Introduction

What is Indigenous media? Indigenous peoples have their own history with media, spanning thousands of years. Consider the media surrounding you—whether music, clothing, games, sports, arts, or storytelling. Indigenous Peoples have maintained their media for millennia, with news-sharing across Indigenous communities varying among the many Indigenous societies. Media represents more than entertainment or communication; it serves as a vehicle to share information, tell stories, and influence change.

Indigenous Peoples are no strangers to media and diverse communications. Media have shared different stories depending on the creator, community, and audience. While earlier chapters  addressed histories of Indigenous Peoples and media misrepresentation, this work  describes the story of Indigenous Peoples’ sovereignty.

This discussion however provides an introductory overview of Indigenous Peoples’ histories with their own media. Understanding Indigenous media requires stepping back to pause and reflect on what you understand as media and its purpose. From cave art to durable artistry in clothing, from petroglyphs and pictographs to smoke signals, from teepee art to months-long stories, from weaving to winter counts, from drums and drumming to cartographies made from materials such as carved stone or birch bark, from tree bending to impermanent illustrations telling stories in the sand or snow—the scope of Indigenous media is vast (as you have seen in various chapters already).

When learning about the media made by, for, and from Indigenous Peoples, you should consider classic Indigenous communications and how that influences contemporary radio, television, news, and film communications. This chapter reviews Indigenous media-making and story-making, from early Indigenous-owned newspapers of the 1830s to the 1890s to contemporary multimedia examples like Inuit-owned television channels and other key news-makers in radio, print, television, and digital media. This chapter further prompts readers to consider news- and media-making ethics when working with Indigenous Peoples’ voices.

Ancestral Media and Communications by Indigenous Peoples across Treaty 7

Indigenous Peoples of the prairies and beyond communicated through various sophisticated media systems. Smoke signals served as long-distance communication networks  while Plains Sign Talk became a lingua franca across diverse nations. American Sign Language would borrow heavily from Plains Sign Talk (Fee, 2015). Clothing, in its many styles, forms, patterns, and artistry, continues to distinguish Indigenous communities and societies from each other.  Teepee art would distinguish families and communities, serving practical and storytelling functions .

Indigenous literacies encompass far more than the ability to read and write using Roman orthographies. Pre-colonial literacies for Indigenous Peoples included pictographs, petroglyphs, signs, symbols, and cartographies. It was common for Indigenous Peoples to be polyglots, with many Elders speaking more than seven languages.

Consider archival records. How long would it take you to know the biggest news story of 1836 or 1757? The Niitsitapi have their own archival records in the form of winter counts. Each year, a symbol would be added to the hide of an animal—usually a bison’s hide—representing the most important event of that year. These symbols might record floods, fires, or aspects of colonization. Niitsitapi winter counts provide detailed historical accounts (L’Hirondelle, 2014).

Teepee art tells distinct family histories and serves multiple functions. It indicates not only which teepee belongs to whom but also which family, clan, or group that person represents. These artistic elements tell stories and require careful stewardship.

As noted in Chapter 2, across Treaty 7 are petroglyphs and pictographs, such as those at Writing-on-Stone Provincial Park. L’Hirondelle (2014) describes these as “deliberate repeating signals that our ancestors produced to send and receive invaluable information”( p. 159). Petroglyphs are stone carvings, while pictographs are illustrations. Of the many complex colours in historical pictographs, mostly red ochre remains visible today. These historical sites surround us. Writing-on-Stone Provincial Park sits just three and a half hours southeast of Mount Royal University. Similar sites exist near Cochrane, Canmore, Grotto Canyon, Okotoks, Zephyr Creek, and Crowsnest Cave (Klassen, 1998).

The drum remains one of the most important and widely recognized forms of communication and cultural expression among many Indigenous Peoples in North America. Although drums and drumming are found in cultures worldwide, each Indigenous Nation often has its own unique drumming styles, songs, and ceremonial uses (Diamond et al., 1994). Likewise, dance varies significantly among Indigenous communities—while dance is central to cultural life for some Nations, it may hold less prominence for others (King, 2012).

Powwows, in particular, have become a vital form of cultural resurgence and resistance. Although sometimes perceived as ancient traditions, contemporary powwows developed more recently, emerging in the 19th century among Plains Nations as acts of resilience against colonial suppression, forced assimilation, and restrictions on gatherings (Browner, 2004). Today, powwows integrate drumming, dance, regalia, and performance with elements of community celebration and, increasingly, the economic aspects of hosting large cultural events (Diamond et al., 1994). They continue to serve as visible expressions of cultural revitalization and intergenerational continuity.

Story Sovereignty and Indigenous Voice

Following the 1994 international Indigenous think tank at the Banff Centre for the Arts entitled Drumbeats to Drumbytes, the late Ahasiw Maskegon-Iskwew articulated a foundational principle of Indigenous media sovereignty. This groundbreaking conference brought together Indigenous artists, technologists, and media makers from across North America to explore how traditional communication methods could adapt to digital technologies (Loft, 2005). Maskegon-Iskwew noted:

To govern ourselves means to govern our stories and our ways of telling stories. It means that the rhythm of the drumbeat, the language of smoke signals and our moccasin telegraph can be transformed to the airwaves and modems of our times. We can determine our use of the new technologies to support, strengthen and enrich our cultural communities. (as cited in Hirondelle, 2014, p. 147)

This vision of technological sovereignty challenged dominant narratives that positioned Indigenous communities as passive recipients of Western technology, instead asserting Indigenous agency in determining how new media would serve community needs and cultural continuity (Christen, 2012).

