hughes, Wilson, and Barlo 2023). Hughes’ rituals/practices33 prepared her to engage in the ceremony of research respectfully and responsibly, and as I mapped practices for my own research process, I looked to Hughes’ work as a guide for how to go about structuring these practices, particularly as we are both situated as queer white settlers seeking to respectfully learn from, and enact our respective responsibilities to, Indigenous people, communities, knowledge, laws, and lands (509-510). Heeding advice from Dr. Cohen and Dr. Wilson, I have engaged in certain practices throughout my thesis to build my capacity to contribute to collaborations with syilx communities/organizations/initiatives and to figure out what exactly I have to contribute, as well as to ensure I am showing up to this thesis and lifelong solidarity work in respectful and 33 These rituals and practices included meditation, sitting with Country, reflexive writing, reading work from Indigenous Elders and scholars, and more (Hughes, Wilson, and Barlo 2023). 78 responsible ways. I did not implement all of these practices at the very beginning of my thesis process nor adhere to them perfectly throughout. Some I had been practicing prior to, and continued to develop during, my thesis work (e.g. Centring syilx knowledges and laws; Participating in and contributing to syilx-led initiatives; Contributing to my activist communities); some I incorporated inconsistently (e.g. Visiting with land and lifeways; Reflexive writing and dialogue); and others emerged from various non-thesis areas of my life yet exerted a felt impact on this thesis work (e.g. Navigating and embracing conflict). I am not laying out these practices to make moves to innocence (Tuck and Yang 2012, 10) or claim I’m a “good settler” (Shotwell 2018). Rather, I am responding to the reality that settlers have personal work to do to ensure we are showing up to syilx-led work respectfully and contributing to settler-syilx collaborations in meaningful ways, and offering examples of what this personal work might look like. As I map out these practices, I am simultaneously drawing inspiration from Black ecological feminist and futurist Alexis Pauline Gumbs’ book Undrowned: Black feminist lessons from marine mammals, wherein Gumbs offers an appendix of both solo and group-based activities34 to support readers in activating learnings and teachings from the text. 3.2.1.1 Visiting with land and lifeways My first practice involves visiting intentionally and semi-weekly with the land (tmxwulaxw) and lifeways (tmixw) of syilx territory - throughout different places stretching from the north end of Kalamalka Lake to the south end of Okanagan Lake – in order to deepen my connection to the place I am doing climate activism on/with/for; learn from the land and lifeways 34 For example, Gumbs asks readers to select a lesson from the book (e.g. a lesson about being vulnerable, about breathing, etc.) and to incorporate it as a daily practice. She encourages implementing this practice alongside other people, and holding each other accountable to engaging in it regularly. 79 themselves about how to do this work respectfully and responsibly; and regulate tricky emotions that come up so that I can continue moving. I first learned about the practice of visiting with land through the Indigenous Research Methods course I took with Dr. Wilson. In that class, we (settler and Indigenous graduate students and professors) spoke about how land, imbued with spirit and agency, is a participant in every conversation we have, and how we can learn how to care for the land and for each other by visiting with the land itself (Wilson and Breen 2019, 8-11; Yunkaporta 2020, 32-36; Kovach 2021, 63). Given that I am not an nsyilxcən speaker nor ancestrally connected to syilx territory, my practice of visiting with syilx land and lifeways has entailed learning how to be present, to witness, and to listen to the land and lifeways while simultaneously practicing this presence, witnessing, and listening. In an upcoming publication I am fortunate to be a part of (Delfs, DuPré, Wilson, Breen et al., forthcoming), we explore the blurred and distinct lines between visiting as a relational practice and Visiting as a methodology. In my thesis, I am engaging with visiting as a relational practice, and would like to make clear my understanding that engaging with Visiting as an Indigenous methodology is rigorous and requires adherence to Indigenous ontologies and epistemologies, as well as specificity to Nation and place. See Kovach (2020); Gaudet (2018); Flaminio, Gaudet, and Dorion (2020); Fowler (2022); and Barlo et al. (2020) to learn about different Indigenous Visiting methodologies. This visiting practice has also required continual consideration of how to offer reciprocity to the land and lifeways during each visit. Ways I have been trying to practice reciprocity include: picking up trash; sharing water from my water bottle; dancing and singing softly; wondering questions like “What care do you need right now?”; getting out of the way of animals so as not to interrupt their movement; sharing my intentions and wishes for plants in ways I learned from volunteering with the na'ʔk'ʷulamən and K’nmalka? Senqalten gardens; using 80 colonially-made trail signs as an opportunity to talk to settler friends about how syilx people have been caring for the land and lifeways for thousands of years prior to settler conservation groups existing here; and observing how “native,” “invasive,”35 and “naturalized” plants interact in order to think through how settlers might go about working in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice in helpful, not harmful, ways. Along “Middleton Mountain Trails,” a trail area I visit often located proximally to Okanagan Indian Band reserve lands36, I walked a few times with my partner to collectively grieve and honour the life of a deer we found hurt on Highway 97 but were unable37 to help get free. After we grieved and honoured, we talked about the Okanagan Mountain-K’nmalka Wildlife Corridor project launched by Okanagan Nation Alliance and Okanagan Collaborative Conservative Program and contemplated ways our climate activist group might support this work, as a means of shifting between feeling and acting (Armstrong and Klein 2023). 3.2.1.2 Centering syilx knowledge and laws A second personal practice involves centring syilx knowledges and laws in order to ground this work in syilx perspectives, actively honour syilx sovereignty across multiple spaces, and bring my friends, family members, and fellow activists with me into deepening our 35 Kanaka ‘Ōiwi scholar Hōkūlani K. Aikau argues that while there is mobilizing and resurgence power in understanding “invasive” plants as a metaphor for settler colonial structures, this metaphor falls short insofar as it (1) “relies on the assumption that all non-native plants and animals are invasive by their nature and must be removed. This idea relies upon notions of purity and authenticity that serve white supremacy and the eliminatory logics of settler colonialism.” (56); and (2) assumes that “we can achieve decolonization only after these invasive species are removed and native species are replanted. This idea relies upon teleological, linear thinking about decolonization where all things not native must be removed before restoration can take place.” (56). 36 You can donate to OKIB and the critical work they do to take care of the tmixw: https://www.okib.ca/services/education-language-culture/making-a-donation/ 37 We were unable to help this deer due to rushing cars that refused to attend to our flashing lights and honking horn and yelling, due to the inadequacy of a particular branch of “first responders” who are trained to defend capital and criminalize houseless people but not trained to defend people, land, and lifeways, due to the highway being built between the forest and the lake, due to European settler colonization and development of syilx territory, due to capitalist forces that ask us to move with urgency but not care…and so on. 81 understandings that syilx people are “the best protectors of our syilx lands, waters and timixʷ” (Armstrong and Klein 2023). This practice has taken the shape of: engaging regularly with publicly-accessible texts and resources created by syilx Okanagan Nation, people, organizations, and communities (see Chapter 2); weaving learnings gleaned from these texts into activist conversations (e.g. book club spaces and organizing meetings); and talking about similar learnings with family and friends. While engaging regularly with syilx texts to inform this thesis, for instance, I have learned about syilx economic and governance systems that center generosity (Louis 2008, 11), equal access to resources for living (Armstrong 2020, 165-166; kilawna 2023), and collaborative decision making (Armstrong 2020, 166-167) – values which oppose capitalist ways of knowing and doing. Subsequently, I have started centring these learnings in meetings and interpersonal conversations with anti-capitalist settler activists, in an attempt to shift our collective gaze and efforts towards supporting syilx sovereignty as a form of resistance to colonial-capitalism. 3.2.1.3 Participating in and contributing to syilx-led initiatives A third personal practice involves continually participating in and contributing to syilx-led initiatives, to keep this thesis grounded in action and to continue showing up to spaces from which learning, connections, and collaborations between syilx and settler activists might grow. Alongside my activist communities, friends, supervisors, etc. I have been attending “nsyilxcən for everyone” classes, cultural competency workshops, author talks, and captikʷł readings delivered in collaboration between Kelowna Museums and Wildrose Native Traditions; Syilx Water Forums organized by Okanagan Nation Alliance; and volunteer days at na'ʔk'ʷulamən and K’nmalka? Senqalten gardens. When I see opportunities to listen, learn from, and redistribute 82 resources towards syilx people and organizations cross my path (e.g. KinSHIFT38 fireside chats and Table Talks delivered by IndigenEYEZ), I have been circulating them with activist and community group chats and have seen fellow activists doing the same39. I have also organized a few museum and land tours with Sncəwips Heritage Museum40 for activist groups and UBCO students, staff, and faculty to attend, motivated by the importance of doing this learning and connecting together. Over the last year of this thesis, I have also been working as a research assistant through the FEELed Lab for the Indigenous-led, syilx-grounded Earth Sense program. This job has involved attending virtual sessions delivered by Indigenous Earth Sense facilitators, contributing to the organization and facilitation of virtual sessions delivered by settler UBCO facilitators and participants, and offering other administrative and relational supports as needed. 3.2.1.4 Engaging in critical and reflexive writing and dialogue Another practice I have been engaging in involves critical self-reflection/reflexivity through journalling and conversations with others to continually process, examine, and learn from my different thoughts/feelings/intentions/reactions/experiences, in order to continually adjust my movements and approaches (Kovach 2021, 32-34). As Kovach (2021) explains within a research context, critical reflexivity is integral to building self-awareness (33), understanding the self in relation to others (33), and increasing trustworthiness by making one’s biases transparent (34). Furthermore, self-reflection and reflexivity are aligned with my research questions which require critical analysis of not only settler activist participants, but also myself as a settler striving to transform my WSE practices and processes and work in solidarity with 38 You can learn more about KinSHIFT here: https://kinshift.ca/; and donate to IndigenEYEZ here: https://indigeneyez.com/donate/ 39 Knowing that settlers are at different places on their unlearning/decolonizing journeys and have different levels of self-awareness, I am mindful of who I share these opportunities with. 40 You can book tours with Sncəwips here: https://www.sncewips.com/services 83 syilx sovereignty and climate justice. I have been engaging in critical self-reflection and reflexivity through semi-regular journalling and conversations with my partner and friends to make sense of my thoughts, and process feedback and corrections from supervisors, collaborators, and fellow activists. I have also been journalling and engaging in group debriefs with fellow activists to reflect on what I/we learned following participation in syilx-led initiatives like those mentioned in the previous section. 3.2.1.5 Contributing to activist communities Participating in and contributing to the growth of local activist groups and communities is what led me to this research, has deepened my belief that collective liberation is possible, and has bolstered my conviction that people can transform ourselves, our communities, and our societies through collective organizing and action. These beliefs in collective liberation and transformation have been theoretically informed and deepened through ongoing engagement with Black feminist and abolitionist texts, namely brown (2020; 2017); Davis (2016); and hooks (1984), as well as captíkʷɬ teachings from Fox and Coyote (Cohen and Chambers 2021). Furthermore, these activist groups and communities are sites where transformation of WSE approaches and practices towards approaches and practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice must, and are, occurring. As such, a key practice of mine has involved continuing to participate and contribute to these groups and communities throughout the thesis process. This practice is a difficult and varying one, especially as graduate studies, thesis work, and multiple part-time jobs demand time and energy. Nonetheless, I find purpose, community, and hope for a liveable future in activist work committed to pressuring UBC to adhere to international and human rights law and divest from weapons manufacturers and corporations 84 complicit in Israel’s illegal occupation and genocide of Palestine (UBC Divest 2025); to holding the Student Union Okanagan accountable to end their contract with the Royal Bank of Canada in light of RBC’s financing of fossil fuel projects (over $252 billion since 2016; Gordon Koch 2024) and violations of Wet’suwet’en, Secwépemc, Tsleil-Watuth, Sḵwx̱wú7mesh, and Stk’emlupsemc te Secwpemc rights and title (Simmons 2023; Tsleil-Waututh Nation Sacred Trust, n.d.; Hemens 2023c); to supporting unhoused folks in Kelowna (Gelineau 2024; Tomas 2025; “Unhoused Solidarity Collective Okanagan,” n.d.); to building and figuring out how to work in the connections between liberation struggles through activist book clubs; and, of course, to finding ways to align this work with solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. As I contribute to multiple, overlapping liberation struggles, I strive to practice the transnational (Dhamoon 2015, 26) and Black queer feminist organizing principle that dismantling interlocking systems, structures, and processes of oppression (Combahee River Collective 1977) is integral to collective liberation. 3.2.1.6 Navigating and embracing conflict and repair A practice that has unexpectedly emerged while I have been working on this thesis centres on navigating and embracing conflict and repair. This has involved: engaging willingly in open and honest conversations with friends when I mess up/when they mess up; brainstorming with fellow activists about creating debrief spaces to collectively process the exhaustion of engaging in (important) conflict; reframing my understanding of correction as insult to “correction as a gift” (Robinson 2018); and engaging with books like We Will Not Cancel Us and Loving Corrections by brown (2020; 2024) and Love in a F*cked Up World by Spade (2025) to support this process. As Lorde (1984) informs my understanding that solidarity requires coming 85 across difference (123), I have found this practice of grappling with conflict and repair useful while navigating tensions across different collaborative/coalitional spaces I have been participating in. Furthermore, I believe this practice serves to build capacity for future conflicts. As brown (2020) argues, “conflict, and growing community that can hold political difference, are actually healthy, generative, necessary moves for vibrant visions to be actualized.” (14), and as Spade (2025) posits, “to build a new world based on connected relationships, we have to open up to increased sensation—including grief and anger that these power differentials exist—alongside the discomfort of acknowledging when we are on the dominant side of some of them, unconsciously yet harmfully acting out their scripts.” (54). 3.2.2 Teach-and-learn-ins In addition to engaging in various personal practices as a method of examining myself as a settler activist complicit in WSE and striving to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, a central method of this thesis involved hosting two, two-hour teach-and-learn-ins with fellow activists in the Okanagan who also care about shifting our work towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. I received approval to host these teach-and-learn-ins from the UBC Research Ethics Board in September 2024 (see Appendix A for Certificate of Approval). Teach-ins are similar to semi-structured, participant-driven focus groups and generally manifest as low-barrier learning spaces which encourage participation from attendees and intend to spark collective change (Teach-in Network 2024; Hayes and Kaba 2023, 22). I selected this method to redistribute what I’m learning through my thesis with fellow activists, to unpack WSE together, to create space for shared dialogue and reflection, and to ignite collective action towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. My 86 selection of a teach-in was theoretically-underpinned by hooks' (1994) love ethic, in particular her assertion that “Choosing love we also choose to live in community, and that means that we do not have to change by ourselves. We can count on critical affirmation and dialogue with comrades walking a similar path.”, as well as the transformative power of respectful and collective dialogue spoken about by Cohen (2001). In addition to theoretical influence from hooks (1994) and Cohen (2001), my decision to host teach-ins was emergently motivated by personal experiences I’ve had co-organizing and attending teach-ins within the activist communities I am a part of. At a teach-in focused on divesting from big banks to support Indigenous land defenders and climate justice, for example, I heard attendees express how much they had learned and witnessed them shift from passive caring to direct action for the issue at hand. In this thesis, I am reframing “teach-in” as “teach-and-learn-in” partially to challenge the hierarchical notion of one-way information sharing (hooks 1984, 40), and to express my intention of mutual learning. As equity scholar Nisha Nath and white settler Ashkenazi Jewish scholar Willow Samara Allen (2022) discuss how settlers are continually socialized into ways of thinking and acting which serve and perpetuate settler colonialism, I am also using this language of “teach-and-learn-in” in consideration of how settler colonialism (and its many limbs, e.g. WSE) is a structure and process we as settlers learn to carry out. Therefore, teach-and-learn-ins are an attempt to create spaces for settlers to unlearn this “settler colonial socialization” (Nath and Allen 2022) and learn how to do things differently together, particularly within the context of WSE on syilx territory. For this thesis, I hosted two teach-and-learn-ins with two different groups I have been doing activism with for the past one to three years. These groups of activists constituted my community of focus due to our pre-existing relationships of trust and collaboration, as well as 87 our shared interests in figuring out how to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. The first teach-and-learn-in hosted 7 attendees from a group focused primarily on local climate action, while the second teach-in hosted 7 attendees from a group focused primarily on solidarity with Palestine. Approximately 12 more people had expressed keen interest in the teach-in-and-learn-ins but were unable to attend due to scheduling conflicts. All attendees fit the following inclusion criteria: 1. Identifies/understands oneself as a settler, guest, and/or arrivant on syilx territory; 2. Identifies/understands oneself as an activist, organizer, advocate, and/or participant in grassroots work that either centers on, or overlaps with, environmental and climate justice; and 3. Currently lives and/or engages in grassroots41 work on syilx territory. Among the activist groups I am a part of, it is common practice to circulate relevant events and workshops with the membership, grounded in shared understanding that attendance at these events and workshops is never required. After confirming with relevant activist groups whether a teach-and-learn-in would be of interest to their members, I circulated a poster and short blurb about the purpose of the teach-and-learn-in and what participation would entail (see Appendix B and C for recruitment poster and message). I circulated this poster and blurb through group chats used by these activist groups specifically for general inquiries, updates, and information and opportunity-sharing. I requested folx react to my message with an emoji to 41 I am using the term “grassroots” to describe community work or activism that is unaffiliated with any institution, business, or non-profit organization, and has emerged through growing relationships between people who are activated by injustices and working towards liberation from these injustices. 88 indicate interest. Then, I created separate group chats with these subsections of interested folx and circulated polls to find a two-hour timeslot that would work best for the largest number of people. Approximately one week prior to the scheduled teach-in dates, I circulated the consent document (see Appendix D) along with a detailed map of how to get to the meeting location, an encouragement to practice community care by masking/staying home if sick, and a note to message me if folx wanted their parking/bus fare reimbursed. On the morning of each teach-in, I messaged the respective group chats a “Looking forward to seeing you all later J” reminder. These workshops were hosted in the fall of 2024. Over the summer of 2024, I worked on a literature review (see Chapter 2) to inform the teach-and-learn-in content. Each two-hour teach-and-learn-in was hosted in a comfortable space in a location accessible to the largest number of participants, complete with allergy-sensitive snacks and structured as follows: I opened the teach-and-learn-in by situating myself in relation to the research, offering a bit of background on how the focus emerged (similar content to Chapter 1), and providing an overview of how the teach-and-learn-in would go. In particular, I explained that I would share key learnings from my research for the first 30 minutes, and then we would shift into a five-minute break. During this break, attendees were welcomed to stay and participate in an audio-recorded dialogue - the research - or opt out by leaving, no judgement or questions asked. Staying after the break implied consent to participate in the research, which was recorded via a microphone borrowed from UBCO Studios and a recording app on my phone as a back-up. I transferred the audio recordings from an SD card into an encrypted OneDrive file, deleting them from the SD card immediately. I insisted on using a verbal/physical consent process for 3 key reasons. First, if attendees were hoping to listen to the presentation but not stay for the discussion, the verbal/physical consent process allowed them to leave on their own accord during the break without pressure or scrutiny 89 from myself or fellow participants. During each teach-and-learn-in, one participant left during the break, leaving 6 participants per teach-and-learn-in who stayed for the dialogue. Second, while some activists recognize value in research and knowledge translation, many are (rightfully) distrusting of institutional powers and processes, and having to attach their name to a UBC document could deter activists who were otherwise interested in participating. Third, the activist groups I am part of employ verbal consent processes in their day-to-day meetings and actions, meaning that this is a process – rooted in Black feminist ethics of love and consensus (hooks 1994; brown 2017) –that feels familiar and secure to many members. After explaining the plan and the consent process to attendees, I led us through a group activity to collectively define and appreciate climate justice as an expansive and subjective concept. Using a ball of yarn, one person started off by saying something about what climate justice means to them. For example, a participant might say something like “To me, climate justice is feeding folks at Tent City.” Then, if someone else had a connection to what that participant said, they would pick up a piece of the yarn and say, as another example, “Climate justice is Indigenous communities being able to access their traditional foods.” We continued on like this, drawing connections and weaving a web together. The initial idea for this activity came from my committee member Dr. Sloan Morgan who uses a similar, albeit culturally-grounded version of this exercise with communities they work with up north. I was especially drawn to this activity, however, for how it reminded me of Cohen's (2001) teachings about how when different people with different perspectives enter into respectful dialogue, new ideas arise, webs are created, and the ways we see the world (and ideally, act within the world) begin to shift. Following this web-weaving activity I shared something I have learned through the Earth Sense program, which is that “climate justice” is not always a relevant term on syilx territory, 90 since living sustainably, through relationships of respect and reciprocity between people, land, water, and animals, has been a way of life for syilx communities for thousands and thousands of years. I shared this learning to bring us back to place, and to prompt everyone to open themselves to many possibilities as to what showing up for syilx-led climate justice could mean. Next, I cited Armstrong (2009) to speak a bit about tmixw - comprised of “many strands which are continuously being bound with each other to form one strong thread coiling year after year always creating a living future.” (Armstrong 2009, 43) - as embodying a complex view of sustainability. Before I brought in this definition, I invited participants to share what they knew about the word/concept already. I wondered whether engaging with the concept of tmixw would compel fellow settler activists to further recognize and appreciate the intricate embeddedness of sustainability, climate justice, and ecological balance in syilx worldviews, motivating my decision to hold space to think with this concept during the teach-and-learn-in. From here, we moved into engaging with the How Food was Given captíkʷɬ together. During teach-and-learn-in #1, we watched a video of this captíkʷɬ, narrated by Alex E. Smith and illustrated by Barbra Marchand (2011). During teach-in/learn-in #2, however, I opted for a group reading of a How Food Was Given picture book from Kou-Skelowh/We Are the People and the Okanagan Tribal Council and illustrated by Kenneth Lee Edwards (1984) instead, primarily due to the video being difficult to hear. We passed the picture book around, each reading aloud a page42. Reading How Food Was Given in this way gave participants an opportunity to stumble through pronouncing some nsyilxcən words together, and brought some of us back to the feeling 42 Reflecting back, I think this decision may also have been influenced by engaging in a listening-based activity from Gumbs (2020), whereby fellow activists and I each read a chapter of Undrowned by passing the book around and each reading a sentence aloud at a time. 91 of learning as kids in elementary school43. In a way, our process of each reading a page of the book reflected a teaching from How Food Was Given, which explains that every voice matters and everyone has something to contribute (Kou-skelowh/We Are the People and Okanagan Tribal Council 1984). Thanks to a recent reminder from a fellow activist, I checked that snow had arrived on the mountain tops of the Okanagan before engaging with the captíkʷɬ in order to respect a protocol articulated by syilx elder Rob Edward, who explains that the rest and stillness of winter are key to sharing captíkʷɬ stories in their entirety (kilawna 2020). My decision to engage with How Food Was Given was motivated by feedback from Dr. Cohen wherein he emphasized that, as Fly found a way to sing Chief Black Bear/Chief skəmxist back to life, settlers need to find our singing tmixw back to life songs - our own unique ways of contributing to the regeneration of tmixw on syilx territory. This captíkʷɬ teaching and this feedback from Dr. Cohen have prompted me to continually reflect on what I have to offer to the regeneration of syilx land and lifeways, and further prompted me to collectivize this reflection through the teach-and-learn-ins. Following our group engagement with How Food Was Given, I spent the next 20 minutes providing an overview of ways in which European colonizers have historically and continually violated relationships between syilx people and tmixw, creating and perpetuating ongoing climate injustices on this territory (see Chapter 2 for details on dams, culling of animals, gold rush, and modern-day logging and development). Facing these unsettling truths is a consciousness-raising activity (Smith 2005) reflecting hooks’ (1984) assertion that acting with an ethic of love requires “learning the truth[s] about how dominant systems operate” as well as the captíkʷɬ expression of 43 A humbling metaphor for settler climate activists beginning to learn from a vast and ancient body of syilx knowledges and laws, perhaps? 