Indigenous literature as resistance and celebration: A conversation with the artivist and poet on decolonization, reparations, and finding joy in the struggle.

In recent years, we’ve witnessed a remarkable transformation in the landscape of Indigenous literature. Diverse voices, long muted by the constraints of non-Indigenous literary traditions, are now emerging with profound resonance and undeniable urgency. Our understanding of the world we inhabit can no longer overlook the vital contributions of Indigenous worldviews and the lived experiences of authors who embody these identities. As our guest today, Ellen Pirá Wassu, powerfully articulates, Indigenous literature serves as an essential instrument “of resistance and re-enchantment”, a crucial means of postponing the end of the world.

Ellen exemplifies this transformative literary movement, weaving together poetry, performance and activism in a practice that honours both the written word and deeper forms of knowing – what she beautifully describes as “river bathing and talking with flowers”. Currently pursuing her doctorate in Comparative Modernities at the University of Minho, Ellen has enriched the literary landscape with two significant works published by Urutau: “ixé ygara voltando pra ‘y’kûá” and “yby kûatiara um livro de terra“.

We were honoured to engage with Ellen during FOLIO – the Óbidos International Literary Festival, in Portugal, where we also participated in a round table discussion exploring world configurations and the vital role of Indigenous worldviews in imagining possible futures. The conversation we share here extends far beyond conventional literary discourse. It invites us to fundamentally reconsider our relationship with language and the world we inhabit.

Ellen will also be participating in “Roots of the Future – A Dialogue with Indigenous Peoples and Allies on Culture, the Environment and Rights”, and event organized by Azimuth World Foundation, taking place on January 11, 2025, in Pavilhão do Conhecimento (Lisbon, Portugal).

Play the video version below (English subtitles available), or scroll down for the podcast version (dubbed in English) and for the transcript (in English).

CONNECTING THE DOTS – PODCAST

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ENGLISH TRANSCRIPT (TRANSLATION)

“ixé ygara voltando pra ‘y’kûá” was the first book I published. And the second one is called “yby kûatiara um livro de terra”. Both books are partly in Tupi, an ancestral language that was silenced by the Marquis of Pombal in the 18th century. They were very much a process of bringing back this ancestral language, of awakening this ancestral language within me. But being in this territory and writing in this language that was intentionally silenced was also a political position, one that I assumed within the field of literature, within my artistic, literary practice.

My identity is fragmented and broken by colonization, by the colonial process. My ancestral language is not currently spoken in my territory. Because four centuries of direct contact with colonization meant that we stopped speaking the language. We stopped practicing specific cultural manifestations that were intensely persecuted during the colonial process.

Therefore, when I bring my literature here, in addition to the many ways it speaks of the Earth, the spirit of the Earth, this beautiful thing that speaks through us, it also comes from a deeply political place. Here, where I am – and I know exactly who this body is in this territory, in this space here – everything I do, everything I bring is so that this memory can be brought up in this specific place. Because there is a monumentalization in Portugal of what people here call “descobrimentos” (discoveries), and which we call “invasion”. Being here, and affirming my position through my ancestral language, and through my body, is also a way of saying that I am alive.

And the poetics of expropriation, which is something I develop in my academic work, in my doctoral research, comes very much from the perception of a fragmented, broken identity. I was born and raised on the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro. And my family, my ancestral territory, is in Alagoas. So I grew up, I started out, fragmented in many ways.

And I think that the way Indigenous people are represented, the way Indigenous people have been represented since the onset of colonization, has been and continues to be a disservice to us. Because we don’t recognize ourselves in those images. That’s why I call them “poetics of expropriation”, because not only do I not recognize myself in those images, they also take away my sense of identity in the present.

I know who I am, but books in school told a different story about me, advertising tells a different story about me. I’m not what they say I am. They represent me in ways that are not me. And I call this poetics, all these representations, the “poetics of expropriation”. Because that’s what it does. It strips away Indigenous identity, so that afterwards it can state: “You are no longer Indigenous”. And with that, it can take away our land and take away our land rights.

So I’m also affirming that we are Indigenous anywhere. We are Indigenous people when we are part of a diaspora, we are Indigenous people when we are pursuing a doctorate in Portugal, we are Indigenous people anywhere. And we are here precisely to reclaim our own image. Precisely to reclaim our image and say: “We have autonomy, and we’re going to be in charge of this representation”.