Maskegon-Iskwew reflected on initiatives like the Aboriginal Peoples Television Network (APTN), which exemplified this principle of Indigenous-controlled storytelling. Clark (2014) describes APTN’s role as “decolonizing the power binaries and long-held stereotypes, and replacing them with Aboriginal voices and perspectives” (p. 44). Established in 1992, APTN represented a concrete realization of the technological sovereignty envisioned at Drumbeats to Drumbytes, creating the first national Indigenous broadcaster in the world and demonstrating how Indigenous communities could control mainstream media platforms to serve their own narrative purposes (Roth, 2005). This achievement raises an important question: What constitutes an Indigenous Voice?

Younging (2018) defines the Indigenous Voice as “the creation and expression of culture by Indigenous Peoples through any traditional medium, or any contemporary medium, or any combination of these” (p. 15). This definition encompasses both continuity and innovation, recognizing that authenticity lies not in medium but in Indigenous control over creation and dissemination. Indigenous Voice(s) are contemporarily “unique modes of cultural expression that draw from a blend of traditional and contemporary sources such as oral traditions; techniques of traditional storytelling; film; inanimate, animal, and spirit characters from Traditional Stories; Indigenous historical perspectives; and contemporary Indigenous existence” (Younging, 2018, p. 15).

Indigenous communities are historically oral and semiotic experts, maintaining contemporary and classic literacies that predate and exceed Western textual traditions (L’Hirondelle, 2014). This expertise in multiple communication systems positioned Indigenous communities as natural innovators in multimedia storytelling. McKay-Cody, the Cherokee deaf scholar, investigated the connection between Indigenous sign languages, petroglyphs, and pictographs, demonstrating sophisticated visual communication systems that influenced both rock art traditions and the development of American Sign Language (McKay-Cody, 2004). McKay-Cody’s research reveals that Indigenous sign languages informed the beginnings of rock and picture writing, establishing a continuum of visual literacy that challenges Western assumptions about the evolution of communication technologies.

Contemporary Indigenous Literatures, as analyzed by Blaeser (1996), emphasize distinctions that highlight the Indigenous Voice through narrative structures reflecting Indigenous worldviews. They grant authority to the voices of all people involved in the story rather than privileging a monologic voice speaking with ultimate authority. This represents a democratic approach to storytelling that contrasts with Western literary traditions (Blaeser, 1996). They acknowledge the voices of animals and messages provided by spirits and natural phenomena, recognizing non-human agency in ways that Western media typically marginalizes. They span across large expanses of time, ranging from ancient times to the present to the future, displaying the Indigenous concept that all time is closely connected and that actions can transcend temporal boundaries. This reflects a cyclical rather than linear understanding of narrative time (Blaeser, 1996, as cited by Younging, 2018, p. 18).

Indigenous Orthographies, Newspapers, and Publishers

Indigenous Peoples are born storytellers. Sometimes described as pre-literate, various groups of Indigenous Peoples have at times held higher literacy rates than non-Indigenous Peoples (Dickason & McNab, 2009).

Publishing bias, also known as the “Great Divide,” created artificial distinctions between textual literacies, supposedly separating the civilized from the savages (Fee, 2015, p. 205). Even Ong (1982) described literacies as necessary to advancing philosophical discourse. These Western scholarly perspectives reflected colonial assumptions about the superiority of alphabetic writing systems over Indigenous knowledge transmission methods (Cushman, 2012).

This colonial dismissal of Indigenous literacies persists today, though Indigenous communities continue to assert their communication sovereignty. As L’Hirondelle (2014) writes, “Our modern-day codetalkers utilize government funding to disseminate Indigenous intellectual property transposed on top of, and integrated into, technological platforms to assert our presence in the World Wide Web and other immersive and documentary technologies. These warriors have similarly dedicated their lives to bridging digital, cultural, linguistic, and geographic divides” (p. 151). This digital resistance builds upon centuries of Indigenous adaptation and innovation in communication technologies (Christen, 2012).

Historical evidence demonstrates that colonial authorities consistently undervalued Indigenous writing systems across North America. Father Christian Leclerq noted the existence of Mi’kmaw hieroglyphics upon his arrival in 1677 (Fee, 2015, p. 209). However, these hieroglyphics, despite being used effectively for written communication, were not viewed as literacy by colonizing English or French societies. This colonial dismissal of Indigenous writing systems reflects broader patterns of cultural supremacy that positioned European alphabetic systems as the only legitimate forms of literacy (Battiste, 2000).