92 Fox, xwylxʷ, gathering up the hair, bone, and shit – the mistakes of Coyote, senklip – in order to learn from these mistakes and continue onwards in a different way (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 43). The importance of facing and understanding violent and dehumanizing histories and continuances of settler colonialism is also reflected by the principles of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, as well as by Maracle et al. (1993) who explain that the relationships between European colonizers and Indigenous peoples in early periods of settlement “became Countries. The relationships are what allowed the settlers to organize governments here and are the inherited rights [and responsibilities] of everyone here.” (17). To wrap up this section of the teach-and-learn-in, I drew on Cohen and Chambers (2021) who point out that syilx people are “still here,” (47), reconnecting with and drawing on their “place-based experiential cultural lifeways that have maintained ecological and economic health, food security, and distribution” (50) for thousands and thousands of years. Additionally, I cited examples of the critical work syilx communities and organizations are (and have been) doing for the environment, for the tmixw, for all of us here on syilx territory (see Chapter 2 for examples). Next, I moved into unpacking WSE by explaining how despite how much work syilx communities have always and continue to do for the land and the lifeways (which connects to a broader context of Indigenous Peoples as powerful stewards of global environments – see Chapter 2 for statistics), a lot of mainstream environmentalism is led by settlers, very often white settlers, and centers settler experiences, knowledge, and lives over the experiences and knowledges and lives of Indigenous people and communities. I talked about the time some of us in the teach-and-learn-in space had learned from Coralee Miller that Ogopogo is a gimmicky, colonial cover-up of n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ, and heard a story about how Greenpeace once registered the Ogopogo as an “endangered species” for conservation purposes. Coralee explained that this 93 misappropriation of n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ took peoples’ attention away from the very rich knowledge, understandings, and respect syilx people have for water and life that relies on water (Cecco 2021). I explained to participants that whenever I think about white settler environmentalism, I think of this example, of people taking some sort of environmental action with good intentions, but that action reinforces colonialism and or white supremacy in some way. Framed by this story from Coralee, to continue unpacking WSE I dove into a theatrical dialogue between Ogopogo (as the colonial figure, not n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ) and a Chinook salmon from Okanagan Lake, wherein Ogopogo is perpetuating WSE perspectives and behaviours and Chinook salmon is generously calling him out and explaining why some of his thinking and acting is harmful and misguided by settler colonial and white supremacist structures and processes. This dialogue and caricaturist representation of the colonial figure of Ogopogo as a WSE participant served to translate my literature review findings on WSE into an accessible and memorable format, as well as to disarm participants with humour and open them up to critical self-reflection and interrogation of how systems of power manifest through our behaviours and interactions. Many of the characteristics and flawed behaviours of WSE Ogopogo are ones I obtain and have enacted myself, and it was my hope that this vulnerability would open others up to critically reflect on their own enactments of WSE (see Appendix E for dialogue script). At the end of this dialogue, I asked that everyone take a moment to reflect on or write down a time where they had an “Ogopogo moment” – perhaps a time they doubled-down in defensiveness when called out for colonizer behaviour, enacted a white saviour mindset, or attended an Indigenous resistance event with their own agenda rather than in solidarity. Whereas in teach-and-learn-in #1 I gave folks the option of sharing their Ogopogo moment with the rest of the room once we moved into the dialogue portion, I realized quickly that this activity led to taking 94 up time and over-centring settler feelings and experiences in a dialogue that I had intended to focus on brainstorming how to collaborate and show up in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. In the second teach-in/learn-in, then, I invited folx to reflect on their Ogopogo moments but refrained from asking them to share. While I was writing up my findings, I came across an article by Hong Kong-Canadian journalist Winston Szeto (2021) that explains how the term “Ogopogo” was transferred from the City of Vernon and became intellectual property of Okanagan Nation Alliance as of 202144. Upon learning this, and in accordance with ONA’s “Syilx Communities Cultural and Intellectual Principles and Fundamentals” document available on the ONA website, I submitted a request to ONA seeking consent to use this term in this thesis. At the time at which I am submitting a final copy of my thesis to the College of Graduate Studies, I have not yet heard back from ONA regarding this request. Thus, for the remainder of this thesis, I will reframe this teaching concept from a dialogue between Ogopogo (as the colonial symbol) and a Chinook salmon, to a dialogue between a Zebra mussel – an “invasive” species that poses risks to waterways of the Okanagan – and a Chinook salmon – a fish that’s been native to syilx territory since time immemorial. A film created in collaboration between syilx Elder Delphine Derickson and settler opera singer Heather Pawsey titled “The Lake / nx̌aʔx̌aʔitkʷ” transforms a colonial opera known as “The Lake” through centring syilx perspectives and culture, and reclaiming nx̌aʔx̌aʔitkʷ as a syilx relation (St.Pierre 2023). A song by Derickson titled "n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ (Sacred Spirit of the Lake)” also reclaims and recenters syilx understandings of n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ (Sncewips Heritage Museum and Kelowna Museums Society 2017). While I understand there are pedagogical purposes and 44 This article illustrates and interrogates how settler businesses in the Okanagan have been capitalizing and profiting off of Ogopogo as a misappropriation of n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ. 95 important decolonial learnings/WSE unlearnings packed into the colonial construct of Ogopogo when contrasted with n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ (as demonstrated by Pawsey and Derickson’s film, for instance), I also want to honour ONA’s intellectual property, ultimately determining my decision to shift away from using Ogopogo as a teaching tool for the remainder of this thesis, until/unless permission from ONA is granted. Following the Zebra mussel-Chinook salmon dialogue (script available in Appendix E), we took a five-minute break then reviewed a community agreement together to guide respectful dialogue and engagement (Cohen 2001). I read the following four points, then paused to let participants add anything they felt was missing: • What is shared in the room, stays in the room45 • What is learned in the room, can leave the room • Every voice matters - take time to talk, but also be mindful to ensure you are leaving space for others to talk, too • Embrace discomfort and mistakes From here, we moved into an introduction circle, guided by the following prompts as written: • What is your name? (*won’t be included in transcript*) • What positionality/perspectives do you bring today? (*totally optional*) • What is a climate/social justice cause you care about, and why? 45 Stories and reflections shared during the teach-and-learn-ins did in fact leave the room insofar as they comprise the findings of this thesis (Chapter 4). That said, names and identifying details were removed from these stories and reflections, and I obtained for consent from each participant to share their contributions in this thesis. Thus, this community agreement tenet asked participants to focus on sharing what they learned from one another rather than specific stories linked to specific names and details, or to ask consent before sharing a story further. This community agreement is important in how it strives to cultivate a culture of consent. 96 • Why did you come here today? Why does showing up to syilx-led climate justice matter to you? • Do you have anything you’d like to share about the ways you are already working towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice? (*totally optional*) Next, we dove into collective dialogue, prompted by a series of guiding questions. In teach-and-learn-in #1, I posed the following questions: • What might it look like to collaborate less with white supremacy and colonization, and more with syilx sovereignty and climate justice? (overarching/backdrop question) • What collaborations do we envision? • What strengths/skills/resources/connections could we bring to these collaborations? • How can we ensure we are showing up to these collaborations in a good way? (this question remained unexplored) • What does solidarity mean? (this question remained unexplored) Following feedback from Dr. Cohen on a draft of my literature review, which encouraged a focus on transformative praxis and a shift from knowledge to action, I modified the guiding questions for teach-and-learn-in #2 in an attempt to place greater focus on action and practice. I arranged the questions into categories and displayed them on power point slides as follows: • Transforming our current practices: What might it look like to collaborate less with white supremacy and colonization, and more with syilx sovereignty and climate justice? (overarching/backdrop question) • Collaboration & taking action: What collaborations do we envision? What is something we could do today/tomorrow to work towards solidarity with syilx communities? What might long-term action/collaboration look like? (this third question remained unexplored) 97 • Reciprocity/what we have to offer: What strengths/skills/resources/connections could we bring to these collaborations? • Implementing practices: How can we ensure we are showing up to these collaborations in a good way? (this question remained unexplored) A key limitation of the teach-and-learn-ins was that once the community agreement, introductions, and a certain amount of “settling in” were accounted for, we had limited time left to engage deeply with each guiding question. In the future, I would either lengthen the teach-and-learn-ins from two to three hours or host multiple dialogues to unpack the guiding questions over time. Following the teach-and-learn-ins, I manually transcribed the dialogue audio files whilst omitting participant names/identifying details, and jotted down common patterns I saw emerging across participant contributions (e.g. I noted when participants described tangible steps they were taking to learn from and work with syilx communities; I noted when participants named tensions they have experienced while trying to do solidarity work, etc.). If I was unsure whether certain sections might be too revealing of participant identity, I highlighted them. I circulated the transcripts with participants and gave them two weeks’ time to apply any edits, expansions, or omissions of their contributions, drawing attention to the highlighted sections and pages their contributions were on. I chose to manually transcribe the teach-and-learn-in dialogues because of the environmental impacts, surveillance, and data theft associated with AI technology (Ren and Wierman 2024; United Nations 2023; Ryan 2025), as well as to spend more time with the data and build relationships with the ideas and patterns emerging (Wilson 2008; Wilson and Breen 2019). I used the themes that emerged through this first round of analysis as a framework for my second round of analysis, meaning I used framework and inductive qualitative analysis 98 (Goldsmith 2021). This first round of themes included: Epistemic (in)justice; Risk of recolonization; Working from interests and leveraging strengths; Following syilx protocol; Interconnectedness; Existing and potential avenues of action; Nuance/Challenging monolithic ways of thinking; Moving from the abstract to action/Moving towards collaboration and solidarity; Not knowing where to begin; Reciprocity-related uncertainties; Land Back; Defining solidarity; Feelings and emotions; Settler moves to Indigeneity; The role of friendship; Learning from syilx Elders and knowledge keepers; and Getting stuck in “the box” of mainstream activism. I then refined these themes through a second round of analysis, producing the following five themes: Challenging the settler monolith and nuancing settler/Indigenous bifurcations; Conceptualizing and engaging in climate justice as an interconnected struggle; Centring syilx knowledge; Tensions and ideas around moving from knowledge to action; and Connecting, Collaborating, and Committing. I now turn to this second round of themes in the next chapter. 99 Chapter 4: Findings & discussion 4.1 Introduction Throughout this thesis work, I have been guided by two connected and overarching questions. The first question, “How can settler activists in the Okanagan go about understanding and acting on our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways?”, developed in response to a public talk at UBCO where syilx scholar and knowledge keeper Jeannette Armstrong extended several powerful calls-to-action to the audience, including: “[syilx people] are the best protectors of syilx lands, waters and timixw, and we need everyone who lives here on [syilx] territory to feel and act that way.” (Armstrong and Klein 2023). Though fellow settler climate activists and I felt the power of these calls, we weren’t sure exactly how to respond to them and realized that it was our responsibility to figure this out. The second question, “How can settler activists in the Okanagan transform practices of ‘white settler environmentalism’ into practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice?”, developed in response to many settler activist WSE approaches and practices that are rooted in, and thereby perpetuate, interlocking structures and processes of white supremacy and settler colonialism. From these roots grow climate activist spaces, groups, and people that center the perspectives and comforts of (often white) settlers at the cost of listening to, co-creating spaces with, and showing up in respectful solidarity to work and movements led by Indigenous people (Curnow and Helferty 2018). My understanding of these harmful WSE approaches and practices has grown through witnessing them in activist circles and hearing about them from (mainly Indigenous) friends and activists. As discussed in Chapter 3, the language and approach of transforming WSE is informed by Cohen’s (2001) theorizations and metaphors around paradigm-shifting and web-weaving, syilx captikʷł teachings from senklip and xwylxw 100 (Cohen and Chambers 2021), brown’s (2017) conceptualizations of emergent strategy, and Smith’s (2005) framework of transformative praxis. Calling on hooks’ (1994) love ethic theory that fighting against one system of domination by reinforcing another will never lead to justice and liberation - transforming WSE structures and processes is a critical responsibility of settler activists striving to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. As discussed in Chapter 3, the methods of this thesis centred on (1) a set of practices I have been engaging in to figure out and act on my own responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways, and to transform my own perspectives and behaviours away from WSE and towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice; and (2) two teach-and-learn-in workshops with fellow settler activists in the Okanagan that served to collectivize this “figuring out” and transformation work. Whereas Chapter 3 offered reflections on how the practices have been unfolding, this chapter focuses on five key findings/themes that emerged from the teach-and-learn-ins. Over the next several pages, I move through these themes, which are as follows: Challenging the settler monolith and nuancing settler/Indigenous bifurcations; Conceptualizing and engaging in climate justice as an interconnected struggle; Centring syilx knowledge; Tensions and ideas around moving from knowledge to action; and Connecting, Collaborating, and Committing. Mirroring how liberation and solidarity work unfold in messy ways and from entanglements between struggles, the themes discussed in this chapter frequently intersect and extend and contradict one another. While discussing these themes, I draw in relevant learnings from different syilx-led initiatives fellow activists and I have participated in over the past few years. I identify limitations along the way, as well as new questions that are emerging and questions that remain unanswered. 101 4.2 Participants This section positions the research participants so the research themes may be contextualized within their diverse perspectives and relationships (to places, people, and power). This positioning is informed by work from Dr. Wilson and Dr. Cohen. In the Indigenous Research Methods course I took with Dr. Wilson, we talked about how peoples’ experiences and relationships enter the room with them, influencing the way a conversation unfolds (Delfs, Wilson, DuPré, Breen et al., forthcoming). In a similar vein and as mentioned in Chapter 3, Dr. Cohen (2001) expresses that “all of us carry our belief systems into the classrooms” (140), teach-and-learn-ins, activist groups, coalitional spaces, etc. As participants introduced themselves during the teach-and-learn-ins, they revealed a diverse array of relationships to syilx territory. In doing so, participants also illustrated how these relationships to syilx territory are shaped by their various experiences, perspectives, and knowledges. These experiences, perspectives, and knowledges are in turn shaped by participants’ relationships to the places they have lived (locally and transnationally), as well as by their relationships to overarching power structures and processes (settler colonialism, white supremacy and racism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, ableism, etc.). In Chapter 2, I drew on Jafri (2017), hooks (1984), Girvan, Mcgreer, and Lesann (2023), and Lorde (1984) to try and illustrate identity in this way – as entangled webs of dynamic relationships between people, places, and power structures, as opposed to a set of static traits or discrete categories. Given the disproportionate surveillance of activists (see Chapter 3) as well as the increased visibility of activists in small cities, I have refrained from laying out participant identities in a manner such as: “Participant # is a queer settler of colour who immigrated to the 102 Okanagan from *country name*”. Striving to maintain participant privacy and confidentiality while still recognizing the importance of naming the perspectives that shaped the teach-and-learn-in dialogues, then, I have opted instead to offer the high-level summary of participant perspectives that follows: A total of 12 participants contributed to the teach-and-learn-in dialogues. Participants 1-6 contributed to teach-and-learn-in #1, while Participants 7-12 contributed to teach-and-learn-in #2. In teach-and-learn-in #1, the majority of participants identified as white settlers, and the majority of participants identified as ciswoman, nonbinary, or gender queer. At least half of participants identified as queer/LGBTQIA2S+. Collectively, participants in teach-and-learn-in #1 brought perspectives from their experiences in former military employment; former and ongoing employment in public school and outdoor education spheres; former and ongoing employment in environmental nonprofit and conservation sectors; Marxist organizing; advocacy for Palestine, and settler-led and Indigenous-led climate movement work to the dialogue. Mirroring teach-and-learn-in #1, a majority of participants in teach-and-learn-in #2 identified as ciswoman, nonbinary, or gender queer and at least 50% of participants identified as queer/LGBTQIA2S+. However, most participants in this group identified as settlers of colour or non-white settlers. Collectively, participants in teach-and-learn-in #2 brought perspectives from their experiences in social policy work; outdoor recreation; graduate studies and research work; advocacy for Palestine, settler-led and Indigenous-led climate movement work; and other pro-liberation, anti-oppressive movement work to the dialogue. While most participants in teach-and-learn-in #1 had been organizing and doing activism together for over three years, most participants and teach-and-learn-in #2 had started working together over the past year. 103 As mentioned in Chapter 3, teach-and-learn-in participants were asked: “What positionality/perspectives do you bring today?” I structured this question as optional and open-ended in an attempt to hold space for identity as emerging from an entangled and dynamic web of relations (Jafri 2017; hooks 1984; Girvan, Mcgreer, and Lesann 2023; and Lorde 1984). The previous summary of participant positionalities/perspectives documents what was shared by participants in response to this question. Participants did not speak to their age, class nor ability-based experiences whilst reflecting on the positionality and perspectives they were bringing to the dialogue. Furthermore, while many settler of colour participants brought their ancestral connections and cultural identities into the conversation, this was not done explicitly by white settler participants, with the exception of Participant 2 who spoke briefly to their Scottish heritage46. The observation that cultural background was more salient for settler of colour participants yet hardly mentioned among white settler participants reflects hegemonic assumptions that whiteness, settlerhood, and “Canadian-ness” are the norm. In Chapter 3, I discussed how my thesis writing, interpretations, and ideas are shaped, limited, and extended by my different relationships to white supremacy, racism, settler colonialism, capitalism, ableism, and heteropatriarchy. Perhaps this relational understanding of positionality, combined with 46 While naming their Scottish heritage, Participant 2 reflected: we’ve talked about this a lot but like you know, to kind of, and related to like the Canadian national thing, to detach yourself from that involves like figuring out what’s the land that your ancestors lived on and lived with and were fed by for thousands of years before they came here. syilx and secwépemc author and speaker Elaine Alec (2021) and Tuvaluan-Irish scholar Leah Manaema (n.d.) encourage settlers to reconnect with their ancestries as part of shifting the ways they show up and connect across difference on Indigenous lands. At the same time, Black feminist and environmental justice scholar Esme Murdock (2021) expresses that “I know very little about my enslaved African ancestors. Both of my paternal grandparents died before I was born. I can find almost no trace of them through the significant genealogical research I have endeavored upon. This is a deep space of trauma both personally and intergenerationally. Conversely, I can trace my European ancestors back nearly a thousand years.” Here, Murdock points out that reconnecting to ancestry is not always a simple or possible task, and can carry a lot of weight for Black people, for instance, whose ties to their homelands have been severed by European colonization and enslavement of their ancestors. 