Edited by Cheryl Troupe and
Doris Jeanne MacKinnon
UNIVERSITY OF REGINA PRESS
2024/$34.95/336 pp.
When I was first approached to write a review for Métis Matriarchs I had no hesitation in saying yes. I was raised by Métis matriarchs and spent my formative years shuttling Métis elders around Edmonton to different events and government meetings. I spent a lot of time with one elder in particular. Her name was Alvena Strasbourg, and though her story isn’t in this collection, it very well could be (she did write a memoir titled Memories of a Métis Woman). As I was reading Métis Matriarchs I thought about Alvena, and my own grandmother, and my friends’ grandmothers, the kokums and the aunties. The feeling of being raised by so many generations of powerful Métis women was all-encompassing. There could be volumes of books such as this one.
Edited by Cheryl Troupe, an associate professor of history at the University of Saskatchewan, and Doris Jeanne MacKinnon, an independent researcher in Alberta, Métis Matriarchs highlights the stories of prominent Métis women throughout western Canada from the late 19th to the mid-20th century. But the book also reveals that many other stories are out there in the community. While reading about Marie Rose Delorme Smith, Victoria Belcourt Callihoo, Josette Legacé Work, Caroline McNabb, Julia Lamotte and Nora Cummings, we’re constantly reminded that Métis people are so much more than a footnote in Canadian history. That we’re our own nation, and our own community, and the strength of these matriarchs has not faded over the years. And because of their strength and dedication to fostering kinship relations that span the different families, we can come back to knowing who we are and where we come from. For some of us that has never left.
Two chapters stuck out for me: “On Becoming Sovereign: Generations of Métis Matriarchal Resistance,” by Janice Cindy Gaudet, and “Beading Together the Generations,” by Allyson Stevenson. In these chapters we are reminded of the way Métis peoples honour, cherish and respect the land and the economic activities that come from it. I find that when we speak of these activities we often think of extractive industries, but Métis Matriarchs reminds us that Métis people approached our economies from a place of sustainability and reverence under the guidance and leadership of matriarchal leaders. While all the chapters tell great stories, these two in particular drew me in. I think it may have been the personalized connections from the authors and that the writing is less academic than the other chapters.
We need more books such as Métis Matriarchs. The work the editors and writers did in researching and compiling these stories is incredibly important, as colonialism and time continue to take our true histories away from us. Learning about the social and cultural resistance to colonialism from Victoria Callihoo, or how Marie Delorme crafted her own economic legacy on the southern prairies while still maintaining cultural and kinship ties, is vital for understanding where we come from as a people. I don’t think any Métis person would be shocked to learn that matriarchs ran and continue to run the communities. But I hope readers take away the fact that Métis matriarchal leaders were able to keep our culture and history alive even as colonialism threatened to destroy it. I hope young Indigenous people reading this book will learn the strength of our people and feel proud to be Métis. They should carry the legacy of these women in their heart and remember the stories, what the matriarchs went through, and how they kept family and community connections strong throughout constant oppression. I know I will.
Conor Kerr is a Métis/Ukrainian author in Edmonton. His novel Prairie Edge was shortlisted for the 2024 Giller Prize.
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