This pattern of literacy dismissal was not isolated. Across northeastern North America, Indigenous communities maintained sophisticated writing and communication systems that colonial observers often failed to recognize as legitimate forms of literacy. By the 1760s, the Kanien’kehá:ka were widely literate (Fee, 2015, p. 186). The first American Indigenous person to write in English was likely Joseph Johnson, the son-in-law of Samson Occom (1723-1792), who was the second Indigenous person to write in English. Joseph Johnson had written a letter in April 1772, whereas Samson Occom had written a letter six months later. Occom, a preacher, would be the first Indigenous person to publish an autobiography, A Short Narrative of My Life (1768).

The most transformative development in Indigenous literacy came through the creation of syllabic writing systems that honored Indigenous languages rather than forcing adaptation to European alphabets. In 1821, Sequoyah, born to Wut-eh, a Cherokee woman and possible cousin to a chief, created the first written Indigenous language syllabary (Cushman, 2012). Each symbol represents a different sound, usually a compound sound of a consonant with a vowel. Following the creation of the syllabary, Sequoyah later founded the first Indigenous language newspaper, The Cherokee Phoenix, which began publishing in 1828. The Cherokee Phoenix continues publishing today, though no longer in Cherokee syllabics (Cushman, 2012).

These innovations sparked a literacy revolution across Indigenous communities throughout the 1800s. Literacy in syllabics or roman orthography boomed among Indigenous Peoples in the 1800s, following Cherokee syllabics, and nêhiyaw (Cree) syllabics as dreamt by Calling Badger in the 1830s (Stevenson, 2000). Textual literacies among Indigenous Peoples using syllabics or Roman orthographies were also forced onto Indigenous Peoples at residential schools or boarding schools (Milloy, 1999). By the late 1800s, Indigenous Peoples across Canada had higher literacy rates than non-Indigenous Peoples (Fee, 2015, p. 211).

This high literacy enabled the emergence of Indigenous-owned newspapers that could directly challenge colonial narratives. In 1885 in Canada, Peter Edmund Jones, also called Kahkewaquonaby, would launch The Indian. This would be the first Indigenous-owned newspaper in Canada. It launched in December of 1885 — a month after the passing of Louis Riel. The Indian covered the Louis Riel hangings on its second page. The coverage contests the rationale by which Riel was hanged (The Indian, 1885).

Building on this foundation, other Indigenous communities began asserting control over existing colonial media structures. In 1891, the Nisga’a would co-opt an Anglican-founded newspaper which had been printed in the Nisga’a language, thus turning Hagaga: The Indians’ Own Newspaper into the first Indigenous-owned Indigenous-language newspaper in Canada (Fee, 2015). This represented a significant moment of Indigenous media sovereignty, demonstrating how communities could transform colonial communication tools for their own purposes (Roth, 2005).

However, this promising growth in Indigenous-controlled media would soon face systematic suppression. Early Indigenous newspapers went out of business alongside the imposition of the Indian Act, legislation designed for assimilation that placed Indigenous communities onto reserves in an economic and publishing apartheid. A publishing gap followed.

Since then, Indigenous Peoples of the Americas have created many of their own newspapers. In 1981, Tim Giago founded the national newspaper Indian Country Today across the United States. In 1980, Giago emphasized that electronic news media — and its ownership — was not temporary, instead addressing it as a means of survival:

Indians see the acquisition of such access as a struggle for survival. The tribes are simply fed up with the lack of service provided by the mass media and the stereotyping, such access and misrepresentation that is prevalent in the media. They are clamouring for a voice, literally and figuratively. (Giago as cited in Smith  & Cornette, 2010, para. 5 )

This statement underscores how Indigenous newspapers and media outlets have not only provided accurate representation but have also become vital tools for cultural survival, self-determination, and community empowerment.

A publishing revival coincided with a broader renaissance in Indigenous literary expression. Notable Indigenous authors who emerged in the early era of contemporary Indigenous literatures include Vine Deloria Jr., Basil Johnston, Richard Wagamese, Lee Maracle, Tomson Highway, Michael Kusugak, Markoosie Patsauq, Thomas King, and Richard Van Camp. More recently, Indigenous-owned publishing houses have challenged narratives of story sovereignty.

Indigenous Peoples and the Airwaves

Building on the foundation of Indigenous-controlled print media, Indigenous communities across North America recognized radio’s unique potential to revitalize oral traditions and reach dispersed populations across vast geographical distances. The transition from newspapers to radio represented more than technological advancement; it offered a return to ancestral communication forms rooted in voice, storytelling, and communal listening.

Radio has been adopted fairly ubiquitously across North American Indigenous communities, starting first in Polynesia, and then spreading across the Pacific and continental Americas. The combination of affordability, accessibility, and continuity of oral traditions made a compelling case for radio adoption among Indigenous communities seeking to maintain cultural connections across increasingly dispersed populations (Alia, 1999).

The first Indigenous-owned radio station within the so-called Americas would be KHBC Hilo out of Keaukaha, Hawai’i in 1936. The Ka Hoku o Hawaii, a Hawai’ian-language newspaper, covered the opening of the radio station (Nupepa, 2012).  In 1941, the first Indigenous broadcast show would be the Indians for Indians Hour out of the University of Oklahoma Campus (Ortega, 2022).  Canada would follow decades after, as the development of Indigenous radio in Canada was shaped by the country’s vast northern territories and military communication needs.