104 cultural background appearing as a non-salient factor for white settler participants and age, class, and ability appearing as non-salient factors for all participants, identifies critical self-reflection – such as critical reflection on one’s relationships to structures and processes of power, and ongoing consideration of how these relationships shape their engagement in the world and in activism - as integral to transforming WSE. Indeed, the interpretations and perspectives shared by teach-and-learn-in participants (and thereby the findings of this thesis) are also shaped, limited, and extended by their varying relationships to these structures and processes of power. As discussed in Chapter 2, capitalism and ableism interlock with and perpetuate climate injustice. What inequities, hegemonies, or harms might be perpetuated by not taking age, class, and ability into consideration in activist spaces? As mentioned in Chapter 2, strength arises from diverse perspectives coming together (Armstrong 2009; Cohen 2001). Showing up to a two-hour teach-and-learn-in may preclude participation from folx who have to work undue hours to survive, care for children/family members, and/or experience disabilities, which may be amplified by the relatively infrequent and inaccessible Okanagan transit system (The Okanagan Transit Alliance 2024), for example. Transformative research and activism, like that of this thesis, are limited when informed by a limited range of perspectives. 4.3 Themes 4.3.1 Challenging the settler monolith and nuancing settler/Indigenous bifurcations As a guiding question of this thesis asks: “How can settler activists in the Okanagan go about understanding and acting on our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways?”, Participants 9, 10, and 11 in teach-and-learn-in #2 challenged the taken-for-granted assumption that “settlers” constitute a monolithic group. As they trouble and nuance identity bifurcations of 105 settler/Indigenous (which are prevalent in both academic and activist solidarity work, including this very thesis, admittedly), these participants create opportunities to understand not only how decolonial climate justice potentialities may emerge from coalitions and collaborations built between Indigenous and communities of colour, but also how monolithic and binary identity categories risk flattening difference and erasing the experiences of settlers of colour. While exploring these potentialities and risks, Participants 9, 10, and 11 offer reminders of how our positionalities are not comprised of rigid identity categories but of dynamic relationships to structures and processes of power that sensitize us to the world in diverse ways (Jafri 2017; hooks 1984; Girvan, Mcgreer, and Lesann 2023; and Lorde 1984). To begin, Participant 11 challenged the settler monolith by calling it out: • Participant 11: I call myself an involuntary settler, because when I came here I was like, people would be like “Oh yeah we are all part of like, settler colonialism” and I don’t feel 100% comfortable situating myself like that, because I was like first of all I don’t know why you’re lumping me with white people *laughter* personally I feel like I wasn’t the one who started this, but I think it was more of, when I make the decision to come to Canada, it wasn’t easy. I had to come because there were not any opportunities at home to progress the way I needed to. And maybe a lot of international students will like relate to that, you don’t come to this country cause you’re just like “Yay,” you know “Let’s go discover a new land!” You’re also coming because you’re like, there was nothing for me at home.” Participant 11 resisted absorption into a white-centric, settler monolith through alluding to how their home (external to Canada) has also been impacted by colonial violence and extraction. This resistance connects to Jafri’s (2012) theorizations (see Chapter 2) around how settlers of colour 106 are complicit in, but do not necessarily privilege off of, settler colonialism as much as white settlers tend to. At the same time, Participant 11 implied having the means and mobility to move from their home to pursue post-secondary education on syilx territory. Together, Participant 11 and Jafri (2012) offer a few questions to reflect on: (1) What are the different conditions through which people arrive to syilx territory?; and (2) How do some settlers on syilx territory experience oppression from global colonial forces, and complicity in settler colonialism, simultaneously? While Participant 11 challenged the settler monolith and settler/Indigenous dichotomy by explaining that different people arrive to syilx territory under different sets of conditions, Participants 9 and 10 challenged the settler monolith and settler/Indigenous dichotomy through casting light on their cultural backgrounds and their own relationships to colonialism: • Participant 9: I am a Tamil Sri Lankan Canadian, and I specify that in that particular order because that’s the way I see my identity, it’s very important that that order is there, the specificity of being a Tamil Sri Lankan is very important to me because of the relationship of being a Tamil Sri Lankan to colonialism, especially to British colonialism. And so like, colonialism and its legacies for me, and what brought my parents to this country – specifically ties colonization to that. So like I have a specific relationship to that, being in this country. • Participant 10: As a Palestinian, and with everything that’s been happening over the past year, I’m feeling so much more affected than normal by these conversations because of like, you know, Land Back whether we are talking about it here or in Palestine or wherever. It is so interconnected. As Participants 9 and 10 offer a look into their own ancestral and ongoing experiences of facing and resisting colonialism, they simultaneously illuminate connections with settler colonialism 107 experienced and resisted on Turtle Island and syilx territory. Building from Participant 9’s contribution, for example, we can think about how British colonization of Sri Lanka in the early 1800s strategically destabilized and divided communities, setting the stage for the decades-long Sri Lankan Civil War which led to the genocide and ethnic cleansing of up to 100 000 Tamil people (Al Jazeera 2023). Then, we might consider how this tactic of destabilizing and dividing communities was also weaponized by British colonizers against syilx people, such as through residential schools which separated syilx children from their families and communities (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 40), and through the disruption of the matrilineal order of syilx society (Louis 2008, 11). Building from Participant 10’s contributions, we can consider how Israel is committing mass genocide and theft against Palestinians and the land they steward47, in part to gain access to oil and gas reserves (Simpson 2023), while also considering how Hudbay Minerals and Mitsubishi Materials – with support from the Government of British Columbia - are poisoning the waterways of sm?lqmíx (Similkameen) syilx territory to mine copper and accrue profit48 (Hemens 2024c). These connections reveal how climate justice and decolonization are both place-based and transnational struggles. Further, these connections lend themselves to Jafri’s (2017; 2012) suggestion that settlers of colour and Indigenous people 47 Many people are misinformed, or disconnected, from the realities of Palestinians on the ground in Gaza and the West Bank and the importance of Palestinian liberation. This zine is a great place to start learning, as well as an effective tool to use while educating others: https://advocatingforpalestine.com/ 48 In the face of Israel’s illegal occupation and genocide in Palestine which began in 1948 and has seen significant escalation since 2023 (Kauanui 2016)48, there have been countless demonstrations of solidarity between Indigenous nations in colonially-known Canada and Palestinians in occupied Palestine. In June 2024, a Mohawk Warrior Society flag – a symbol of the Kanesatake Resistance (Oka Crisis) – was seen flying in Jenin, Palestine. Maracle et al. (1993) detail how syilx Okanagan Nation demonstrated solidarity with the Kanesatake Resistance through a roadblock and a peace run (96). Furthermore, Nishnaabeg scholar Leanne Betasamosake Simpson has asserted that “It is hoarded resources from the homelands that we belong to that are funding this genocide. And so a blow to the snake here, is a blow to the snake in Palestine.” (Simpson 2023), expressing vital connections between Indigenous resistance in the face of settler colonialism, from Turtle Island to Palestine. Simpson expresses that Land Back and Indigenous sovereignty movements in Canada degrade the capitalist-colonial machine that is also at work in Palestine. In addition to supporting Land Back and Indigenous sovereignty movements, people living in Canada can support Palestine through adhering to and amplifying the BDS boycott list (https://bdsmovement.net/get-involved/what-to-boycott) and pressuring institutions like UBC to divest from weapons manufacturers and corporations complicit in Israel’s illegal occupation (https://ubcdivest.org/). 108 coming together in decolonial struggle may generate an encompassing and therefore strategic approach to liberation, whereby peoples’ diverse embodied experiences of settler colonialism can inform the “dismantling [of] settler colonialism, piece by piece.” (2012). The coming-together across diverse experiences that Jafri (2017; 2012) speaks of alludes to coalition, described by Girvan (2025) as a practice/process that has been developed through many communities, including Black feminist collectives (e.g. The Combahee River Collective). Coalition involves building relationships across difference, thereby transcending binary identity categories, and understands oppression as emerging from interlocking structures and processes of power (8). Participant 11 recognized the importance of coalitional struggle in the following way: • Participant 11: Even if again I call myself an involuntary settler, I still recognize that because I’m here I do have a duty and a mandate to advocate for the Indigenous Peoples here, because they are also suffering the same plights, and I get to live a privileged life because this is their lands, you know. If they didn’t take care of the lands technically I wouldn’t even have a place to go to, you know? Here, Participant 11 speaks to coalitional work as grounded in shared struggle and shared responsibility. Earlier, they gestured to being impacted by colonial violence in their home country, while Participants 9 and 10 reflected more explicitly on their respective ancestral and personal experiences of colonialism and resistance. Framed through theoretical ideas from scholars like Jafri (2012; 2017) and Girvan (2025), these participants collectively cast light on the transformative and strategic potential of building coalitions and collaborations between Indigenous and communities of colour, particularly insofar as the multiplicities within and between these communities offer both shared and diverse insights based on shared and diverse 109 experiences of being oppressed by, and resisting, different facets of global and settler colonialism. A study by LGBTQ+ climate scholar-activist Janet A. Lorenzen and scholar Emily Drew (2023) illustrate the power of building cross-community coalitions to actualize climate justice. These authors followed the transformation of a state-wide climate coalition in colonially-known Oregon, USA, through which: resources were redistributed to social justice groups serving communities of colour who would have otherwise not had the capacity to join the coalition; structural changes centred the leadership of Indigenous and communities of colour; and coalition objectives prioritized redistributing resources and fighting for policy changes which would help communities “hurt first and worst by climate change” (120). Several equity and climate justice-oriented legislative changes came from this coalition, including pausing development and contributing to the eventual termination of the Jordan Cove LNG Project (Moriarty 2021). Thinking with both this research and earlier contributions from Participants 9, 10, and 11 - what might Tamil Sri Lankan, Palestinian, Kenyan, and sm?lqmíx people, for example, have to learn from each other? Could sharing experiences between these groups deepen an understanding of, and resistance against, the settler colonial machine wreaking climate injustice on syilx territory? Since neither settler nor syilx people and communities are monolithic, practices of transformation and solidarity with syilx communities will look different from settler-to-settler, from activist group-to-activist group, from syilx community-to-syilx community, and from the multiple, relational, and collaborative dynamics that emerge within and between these groups. That said, a possible responsibility or transformative practice among settler activists of colour in the Okanagan might involve drawing on one’s own ancestral and personal experiences and insights of colonialism, climate injustice, and resistance to contribute to coalition and solidarity 110 work with syilx communities (all the while following syilx law and leadership)49. In an online climate justice-focused fireside chat/workshop I co-delivered with fellow UBCO settlers as part of the Earth Sense program, for example, a friend and fellow participant Nishat brought in personal stories of weather and climate (in)justice in Bangladesh to inform our unfolding process of unpacking climate justice – locally, globally, and intersectionally – and understanding how to think beyond colonial notions of climate justice towards syilx sovereignty. Nish expressed to me that her contributions to this workshop were shaped by countless learnings and unlearnings, including the following quote from an arts and research collective known as Gesturing Towards Decolonial Futures (2021), which aptly communicates and summarizes some of the generative tensions around identity and solidarity which were raised in the teach-and-learn-ins: In some ways Indigenous people and Black and racialized immigrants have similar experiences of systemic oppression in Canada and share a history of alliances. In other ways, as settlers, immigrants are contributing to the on-going colonial oppression of Indigenous people in Canada in many different ways. Our capacity to hold this paradox and the complexities that it entails in generative ways will dictate the depth and resilience of relationships in this context. In each encounter between Indigenous and immigrant communities, these issues will be held and addressed differently, because Indigenous peoples – and immigrant communities – are very diverse (both within and between them). Therefore rather than proposing a single easy pathway for us all to move together 49 Here, it’s important to understand that the term “settlers of colour” encompasses a diverse array of relationalities, privileges/dis-privileges, and insights (Jafri 2012; 2017). Settlers of colour bring important perspectives to solidarity work not by virtue of them being non-white, but from their understandings and lived experiences of local and international flows and patterns of white supremacy, colonialism, capitalism, etc. (Dhamoon 2015, 28). 111 towards the future, we propose that we need to learn to weave relations and move together differently in this foggy landscape, making room for what is real, painful and difficult about this process, without shaming, romanticizing, idealizing or demonizing anyone or anything. However, it is important to remember that other Indigenous people may not agree with what is proposed here – that is why we all need to avoid simplistic solutions and naive ideals of solidarity. We need to be open to having never-ending difficult conversations with sobriety, maturity, discernment and accountability. As Participants 9, 10, and 11 point us towards the potential transformative power of building coalitions between syilx communities and communities of colour, they simultaneously portray how approaching solidarity activism through monolithic and dichotomous settler/Indigenous identity categories risks flattening difference and erasing the knowledges and experiences of communities of colour, thereby inflicting real harm on real people. Indeed, scholars like Jafri (2017), Kauanui (2016), and Hunt and Holmes (2015) discuss how dichotomies like settler/Indigenous tend to collapse diversity, preventing scholars and activists from understanding the many entangled processes (e.g. white supremacy, racial capitalism, heteropatriarchy, exploitation and enslavement) that co-constitute settler colonialism and climate injustice. In alignment with this critique of bifurcated identities, Cohen and Chambers (2021) argue that “ a more humanizing discourse acknowledging human diversity will ultimately be more transformative” (38). Furthermore, Armstrong et al. (2021) explain how in writing Okanagan Women’s Voices, they focused “less on the opposing life trajectories of Syilx and settler women, and more on their intersections,” especially interested in “‘spaces between’ where Indigenous and non-Indigenous women interacted, adapted, and accommodated each other in 112 various ways, developing friendships, respect, understanding, and collaboration.” (vii). This practice on working in the “spaces between” shares ground with Black feminist coalitional work (Girvan 2025), bringing us to Lorde (1984) who emphasizes the importance of “develop[ing] tools for using human difference as a springboard for creative change within our lives.” (116). Collectively, as these scholars warn against collapsing difference into binary identity categories, they also suggest that intersectional and coalitional approaches may offer more strategic pathways towards Indigenous sovereignty, climate justice, and collective liberation. In teach-and-learn-in #2, Participant 11 exemplified the real harms that can come from erasure perpetuated by settler/Indigenous dichotomies as they explained that when they moved from Kenya to Canada, they started understanding why things at home happen the way they do, you know? Like, the story of Congo you know? It baffled me how people didn’t even know, like, the extent of the history you know? When I ask people “Do you know King Leopold?” they’re like “who is that?” and I’m like how does no one know about this? Here, Participant 11 points to an epistemic injustice whereby settlers might have an understanding of settler colonialism in Canada while having limited to no understanding of how colonialism continues to impact multiple countries in Africa. This epistemic injustice nods to e-Race-sures, a term articulated by Girvan and Chua (2021) to question “how bodies, communities, and knowledges appear or disappear, and at what costs to lives” (2). As e-Race-sures may also be understood as an interrogation of “a general de-valuing (past and present) of certain communities and their ways of knowing” (3) within environmental fields, Participant 11 expressed further: • Participant 11: When I came here [to Canada from Kenya] I realized what I care about is advocating, particularly in Western spaces…actually not advocating to Western spaces but basically going and screaming at them *laughter* to essentially say that you have no 113 right to come to our place and dictate to us what to do, how to use our resources, about what to do with the climate, how we take care of the environment, because we’ve been doing a fine job so far. You know? I feel like it’s, when you guys came, that suddenly now we have all these problems. From their perspective as a person from Kenya living in colonially-known Canada, Participant 11 spoke to the irony of Western, white settlers centring themselves as environmental leaders/allies despite clear entanglements between European colonialism and ecological destruction (see Chapter 2 for more details on this). Through speaking to this irony, Participant 11 conveys that as white settler activists are responsible for finding ways to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, we are simultaneously responsible for mitigating e-Race-sures – in our understandings of local and global colonialism and our relationship to it; in the people and voices we look to and learn from to guide our work; and the ways we cultivate and contribute to activist spaces and movements. This contribution from Participant 11 also highlights that this thesis lacks exploration of practices settler activists, particularly white settler activists, should be implementing to abolish white supremacy and racism within the activist spaces we are part of (see Chapter 1 for an example of how I’ve seen these forces manifest), and this is a key limitation. Activist communities are not insulated from broader structures and processes of white supremacy, racism, and settler colonialism which shape our lives, and as Participants 9, 10, and 11 reveal, working towards solidarity with syilx communities while perpetuating dichotomies and e-Race-sures is not a viable path forward to decolonization, climate justice, and collective liberation from interlocking structures and processes of power. As mentioned previously, WSE refers to structures and processes which produce certain perspectives and tendencies among activists, whether these activists identify as white settlers or 114 not. As Participants 9, 10, and 11 encourage us to recognize the multiplicities that exist among settlers, we are simultaneously encouraged to realize that responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways and practices of transforming WSE will look different from settler-to-settler. Some critical next steps for white settlers across the activist groups I am part of might involve concertedly and intentionally following the guidance of decolonial, anti-racist, and transformative scholar-activist-educators, such as through: learning about and grounding ourselves in a transformative justice framework (brown 2020); interrogating our “right to comfort” (Jones and Okun 2001); calling each other in and responding with gratitude and changed behaviour when one is called in (Robinson 2018); creating and engaging consistently in spaces focused on unpacking implicit white supremacy and racism and challenging ourselves to do things differently (Accapadi 2007); and redistributing resources to local organizations that serve communities of colour (Lorenzen and Drew 2023). Though this thesis did not employ this practice (perhaps another limitation), points provoked by Participants 9, 10, and 11 about the power of cross-community coalitions, the different ways we are sensitized to the world depending on our relationships to structures and processes of power within it, and the importance of white settlers grappling with white supremacy and racism in our activist spaces generate a question: While transforming processes and practices of WSE towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, what possibilities might in-group caucuses offer? Racial Equity Tools (n.d.) describes caucuses as intentional spaces for people with shared experiences/relationships to power structures to learn, connect, and strategize together. Among white people, Racial Equity Tools (n.d.) further explain, caucusing often means unpacking and unlearning privilege and assumptions grounded in white supremacy and settler colonialism without burdening racialized folx with the labour of educating us/guiding us through this 115 process. Overall, what transformations might unfold from settlers of colour strategizing coalitional work with syilx communities, grounded in their transnational experiences of (de)colonialization and climate (in)justice? From working class queer folx strategizing coalitional work grounded in their experiences of facing and resisting heteropatriarchy? From queer settlers of colour with different class privileges discussing further intersections, and so on? How might these different caucuses work to dismantle settler colonialism and interlocking structures and processes “piece by piece,” all the while strengthening solidarity with syilx sovereignty? 4.3.2 Conceptualizing and engaging in climate justice as an interconnected struggle The monoliths and bifurcations discussed in the previous section might be further mediated through committing to understanding of climate justice as an interconnected struggle, and using this understanding to guide climate activism and solidarity efforts on syilx territory. Across the two teach-and-learn-ins, participants conceptualized climate justice as inseparable from other struggles against injustice. These conceptualizations - as they intersect with the literature in certain ways – suggest that understanding climate justice as a struggle connected to other struggles might be a key component of settlers doing our work of transforming WSE towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. In particular, understanding and working towards climate justice as an interconnected struggle might enable settler activists to: subvert WSE and mitigate certain pitfalls to solidarity; understand how our personal responsibilities fit within a larger web of responsibilities that we share with syilx people to future generations; create space to understand syilx-led climate justice as interdependent with syilx 116 sovereignty; and open ourselves up to learning more from/for the land and lifeways we live with on syilx territory. While this theme of climate justice as a struggle inseparable from other struggles emerged from teach-and-learn-in findings, my perception and understanding of this interconnectedness is primarily informed by relational ontologies and methodologies discussed by Indigenous scholars, as well as intersectional theories and practices discussed by Black feminist scholars, as discussed in Chapter 2. 4.3.2.1 Subverting WSE and mitigating pitfalls to solidarity Teach-and-learn-in participants conceptualized climate justice as emergent from a matrix of struggles (imperialism, racism, colonialism, capitalism, heteropatriarchy, etc.). Further, participants revealed a few ways in which developing an interconnected understanding of climate justice might subvert the single-issue, white supremacist and settler-centric framework of WSE (Paperson 2014; Curnow and Helferty 2018; Liboiron 2021; Gomez 2020), as well as mitigate settler solidarity pitfalls detailed in Chapter 2 such as romanticization and saviourism (Whyte 2018). When asked “What is a climate/social justice cause you care about, and why?”50, Participants 1, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12 each spoke to climate justice as entangled with other struggles. For example: • Participant 8: I’m really invested in decolonial struggles and decolonial justice, like Free Palestine, Free Sudan, Free all, Free Congo, Free all the oppressed people all around 50 Prior to the dialogue portion of the teach-and-learn-ins, I led participants through a web exercise to evoke different perceptions and connections of climate justice (see Chapter 3 for more details). During this exercise, every single participant in teach-and-learn-in #1 articulated connections between climate justice and other struggles for justice. I can’t delve into details about these contributions due to the consent process we used, but I wanted to emphasize a widespread understanding of the interconnectedness of climate justice across participants in both groups. 