DECOLONIZING | UNLEARNING | BECOMING AWARE

When you create a discourse, a discourse that doesn’t hold up, a discourse that isn’t true, or one that doesn’t even take into account the vision of who is being represented, then, in fact, you’re not able to see things as they are. Something is standing in front of you, perhaps a veil, something that doesn’t allow you to understand.

So decolonization – I don’t like the word – but it’s a kind of “veil”. There’s an unveiling when we stop to think about the impacts of colonization, when we strive to understand how colonial narratives are built within our society. And when I think about the way it happens in Portugal, when I read the school textbooks, and listen to people in my circles here, I can see the memorialization of the “descobrimentos” (discoveries), as it is called here, limiting and reducing the capacities of a population, of a people, in a country that is absolutely abundant, in terms of land, sun, everything.

But when you see the world through the prism of colonization, through this lens that is based on pride for having colonized… In my opinion, it’s a senseless pride, because it’s a genocidal pride. What are you proud of? What is there to be proud of? Is it pride in having invaded territories and decimated cultures? That’s not what pride should be built upon. So I think part of decolonizing is also decolonizing yourself.

It also means no longer valuing colonization as a domination project. And start valuing the land. Because Portugal is a very fertile land, even from an European, economic point of view. Things are planted and grow here, which are consumed everywhere. So why is it that instead of being proud of the land, you’d choose to be proud of colonizers and invaders?

That’s why it is obvious and crucial that Indigenous voices are brought in, as well as Roma voices, black voices, female voices, trans voices, you name it. Because this is the world we’re living in. And we can only construct ourselves by deconstructing what we have learned as rules and norms.

I always mention one of the poems in my latest book, titled “desaprendências” (unlearnings). It goes like this: “To forget what has been learned. To relearn what was deemed known. Truth is not Western, and the idea of normal is a desert of absences. To unlearn, distractedly or attentively, can a being awake”. I feel that when we start to think about decolonization, when we learn how to decolonize ourselves, and learn to look at certain attitudes and discourses as if they are not familiar to us, then we learn to look at ourselves much more attentively and much more truthfully.

This is something I repeat all the time: we are part of an economic model, of a system that eats up land, eats up people, eats up life, spirit and joy. And we’re trapped in it. And the production of this discourse, it all stems from this colonial, patriarchal heritage. And if we normalize it and we keep repeating these things, we’ll stay stuck in the same place.

If you don’t give a plant space to grow, it won’t grow. And that’s kind of what I think decolonization is, what the decolonization process is. When we remove these lenses, these lenses that constrain our roots to a tiny pot, when we expand that way, we are able to grow and flourish, we are able to generate something else.

And I have a lot of confidence in people. But I think it’s critical that we avoid romanticizing: we are trapped in a system, and these discourses it produces are discourses that imprison us. So we are trapped. And what can we do about that? How do we release ourselves from these shackles? We decolonize ourselves.

And that’s where I think the worldviews and ways of knowing found in traditional and Indigenous communities, developed by people that are outside this system, outside this model that has been handed to us as the truth… If we start looking at the world from those viewpoints, maybe our way of looking at the world can become more attentive and caring, and include in it what is fragile and challenging. Because, deep down, we are built upon a fiction. And this Western fiction hurts and bruises us. It lies to us. And we are founded upon it, we are born in it, we don’t choose it.

And I believe decolonization, and what Indigenous Peoples are discussing nowadays in Brazil, which is counter-colonization, something that goes beyond decolonization, is about becoming aware. I believe we have to rethink our practices.

I think it’s crucial that we no longer build discourses that don’t include everyone’s participation. In Brazil today, Indigenous and territorial issues are being discussed without Indigenous people having a seat at the table. The National Congress decides on its own. We’re discussing women’s reproductive rights without women at the table, without people with uteruses at the table.

So how do we fight this? We bring in these other voices, and we make a point of not taking the spotlight for a while. And I think now is the time for us to listen to each other, and listen to the Earth, listen to other things. To get to know other worlds and unlearn. And by unlearning, we go out into the world.