During the Second World War, Canadian military forces created radio posts across the Arctic to maintain communication networks (Roth, 2005). The CBC provided these posts with programming in 1950, and eventually created its own northern radio service in 1958 (Alia, 1999). CBC’s Northern Service became a staple in Northern households by the 1950s, though programming remained predominantly in English and French rather than Indigenous languages. The first Indigenous-owned radio station in the United States would be WYRU in 1971, out of Red Springs, North Carolina ( Smith  & Cornette, 2010).

This external programming control created both opportunities and challenges for Indigenous communities seeking authentic representation of their voices and concerns. Indigenous Peoples first appeared on air in Canada in the 1960s, with the Alberta Native Communications Society leading the way in advocating for Indigenous-controlled broadcasting (Clark, 2014, p. 20). By the 1970s, 16% of radio programming in the Arctic in Canada was in the Inuktitut language, a language of the Inuit, representing a significant victory for Indigenous language preservation efforts (Roth, 2005). This linguistic programming expansion occurred particularly after 1973, when CBC began broadcasting both Canadian and American programming in the Arctic, creating space for Indigenous language content. The late 1970s would see two television satellite experiments launched for Arctic television programming: Anik A in 1976, and Anik B in 1978 (Alia, 1999). This would later be called “The Inukshuk Project,” and would be claimed for the Inuit Broadcasting Corporation, which formed in 1981.

These technological developments coincided with the formation of Indigenous communications organizations that would advocate for community control over airwaves and programming content. Before ownership of the airwaves came advocacy: In 1971, Native Communications Incorporated would form in Northern Manitoba to address the lack of Indigenous representation in mainstream media (Roth, 2005). 1974 would see the formation of both the Native Communications Society out of the Northwest Territories, as well as the Wawatay Communications Society out of Ontario, each responding to specific regional needs for Indigenous-controlled media (Clark, 2014). In 1975, the Nunatsiakmiut Native Communications Society would form out of Iqaluit, demonstrating the pan-northern commitment to Indigenous media sovereignty. From Alberta, the Aboriginal Multi-Media Society would form in 1983, launching its first publication that year and later expanding into radio broadcasting (Roth, 2005). The AMMSA would form a number of region-specific Indigenous newspapers, later consolidating them in 2016.

These advocacy organizations laid the groundwork for Indigenous-owned and operated radio stations that could serve community needs while maintaining cultural authenticity. Bert Crowfoot, or Kiyo Sta’ah, is the founder and CEO of the AMMSA, which, alongside producing Windspeaker newspaper, has been operating CIWE, CJWE, and CFWE as Indigenous radio stations, beginning in 1987 (Clark, 2014). These stations offer Indigenous language programming alongside classic country music, reflecting the diverse cultural interests of Indigenous audiences. CFWE was a founding member of the Western Association of Aboriginal Broadcasters (WAAB) and was later joined by various Indigenous broadcasting societies in Western Canada, creating networks that could share programming and advocacy strategies (Roth, 2005).

The evolution from radio to digital platforms represents the latest chapter in Indigenous media sovereignty, democratizing production tools while maintaining community control over content and distribution. Where Indigenous radio is affordable, accessible, and continues the oral tradition, Indigenous podcasting brings the tools for creation and production to the average household (Carlson, 2020). Today, Indigenous podcasting allows Indigenous media-makers, language speakers, land users, knowledge keepers, and audio revolutionaries to share communications fast, on their own terms, extending the sovereignty principles established through earlier radio advocacy into the digital age.

Indigenous Peoples in 2D: Cowboys and Indians, Film, Tropes, Disneyfication, and ATPN

As Indigenous communities expanded their control over radio broadcasting, the medium’s visual counterpart—film and television—remained largely dominated by colonial representations that would require decades of advocacy to transform.

The term “Western” emerged in a 1912 article by Motion Picture World magazine (Simmon, 2003). The first film of the Western genre was likely one of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West shows, theatrical re-enactments of wars hiring cowboys and “Indians” as performers (Slotkin, 1992). Often, cowboys played Indigenous roles, sometimes too convincingly, establishing patterns of cultural appropriation that would persist throughout early cinema. Simultaneous to Buffalo Bill’s shows were Gowongo Mohawk’s plays. Gowongo Mohawk’s history as the first documented Indigenous drag king (The Indian Mail Carrier, 1893) has been largely overshadowed by Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Shows.

Western media became an imposition of American cowboy culture’s resistance against European anachronisms, creating a distinctly colonial framework for representing Indigenous Peoples. Indigenous Peoples faced multiple threats from both American Western and EuroWestern ideologies in the media (Kilpatrick, 1999). From the early 1900s to the 1960s, the Western movie genre, and the Cowboys and Indians trope, would dominate the film genre, consistently portraying Indigenous communities as obstacles to progress rather than as complex societies with their own governance systems and cultural practices (Diamond, 2009).