117 the world and I think it’s really important to acknowledge how everything is connected, like climate issues are really connected to what is happening all over the world, and how war has become such a big project to helping that happen. • Participant 9: I care very much about taking a macro lens at the ways that systems all interconnect to each other, especially like from an anti-racist and anti-oppressive perspective. • Participant 10: A climate and social justice cause I care about, is Land Back. Land Back, Land Back is the biggest thing for me. Anything anti-imperialism, like looking at the effects of US imperialism on the world, and like the place I come from and the surrounding countries is something I really care about. • Participant 12: Right to Repair51 is a really big issue, and something I care about. I also recently with some reading I’ve done and whatnot, have been thinking a lot about wildfire and Alberta oil and how that’s all interconnected. As mentioned in Chapter 2, Gomez (2020), Paperson (2014), Liboiron (2021), Curnow and Helferty (2018) critique the ways in which WSE glorifies “green” “solutions” rooted in capitalism and consumption, overlooks the struggles and knowledges of Indigenous and communities of colour who have been at the forefront of climate injustice and resistance for a long time, and centers the concerns and lives of largely white settlers with class privilege. In the previous quotes, however, as participants draw connections between climate justice and imperialism, climate justice and capitalism, climate justice and anti-racism/anti-oppression, and climate justice and Land Back, they demonstrate a consciousness that moves beyond the limited 51 Learn more about the Right to Repair movement here: https://www.britannica.com/topic/right-to-repair 118 scope of WSE52. That is – whereas WSE theoretically and practically lacks an understanding of climate justice as a struggle inseparable from other struggles, participants in the teach-and-learn-ins appeared to recognize this entanglement. In the context of queer settler solidarity with decolonization and Indigenous resurgence, Hunt and Holmes (2015) “encourage the use of knowledge systems and methodologies that are grounded in what Jeannette Armstrong refers to as ‘a complex holistic view of interconnectedness that demands our responsibility to everything we are connected to.” (168). As Smith (2005) articulates, however, conscientization – such as consciousness of the interconnected struggles of climate justice - is only one element of transformation. So what could an interconnected understanding of climate justice look like in practice among settler activists striving towards solidarity with syilx communities? As I mentioned in Chapter 1, this thesis concerns itself not only with settlers showing up to syilx-led climate justice, but how we show up, too. Whereas the previous quotes from Participants 8, 9, 10, and 12 demonstrate an understanding of climate justice as interconnected with other struggles, participants also reveal that an interconnected understanding of climate justice may lend itself to resisting WSE, providing us with ideas of what resistance, as well as transformative action and showing up to syilx-led work in respectful and meaningful ways, could look like. For instance, contributions from Participant 1 demonstrate how developing consciousness around the interconnectedness of economic sovereignty and Indigenous sovereignty can resist what Whyte (2018) critically terms the “romantic” approach to allyship. 52 Of course, not every settler climate activist in the Okanagan sees their work through such a framework. How could we change this? How could we build the connections between struggles and work within them? Could this enable more climate activists to show up for syilx sovereignty and decolonial movements, seeing the connections between these movements and climate justice? 119 Reflecting on a conversation he had had with a classmate about Wet’suwet’en sovereignty and the CGL Pipeline, Participant 1 shared: • Participant 1: [My classmate] posed the question, like, what about like bands that like use these projects to like, you know, enable economic sovereignty? That’s something that’s so successful about *local nation name* right, is that they’re able to generate revenue from taxes of people living off their land. And, yeah, empower themselves like that. And, so, what I wrote down [when reflecting on my “Zebra mussel moment”53] was ‘not considering Indigenous economic sovereignty when engaging in climate activism’. Through a conversation with his classmate, Participant 1 became more conscious of the connections between economic and Indigenous sovereignties. As discussed in Chapter 2, Whyte (2018) critiques white settlers who romanticize Indigenous knowledges about caring for the land whilst failing to understand contradictions (e.g. a First Nation Band signing a pipeline agreement), and failing to take actionable steps to address the very real material inequities many Indigenous communities have grappled with since the start of settler colonial land and resource theft. At the same time, Maracle et al. (1993) assert that the provincial government of British Columbia has long used economic insecurity as a “squeeze tactic” to coerce band councils to conform to their rule and “to get Aboriginal people to consent to trading their National Trust (sovereignty and title) in for the power to sign cheques and a few more dollars yearly.” (82). Settler activist groups might translate consciousness of the connections between economic 53 In Chapter 3, I discuss how I utilized a Zebra mussel as a caricature for white settler environmentalists. In teach-and-learn-in #1, I invited participants to share their “Zebra mussel moments”, or times where their well-meaning behaviour actually perpetuated structures/processes of white supremacy and settler colonialism. 120 sovereignty and Indigenous sovereignty into resisting WSE tendencies (e.g. the tendency to romanticize Indigenous knowledges and oversimplify Indigenous struggles) and taking action for syilx sovereignty by facilitating grassroots collection and redistribution of money and resources to syilx communities. As advised by Native Governance Centre (2021), settlers looking to prepare a voluntary land tax initiative, for example, should prepare a detailed, well-thought out plan for funds collection and redistribution to present to the Nation for reflection and consultation, and receive consent/official permission from the Nation before taking any further action.54 Beyond romanticization, using an interconnected understanding of climate justice to guide settlers’ approaches to working in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice may facilitate an important shift away from WSE pitfalls of saviourism and guilt, and towards responsibility. That is - saviourism describes (often white) settlers who approach “solidarity” activism by framing themselves as heroic and framing Indigenous communities as disempowered, to which Native Governance Centre (2021) asserts: “Indigenous folks do not need saving. Instead, they need you to put your body on the line for their struggle.” In other cases, settler activists are driven towards solidarity actions to relieve their own guilt over their complicity in the settler colonial project. Meanwhile, border rights activist and writer Harsha Walia contends that “The appropriate line between being too interventionist and being [frozen] will be aided by a willingness to decentre oneself and by learning and acting from a place of responsibility rather than guilt.” Shifting away from the self-centred perspectives saviourism and 54 As collective reparation for centuries of land and resource theft, Reciprocity Trusts and Reconciliation Contribution Fund based in colonially-known Victoria offer more local examples of initiatives which seek to redistribute resources from settlers to Indigenous Nations whose unceded and stolen lands they are living on. Learn more here: https://reciprocitytrusts.ca/; and here: https://www.victoria.ca/city-government/reconciliation/reconciliation-contribution-fund. 121 guilt tend to perpetuate, the following quote from Participant 11 clearly demonstrates acting from an understanding of, and responsibility to, interconnected struggle: • Participant 11: I just always want to find as many ways as possible to help out Indigenous communities because I owe it to them, you know, for what I have received and because again, we’re all brothers and sisters, you know, we are all connected in the same fights, and what happens here will absolutely be what happens back home for me as well. As Participant 11 conceptualizes themself as connected to the struggle for syilx sovereignty and climate justice, they reflect Murri artist, activist, and academic Lilla Watson’s conceptualization of solidarity: “If you have come here to help me you are wasting your time, but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” (O’Leary, n.d.). These words from Watson reject a saviourist and guilt-driven approach to solidarity work through highlighting the interconnectedness of struggles. Similarly, in a Centre for Climate Justice webinar, Zoe Todd further articulated solidarity as a wave function or a superposition – a quantum physics term explaining that, since the quantum field exists everywhere in space, everything is literally connected. (Todd and Centre for Climate Justice UBC 2023). With this concept, Todd nods to the notion that “none of us are free until all of us are free” – a concept originating from Maya Angelou and unpacked by Lorde (1984) in essays like “Age, Race, Class, and Sex: Women Redefining Difference,” and “The Uses of Anger” – which underscores the interconnectedness of struggle and liberation and subverts the white settler-centric, single-issue approach of WSE. 122 4.3.2.2 Our responsibilities are shared, yet different In addition to subverting WSE frameworks (which centre white settlers and often understand climate justice as a single-issue matter) and shifting from romanticism, saviourism, and guilt towards responsibility, developing an understanding of climate justice as an interconnected struggle might support settler activists to understand that our responsibilities to future generations are shared with syilx communities. Understanding these shared responsibilities might further orient us towards the expertise of syilx communities who have done this future-facing work for a long time, and prompt us to consider how our various responsibilities as settlers fit within a larger scope of shared responsibilities to future generations on syilx territory. In an article documenting the harms of the Copper Mountain Mine expansion, syilx knowledge keeper cewel’na Leon Louis explains that “We think about seven generations yet to come. They’re not yet born. They need to have clean water, clean air, have access to our foods and medicines. That’s what seven generations before us did so that we would have access to that. Now, it’s our responsibility.” (Hemens 2024). Furthermore, at a recent event where leaders from syilx Okanagan Nation and local governments signed a formal agreement to collectively work to protect water, siwɬkw, throughout syilx territory, ONA Water Strategy lead qʷəqʷim̓cxn Tessa Terbasket explained that “an empty chair was added to the leadership table to ‘recognize a space not just for our past ancestors, but also for our future generations to come,’” emphasizing that “That’s not just syilx — that’s all of us in the room.” (Hemens 2024). Together, these quotes demonstrate that regenerating syilx land, water, and lifeways is an endeavour that both syilx and settler communities are responsible for, and that syilx communities have the knowledge to lead the way. 123 Ideally, settlers who understand how climate justice interlocks with other structures and processes of oppression (e.g. white supremacy and settler colonialism) also understand not only how we have responsibilities to work together with syilx communities to regenerate land, water, and lifeways for future generations, but also that we have a responsibility to address white supremacy and settler colonialism within ourselves, our activist groups, and our communities while we do this work. As discussed in the previous theme, taking on the labour of addressing in-group white supremacy and settler colonialism belongs especially to settlers who are white. On this note – white settler scholar Alexis Shotwell (2018) argues that as white settlers inherit social and material privileges that arise from the dispossession of Black, Indigenous, and communities of colour, we also inherit a responsibility to disrupt these privileges and dispossessions, such as through working as “traitors” to whiteness and settlerhood whereby we seek to disrupt processes of white supremacy and settler colonialism as we see them manifest in the explicit and implicit perspectives and practices of one another (8-17). All of us on syilx territory have responsibilities to each other, land, and lifeways in the present and future; however, settlers also have an inherited responsibility of transforming our perspectives and actions so that we can show up to this task effectively, not harmfully. 4.3.2.3 Showing up to syilx-led climate justice means showing up for syilx sovereignty Another way an understanding of climate justice as an interconnected struggle might offer itself to transforming WSE practices and processes and supporting settler activists to work in solidarity with syilx people, land, and lifeways includes creating space to understand that showing up for syilx-led climate justice also means showing up for syilx sovereignty. 124 As I explained to participants at the teach-and-learn-ins, I have learned through the Earth Sense program – especially from Carrie Terbasket - that climate justice is not always a useful term on syilx territory, since living sustainably, through relationships of respect and reciprocity between people, land, water, and animals, has been a way of life for syilx communities for thousands and thousands of years (IndigenEYEZ,” n.d.; Delfs 2025). The link between ecological regeneration on syilx territory and syilx communities being able to practice and live out their relationships with tmixw and tmxwulaxw without colonial interference is discussed by Maracle et al. (1993). In particular, Maracle et al. (1993) explain how through the 1960s and 1970s, certain landmark Supreme Court Cases proved that “corporations trespassing on unsurrendered lands could be challenged legally,” and that “licenses which the government was issuing for mining, forestry, and other damage could be stopped with a court injunction” (68) if an Indigenous Nation had certain proof of rights and title. However, companies that could be affected by potential injunctions (e.g. Crown Corporations) pushed back, leading to the Government of Canada working “to bring home the Constitution from British control. With a new constitution the Government could find ways along its own voters’ interests to end treaty and Aboriginal rights and continue the damage to the environment.” (69). The entanglement of syilx sovereignty and climate justice is further demonstrated by Lower Similkameen Indian Band member Madison Terbasket in reference to the Copper Mountain Mine expansion in smǝlqmíx territory, who explains that syilx laws governing water are “all intertwined…even though you’re breaking the water declaration, you’re still going to break the family [and] still breaking the language declarations.” (Hemens 2024c). Could understanding syilx sovereignty and climate justice as connected matters open settler activists up to a wider array of ideas and actions of what solidarity with syilx communities 125 might look like? In her talk with Klein, Armstrong asserted that “the breaking of our syilx laws here, on our unceded lands, creating ongoing destruction and obstruction to its recovery needs you to stand as allies with us to find solutions together,” and identified altering colonial laws in order to alter resource distribution; and making governments and corporations accountable; as key elements of “actualiz[ing] syilx led climate justice actions” (Armstrong and Klein 2023). Thinking with the interconnectedness of syilx sovereignty and climate justice and these calls to action from Armstrong, important solidarity actions for climate activists in the Okanagan might include familiarizing ourselves with syilx laws, implementing these laws in the ways we do activism, and organizing bottom-up to pressure the government to redistribute resources towards syilx communities and to shift their policies and practices to align with syilx law. 4.3.2.4 Learning from and for the interconnected lifeways of syilx territory Up to this point, I have extrapolated from participant contributions to discuss the importance of settler activists understanding: the interconnectedness of climate justice and various struggles for liberation and oppression; the interconnectedness of shared, albeit different responsibilities between settler and syilx communities to future generations; and the interconnectedness of syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Finally, I want to consider how an interconnected understanding of climate justice is reflected by the biodiverse ecologies of syilx land and lifeways, and how taking up such an understanding might in turn help settler activists to learn from, and learn how to care for, these syilx land and lifeways. syilx communities have always learned and taught the natural laws of the land, enabling the regeneration of tmixw and tmxwulaxw and enabling the survival of syilx people over thousands of years (Maracle et al. 1993, 2). Settler activists have a lot to learn from syilx people if we care 126 about understanding the complex interconnected ecology of syilx territory, and about doing our part to take care of this place. In 2023, some friends and fellow activists and I attended an annual syilx siwɬkʷ/water forum in colonially-known Summerland. Here, standing around nluxʷluxʷɬcwix/Trout Creek, we learned about the land-water connection between rivers and riparian areas. We also discussed how many of our secondary and post-secondary science courses had never taught us about the importance of this connection before – the important relationship of rivers connecting with flood plains to nourish trees and plants, to maintain a small gravel size, and to create pools for salmon to spawn (Hemens 2023d). In an article about this water forum, Herb Alex - an affiliate of ONA’s kł cp̓əlk̓ stim̓ Hatchery55 - explained how sockeye salmon travel from Okanagan waterways to the ocean and back, thereby demonstrating one of many ways in which biodiversity on syilx territory is connected to the biodiversity of other lands, waters, and lifeways across the world and back (Hemens 2023d). Similarly to how we can learn from waterways to understand the transnational interconnectedness of biodiversity, there is a note in Okanagan Women’s Voices about how “the land is… a source of power, a book marked everywhere by stories, an ongoing teacher” (iii) for syilx writers Marie Houghton Brent, Eliza Jane Swalwell, Josephine Shuttleworth, and Mourning Dove (Armstrong et al. 2021). On a similar note, the key theme of the Earth Sense program I have been a part of is “Land is Teacher.” In synergies with Black feminist ecological praxis and as mentioned in Chapter 3, brown’s (2017) articulation of emergent strategy encourages people to learn from patterns in nature, from “the brilliance of the world” (4), to inform how we go about acting and interacting intentionally to build new practices and realities - collaborative, 55 You can learn more about the hatchery here: https://syilx.org/fisheries/hatchery/, and here: https://syilx.org/events/hatchery-tours/ 127 decolonized, and climate just realities. What could it mean for settlers to look to syilx tmixw and tmxwulaxw to develop the interconnected understanding of climate justice which guides our approach to solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice? In turn, could conceptualizing climate justice as interconnected help us to better understand and learn how to care for tmixw and tmxwulaxw, through alignment with syilx laws and collaboration with and leadership from syilx communities? During teach-and-learn-in #2, Participant 11 named “leaving the leaves” as a small action they could do to care for syilx land. However, thanks to volunteer work with the na'ʔk'ʷulamən garden, I have learned how fallen leaves can actually exert a negative impact on certain plants that are native to syilx territory and accustomed to growing in more arid shrubland and grassland contexts. This small example prompts me to remember that, as syilx scholars like Dr. Cohen (UBC Studios Okanagan 2024) and Dr. Armstrong (Armstrong 2020) have emphasized, settlers should be learning about caring for the land in collaboration and with leadership from, syilx people – the people who have been learning from and caring for this place since time immemorial. This example also suggests that a characteristic of WSE sometimes includes self-assuredness or overconfidence in one’s own knowledges about how to care for land that is not theirs, further emphasizing humility as an important trait to cultivate through solidarity work. In wrapping up this section, I am curious about what ideas and practices of solidarity could emerge from settlers learning about the ways different “native,” “invasive,” 56 and “naturalized” (Aikau 2023) plant species grow on syilx territory, for instance, and how their different growth patterns and behaviours impact each other. What could we learn from the Tree 56 See footnote 35 on page 80 to grapple with the complexities of “invasive” metaphors. 128 of Heaven, for instance, as it prevents the growth of surrounding native plants while simultaneously mimicking their shape?57 What could we learn from mullein, which is not native to the Okanagan yet still grows here, sometimes overtaking native plants and sometimes providing medicinal remedies to people? What could we learn from juniper, a native shrub, whose berries feed coyotes, rabbits, and birds, and whose branches offer a place for spiders to build homes and catch food? These reflections and questions emerge from practices of visiting with land which I describe in Chapter 3. 4.3.3 Centring syilx knowledge Across the two teach-and-learn-ins, participants demonstrated feeling and understanding that syilx people and communities “are the best protectors of our syilx lands, waters and timixʷ” (Armstrong and Klein 2023). Participants demonstrated this understanding implicitly through pulling knowledges and concepts they had learned from syilx educators, writers, and knowledge keepers into the dialogue, and explicitly through speaking to the importance of centring syilx sovereignty and leadership in activist work on syilx territory. Prior to the teach-and-learn-ins, multiple participants had taken “nsyilxcən for everyone” language classes and K’west’lap ee Stethtatht (Truth Shows Itself) workshops, and had attended multiple museum and land tours facilitated by the Sncəwips Heritage Museum and En’owkin Centre, KinSHIFT fireside chats facilitated by IndigenEYEZ, dissertation defenses of syilx scholars at UBC Okanagan, book talks by syilx authors at the downtown library, captikʷł readings, siwɬkw water forums, volunteer days at the K’nmaĺka Sənqâĺten and na'ʔk'ʷulamən gardens, and more. These various syilx-led 57 Tree of Heaven mimicks the shape of smooth sumac trees, a native species to the Okanagan (Invasive Species Council of BC n.d.). 129 learning and volunteering activities shaped the ways participants engaged in the teach-and-learn-in dialogues, as well as their broader understandings of syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Firstly, participants demonstrated a respect for and belief in syilx leadership in the struggle for climate justice on syilx territory through repeatedly reflecting on syilx concepts and knowledges to inform their contributions. Participants generally seemed to draw on syilx knowledge while thinking about how to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, as well as while brainstorming what actions of solidarity might look like. Participants 6 and 5 specifically brought in learnings from syilx-led workshops and public talks to respond to questions of how to show up to syilx sovereignty and climate justice in respectful and meaningful ways. For example, when Participant 3 shared that he wants to collaborate with syilx communities but feels limited by uncertainties of Who do you reach out to? How do you come together? How do you create a common basis of action? Um, how do you facilitate this dialogue? How do you meet?, Participant 6 responded: • Participant 6: I’ve been thinking about that a lot too...at a [cultural competency workshop led by syilx Elders] I attended in September…what they talked about was just this like, extensive, the reach of colonialism into every aspect of their lives. And the pain and the ongoing violence and the ongoing, like, number of deaths. Again, there was one story that I don’t think is mine to share so I won’t, but just...what it made me reflect on is like…ongoing grief. Another loss, another loss, another loss. So that was a perspective for me to hold, is that now, right now might not be the time when there’s a lot of capacity for the community to like be out in front leading us. That’s not an answer necessarily and I’m not saying we shouldn’t still be seeking that, but just understanding that capacity might not be there. 