The problematic foundation of Indigenous representation in film was established through early documentaries that presented staged authenticity as ethnographic truth. The first documentary ever filmed, Nanook of the North (1922), focused its fascination on Inuit of the Arctic, though modern scholarship reveals extensive staging and cultural misrepresentation (Rony, 1996). The Calgary Herald deemed Hollywood Indians as more authentic than Indigenous Peoples themselves, writing in 1948: “It has taken Hollywood to bring the Stony Indians up to date on their own customs and to give them a few new ideas as well…movie officials have had to teach the redmen how to put on war paint” (as cited in Anderson & Robertson, 2011, p. 144). Through the 1950s and 1960s, media became self-aware, commonly recognizing paradoxes between tropes and authentic identities of the Hollywood Indian (Berkhofer, 1978).

The emergence of Indigenous-controlled film production in the 1960s marked a crucial turning point toward authentic representation and story sovereignty. As L’Hirondelle (2014) writes, the new media production tools of the 1960s brought Indigenous story sovereignty and “indigenous aesthetic in digital storytelling” (p. 151). This period saw Indigenous filmmakers gaining access to production equipment and institutional support through organizations like the National Film Board of Canada.

Indigenous filmmakers began creating works that directly challenged colonial narratives and asserted community control over their own stories. The first music video ever filmed in Canada was produced by the Native Film Crew in 1968, sung and directed by Willie Dunn, a Mi’kmaq artist, and tells the story of Chief Crowfoot of the Blackfoot, as he negotiated Treaty 7 in 1877, against colonial betrayal (Dunn, 1968). In 1969, the Indian Film Crew was formed as an extension of the National Film Board. The Indian Film Crew released “You are on Indian Land,” a nearly 40-minute documentary about a protest addressing rights guaranteed through the Jay Treaty of 1794, which Canada later stopped recognizing (CBC News, 2023).

The development of Indigenous television paralleled radio advocacy efforts, with communities leveraging new satellite technology to create programming by and for Indigenous audiences. Inuit pioneered early television through video feed from satellite and sound from phone lines, conducted by Inuit for Inuit through the Inukshuk Project, founded in 1978 (Roth, 2005). In 1981, all northern communities had access to a satellite phone, and in 1983, “the last of 57 Inuit communities received CBC television” (Yusufali & Valaskakis, 2015 para. 17). By 1983, the Inuit Tapirisat Kanatami established an Inuktitut language channel for television, for the Northwest Territories, Northern Québec, and Labrador. By the 1980s, more than thirteen distinct Indigenous communications societies formed, responding to an absence of Indigenous-owned, Indigenous-centred, or Indigenous language programming to Indigenous communities (Szwarc, 2018).

The culmination of these advocacy efforts resulted in the establishment of comprehensive Indigenous television services that would transform national broadcasting. In 1988, Television and Northern Canada, TVNC, would establish satellite television for communities across what is now known to be the Yukon, Northwest Territories, Nunavut, Arctic Québec, and Labrador (Roth, 2005). The CRTC would collaborate with the Inuit Broadcasting Company in 1991 to reach 94 communities, in 15 different languages, across the Arctic (Yusufali & Valaskakis, 2015).

Mainstream film began to shift toward more authentic Indigenous representation during the 1990s, though this progress occurred alongside continued misrepresentation in popular media. In 1990, the movie Dances with Wolves would become an international phenomenon, and for Indigenous Peoples, it would be likely the first time their communities, societies, and cultures would be seen and valued as protagonists in mass media (Aleiss, 2005). The Lakota would later honour Kevin Costner in ceremony, for his ongoing contribution to the dignification of Lakota Peoples in the film. Shortly after Dances with Wolves, the television show North of 60 would begin airing in 1992, starring characters who were mostly cast as Dene, in a show taking place across the Northwest Territories. The show is revered for its much more realistic contemporary portrayal of the lived experiences of Indigenous Peoples.

While film was changing its ways, the industry was still contributing to its own media mis-steps, particularly in animated and family entertainment. Disney productions like Pocahontas in 1995, and Brother Bear in 2003, each represent examples of this simplification. Disney released Frozen in 2013, both as an international phenomenon, but also to criticism from the Sámi, whose cultures and clothing were misrepresented in Frozen. Shortly after, Disney would collaborate more closely with Hawaiian communities when releasing Moana in 2016, demonstrating evolving industry standards for cultural consultation, though imperfect (Gilio-Whitaker, 2016).

The establishment of APTN in 1999 represented the culmination of decades of Indigenous broadcasting advocacy and created unprecedented opportunities for authentic Indigenous storytelling. The Aboriginal Peoples Television Network (APTN) was established in 1999 after four decades of advocacy from Native broadcasters (Clark, 2014). APTN represents a significant achievement in Indigenous media sovereignty, becoming the world’s first national Indigenous broadcaster. Responding to the formation of APTN, the Globe and Mail (1999)  wrote:

Just to be seen on TV makes people genuine in a way that almost nothing else in the 20th-century culture does. This is the psychological underpinning for the CRTC’s recent decision to grant a licence for an Aboriginal television network. Not only will the Aboriginal Peoples Television Network be a place for Native people to present themselves to one another in English, French and 15 Native languages, but it will be an electronic arena in which many Canadians will encounter Aboriginals in ways they might never do otherwise (as cited in MediaSmarts, n.d., para. 14).

APTN’s launch coincided with groundbreaking Indigenous filmmaking that demonstrated the artistic and commercial potential of authentic Indigenous storytelling. Most Canadians have not watched Atanarjuat, though it represents a significant achievement in Indigenous filmmaking. The movie takes place across Nunavut, and tells a classic Inuit story, which had been passed down orally. Released in 2001, Atanarjuat won the Caméra d’Or at Cannes the same year. In 2015, the Toronto International Film Festival organized 200 filmmakers and critics who collectively voted Atanarjuat the best movie made within Canadian borders. Shortly after Atanarjuat was released in 2001, Isuma Productions would form in 2003, creating the first Indigenous-owned film distributor.

Indigenous Documentary Traditions: From Oral Histories to Digital Storytelling

While mainstream media has long portrayed Indigenous Peoples through external perspectives, Indigenous communities have simultaneously maintained sophisticated documentary practices that predate and transcend Western filmmaking conventions. These traditions encompass both ancestral forms of historical documentation and contemporary community-controlled storytelling that serves cultural preservation, language revitalization, and political advocacy.

Indigenous documentary practices fundamentally differ from conventional Western approaches in their emphasis on community protocols, collective ownership, and spiritual responsibilities surrounding knowledge transmission. Unlike individual-authored documentaries, Indigenous documentary traditions typically operate under principles of collective stewardship, where communities retain control over what stories can be told, how they are shared, and who has access to different types of knowledge (Cultural Survival, 2024).

Building upon the sophisticated archival systems described earlier in this chapter— including winter counts that recorded annual events on animal hides, pictographs and petroglyphs that documented spiritual and historical knowledge, and Plains Sign Talk that facilitated inter-tribal communication — contemporary Indigenous documentary emerged as communities sought new technologies to continue their traditions of knowledge preservation and storytelling. These modern approaches maintain the cultural protocols established through ancestral practices while adapting to contemporary communication needs and political contexts. The transition from traditional documentation methods to video technology represents continuity rather than rupture in Indigenous information systems.

Contemporary Indigenous documentary filmmaking emerged as communities sought to reclaim narrative control and preserve cultural knowledge through new technologies. The National Film Board of Canada became an early supporter of Indigenous filmmakers, with Alanis Obomsawin pioneering Indigenous documentary approaches starting in 1967. Obomsawin, an Abenaki filmmaker, has created over 65 films that combine Indigenous oral traditions with documentary cinema, demonstrating how traditional storytelling structures can inform contemporary media production (National Film Board of Canada, 2023).

Obomsawin’s approach exemplifies community-centered documentary practice, where filmmakers work directly with communities to ensure authentic representation and appropriate protocols. Her landmark films like Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance (1993) and Incident at Restigouche (1984) demonstrate how Indigenous documentarians can document political struggles while maintaining community trust and cultural sensitivity. These works established templates for Indigenous documentary that prioritize community needs over external audience expectations.

The integration of digital technologies has democratized Indigenous documentary production while maintaining community-centered approaches. Programs like the Sundance Institute Indigenous Program provide training and support specifically designed for Indigenous storytellers, emphasizing the importance of decolonizing screens and uplifting Indigenous voices (Sundance Institute, 2021). These initiatives recognize that Indigenous documentary serves not just artistic expression but also political advocacy and cultural survival.

The protocols surrounding Indigenous documentary continue to evolve as communities develop frameworks for balancing cultural preservation with public education. Organizations like Cultural Survival provide guidelines for respectful engagement with Indigenous communities in media production, emphasizing the importance of community consent, cultural protocol adherence, and long-term relationship building rather than extractive documentation practices (Cultural Survival, 2024).

Collaborations with Indigenous Peoples in Today’s Media

Each social movement brings more attention to the historical injustices faced by Indigenous Peoples, and as much as media have represented the prevailing bias of the body politic, they have also evolved to reflect changing perspectives and growing awareness of Indigenous rights. In Canada and internationally, this transformation has led to an unprecedented era of collaboration with Indigenous Peoples in media production, marking a significant shift from extractive representation to genuine partnership.

Historical collaborations with Indigenous Peoples in media extend back over a century, though early efforts often reflected colonial perspectives rather than genuine partnership. Consider one of the first notable collaborations with Indigenous Peoples across Alberta in film: the Plains Sign Talk Conference, filmed in the 1930s (Northwest History, 2007). In this documentary, General Hugh L. Scott communicates with various Indigenous Peoples of the Prairies in Plains Sign Talk. While there were several Piikáni (or Peigan) at the gathering, it was also attended by the Shoshone, Salish, Hiiracá, Oceti Sakowin, Apsáalooke, Arickaree, Mandan, the Tsétsêhéstaestse (or Cheyenne), Káínaa (or Blood), Atséna, Nakoda, and Tsúùtʾínà. Though valuable for historical documentation, such early collaborations typically prioritized external research interests over Indigenous community needs.