130 Here, Participant 6 reflected on what they learned from syilx Elders during a cultural competency workshop to acknowledge that settler solidarity work is certainly not as simple as reaching out and asking syilx people to lead us. Simultaneously, they modelled a care for knowledge and a practice of “share the learnings; not the stories” through expressing there was one story that I don’t think is mine to share so I won’t, but just...what it made me reflect on is… To offer another example of participants drawing on syilx knowledge while thinking about how to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, we can look at contributions from Participant 5. In response to Participant 1 discussing how it might be important to work with wineries to try to lessen their impact on syilx ecology, for example, Participant 5 shared something they learned through a public talk between Armstrong and Winter (2024): • Participant 5: This reminds me of something else that Dr. Armstrong said at that talk…she said something about needing to sit down with your enemies [e.g. wineries] at the table and have a conversation about like how to do things differently or something. And you have to weigh for sure when and how to do that but that’s also a part of collaboration too, is finding ways to do that. This quote demonstrates how Participant 5 looked to the wisdom of Jeannette Armstrong to inform her approach to navigating challenging collaborations through direct and relational ways. As we all moved on to discuss what we might have to offer syilx communities in terms of reciprocal collaboration, Participant 5 further expressed: going back to captikʷł stories and using your skills within community networks, there’s usually someone that has these different skills to draw on, thereby reflecting a teaching from the How Food Was Given captikʷł that everyone has something to offer to the regeneration of syilx land and lifeways. Furthermore, Participant 5’s 131 contribution reflects Dr. Cohen’s encouragement for settlers to find our own bringing-tmixw back-to-life songs (see Chapters 1 and 3). Collectively, these reflections from Participants 6 and 5 demonstrate consistent engagement with syilx concepts and knowledges to guide how they are working towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. In addition to thinking through how to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, participants centred syilx knowledges and concepts while brainstorming what actions of solidarity might look like. As we were all envisioning collaborations to advance syilx sovereignty and climate justice during teach-and-learn-in #1, for instance, Participant 1 shared: • Participant 1: There’s actually someone who like owns one of the local wineries…I bring it back again to my [syilx] Indigenous Studies teacher *name* who has talked quite a bit about this person throughout the term just in that they’ve also been kind of on this journey of like incorporating syilx sovereignty into their, into their like passions more or less. But it was interesting and I thought like this could like be a point of collaboration for our climate group. Furthermore, in response to guiding questions “What is something we could do today/tomorrow to work towards solidarity with syilx communities?”; and “What might long-term action/collaboration look like?” posed in teach-and-learn-in #2, Participant 11 shared: • Participant 11: I remember *professor’s name* took us to visit *a syilx knowledge keeper* at En’owkin in Penticton, and they told us that while we’re here [on syilx territory] we have a job to preserve syilx knowledge and information. So I’m hoping long term this means consistently writing, and doing academic stuff that you know, collects the knowledge and helps preserve it. You know, hopefully teaching it in my classes as a professor. That’s what I see long-term happening. 132 While Participant 1 looked to what he has learned from a syilx professor at his post-secondary institution as a clue about where to move/who to collaborate with, Participant 11 heard a call to action from a syilx scholar and knowledge carrier and immediately reflected on how to respond to this call through her research roles. Both participants demonstrated a centring of syilx voices to inform their next steps as students and activists striving to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. As teach-and-learn-in participants centred insights and concepts they had learned from syilx educators, writers, and Elders into conversations about how to show up in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice and about what actions to take, they implicitly demonstrated an understanding of the integrality of syilx knowledges to actualizing climate justice on syilx territory. However, participants also demonstrated this understanding explicitly through naming syilx sovereignty and leadership as critical to activist work in the Okanagan. While sharing their intentions behind attending the teach-and-learn-ins, for instance, Participants 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 expressed how showing up to syilx sovereignty and syilx-led climate justice is important to them. For example: • Participant 3: I think it’s a very interesting subject and it’s something that really needs to be discussed and like, yeah it’s something I think everyone here has been at one point: How do we connect with, you know, syilx movements or Indigenous movements and climate justice. • Participant 8: I want to show up [to syilx-led spaces and initiatives] and be able to learn more and be able to learn all the different ways I can show up as a non-white settler on this land. While Participants 3 and 8 expressed wanting to learn more about, and get more involved in, 133 syilx sovereignty and climate justice, Participants 6, 9, 10, and 11 expressed firm beliefs in the inseparability of decolonization, syilx sovereignty, syilx leadership, climate justice, and collective liberation on syilx territory: • Participant 6: These questions about how we show up to syilx-led climate justice through land healing, Land Back, and how we also pull the movement, the wider public, that way, is a huge question in my mind. • Participant 9: Showing up to syilx-led climate justice matters to me because I don’t really think that it would be appropriate to say that I care about social justice or that I care about climate justice if I’m not supporting syilx-led movements when I have the opportunity, and when I can. • Participant 10: It’s important to me to show up to syilx-led climate justice cause I think it’s, there’s no other option, like that is just how, it should be the only way that we show up here. There’s no way forward if we’re not all going to commit to this together, following their leadership. • Participant 11: [our struggles are] definitely connected so yeah, that’s why also syilx climate justice matters – they are the stewards of this land, they know what’s best for it, my job is just to really, you know take what they give us and then work on that, you know? And if they tell us to do things this way, that’s fine. You know if it means they tell us “all of you get out!” I’m like “Okay!” You know? But like they are the ones that know best how to take care of this specific place, so we should let them be the ones to figure out how to get us back to a point where the environment is healing and restoring itself. Participants 6, 9, 10, and 11 conveyed a shared understanding that supporting syilx sovereignty, leadership, and climate justice is a critical responsibility of settler activists in the 134 Okanagan. Participants offered few examples, however, of how they are currently practicing or enacting this responsibility. That said, following Armstrong’s calls to action at the UBCO talk with Klein, I have witnessed myself and fellow settler activists taking increased initiative to seek out and attend syilx-led talks, tours, classes, and workshops with the intention of learning and figuring out how to show up to syilx-led climate justice. Last fall, instead of organizing a climate strike as we have done in the past, my climate activist group and I redirected our time and energy towards a few afternoons of volunteering at the syilx-led K’nmaĺka Sənqâĺten and na'ʔk'ʷulamən gardens. These actions, in addition to how participants centred syilx knowledge and perspectives throughout the teach-and-learn-ins, demonstrate a shift away from WSE tendencies to centre the perspectives and agendas of (primarily white) settlers in activism being done on Indigenous lands. How might this shift grow? How could these intentional practices (brown 2017) evolve into meaningful contributions and outcomes (Smith 2005) for syilx sovereignty and climate justice on syilx territory? In slight contrast to Participant 11’s suggestion that we should let [syilx people] be the ones to figure out how to get us back to a point where the environment is healing and restoring itself, Participant 5 – as mentioned earlier and in alignment with teachings from How Food Was Given and Dr. Cohen - expressed that everyone has something to contribute to the regeneration of syilx land and lifeways on syilx territory. This quote from Cohen and Chambers (2021) affirm both of these contributions, in a way: Our ancestors left us with knowledge, practices, tools, and an understanding of natural laws, thousands of years of accumulated wisdom to enable us to live sustainably, connected within our territorial ecology. Indian residential schools not only disconnected many Indigenous 135 children from respective knowledge and imagination systems, these destructive colonial institutions prevented everyone else from learning from and with Syilx peoples here, and Indigenous Peoples throughout the world. It is up to all of us to reconnect to those strands of knowledge and to create new systems that balance creativity and survival, new understandings and shared responsibilities that express and embody diversity and relational sustainability. (40-41). [bold font added] In this quote, Cohen and Chambers explain how sustainable living on syilx territory emerges from thousands of years of ancestral knowledges and practices among syilx communities, acknowledge a settler colonial process that violently disconnected Indigenous people from their families and knowledge systems, and sustainable practices, and assert that creating new systems requires collective effort. How can, or how are, settler activists showing up to this collective effort? 4.3.4 Tensions and ideas around moving from knowledge to action Across the two teach-and-learn-ins, participants named and described tensions which appear as common obstacles to settler activists linking their knowledge of the power of syilx knowledge and leadership for climate justice on syilx territory, with action in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. The primary tensions participants discussed include tensions around seeking guidance from, and initiating respectful and reciprocal connections with, syilx people and communities. At the same time, these tensions generated multiple ideas among participants regarding how to move from conscientization of syilx sovereignty and climate justice, to resistance and transformative action towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice (Smith 2005). Such ideas include practices of: decentring ourselves; building 136 capacity and preparing to be led by syilx communities; and moving against colonial structures and processes. 4.3.4.1 Tensions: Seeking syilx leadership The first tension participants conveyed to be slowing their movement from knowledge to action in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice centres on a desire to align with and follow guidance from syilx communities. Indeed, syilx knowledge keepers cited throughout this thesis have asserted that following the leadership of syilx people is critical to advancing climate justice on syilx territory. While discussing food sovereignty, for example, Terbasket (2019) expresses: There must be an acknowledgment of our role as Indigenous peoples in restoring our Food Chiefs. We have longstanding experience protecting original foods from environmental challenges. We are here still and we will be here for a long time to come. We are here to lead, innovate, and perpetuate the values that sustain us all. (53-54). As Participant 4 portrayed the eagerness of many settlers to align with Terbasket’s call and look to syilx communities for leadership in the face of environmental crises, she demonstrated an uncertainty about shifting into action without explicit instruction from syilx communities and leaders: • Participant 4: It’s like yeah we have these people in our lives I’m sure you guys all do too who are like “I’m ready to go!” Basically. “I’m here, I’m just standing around,” but…it’s like how do you not just be waiting around to be told what to do? I sort of envision or wonder if there’s like a reality where we, I don’t know, like how do you ever feel confident that you’re doing something that is aligned with the nation that you live 137 on? And I say that because I’ve been like a lot of different places and trying to learn a bunch of different nations and protocols. But, yeah. Participant 5 reflected a shared uncertainty about moving into action without clear guidance: • Participant 5: What do you do? Do you just go out and do the things? Yeah I don’t know. These sentiments from Participants 4 and 5 align with findings from political theorist Carisa R. Showden, scholar Karen Nairn, and scholar Kyle R. Matthews (2022), who interviewed activists in Aotearoa New Zealand from Pākehā/tauiwi-led58 groups and found that these activist groups felt frozen/unable to move forward into decolonial work without Māori guidance (664). Yet, Armstrong (2023), Cohen and Chambers (2021), Tessa Terbasket (Hemens 2024e), and Pauline Terbasket (2019) emphasize that regenerating syilx land and lifeways for future generations is a collective responsibility. In addition to emphasizing the importance of syilx leadership, Terbasket (2019) speaks to the power of collaboration: What does it mean to restore our Food Chiefs? It means we recognize the social and ecological values and importance of food is for all human beings on this very small planet. It means we talk about building relations with communities across cultures and across Nations. We work to build and hold each other up, not to tear each other down by dominance, power, and greed. We would rather cooperate. We would rather share. We would rather be in this work together. Making it happen means we have to take risks and step forward. We are talking about change and transformation. (54). 58 The authors explain that “‘Pākehā’ can refer specifically to New Zealanders of European descent or, like ‘tauiwi’, to any non-Indigenous New Zealander regardless of their heritage. Both terms are, of course, relational and neither could exist or make sense without the implied relationship to Māori.” (681). 138 In light of this collective responsibility and extending from the contributions of Participants 4 and 5, Participant 2 shared that while they feel it’s critical to centre syilx leadership in solidarity work, they also realize that delegating work/creating specific instructions for others to follow is a laborious process: • Participant 2: It’s not up to us [as settlers] to say what’s considered solidarity, it’s like, um you know we wanna be like following calls to action, but then we’ve all spoken about – there's this element of waiting until somebody gives you the actually specific thing that they want you to do, and this creates labour for that person. Participant 2 prompts me to reflect on my own organizing experience here, and about how unless there are clear and easy action items at the ready (petitions, letter campaigns, donation links, etc.), it can be difficult to respond to people’s questions of “How can I get involved?”. On the other hand, it’s often relieving and exciting when people extend concrete support (e.g. bringing snacks, joining the sit-in, giving folks a ride to-and-from an action, writing a protest song, offer a free space to gather, etc.). If settlers and syilx people share a collective responsibility for future generations, then isn’t it an unfair distribution of labour for settlers to wait passively for instructions from syilx people about how exactly to show up to this collective responsibility? This question of labour distribution in solidarity work is grappled with by a few different scholars, such as Walia (2012) who argues that “Respecting Indigenous leadership is not the same as doing nothing while waiting around to be told what to do. ‘I am waiting to be told exactly what to do’ should not be an excuse for inaction, and seeking guidance must be weighed against the possibility of further burdening Indigenous people with questions.”; and Murdock (2021) who interrogates how “white people are often “deeply invested in appearing both 139 innocent and responsible than actually doing the work. If you’re responsible and you know you’re responsible, then you do the work to take responsibility not just in word, but in deed.” Finally, Showden, Nairn, and Matthews (2022) draw on Māori scholar Joanna Kidman to assert that settlers must take decolonial action, but we must also “tread softly” (664). However, these authors acknowledge that there is “no fixed model” for treading softly, and assert that it is up to settler activists to navigate the many uncertainties and contradictions present in decolonial solidarity work, especially since Indigenous communities experience much more daunting challenges from ongoing settler colonial violence. Ultimately, ideas from participants discussed in subsequent sections demonstrate navigation of some of these uncertainties and contradictions, and locate potential avenues of resistance and transformation within the tension of how to take action without waiting passively for/over-relying on explicit guidance from syilx communities. 4.3.4.2 Tensions: Forming reciprocal connections A second area of tension that seems to be limiting settler activists in the Okanagan from shifting into solidarity action with syilx sovereignty and climate justice arises from uncertainties around initiating respectful and reciprocal connections with syilx people and communities. Participant 4, for example, spoke a bit about how she is working for an environmental organization, and feels a tension seeking syilx input or approval when she isn’t sure what she and her work have to offer syilx Okanagan Nation in return: • Participant 4: It feels weird to like, “Hi I have this environmental project, or this campaign that I’m working on, would you please like approve that I can do this?” It feels like an imbalance, and like I’m, I’m not giving anything, I’m just asking. I don’t know how to like...yeah, I don’t know. 140 Participant 4 seemed to sense a lack of relationship and reciprocity within this dynamic of seeking syilx leadership to sign off on their environmental project. Indeed, Showden, Nairn, and Matthews (2022) and Ancestral Pride (n.d.) trouble settler activist practices of seeking approval from Indigenous people at the late stages of a project, or inviting Indigenous people to join their groups without doing any internal decolonization work, arguing that these practices can be tokenizing and expose Indigenous people to exhaustion and harm. In comparison, many participants who attended the teach-and-learn-ins are striving to leverage our groups to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, rather than ask syilx people to approve the work we are doing, and perhaps this generates possibilities for less tokenism and more meaningful relationship building. That said, settler activists like Participant 3 still feel unsure about how to initiate connections with syilx people and organizations to begin building bonds of solidarity: • Participant 3: One really big obstacle to like doing anything is like, when you think about moving from the abstract notion of “we need to work together” to like concrete collaborations…Who do you reach out to? How do you come together? How do you create a common basis of action? Um, how do you facilitate this dialogue? How do you meet? That’s like, that’s really the, the fundamental like block for me anyway. How Food Was Given as articulated by Terbasket (2019) and Armstrong (2009) emphasize the importance of building and living out respectful and reciprocal relationships - whereby the Food Chiefs gave their lives to feed the people-to-be (Terbasket 2019, 51), humans are in turn responsible for ensuring the tmixw are able to come back to life, to regenerate (Armstrong 2009, 159). Furthermore, Dr. Cohen has explained to me that it is pragmatic for settlers to seek syilx leadership about this regeneration work, and it is important for every settler 141 to figure out what they have to contribute to it. Ideas from participants discussed in subsequent sections identify potential ways forward to moving into action and building critical connections and collaborations between settler and syilx groups, within this tension of being unsure of how to initiate and build these connections in respectful and reciprocal ways. 4.3.4.3 Ideas: Decentring ourselves As participants discussed tensions they were feeling around taking action in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, they simultaneously generated ideas about how to grapple with these tensions and shift from conscientization to resistance and action in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. First and foremost, participants brought up the importance of accepting our complicity as settlers in the ongoing colonization and climate injustices of syilx territory, as well as the importance of embracing unfamiliar approaches and spaces, in order to decentre and trouble any feelings of settler guilt and discomfort and keep moving and transforming towards action. Participant 8 started this discussion off by reflecting on times they’ve gotten stuck in their discomfort (Jones and Okun 2001) about being complicit in settler colonial injustice and occupation of syilx territory, and suggested that accepting this complicity is an important tool for decentring such discomforts and moving into solidarity action: • Participant 8: How do we work towards solidarity? I think it comes with the acceptance of our complicity because every person on this land right now whether voluntary or not is a settler apart from the syilx Okanagan people, I’m talking like in the context of syilx Okanagan land. And I think that for me itself, before I was educating myself on the kind of land that I was on, I was kind of learning slowly, I was finding myself uncomfortable 142 with the fact that I was on this land. I was like – I don’t know what to do. I was kind of rambling around like in my own head, not sure what we could do. And I think, just like accepting that discomfort and accepting that yes I am on, something that someone could do today or tomorrow within themselves is accepting that “Yes, I am on stolen land.” “yes, this is a bad thing.” This is the land that if chosen, syilx Okanagan people should tell us to get off at any moment. But right, now that is not possible, so accept that. And I feel like if you do the work without accepting it, it can become very self-involved. In alignment with Participant 8’s reflections, Walia (2012) and Murdock (2021) interrogate how settlers often let our feelings of guilt and discomfort with realities of settler colonialism and white supremacy prevent us from acting to change these realities. These scholars further agree that accepting one’s complicity in harmful structures and processes of power is a key decentring practice and tool for shifting from guilt to responsibility (Walia 2012), and from rumination to action (Murdock 2021). Walia (2012) expresses that “cultivating an ethic of responsibility within the Indigenous solidarity movement begins with non-natives understanding ourselves as beneficiaries of the illegal settlement of Indigenous peoples’ land and unjust appropriation of Indigenous peoples’ resources and jurisdiction.”, and Murdock (2021) argues that “telling the truth [about white supremacy, colonialism, and climate injustice] means refusing innocence [within these structures and processes].” In this quote, Murdock takes “accepting our complicity” a step further, suggesting that “refusing innocence” in colonial structures and processes is an active practice. Participant 8 emphasized accepting complicity in settler colonialism and climate injustice on syilx territory as a tool for settlers to decentre guilt and discomfort and move into solidarity action with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Participant 12, on the other hand, 143 acknowledged how settlers often get ourselves stuck in so-called solidarity work that makes us “feel good” regardless of impact, and suggested that we instead try decentring our own comfort by embracing unfamiliar approaches and spaces: • Participant 12: I think what comes to my mind is like, [collaboration] would look like just kind of accepting that like we aren’t necessarily on the same page or don’t know all the same things, and kind of getting out of the mindset of doing a thing to make ourselves feel good. Like I think that the biggest thing keeping us in the way we are doing things now is there’s so much in the world that’s trying to make us feel good without doing something real? And I think that it’s kind of legitimately difficult to kinda put yourself out there in circles where you know that you don’t know as much as everyone else, or you feel that way, or you don’t have the same background whatever. And I think that you kind of need to...like it kind of almost feels worse to do the right thing because you don’t have all these corporations being like “our thing is good for the environment and you’re buying it”, um. And you kind of need to get through that and then you kind of understand more and it feels good again in a different way. Ultimately, Participant 12 conveys a belief that problematizing comfort and unfamiliarity are important practices for settlers who wish to build connections and transformative collaborations with syilx people and communities. In doing so, he raises a question for us to reflect on: As activists work consistently to challenge hegemonic norms and harms, might we also work consistently to challenge the norms and harms of the ways we have done activism till now? Might we learn from “Indigenous Peoples [who] contribute knowledge and imagination to the ways we humans live in relation to the water, earth, plant and animal communities that give us everything we need to live well and peacefully” (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 50), as well as the 144 imaginations of Black feminist abolitionists like adrienne maree brown and Octavia Butler who write and act to bring new worlds into existence, to reimagine our own practices? To connect more with syilx communities and “put our knowledge and imagination together to understand the past, collaborate in the present so we can all have a future” (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 51)? As Participant 12 troubles settler feelings of discomfort and unfamiliarity, he simultaneously emphasizes how working through these feelings can lead to feel[ing] good again in a different way. In addition to food, shelter, and clothing, Armstrong (2009) emphasizes how from a syilx worldview, “besides these basic essentials, we need pleasure. We need to be loved, we need to have the support of our community, and the love and the care of the people surrounding us. If we consider how these two necessities (our need for food and shelter; and our need for pleasure) are connected, and how they work together, then we can begin to understand how we might impact the land either in a negative way or in a positive way.” (165). In her book Pleasure Activism which centres insights from Black women pursuing pleasure, brown (2019) posits that “we all need and deserve pleasure and that our social structures must reflect this. In this moment, we must prioritize the pleasure of those most impacted by oppression.” (5). These insights from Participant 12, Armstrong, and brown provoke not only questions around how feelings of joy and pleasure might play a role in settlers moving away from structures and processes of WSE and towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, but also reflections around how settlers taking up our labour and getting our shit together might serve to contribute to syilx communities and communities of colour in the Okanagan, and in the climate justice movement, experiencing not only reprieve from oppressive structures and processes but also more space for joy and pleasure. 145 Participants 8 and 12 each discussed practices for decentring and troubling sticky feelings experienced by settler activists in order to move us towards action, collaboration, and solidarity with syilx communities. In Chapter 2, I discussed how one of the many problematic aspects of WSE is how it is rooted in white supremacy and settler colonialism, thereby influencing (often white) settler activists to centre our own perspectives/feelings/desires/lives in our activism, typically to the detriment of Black, Indigenous, and communities of colour who are at the forefront of experiencing and resisting climate injustice. In contrast, Flowers (2015) concurs that “solidarity means de-centering ourselves, in order to engage productively in the unknown and ‘in-between’ spaces of resistance, and confronting the impulse to claim to know or have authority over a struggle.” (35). Thus, engaging in decentring practices – like accepting complicity, “refusing innocence” (Murdock 2021), troubling discomfort, and embracing unfamiliarity - seems integral to navigating tensions and transforming settler-centred practices of WSE towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. 4.3.4.4 Ideas: Building capacities and preparing to be led Teach-and-learn-in participants identified practices for troubling and decentring certain settler feelings in order to work more effectively towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Somewhat paradoxically, participants also mulled over the idea of turning back to ourselves and building up the capacities of our activist groups while waiting for further guidance from syilx leaders, in order to show up to solidarity activism with more skills and strengths. It was Participant 4 who brought this idea to the dialogue: • Participant 4: the waiting and building...there’s also value in that. Cause people need to build capacity and skills to do what we wanna do. 146 At a public talk between Armstrong and Winter hosted in March 2024, Winter declared that settlers need to “listen and prepare to be led” by the Indigenous Nations they wish to work in solidarity with (Armstrong and Winter 2024). At an Earth Sense workshop, Carrie Terbasket encouraged attendees (mostly Indigenous people, plus a few settlers) to build our capacities in order to strengthen our webs. What sort of capacity-building might settlers engage in to strengthen our webs of responsibility and solidarity, and prepare to be led by syilx Okanagan Nation? Participant 2 offered some ideas: • Participant 2: Something that [a fellow activist] has really been helping me think through is - a lot of the like, concrete processes that people will do to repair harm within their communities without going to the police or social workers, um, actually come from like teachings directly from Indigenous communities about how to sit in circle and how to hold each other in ceremony, or from the land itself, and like, emergent strategy is one example of that. So. There’s like, concrete skills there that I’m also like hoping to learn. Which I feel like would be helpful…. Also, building skills, I wanna get better at building. I can kinda use a drill but not really. More building skills, more planting skills would be helpful. Jones and Okun (2001) critique how white supremacy conditions people (largely white settlers) to fear conflict, and Showden, Nairn, and Matthews (2022) interrogate how settlers often avoid taking action focused on decolonization/solidarity with Indigenous Nations out of fear of making mistakes in the process (666). Meanwhile, Cohen and Chambers (2021) emphasize the power of xwylxw, Fox, in gathering and learning from the mistakes of senklip, Coyote (43), and brown (2020) encourages activists and organizers to conceptualize conflict as a generative force from which new patterns (of thinking, feeling, interacting) and new worlds may emerge (14). 147 Likewise, a driving force of this thesis is the recognition that settlers need to get our shit together if we want to show up in solidarity with syilx communities in helpful, not harmful, ways. In their quote, Participant 2 suggested settler activists might build our capacity and prepare to be led by syilx communities by learning more about navigating conflict and repairing harm within activist communities. They emphasized that this can be done without relying on colonial institutions, and with explicit acknowledgement of how many restorative/transformative justice and healing processes utilized in activities communities derive from Indigenous communities and cultures59. In reflecting on their time as a queer white settler ally at Oceti Sakowin Camp resisting the Dakota Access Pipeline, Murphy Robinson (2018) discussed how regular processes of conflict and correction were integral to sustaining a community of resistance among “queer, transgender, and two spirit water protectors and white allies.” (17). As settlers exercise muscles built through navigating harm and repair in our activist communities, we also strengthen our capacity to do so in coalitional and solidarity spaces with syilx people and groups. As senklip and xwylxw remind us, transformation isn’t about getting our shit together once and for all, but iteratively learning from our mistakes and continuing to improve the ways we show up for each other. Participant 2 also spoke practically about wanting to level up their building and gardening skills in anticipation of opportunities to volunteer with syilx gardening and food sovereignty projects (work that participants in this teach-and-learn-in had done a bit of before). Approaches and practices identified in previous themes, such as building coalitions between syilx communities and communities of colour; interrogating racism and white supremacy within 59 Whereas some activist groups use consensus-style dialogue to navigate conflicting perspectives and make equitable decisions, for instance, Armstrong (2020) describes enowkinwixw as a traditional syilx decision-making, consensus-based process which “demands four things from us: that we solicit the most opposing views; that we seek to understand those views using non-adversarial protocols; that we each agree to be willing to make adjustments in our own interests to accommodate diverse needs expressed; and that we collaboratively commit to support the outcomes.” (166). 148 our activist communities; learning from syilx knowledge, laws, and land to understand and approach climate justice as interlocking with many struggles on this territory; shifting away from pitfalls of romanticism, guilt, and saviourism towards responsibility; organizing and redistributing funds towards syilx communities and organizations; learning and adhering to syilx law; and pressuring the government to redistribute resources and shift policies and practices to align with syilx law might offer other potential areas for settler activist communities to build capacity and prepare to be led by syilx Okanagan Nation. 4.3.4.5 Ideas: Moving against colonial structures and processes In addition to engaging in practices that decentre any feelings of guilt and discomfort and build up our capacities to work in effective solidarity with syilx communities, participants discussed moving against colonial structures and processes as a means of overcoming tensions around shifting from knowledge into action in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. In response to Participants 2, 3, 4, and 5 describing their uncertainties around stepping into action without explicit guidance from syilx communities, Participant 6 offered some reflections: • Participant 6: I heard an Elder from *Nation name* speak after I watched the Yintah movie. I was on the coast at the time. They had three members of the *Nation name* speak afterwards and it was like – they did not hold back. It was really intense, and so honest and so like, it was really really fucking good. *laughter* One of the Elders pointed at the screen behind him after this movie documenting Wet’suwet’en’s fight to protect their land, and he was like “This is not our legacy. This is YOUR legacy. These are YOUR structures. These are not our structures. We have our government structures. 149 We have our systems. These are your systems and you need to fix it.” He was so adamant about it. And so…there’s this idea that like, I might not know exactly what syilx people need from me right now in terms of environmentalism, but I know actually where colonialism and structures that are still causing them violence, are. I can see the RCMP and the direct line – so if I can move against the RCMP or if I can move against the systems that continue to allow wineries to like, destroy the badgers’ habitats…. That was my reflection on like, maybe right now is not the time when there’s a lot of out front syilx leadership, unless we are in relationship with them, and they invite us in? But I still think there are moves we can make to reduce the harm they’re still experiencing. Here, Participant 6 holds herself and other settlers accountable to the reality that if we care about working in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, and we understand the entanglements between settler colonialism and climate injustice (and heteropatriarchy, capitalism, racism, white supremacy, ableism, classism), then we might consider the different ways we can resist and seek to transform structures and processes of settler colonialism. On a similar note, Dr. Armstrong asserts: Solutions in sharing the burden of climate injustice effects must find ways to actualize syilx led climate justice actions. This sounds easy but it is not as it must occur in every way that colonial laws have been constructed around us. Changing those laws would radically alter how resources are distributed in both harm reduction and in sharing the burden of its effects (Armstrong and Klein 2023). In this quote, Dr. Armstrong explains that advancing syilx-led climate justice while bearing the harms of climate injustice requires deconstruction of surrounding colonial structures and 150 processes. As declared by the Indigenous Elder Participant 6 heard speak, given that settlers inherit and are complicit in so many colonial structures and processes, this deconstruction is our work to take on. Participant 2 agreed that settler activists have work to do to unpack and resist settler colonial structures, and gave some thought as to what this work might look like: • Participant 2: the last bit that I was thinking about is like, what you were saying like, okay we can see – there's the RCMP. Or like, um, look at like the court, or look at like, these like institutions and people that are like directly creating continually creating, co-creating, upholding colonial systems. How could we like, um, work outside of those, or build other things? And like, something I’ve been thinking about with like police abolition, prison industrial complex abolition, and like the transformative justice movement, is like um, when we build things that are meant inherently to be incompatible with the state, or the capitalist system, or whatever it is that we’re building – like how can you, go about doing that without just then creating another settler structure on Indigenous land, you know what I mean? While suggesting that resisting settler colonial structures and processes in the name of solidarity might include building other structures and processes, Participant 2 contemplated the risk of recolonizing. As discussed in Chapter 2, Indigenous scholars like Whyte (2018) caution that “gestures toward allyship can quickly recolonize Indigenous peoples.” Settler activists fighting for workers’ rights and wealth redistribution without accounting for whose land this wealth has been stolen from in the first place, for example, or settlers appropriating Indigenous worldviews and practices such as through resettling land as “homesteads”, might be understood as actions of recolonization insofar as they uncritically reinforce the unlawful occupation of, and extraction 151 from, unceded Indigenous lands (Tuck and Yang 2012, 23-28). In response to this question of how to avoid recolonization via acts of settler resistance to settler colonial structures and processes, Participant 5 reflected: • Participant 5: Within these structures [of climate injustice, racism, white supremacy, settler colonialism, mainstream activism, etc.] it’s not always super clear cut of what exactly to do and it’s not necessarily a Nation’s job to give us that information, you know? But how can we, amongst ourselves unpack these things so that you know Indigenous Nations don’t have to do that work with other settlers? Like, kind of like gathering together to sort of just push back, or like hold the forces of colonization back a little bit? Hold the line, well metaphorically *laughter*. Cause then, of course like the actual people who are genuinely holding the line of these things are Land Defenders, and you know like at Wet’suwet’en. But how can we organize to, you know, start resisting colonial norms so that there is more space to fill it with other things? And it’s not necessarily settlers’ jobs to decide how those spaces get filled. But just like using our resources to like, push back in those ways I guess. In addition to concurring that settlers must take on more labour to unpack and resist against settler colonial structures and processes, Participant 5 agreed that resisting these structures and processes might create space for different ways of living with each other and the world, and added that we should be bringing more settlers into this work. At the same time, they addressed Participant 2’s concern of recolonization by arguing that while settlers must unpack and resist settler colonial structures and processes, it’s not really our job to decide what comes next. This argument from Participant 5 reflects Flowers (2015) who posits that “Settler responses to calls for solidarity ought to oppose rather than perpetuate structures of domination and the 152 settler position of privilege” (35), as well as Tuck and Yang (2012) who argue that “decolonization is not accountable to settlers, or settler futurity. Decolonization is accountable to Indigenous sovereignty and futurity.” (35). At the same time, and as mentioned earlier, Cohen and Chambers (2021) name the possibility of settlers leveraging skills and offering some imagination to mutual collaborations with syilx people towards land and lifeway regeneration, and towards a shared future (51). Participants from across the teach-and-learn-ins believe in, and want to work in solidarity with, syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Participants 6, 2, and 5 identified moving against colonial structures and processes as a potential aspect of this solidarity work. At the same time, Participant 2 questioned whether settlers working to resist and deconstruct colonial structures and processes without explicit guidance from syilx communities could inadvertently recolonize, once again reflecting a settler tension or fragility that limits movement from knowledge to action towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. Here, I wonder about the potential of “fractal” work to deconstruct colonial structures and processes while simultaneously uplifting syilx law and leadership. brown (2017) describes fractals – a key element of emergent strategy – as patterns that are consistent across scale (23). Think, for example, of how the pattern of a ponderosa pinecone is consistent across its different stages of development. Drawing on fractals, brown (2017) argues that we can build new patterns and systems through the ways we interact with each other at interpersonal and community levels (24). If settler activists support a future of syilx sovereignty and syilx-led climate justice, how do we enact this in the present, and in our everyday actions and group practices? Maracle et al. (1993) discuss how due to their governance structure wherein “we carry the laws inside us,” there were no “jails, judges, or police” on syilx territory prior to colonization. “Rape or child abuse was unknown,” and “people were strong and 153 lived to be old and were free all their lives.” (16). If activists support syilx sovereignty, what would happen if resistance to colonial institutions like the RCMP60 unfolded alongside learning from syilx laws and (clumsily, imperfectly) embodying them? If activists believe in the return of land and resources to syilx stewardship, shouldn’t we consistently find ways to redistribute funds to syilx-led initiatives in the meantime? Within the context of Aotearoa, Showden, Nairn, and Matthews (2022) affirm that settler activists striving to engage in decolonial work must progress beyond the stage of having good intentions but taking no action, and towards reimagining colonial government structures and (imperfectly and dynamically) living out decolonization, embodied in their everyday practices and relationships (670). Showden, Nairn, and Matthews (2022) assert that this decolonial work should unfold in partnership with Indigenous people, and as mentioned earlier, a lack of strong partnerships with syilx communities and knowledge keepers informed teach-and-learn-in participants’ uncertainties around how to shift into transformative action. 4.3.5 Connecting, Collaborating, and Committing Over the last few years and throughout this research process, fellow settler activists and I have been lucky to listen and learn from many syilx writers, educators, artists, scholars, environmental advocates, language teachers, facilitators, and knowledge keepers. Knowledge and guidance generously shared by Dr. Cohen throughout this thesis, and conversations with 60 Haida scholar Michaela McGuire (Jaad Gudgihljiwah) (2024) discusses how “Police violence stretched back to early Canada when the Northwest Mounted Police (the precursor to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police) were tasked with the removal of Indigenous children for placement in residential schools, enforcing the Indian Act and generally containing our communities. The aim of this dehumanization and control has been to secure Canadian access to land and resources (a central need of colonial settlement) (Manuel, 2017; Razack, 2015).” (1-2). Furthermore, Kettle and Stony Point Anishinabek journalist Brett Forester (2022) interrogates how the formerly-named Community-Industry Response Group (CIRG; currently renamed to Critical Response Unit BC (CRU-BC); operates mainly to defend pipeline developments and face countless allegations of “intimidation, torture, brutality, harassment, racism, theft, destruction of property, arbitrary detention, inhumanity, lying and deceit” against Indigenous People and Land Defenders. 154 creative and passionate facilitators and participants of the Earth Sense program, have continually challenged and expanded my understandings of climate justice and solidarity on syilx territory, and I’ve been sharing these shifted understandings within activist spaces as appropriate. As revealed by findings from the teach-and-learn-ins, however, many of our activist groups are not actively working in partnership or collaboration with syilx organizations or communities (although some members have their own connections and relationships outside of activist spaces). Kwakwaka’wakw queer activist-scholar Sarah Hunt and Scottish-Irish-English queer settler scholar Cindy Holmes (2015), and Secwépemc/syilx filmmaker Dorothy Christian and queer white settler writer Victoria Freeman (2010), emphasize that building relationships and friendships is integral to building reconciliation and solidarity between settler and Indigenous people. Though Christian and Freeman (2010) point out that “the institutions and governments of the settler culture… choose to ‘maintain systems of domination’ rather than seek ‘relationships of mutuality’ with the Indigenous peoples” (382), Hunt and Holmes (2015) contend that it is through interpersonal relationships that people can work through “developing trust and communication across differences, challenging one another, and creating solidarity with one another.” (161). Furthermore, Hunt (2013) questions: “If we don’t strengthen our own internal relationships [with Indigenous people from the lands you live on], how will we know when and how to act as allies?” Indeed, a lack of relationships, partnerships, and collaborations between settler activist groups and syilx organizations and communities is a critical paucity participants want and need to address as we strive to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. 155 4.3.5.1 Connecting Showden, Nairn, and Matthews (2022) argue that “practices [of taking responsibility for decolonizing settler activism] are dynamic and imperfect, yet imperfection must lead to critical reflection that informs future practices, not to [immobilization].” (679). While teach-and-learn-in participants acknowledged a lack of relationships and partnerships with syilx people and communities in their activism, they also expressed strong intent to continue showing up to syilx-led events and workshops, continuing to contribute to spaces from which relationships might emerge, and reaching out to syilx leaders and organizations when appropriate and in respectful ways. For a while, Participant 1 has emphasized the importance of gathering in-person to overcome siloes and support the work of syilx communities and organizations in a hands-on way, and he reflected this sentiment in the teach-and-learn-in: • Participant 1: Some ways I am already working towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice would be like, physical acts of reconciliation [volunteer gardening work, building work, etc. for syilx organizations]? Um, maybe that’s tied into me being a tactile learner. *laughs* But like yeah, engaging with people and like growing connections and community together I think is really important. In settler scholar Elizabeth Carlson’s (2016) dissertation which studied settler activists striving to live in Indigenous sovereignty, research participant Josephine believes that “non-Indigenous peoples may easily go off base with their work if it remains too intellectual. She has learned that the relational and dialogical aspects with Indigenous people are key to keeping us on track.” Furthermore, Josephine explains how to build these relationships, her “starting place was always 156 to just show up, and keep showing up... That’s essential to anti-colonial and decolonizing work –making those relationships and just being there without any agenda other than to show up and support.” (244). While Participant 1 discussed growing connections with syilx organizations and communities through volunteering opportunities, Participant 2 expressed that learning how to reach out to members of syilx organizations and communities in a respectful way has been helpful for them, and Participant 9 recommended leaning into programs and services that focus on facilitating these connections within an institutional setting: • Participant 2: One comrade sent me something that she had learned in an Indigenous Studies class that was like protocols on reaching out to Elders, and the kind of things, you know, you should offer compensation, or like, say this, etc. And there were these kinds of points so that was really helpful in reaching out. • Participant 9: It’s good to work with Indigenous Programs and Services, and that’s the right way to go…it’s very easy to do harm when you just decide to take things onto yourself and not collaborate with people who have like made it known that this is like their place, and they have chosen to enter the institution in this way, for there to be a bridge. I was on a panel in an undergraduate sustainability class recently with friend and Indigenous Research Facilitator Hanna Paul, who affirmed to students in the room seeking to connect with syilx communities that they lean into syilx-led events that are clearly marked “public”/“open to everyone”/“open to non-syilx folks”, as well as syilx organizations, infrastructure, and processes for fielding inquiries, rather than send cold calls or “cold emails” to syilx Elders and leaders. Collectively, these contributions from Participants 1, 2, and 9 speak to processes of engaging in 157 shared spaces to build relationships with syilx community members and organizations in an organic way, as well as intentionally reaching out to syilx community members and organizations while following protocols for respectful communication, as means of building connections. 4.3.5.2 Collaborating Similarly to how Smith (2005) explains transformation as emerging from a continuous and mutually-reinforcing cycle of conscientization, resistance, and action (38-39), Participant 5 wondered whether transforming WSE might occur through the process of collaborating with syilx organizations and communities: • Participant 5: there’s a quote that Shawn Wilson talks about in his book “Research is Ceremony” where he says like “if research isn’t changing you as a person, then you aren’t doing it right.” And, that’s like specifically applied in a research context but I think you can also apply it to the work you do, and like how can you let the work that you’re doing and like the people that you’re collaborating with, change the work you do? And change the way you do things? Participant 5, as well as Participant 2, pointed further to issues they are passionate about and would like to collaborate with syilx communities on. In response to a guiding question of “What collaborations do you envision?”, Participant 2 and 5 shared: • Participant 2: Recently, I read this article, um, and I can’t remember the name of this person but it was on IndigiNews61, it was on there and it was about this area in West 61 In the article Participant 2 refers to, ONA wildlife technician Dixon Terbasket and journalist Aaron Hemens visit a cherry orchard expansion owned by G.P. Sandher Holdings Ltd. that is encroaching on a “wildlife corridor that acts as a crucial link for at-risk species moving through the region’s natural areas.” (Hemens 2024d). 158 Kelowna that’s like a wildlife corridor for elk and deer and things like that, and it’s kind of being encroached by wineries and orchards and so this syilx person had taken the reporter to that part of the land and was like, ‘hey guys please don’t fucking turn this into a winery.’