Contemporary storytelling collaborations have emerged with fundamentally different approaches that prioritize Indigenous voices, community control, and capacity building. Programs like the Journalists for Human Rights Indigenous Reporters Program exemplified this shift by training Indigenous community members to tell their own stories rather than relying on external journalists. Since 2013, this program has trained over 600 people in Northern Ontario through intensive training programs and workshops, focusing particularly on remote First Nations communities and urban Indigenous youth in Thunder Bay (Pulfer, 2021).

These training initiatives demonstrate how collaborative approaches can create sustainable media capacity within Indigenous communities. The Indigenous Reporters Program works in partnership with organizations like the Wawatay Native Communications Society to ensure that stories produced by community members reach both local and national audiences. Participants have had their work published in mainstream outlets including The Globe and Mail, APTN News, and TVO, demonstrating the professional quality of community-produced journalism. The program’s success has inspired similar initiatives, including the Northern Journalism Training Initiative across the Northwest Territories, which builds upon JHR’s model while addressing the specific needs of northern and Indigenous communities (Northern Journalism Training Initiative,  2023).

Major media corporations have begun implementing more respectful collaboration protocols, though these changes often follow sustained criticism and advocacy from Indigenous communities. Disney represents a notable example of this evolution, particularly in their approach to Frozen II after facing criticism for cultural appropriation in the original Frozen film. Disney committed to producing a version of Frozen II dubbed in North Sámi and to participate in cross-learning initiatives that benefit Scandinavian Indigenous communities (NOW, 2020).

These collaborative approaches represent a fundamental shift from historical patterns of cultural extraction toward genuine partnership models that respect Indigenous sovereignty over cultural representation. Rather than simply consulting Indigenous communities as sources of information, contemporary collaborations increasingly recognize Indigenous Peoples as creative partners, decision-makers, and beneficiaries of media production. This evolution reflects broader movements toward Indigenous self-determination and the implementation of principles established through international frameworks like the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

Pretendians and Misrepresentation

The  phenomenon of pretendianism—when non-Indigenous individuals falsely claim Indigenous identity for personal, cultural, or economic gain—has deep historical roots in North America. A “pretendian” is a pejorative term describing a person who has falsely claimed Indigenous identity by professing to be a citizen of a Native American or First Nation tribal nation, or to be descended from Native American or First Nation ancestors. Historian Philip J. Deloria notes that European Americans “playing Indian” is a phenomenon that stretches back at least as far as the Boston Tea Party, arguing that white settlers have always played with stereotypical imagery of the peoples that were replaced during colonization (Deloria, 1998). Several internationally famous Canadian public icons pretended to be Indigenous to launch into fame. Grey Owl, the famous writer of the 1930s, was revered as the “caretaker of park animals” for several national parks. Buffy Sainte-Marie, the renowned musician and first woman to breastfeed on camera on Sesame Street. Joseph Boyden, a celebrated author and public icon. Iron Eyes Cody, the famous actor of the 1940s to 1990s. Sacheen Littlefeather, the activist and actress who accepted an Oscar on behalf of Marlon Brando. What makes these cases complex is that each of these cultural sensations used their performative platforms to amplify Indigenous rights advocacy, blurring the lines between harmful appropriation and performative allyship.

Similarly, James Gladstone claimed to be an Alberta Kainai member and was historically recognized as Canada’s first Treaty Indian senator. However, this was a fabrication—he had only been granted status as a tribal member of Kainai Nation after marrying into the nation, fundamentally different from ancestral Indigenous identity (Boileau, 2021) .

Pretendianism and misrepresenting genealogical provenance have led to significant legislative changes. For example, the United States passed the Indian Arts and Crafts Act (1990), which serves as a truth-in-advertising law that prohibits misrepresentation in the marketing of Indian art and craft products within the United States, preventing artisans from passing off their works as Indigenous-made if they weren’t. For a first time violation of the IACA, an individual can face civil or criminal penalties up to a $250,000 fine or a 5-year prison term, or both (U.S. Department of the Interior, n.d.).

Indigenous identity fraud creates a rift in Indigenous culture, becoming a source of inauthenticity. Often, identity fraudsters spend years cultivating strong relationships with Indigenous leaders, granting themselves insider status. Once they do so, they are able to take up Indigenous space and become gatekeepers to Indigenous communities. Many of these so-called “Pretendians” in the spotlight are accused of colonizing the public space.

These stories of contemporary portrayals of Indigenous falsified identity contrast with authentic Indigenous experiences. Consider the privileges these pretendians possessed that genuine Indigenous Peoples do not—people without transgenerational burdens of residential schools, without barriers of potentially associated traumas. Describing the conflation of expectations of Indigenous identity with the realities of contemporary Indigenous experiences, Cherokee and Greek author King (2012)  aptly writes of the contemporary Indigenous lived experience: “I am not the Indian you had in mind” (para. 1).