…. And also, um, I’ve been in this like years long like relationship-building thing with Mill Creek and, shouts out Mill Creek that’s the homie, but like, they [local government] just spent like millions of dollars this summer making this new dam, and diversion thing, so that it won’t flood…, and also...salmon can’t get through there! You know what I mean? And there used to be like three types of salmon in Mill Creek. • Participant 5: last year, I was at like a water management meeting thing, where a bunch of people like got together to talk about what to do about the flooding in some of the areas like in the mission. There were so many people who were like “Expand the dams! And the levies!” And essentially the issue is that [the dams and levies] are going to burst because the river’s not meant to run the way colonizers have trained it to run… And so, ONA biologists were there, and they were like “the river’s gonna do what the river’s gonna do, so like don’t spend time putting more dams up. How can you think like 200 years into the future?” And that was like such a foreign concept for like so many of the people who were there. And everyone was like “What?” like “What do we do?” and like they couldn’t even like conceive this idea of what it would look like to plan like that, or what it would look like to set the dams back and like let the river do its thing. As Hunt and Holmes (2015) describe their interpersonal relationship developing through spaces of collective action, they point to a shared “desire to do something or to be changed through shared experience and knowledge” (161). Hunt and Holmes simultaneously highlight the following quote from Armstrong (1995): “‘there’s no point in sharing this with you, if it’s only 159 going to excite you for a day and then you go your way. You’re wasting my time and your time. If you’re willing to do something I’m willing to talk with you’” (161). Indeed, participants across the teach-and-learn-ins demonstrated a desire to do something. Participants 2 and 5, for instance, demonstrated rage and passion for water mismanagement by colonial institutions, and a desire to align with and amplify syilx-led water management practices. Calling back to Armstrong (2023), Cohen and Chambers (2021), Tessa Terbasket (Hemens 2024e), and Pauline Terbasket (2019) who assert that we all have a collective responsibility to future generations and can actualize this responsibility through syilx-led collaborations, participants also reflected on what skills and strengths they have to offer these potential collaborations, including the following: experience doing advocacy work for Nations left behind by international law; a knack for creating space for connection and vulnerability between people; an ability to leverage their privileged identity to call-in/educate fellow privileged people; coding and website-building skills; comfort with direct action and challenging colonial authorities; research and writing skills; experience in conservation and a desire to decolonize it; and experience teaching in public schools with a heart for land healing/regeneration. 4.3.5.3 Committing During the teach-and-learn-ins, participants expressed a desire to form stronger connections and build collaborations with syilx organizations and communities, grounded in a shared goal of uplifting syilx sovereignty and regenerating land and lifeways on syilx territory for future generations. At the same time, we discussed the tensions and uncertainties that come with trying to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice as settlers who are complicit in ongoing settler colonialism and climate injustice on this territory. At the end of 160 teach-and-learn-in #2, after participants expressed their appreciation for the experience, I shared the following reflection: • Erin: I hope the ball keeps rolling, you know what I mean? Like I know in our different circles we’re doing different things. And I think another point is that it’s long term slow relationship building, and just cause we show up doesn’t mean syilx people want us here, you know what I mean? There’s trust to be built. In response, Participant 11 shared: • Participant 11: I think maybe that’s also part of it? I think an argument people kept having is “oh we want [syilx people] to come to the table!” but am like “But why are you setting up the table? Maybe they don’t want your janky-ass table!” you know what I mean? But that’s also something I had to learn, you know? If they don’t want to, that’s fine, but that doesn’t mean I should stop doing my part. I think that’s why we get confused, they’re like “they’re not collaborating with us, they’re not working with us!” And that’s fine, like why would they trust us, like I get it. So that’s one of the hard things to unlearn, that even the rejection is okay. Rejection doesn’t mean you stop, and if you do that means you weren’t a true ally! Here, Participant 11 challenges the WSE pattern Participant 4 brought up earlier, whereby a settler-led organization asks a syilx leader to sign off on their project, or to join the project without doing any internal decolonization work or considering whether the project will be a safe, inclusive, useful, or genuinely collaborative space for syilx people. This reflects Cohen and Chambers’ (2021) argument that “collaborative partnerships rather than unilateral and imposed, start with the Syilx Okanagan.” (50). What I am really drawn to here, however, is Participant 11’s argument that solidarity work means commitment and continuance. When they say 161 Rejection doesn’t mean you stop, and if you do that means you weren’t a true ally!, they aren’t encouraging settlers to pester syilx people who don’t want to collaborate, or to keep doing something when syilx people have told us to stop. As expressed earlier, it is important for settlers to “tread softly” and pay attention to when to step up, and when to step back (Showden, Nairn, and Matthews 2022, 680). Rather, Participant 11 is challenging settlers who are working towards solidarity simply to be recognized as a “good ally” by Indigenous people (Flowers 2015), and challenging settlers who have the privilege to step in and out of movements (Curnow and Helferty 2018). Participant 11 is emphasizing that continually understanding and acting on our responsibilities as settlers to syilx people, land, and lifeways, and transforming processes and practices of WSE towards processes and practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, each require a commitment to consistent work and struggle. As put by Smith (2005) and emphasized by Dr. Cohen at early stages of this research, commitment to struggle is key to transformation, and as argued by Flowers (2015) and Arvin, Tuck, and Morrill (2013), “solidarity is not a temporal event but a ‘long-term commitment to structural change’” (35). 4.4 Conclusion This chapter unpacked five key themes which emerged from participant dialogue at two teach-and-learn-in workshops. These themes were as follows: Challenging the settler monolith and nuancing settler/Indigenous bifurcations; Conceptualizing and engaging in climate justice as an interconnected struggle; Centring syilx knowledge; Tensions and ideas around moving from knowledge to action; and Connecting, Collaborating, and Committing. Throughout these themes, multiple practices for understanding and acting on our responsibilities as settlers to syilx people, land, and lifeways; and transforming processes and practices of WSE towards processes and 162 practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice (both of which require long-term care and commitment), were identified. Though this work reflects early stages in a long-term process of settler activists striving towards collaborations and solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, the thesis itself did not emerge from collaboration with syilx communities, and this is something to underscore and identify as a limitation. As Participant 2 noted, it is not up to settlers to define what “solidarity” is. This is for syilx people to decide. However, it is our work to figure out how to respond to calls for solidarity from syilx knowledge keepers and leaders, and to transform the ways we do things/get our shit together so we can show up in better and more helpful ways. 163 Chapter 5: Conclusion Instead of tying up loose strands, this conclusion gestures towards several openings; towards several ways settlers might continue weaving webs of transformation, responsibility, and solidarity with syilx sovereignty, land, lifeways, and climate justice. After all, there are no real endpoints to transformative solidarity work. As Ruth Wilson Gilmore articulates from abolitionist and community-driven perspectives, “solidarity is something that’s made, and remade, and remade. It never just ‘is’” (Card 2021). Similarly, as xwylxʷ and senklip teach us from syilx perspectives, senklip does not mess up and die once. He messes up and dies again and again. Over and over, xwylxʷ gathers up senklip’s bones, hair, and shit – the mistakes, the successes, and the “unpleasant bits” (Cohen and Chambers 2021, 43) - continuously learning from them, bringing senklip back to life, and trekking onwards. Just because transformative solidarity work is ongoing, however, does not mean it is random or thoughtless. Jeannette Armstrong (Armstrong 2009), Bill Cohen (2001), and Coralee Miller (interpersonal communication) remind us from syilx perspectives that there is strength in diversity, and a diversity of perspectives is key to transformation, sustainability, and the regeneration of land and lifeways. As adrienne maree brown (2017) further reminds us from Black feminist, abolitionist, and emergent strategy perspectives, collective movement towards change must be iterative and adaptive, yes, but also intentional. bell hooks (1994) reminds us from Black feminist pedagogical perspectives that movement towards change and collective liberation must also be done with an ethic of love, with an understanding that we cannot transform one system of domination while reinforcing another. So how do we as settler activists continue transforming WSE and moving towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice intentionally, weaving in love, care, and an ever-expanding diversity of perspectives? 164 Keeping this question in the back of my mind, I will review what this master’s research did, what knowledge emerged, strengths and generative limitations which arose through the process, and how these strengths and limitations could inform next steps. I will gather some bits. Then, I will end with a series of questions posed to fellow settler activists to continue collectivizing this work, and to continue doing our part to grow webs of transformative solidarity, responsibility, and collaboration between settler and syilx communities to regenerate syilx land and lifeways for future generations. This thesis articulates climate justice as place-based, transnational, and responsive to interlocking structures and processes of power (e.g. settler colonialism, white supremacy, racism, heteropatriarchy, capitalism, ableism). I drew on learnings from IndigenEYEZ’s Earth Sense program to acknowledge that “climate justice,” according to syilx scholars like Carrie Terbasket, is not always a useful term nor “an adequate container” for syilx worldviews and practices which have been sustainable for thousands of years before this term was even constructed (IndigenEYEZ,” n.d.; Delfs 2025). Further, I conceptualize “white settler environmentalism” as an umbrella term for characteristics, perspectives, practices, and approaches rooted in white supremacy and settler colonialism and commonly exhibited by (often white) settler activists within settler-dominant environmentalist and climate activist spaces. A few examples of WSE include: Greenpeace misappropriating syilx water relative n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ by registering the Ogopogo as “endangered species” (Cecco 2021), white settler allies perpetuating Eurowestern perspectives and white saviourist behaviours at Standing Rock (Dhillon and Estes 2019; Curnow and Helferty 2018), settlers assuming access to Indigenous land and resources to create renewable energy sources (Liboiron 2021; Gomez 2020), and settler activists allowing their feelings of guilt, 165 discomfort, and anxiety get in the way of improving the ways they show up to Indigenous-led climate justice spaces. This thesis does not create a prescriptive check-list of “dos and don’ts” for settler activists hoping to transform WSE and work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, nor does it generate novel ideas around what climate justice, and settler solidarity with Indigenous sovereignty, mean and look like. Rather, I have been grappling with existing literature around climate justice and settler solidarity with Indigenous sovereignty from my perspective as a white settler activist situated within settler-dominant activist contexts in the Okanagan, on unceded syilx territory. Given the escalating climate emergency (Armstrong and Klein 2023; Cohen and Chambers 2021; IPCC n.d.; United Nations, n.d.); the reality that syilx communities have been caring sustainably for the land and lifeways of syilx territory for thousands of years (Armstrong 2009, 229-237; Cohen and Chambers 2021, 39; and Sam 2008, 11, 172); and the harms and hinderances perpetuated by WSE approaches to climate and environmental work (Flowers 2015; Curnow and Helferty 2018; Paperson 2014; Gomez 2020; Robinson 2018; Powys Whyte 2018), I have demonstrated a process I am engaging in alongside fellow settler activists and settler-dominant activist groups in the Okanagan as we figure out how to transform processes and practices of WSE and into processes and practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice work. This research was prompted by two overarching questions: “How can settler activists in the Okanagan go about understanding and acting on our responsibilities to syilx people, land, and lifeways?”; and “How can settler activists in the Okanagan transform practices of ‘white settler environmentalism’ into practices of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice?”. I responded to these questions through (1) building and engaging in a set of practices to transform 166 WSE and grow relationships of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice from a personal level, and (2) facilitating two teach-and-learn-in workshops with fellow settler activists in the Okanagan to collectivize this transformative solidarity work. Through personal ongoing practices, I have been transforming WSE within myself and my relationships, and striving to show up to syilx-led work in respectful and meaningful ways. I learned about reciprocity, diversity, and interconnectedness through visiting with syilx land and lifeways, and acted on opportunities to center syilx laws and values across settler-dominant activist spaces. I continued to contribute to my multiple activist communities, building and working in the connections between struggles for Palestinian liberation, Indigenous sovereignty across Turtle Island, and justice for unhoused community members. I became immersed in syilx-led initiatives alongside fellow activists, including: volunteering at k’nmaĺka sənqâĺten and na'ʔk'ʷulamən gardens, taking “nsyilxən for everyone” classes and syilx cultural competency workshops delivered by Wildrose Native Traditions and Kelowna Museums, and participating in IndigenEYEZ’s Earth Sense program. Participating in these initiatives grew our understandings as settler activists of syilx sovereignty and culture, raised our consciousness of the ongoing impacts of settler colonialism on syilx territory and our complicities and responsibilities therein, and laid foundations for ongoing connection and collaboration with the syilx people and organizations running these initiatives. Through critical and reflexive writing and dialogue, I have been able to see some of the ways these practices are informing each other. For example, my practice of navigating and embracing conflict supported me to step up into roles of calling-in fellow settlers who were perpetuating harms in Indigenous-centred spaces, particularly when this labour was called for by Indigenous facilitators. 167 Whereas I began this thesis thinking that I needed to find clear answers and identify specific steps settlers can take to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, reflexive practices have helped me to gradually question this urge. For the last few months, for instance, I’ve had a sticky note next to my bed which reads: “Why would settlers rather follow rules than really think: What do I have to offer my community? What does this inability to think beyond specific rules and instructions say about how white supremacy and settler colonialism proliferate?” Through this thesis process, I have learned that while there are no exact guidelines for settler solidarity, engaging in frequent and ongoing practices – open to adaptation and iteration – are key to moving forwards in generative uncertainty to transforming WSE, shifting into solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, and showing up to collaboration and shared responsibility with syilx communities in helpful, not harmful, ways. In addition to the insights that emerged from the practice-based methods of this thesis, several key insights emerged from the teach-and-learn-in dialogues hosted with 12 settlers doing activism in the Okanagan. Through these dialogues, participants drew attention to the nuances and perspectives that get collapsed (or “e-Race-d”; Girvan and Chua 2021) through monolithic, settler/Indigenous binaries sometimes perpetuated by solidarity discourses. Comparatively, participants illuminated how coalitional work between Indigenous and communities of colour can bring diverse embodied and ancestral experiences together to dismantle entangled settler colonial structures and processes “piece by piece” (Jafri 2017). From here, multiple participant contributions coalesced to suggest that developing an understanding of climate justice as interconnected with other struggles is critical to transforming WSE approaches and guiding climate-focused solidarity efforts on syilx territory, particularly as this interconnection extends climate activism beyond narrow WSE perspectives. Per suggestions from participants as well as 168 reflections of my own, developing this interconnected understanding of climate justice might include: considering how syilx people and settlers living on syilx territory have shared (but different) responsibilities to regenerating land and lifeways and supporting future generations; conceptualizing place-based climate justice grounded in syilx sovereignty; and learning from the interconnectedness of the land and lifeways themselves. Across the teach-and-learn-ins, participants demonstrated shared beliefs in syilx people and communities as holding the knowledge, laws, and practices to actualize climate justice on syilx territory and frequently brought in syilx knowledges and laws to inform their speculations about how to go about working in solidarity with syilx communities. Yet, tensions around wanting to be respectful and aligned with syilx leadership and having a lack of established and reciprocal connections with syilx people, organizations, and communities appeared as key barriers to settlers shifting their this knowledge into transformative solidarity action. These tensions were generative, however, as they led to participants identifying several ways to move into action, such as through: employing practices to decenter any feelings of discomfort and vulnerability around being complicit in settler colonialism; proactively building capacity among our activist groups to show up to future collaborations with syilx communities in respectful and generative ways (e.g. building transformative justice processes to respond to intragroup mistakes and harms); and unravelling visible colonial structures and processes (e.g. pushing back against RCMP violence and amplifying syilx law). In addition to the many insights that have emerged throughout this research process, several unanswered questions have emerged, which I have gathered in Appendix F. This list of questions may be useful as a resource for collective reflection among settler activists continuing to transform WSE and work towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, as well 169 as to inform future research. Multiple strengths and limitations also emerged throughout this work, and I will turn to these now, beginning with strengths. Strengths of this thesis process include the accountability mechanisms woven throughout. That is – as articulated by numerous scholars throughout this paper, solidarity and transformative struggle require commitment and persistence. Whereas research can be limiting of community, activist, and relational work (examples to follow), graduate studies have gifted me time and space, and have required from me two years of commitment and accountability to something I care about deeply: finding ways to work in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. These two years have brought me many lessons, relationships, practices, and self-efficacies which will support my accountability to this solidarity journey for many years to come. Furthermore, this research process served as a reminder of how important it is for activist groups to pause, reflect collectively on what’s working and what’s not working, and use these insights to determine new paths forward. Another accountability-related strength of this work centers on the intentional steps I took to care for knowledge. This accountability process involved communicating transparently with contributors (both research participants and contributors who provided interpersonal insights), inviting feedback, and obtaining informed consent before sharing contributions in a final published thesis. This accountability process is a strength because it invited many people to review drafts of this work and centered respect for the web of people and perspectives informing this thesis (and the respective webs of relations these folx are embedded in), thereby redistributing some of the power the colonial university bestows me as a graduate student researcher. Another strength of this research lies in how committing to an overarching goal of finding ways to show up for syilx sovereignty and syilx-led climate justice has contributed to growing webs of responsibility, solidarity, and collaboration among and between settler and syilx 170 activists, organizations, and communities. By way of our shared interests in supporting syilx-led climate justice, for example, a friend invited myself and fellow activists to start volunteering with na'ʔk'ʷulamən garden at Okanagan College Kelowna. I in turn suggested we go on a tour of k’nmaĺka sənqâĺten garden at Okanagan College Vernon, and fellow settler activists and I have since been lending a hand getting the garden ready for spring tours. In addition to using time and resources available to me through graduate studies to organize Sncəwips museum and land tours open to fellow students, professors, and activists, working on this thesis also prompted me to raise connections between syilx decolonial struggle and Palestinian decolonial struggle within an activist group I am part of. Another group member had been thinking about these connections too, and came up with the idea of creating a working group focused on building relationships with Okanagan Nation Alliance. Working with IndigenEYEZ has kept me in the loop of the transformative KinSHIFT Fireside Chats and Table Talks they offer to settlers, and in turn has enabled me to circulate these opportunities with my network of fellow activists who have been very keen to participate. People I do activism with are starting their own projects in collaboration with syilx people and organizations, and it feels like paradigms are shifting towards syilx worldviews and environmental ethics (Armstrong 2009), and webs of solidarity and collaboration are growing between settler and syilx folx in the name of syilx sovereignty and climate justice. While there are strengths, there are also numerous (yet generative) limitations to this research, each of which gestures towards ways this work might continue unfolding. A key limitation of this research, as mentioned in Chapter 1, is how this thesis centered the practices and perspectives of a community of settler activists and did not emerge from an explicit program or partnership of collaboration between settler and syilx communities. As identified by research 171 participants and affirmed by Flowers (2015), it is not up to settlers to define what solidarity with syilx communities entails. If I were to continue this work through subsequent research phases, I would like to do so in collaboration with syilx people, organizations, or communities, focusing on insights that arise from the collaboration process and centring syilx perspectives of solidarity. Of course, it would be critical for settler practices of transforming WSE to continually unfold alongside this work, ensuring we are showing up to collaborations in respectful and reciprocal ways. A second key limitation of this thesis includes how it was written by me, a white, cisgender, queer settler activist and graduate student with many class-based and able-bodied privileges, identities demarcating my relationships to overarching structures and processes of power. These relationships sensitize me to some things while causing me to overlook others. My perspectives, reflections, and engagements with literature from scholars whose identities transcend my own do not stand in for the knowledge and insights that would emerge, for instance, through caucusing and coalitional work between syilx and communities of colour around topics of climate justice. As demonstrated by how the research participants in this study did not express considerations of age, class, nor ability while situating themselves62, the findings of this research also do not represent a totally expansive range of settler activist insights and experiences. Though I leaned heavily on the wisdom of syilx Elders and knowledge keepers in my theoretical framework, for example, factors of age were taken-for-granted throughout this thesis. Activists complicit in WSE, and activists working towards solidarity with syilx communities, exist across all ages, yet this thesis implicitly took a focus on youth/young adult 62 These findings encourage white, able-bodied settlers with class privilege to take up ongoing practices of reflexivity and vulnerability to question the privileged standpoints from which they engage in climate activism. 172 activists. As demonstrated by my friend who wondered whether my white settler-dominant climate activist space would be a comfortable space for them as an Indigenous person, a presence of diverse voices in activist communities is often limited when these spaces cater to certain hegemonic identities and experiences whilst neglecting or being hostile to folx with non-hegemonic identities and experiences. Here, I think back to Participant 11 whose contributions highlight the responsibility of white settler activists to implement strategies and practices for abolishing white supremacy and racism within the activist spaces we are part of. While fellow activists and I go about growing collaborations with syilx communities, then, we must also be actively dismantling power imbalances across our activist groups. As structures and processes of power interlock, so do struggles against them, and we must resist at the intersections. This is a responsibility especially for those who hold disproportionate power in certain dynamics (e.g. white people must hold other white people accountable to anti-racism to redistribute labour from people of colour; able-bodied people must hold other able-bodied people accountable to Disability Justice to redistribute labour from disabled people; and people with class privilege must hold other people with class privilege accountable to redistributing their resources and improving conditions for people facing socioeconomic disparities). A third limitation of this thesis is shaped by certain restrictive academic norms. The scope and timeline of a master’s degree, for example, do not accommodate the time it takes to build solidarity and meaningful collaborations between people and communities. Whereas a thesis culminates into a finite document, solidarity work continues unfolding. Furthermore, whereas activism and solidarity work require action, a limitation of graduate school (in my experience) centers on how we are taught to produce knowledge but hardly taught how to use this knowledge to step into action, or how to gain knowledge through action. What does it mean 173 that UBC purports to “advance a sustainable and just society across British Columbia, Canada and the world” (UBC 2021) yet maintains millions of dollars invested in weapons manufacturers and corporations complicit in upholding illegal Israeli settlements and violating Palestinian human rights, forcing students to take action as extreme as hunger striking to call on their university to divest and adhere to international law (Divest 2025; Vaski 2025)? What does it mean that UBC has made commitments to implementing its Indigenous Strategic Plan – a report undoubtedly emergent from the labour and dedication of Indigenous scholars, leaders, and activists – yet five white men (Andrew Irvine (tenured professor), Brad Epperly (associate professor), Michael Treschow (associate professor), Christopher Kam (tenured professor), and Nathan Cockram (PhD graduate)) feel confident enough to assert that Land Acknowledgments, Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion, and critique of Israel’s war crimes on Palestinians have no place at UBC (Chaudhry and Izen 2025; ONA 2025c)? Though this thesis is limited by certain restrictive academic norms, an accompanying strength of this thesis includes how it pushes back on some of these norms, such as by focusing on activist communities and collaborations as sites of knowledge and transformation, and by focusing on how to shift from the knowledge that syilx people hold the answers to climate justice on syilx territory, to action to support syilx-led work. A methodological limitation of this thesis includes how the teach-and-learn-ins did not allow for enough time to unpack key guiding questions, namely: “How can we ensure we are showing up to collaborations [with syilx people, organizations, communities] in a good way?”; “What does solidarity mean?”; and “What might long-term action/collaboration [with syilx people, organizations, communities] look like?”. As mentioned earlier, if I were to facilitate a similar teach-and-learn-in again, I would either lengthen the time from two to three hours or host multiple dialogues to grapple with the questions together over time. Considering how engaging 174 in ongoing practices seems key to moving through the generative uncertainty of solidarity work, I am more curious about the latter option, or even of unpacking these questions as an activist group through monthly group dialogues. These dialogues could support us as settler activists in staying accountable to the ongoing process of transforming WSE and showing up to syilx-led spaces in helpful and generative ways, and could ensure that solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice remains a priority for our activist groups. Finally, a key limitation of this thesis is grounded in the need for a shift towards collectivizing practices of responsibility and solidarity. In Chapter 3, I drew on the web-weaving metaphor to think about how there is a certain precarity to individuals doing solidarity work, much like individual strands of a spider web. In comparison, the diverse perspectives and experiences that can arise from multiple people doing solidarity work together reflect a more fulsome, fortified web, better equipped to catch insects (collect insights) and to withstand the wind (weather escalating social and climate emergencies, as well as in-group conflicts, together). While reviewing the teach-and-learn-in transcripts, I realized that many of the ways participants are working towards syilx sovereignty and climate justice focus largely on their own individual actions (e.g. Participant 11 talked about how they purchase earrings made by syilx artists; Participant 7 discussed how they take syilx-led language classes and plant walk workshops, etc.). This is interesting, given that much of the activism we otherwise do is done together. Similarly, the practices I engaged in throughout this thesis process (visiting with land, reflexive writing, etc.) were largely personal ones. As Gumbs (2020) demonstrates in the activity section of 175 Undrowned63, there are many ways that personal transformative practices can be done, and benefit from being done, collectively. A key next step for this work, then, is to routinely and collectively engage in practices for transforming WSE, showing up to syilx-led spaces in respectful and reciprocal ways, and working in solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice. While I personally learned so much and began building foundations for collaboration with syilx people and organizations throughout this thesis process, I yearn to step into collective solidarity action alongside fellow activists who care deeply about syilx sovereignty and climate justice. I have rambled well beyond the expected word count of a master’s thesis, yet desire to collectivize this work. With that, I turn to fellow settler activists, and offer the following questions as part of the reflexive and iterative work of transforming WSE to show up to syilx-led work in respectful, reciprocal, and generative ways: • Where do perspectives on WSE and solidarity presented in this work resonate with your experiences? • Where do you see yourself in the critiques of WSE made throughout this thesis, and where do you feel challenged? • Where do your perspectives and experiences of activism and solidarity work extend or challenge the perspectives presented in this work? 63 As mentioned in Chapter 3: “I am simultaneously drawing inspiration from Black ecological feminist and futurist Alexis Pauline Gumbs’ book Undrowned: Black feminist lessons from marine mammals, wherein Gumbs offers an appendix of both solo and group-based activities to support readers in activating learnings and teachings from the text.” 176 • Why and how do you care about climate justice? Indigenous sovereignty? syilx sovereignty? • What intentions guide your desire to work in solidarity and coalition with syilx communities towards climate justice? Do your actions and impacts on syilx communities align with these intentions? • What do you know about the ways structures and processes of power (e.g. settler colonialism, capitalism, white supremacy, racism, heteropatriarchy, ableism) intersect and shape all of our lives, differently and unevenly? • Following the lead of Black feminist, coalitional, and transnational scholar-activists like Angela Davis and Audre Lorde: How are you building and working in the connections between struggles? How are you moving towards collective liberation? • Following calls to action from syilx leaders, educators, and knowledge keepers like Jeannette Armstrong, Bill Cohen, Tessa Terbasket Wilfred (Grouse) Barnes, and Pauline Terbasket: What do you have to contribute to regenerating the land and lifeways of syilx territory for future generations? • From where you are situated, what resources can you mobilize – institutional, ancestral, cultural, physical, chronological, social, and otherwise – towards syilx sovereignty and climate justice efforts? • Thinking with captikʷł lessons from How Food Was Given (Kou-skelowh/We Are the People and Okanagan Tribal Council 1984; Interpersonal communications with Dr. Bill Cohen): What is your “bringing tmixw back to life song? • What ongoing practices will you build and engage in to find your song, to sing it, and to sing it alongside others? 177 • What will you do when you inevitably mess up/create harm while transforming WSE and working in collaboration and solidarity with syilx people, organizations, and communities? • What will you do when people you are collaborating with inevitably mess up/create harm? • How will you commit to, and continue moving through, the ongoing struggles of solidarity, climate justice, and decolonization? 178 Bibliography Accapadi, Mamta Motwani. 2007. “How White Woman Tears Oppress Women of Colour.” The College Student Affairs Journal 26 (2). 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Wilson, Alex. 2018. “Skirting the Issues.” In Keetsahnak / Our Missing and Murdered Indigenous Sisters, edited by Kim Anderson, Maria Campbell, and Christi Belcourt. Edmonton, AB: The University of Alberta Press. Wilson, Shawn. 2008. Research Is Ceremony: Indigenous Research Methods. Black Point, Nova Scotia: Fernwood Publishing. Wilson, Shawn, and Andrea V. Breen. 2019. Research and Reconciliation: Unsettling Ways of Knowing Through Indigenous Relationships. Toronto, CANADA: Canadian Scholars. Wilson, Shawn, Andrea V. Breen, and Lindsay DuPré. 2021. “Mining for Culture or Researching for Justice?: Unsettling Psychology Through Indigenist Conversation.” In Cultural Methods in Psychology, by Shawn Wilson, Andrea V. Breen, and Lindsay DuPré, edited by Kate C. McLean, 410–26. Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780190095949.003.0014. Wilson, Shawn and Margaret Hughes. 2019. "Why Research is Reconciliation." In Research and Reconciliation: Unsettling Ways of Knowing through Indigenous Relationships, edited by Shawn Wilson, Andrea V. Breen and Lindsay DuPré, 5-20. 1st ed. Vancouver; Toronto, Ontario; Canadian Scholars. 204 Wilson, Stan, and Peggy Wilson. 1998. “Relational Accountability to All Our Relations”. Canadian Journal of Native Education 22 (1). Women’s Earth Alliance, and Native Youth Sexual Health Network. 2017. “Violence on the Land, Violence on Our Bodies: Building an Indigenous Response to Environmental Violence.” http://landbodydefense.org/uploads/files/VLVBReportToolkit_2017.pdf. Wu, Gaohong, Qingyang Ji, and Yuan Shi. 2023. “A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis of the Efficacy of N95 Respirators and Surgical Masks for Protection against COVID-19.” Preventive Medicine Reports 36 (September):102414. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pmedr.2023.102414. Yunkaporta, Tyson. 2020. Sand Talk: How Indigenous Thinking Can Save the World. HarperCollins Publishers. http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/ubc/detail.action?docID=29434557. 205 Appendices Appendix A - Recruitment poster 206 Appendix B - Recruitment message “Hi everyone! As part of my master’s thesis, I will be hosting a teach-in about white settler environmentalism (WSE). We will unpack WSE as a concept and structure that shapes a lot of activism, and begin to think critically about how to move beyond WSE in order to show up for Syilx-led climate justice work in good ways. This workshop will take place at [central location that is a quiet, private space and accessible by bus route] on [date & time]. I will provide food and drinks for us to share. This teach-in is open to anyone in our activist network who would like to attend, whether or not they are involved in climate activism specifically. Please react to this message or message me if you plan to attend. :)” 207 Appendix C - Consent document 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 Appendix D - Teach-and-learn-in Zebra mussel & Chinook salmon dialogue Narrator [Erin]: Okay, so here we see a zebra mussel dressed up as a WSE activist. *A photo of a zebra mussel is decked out with a flat-brimmed baseball cap with a brewery logo on it, a Nalgene water bottle with rainbow, bee, and recycling symbol stickers, and mesh tote bags full of organic fruits and veggies.* Narrator: *asks the room* How did Zebra mussel get into environmentalism/climate activism? What was their “why”? Worried about his children’s futures? Feels really connected with nature? Okay, great. So, a bit about Zebra mussel the WSE activist: Zebra mussel really appreciates access to the outdoors, so when he hears about the government of Alberta proposing open coal mining in provincial parks, he’s pissed, and he puts one of those “Defend Alberta Parks” signs on his clover lawn in solidarity with his Albertan neighbours. But when news comes out about Wet’suwet’en land defenders getting arrested for protecting their rivers and forests against the CGL pipeline, he doesn’t speak up about it. Narrator: Zebra mussel is also concerned about wildfires in the Okanagan, and knowing the ways that fossil fuel emissions exacerbate these fires, he lobbies the provincial government to invest more in green energy and technologies. So these are some of his main hustles. Narrator: Zebra mussel has a generous friend, a Chinook salmon from the lake, and this salmon decides to have an awkward, but important conversation with Zebra mussel about how his environmentalism is giving white colonial vibes. Chinook salmon: Hey man, your approach environmentalism kind of gives white colonial vibes. Zebra mussel: What do you mean?? CS: Well, let’s start with the “Defend our parks” thing. I appreciate being outside in nature as much as the next fish, but think about how settler governments kicked Indigenous people off their land in order to create these parks (Gilio-Whitaker 2019). Parks uphold the colonial idea that nature is best left untouched by humans, which erases thousands of years of Indigenous land stewardship (Curnow and Helferty 2018). And then, when Indigenous people are arrested for defending their land, I don’t hear a peep from you! This makes me think that the environmentalism you do is only for you and other settlers (Liboiron 2021). Narrator: At this point, Salmon is frustrated. CS: And ANOTHER thing! Obviously oil and gas is horrible, and that’s one of the reasons many Indigenous nations are defending their land from pipelines. But when you advocate for green energy and technology, I think you need to do so with more thoughtfulness. Because at the end of the day, where do the resources for windmills, hydroelectricity, etc., come from? Indigenous land! A lot of companies just assume access to Indigenous land and resources to make this technology, and when we don’t critically question this, we are just helping colonization to go along, business as usual. (Deranger 2021; Liboiron 2021; Curnow and Helferty 2018). 215 Narrator: And at this point, Zebra mussel pushes back a little bit. ZM: If we want to shift away from oil and gas, we need more green technology! CS: Sure, I see where you’re coming from. But I guess I’m wondering why you’re pouring so much time and energy into these settler-led environmental projects, rather than environmental work that is led by Indigenous Nations. Indigenous land defense is keeping billions of tonnes of carbon out of the air as we speak (Goldtooth and Gracey 2021). What would happen if more people shifting their energy towards working in solidarity with land defenders? Narrator: Zebra mussel is feeling defensive. ZM: I care about the environment! I’m a good person! CS: Dude, this isn’t about whether or not you’re a good person. Also, you’re a mollusk lol. Your perspective and behaviours are shaped by entire systems and structures that are much bigger than you (Girvan, Mcgreer, and Lesann 2023; hooks 1984). But once you realize that these perspectives and behaviours might be reinforcing harmful systems and structures, and might be harming Indigenous people and communities, don’t you want to do things differently? Narrator: To Zebra mussel’s credit, he reflects on what Salmon told him for a while, and he starts showing up to environmentalism a bit differently. *switches to image of Zebra mussel wearing a shirt created in solidarity with Indigenous pipeline resistance.* I [narrator] have this shirt, by the way. *laughs* Narrator: Zebra mussel is sharing more legal funds for land defenders on Instagram. Maybe he takes that one online “Indigenous Canada” course through UofA. Eventually, he and salmon go up to Uni’stot’en on Wet’suwet’en territory together when there is a call for allies to come to camp. During their time together at Uni’stot’en, Salmon pulls Zebra mussel aside again. CS: Hey, I wanted to talk to you about Uni’stot’en because I think you need to check your behaviour. ZM: Omg what do you mean? I listened to what you said! I’ve been sharing Land Back stuff on IG! Look at my t-shirt! (Simpson 2017). I’m showing up! CS: Yes, okay, I’ll acknowledge that a lot of settlers get so fragile or fearful of messing up that they don’t even show up to Indigenous-led work. I’m glad you are showing up. But also, the ways you show up matter. At Uni’stot’en, and also just now, you’re kind of making it about yourself. Settlers often try to seek recognition from Indigenous people and communities for showing up, but Indigenous people and communities don’t have the time to pat you on the back (Flowers 2015)! Also, you need to remember that you are not here to “save” poor, disempowered communities – this is a white savior attitude, and again, it shows that you are centring yourself in Indigenous resistance (Flowers 2015; Native Governance Centre 2021). 216 ZM: White saviour? Dude, I’m a mollusk. CS: This brings me back to my point that our behaviours are shaped by, and thereby reinforce bigger structures and processes of power like settler colonialism and white supremacy. Technically anyone can be a white savior, and anyone can be a white settler environmentalist (Purifoy, n.d.; Curnow and Helferty 2018; Beenash 2012). Narrator: At this point, Zebra mussel gets overwhelmed with their emotions. Through tears, they’re like- ZM: I don’t know why you’re being so mean, I’m trying so hard. Look at my t-shirt! Narrator: Salmon takes an exasperated sigh. CS: Okay. Right now, you’re reflecting a really common issue of settlers letting their feelings take up way too much space. It’s okay for you to have big feelings, but right now you’re centring your feelings over the point of this conversation, and I feel like you’re not really listening to me (Accapadi 2007; Schuller 2018; Moreton-Robinson 2015; Helferty 2020). It’s not easy for me to bring this up to you, it takes a lot of emotional labour and energy. At this point, I need you to just say thank you for the feedback, and think to yourself about how you’re going to process it and transform your behaviours (Robinson 2018; brown 2020). And maybe you’ll want to think this through with other settlers, like in an accountability circle, and think about how to decentre yourself in solidarity activism (Flowers 2015; Accapadi 2007; Racial Equity Tools n.d.). I don’t know. The “how” is up to you. I’m glad you’re trying hard, but solidarity is hard! And having your land and communities continually colonized is even harder. Narrator: Zebra mussel takes some deep breaths. ZM: Okay. Thank you Salmon. I hear you. Thanks for calling me in. 217 Appendix E - Emergent questions 1. Read https://climatejustice.ubc.ca/news/armstrong-klein-syilx-led-climate-justice-in-a-global-context/ and reflect: What are some key climate justice issues Armstrong identifies? Who holds the knowledge about how to address these issues? What role might syilx law play in advancing climate justice on these lands? Who are some of the key figures and institutions we must hold accountable for destruction on syilx land? Why is resource distribution critical to syilx sovereignty and climate justice? Why is collaboration between syilx and non-syilx people important? If we understand that syilx people are the experts of caring for this land, how might our feelings and actions reflect this? 2. What are your assumptions about your place in the world? What relationships do you hold, nurture, or neglect to land, water, and lifeways in this place you are in? Where do you think these assumptions came from? Who do these assumptions serve? Who do they harm? 3. Read Chapter 6 of Dr. Armstrong’s dissertation titled “Chapter 6: Tmixʷ centrism: The Syilx Environmental Ethic.” Where does this ethic align with your beliefs about the world? Where does it differ? What would happen if everyone living in the Okanagan learned to embody and enact this ethic together? 4. When/how is the term climate justice useful for finding common ground between people, places, and struggles, and when/how does this term erase place-based and ancestral Indigenous knowledges, laws, and sovereignty? 5. What possibilities might emerge beyond this thesis through thinking with the intersections between Disability Justice perspectives and syilx How Food Was Given teachings? 6. What intentional interactions and practices – what emergent strategies – might settler activists cultivate to create broader structures and processes of solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice? What intentional interactions and practices might settler activists cultivate to contribute to shifting paradigms and weaving webs? 7. Within the context of decolonization, Tuck and Yang (2012) critique Freire’s articulation of conscientization as linear, simplified, and a misrepresentation of what decolonization requires. Does Smith’s (2005) spiral model of transformative praxis (which includes conscientization as one of three key elements) address this critique, and offer possibilities for settlers to move beyond the move to innocence of “decolonizing our minds” towards divesting ourselves of privileges and returning land to Indigenous Nations? 8. Smith (2005) emphasizes that his transformative praxis model is specific to, and emergent from a Māori context, yet process-oriented insights might be useful to other Indigenous contexts. What does it mean to employ this model within the context of this 218 thesis which focuses on settler activists and WSE as a critical unit of analysis, and is unfolding on and with syilx territory? 9. How am I respecting and caring for collective syilx knowledges? 10. How am I respecting and caring for collective activist knowledges? 11. What are the different conditions through which people arrive to syilx territory? 12. How do some settlers on syilx territory experience oppression from global colonial forces, and complicity in settler colonialism, simultaneously? 13. While transforming processes and practices of WSE towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice, what possibilities might in-group caucuses offer? 14. What transformations might unfold from settlers of colour strategizing coalitional work with syilx communities, grounded in their transnational experiences of (de)colonialization and climate (in)justice? From working class queer folx strategizing coalitional work grounded in their experiences of facing and resisting heteropatriarchy? From queer settlers of colour discussing further intersections, and so on? How might these different caucuses work to dismantle settler colonialism and interlocking structures and processes “piece by piece” while strengthening solidarity with syilx sovereignty? 15. How can we shift settler activists beyond a single-issue, WSE framework? How could we build the connections between struggles and work within them? Could this enable more climate activists to show up for syilx sovereignty and decolonial movements, seeing the connections between these movements and climate justice? 16. What could an interconnected understanding of climate justice look like in practice among settler activists striving towards solidarity with syilx communities? 17. Could understanding syilx sovereignty and climate justice on syilx territory as interconnected open settler activists up to a wider array of ideas and actions of what climate justice solidarity with syilx communities might look like? 18. How could intentional practices among settler activists (brown 2017) evolve into meaningful contributions and outcomes (Smith 2005) for syilx sovereignty and climate justice on syilx territory?” 19. Cohen and Chambers explain how sustainable living on syilx territory emerges from thousands of years of ancestral knowledges and practices among syilx communities, acknowledge a settler colonial process that violently disconnected Indigenous people from their families and knowledge systems, and sustainable practices, and assert that 219 creating new systems requires collective effort. How can, or how are, settler climate activists actively showing up to this collective effort? 20. If settlers and syilx people share a collective responsibility for future generations, then is it an unfair distribution of labour for settlers to wait passively for instructions from syilx people about how exactly to show up to this collective responsibility? 21. Walia (2012) expresses that “cultivating an ethic of responsibility within the Indigenous solidarity movement begins with non-natives understanding ourselves as beneficiaries of the illegal settlement of Indigenous peoples’ land and unjust appropriation of Indigenous peoples’ resources and jurisdiction.”, and Murdock (2021) argues that “telling the truth [about white supremacy, colonialism, and climate injustice] means refusing innocence [within these structures and processes].” In this quote, Murdock takes “accepting our complicity” a step further, suggesting that “refusing innocence” in colonial structures and processes is an active practice.” (142-143). How do we accept complicity and refuse innocence? 22. At a public talk between Armstrong and Winter hosted in March 2024, Winter declared that settlers need to “listen and prepare to be led” by the Indigenous Nations they wish to work in solidarity with (Armstrong and Winter 2024). At an Earth Sense workshop, Carrie Terbasket encouraged attendees (mostly Indigenous people, plus a few settlers) to build our capacities in order to strengthen our webs. What sort of capacity-building might settlers engage in to strengthen our webs of solidarity, and prepare to be led by syilx Okanagan Nation? 23. I’ve been thinking about with like police abolition, prison industrial complex abolition, and like the transformative justice movement, is like um, when we build things that are meant inherently to be incompatible with the state, or the capitalist system, or whatever it is that we’re building – like how can you, go about doing that without just then creating another settler structure on Indigenous land, you know what I mean? (Participant 2) 24. If activists support syilx sovereignty, what would happen if resistance to colonial institutions like the RCMP unfolded alongside learning from syilx laws and (clumsily, imperfectly) embodying them? If activists believe in the return of land and resources to syilx stewardship, shouldn’t we consistently find ways to redistribute funds to syilx-led initiatives in the meantime?
Thesis/Dissertation
eng
Interdisciplinary Studies
Vancouver : University of British Columbia Library
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International
Graduate
Girvan, Anita
Magnat, Virginie
Transforming "white settler environmentalism" in the Okanagan : settler activists working towards solidarity with syilx sovereignty and climate justice
Text