Indigenous Peoples’ Media and the Law

Indigenous Peoples of various nations within Canada are, by nature, multi-national peoples with long-standing, inherent rights to self-determination, land, and cultural expression. These rights exist independently of settler recognition, yet they have been acknowledged in several foundational legal and political instruments. For instance, the Royal Proclamation of 1763 affirmed Indigenous title to lands not ceded by treaty, and treaties, both historic and modern, serve as living agreements that recognize Indigenous nationhood. More recently, the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) has affirmed these rights internationally, with Canada formally endorsing the declaration in 2016 and beginning implementation through domestic legislation in 2021 (Government of Canada, 2021).

A fundamental divergence in communication systems between Indigenous Peoples and settler-colonial societies involves the role of Spirit in knowledge exchange. For many Indigenous nations, knowledge is not secular or commodified. It is sacred and relational, rooted in community obligations, land-based practices, and spiritual protocols. As Gray (2022) explains, “Indigenous knowledges are governed by ancestral laws and cosmologies that predate the state and operate beyond the limitations of Western property regimes” (p. 4). These laws shape how knowledge is created, shared, and protected, and they emphasize relational responsibility over individual ownership.

In contrast, Canadian copyright law is shaped by the 1710 British Statute of Anne, formalized through international agreements like the Berne Convention and more recently through trade agreements such as the Canada-United States-Mexico Agreement (CUSMA). Under Canadian law, once an individual creates a novel representation of a fixed idea, that idea becomes copyrighted, lasting for the creator’s lifetime plus 70 years. However, this framework conflicts with Indigenous knowledge systems, which do not view knowledge as the property of a single person. Instead, it is held collectively, as intergenerational, living knowledge tied to place, kinship, and spiritual stewardship (Gray, 2022).

This dissonance results in deeply problematic legal outcomes. For example, once knowledge or cultural representation “expires” into the public domain under copyright law, it may be freely used, altered, or commercialized by non-Indigenous users without community consent. Yet, as Frye (2021) argues, such legal doctrines overlook non-Western and communal modes of authorship. He proposes a concept of “reattribution” as a corrective that reassigns authorship and authority to the original cultural source. Reattribution is particularly relevant for Indigenous contexts, where attribution is not just about credit but about cultural governance and consent.

Indeed, many Indigenous scholars and creators have advanced solutions that seek to assert Indigenous sovereignty over cultural materials. Rematriation, as discussed by Gray (2022), refers to the return of knowledge and cultural heritage to Indigenous communities. This return is not just about retrieving objects; it is about recognizing them as spiritually significant, living presences. Unlike “repatriation,” which operates in a legalistic framework, rematriation is grounded in Indigenous law and ethics. It affirms that cultural memory and knowledge are bound by responsibilities that cannot be transferred, bought, or legally extinguished (Gray, 2022).

Reattribution is another important concept, particularly when it comes to correcting misappropriation and misrecognition in cultural and intellectual property regimes. Frye (2021) argues that current copyright law prioritizes originality and individual creation at the expense of more complex, shared authorship models. Reattribution offers a pathway to recognize communal ownership and undo colonial erasure. As he states, “reattribution recognizes the harm of attribution to the wrong author, and the justice of recognizing the real one” (p. 9). This aligns with citational justice, wherein Indigenous Peoples’ are formally recognized for their collective knowledges and cultural expressions as used in scholarship, media, or commerce.

A third strategy, reflexivity, urges media-makers and researchers to transform their methods to respect the ethical frameworks of the communities with whom they work. Reflexivity is a political stance that challenges extractive knowledge systems and affirms Indigenous jurisdiction over how stories are told and by whom (Gray, 2022).

Legal and policy precedents affirm Indigenous Peoples’ rights to control media and communication systems. In Aotearoa New Zealand, the Treaty of Waitangi of 1840 enshrined Māori rights to land andsky, across the broadcasting spectrum — which includes radio frequencies. Similarly, in Canada, the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC) in 1980 released a report affirming Indigenous broadcasting as essential to community development in remote and northern regions. This policy framework laid the groundwork for the creation of the Aboriginal Peoples Television Network (APTN), which launched in 1999 and remains a vital example of Indigenous-led media sovereignty. The Broadcasting Act of 1991 further codified these rights, stating that programming should “reflect the special place of Aboriginal peoples within Canadian society” (Government of Canada, 1991, c. 11, s. 32023, c. 8, s. 3).

At the international level, the World Intellectual Property Organization Intergovernmental Committee (WIPO-IGC) has been engaged in negotiations since 1999 regarding the global protection of Traditional Knowledge (TK) and Traditional Cultural Expressions (TCEs). Although progress has been slow, WIPO acknowledges that conventional IP systems inadequately protect Indigenous rights and is exploring sui generis approaches. These are legal systems designed specifically for Indigenous contexts (WIPO, 2023).

Taken together, these developments illustrate a crucial shift in how knowledge sovereignty is being reimagined. Indigenous Peoples are asserting that cultural memory, language, and artistic expression are not commodities to be regulated by settler law. Instead, they are vital, sovereign practices governed by Indigenous legal orders. As Gray (2022) emphasizes, “Rematriation is not about access—it is about accountability” (p. 13). And as Frye (2021) suggests, meaningful reattribution demands not only naming the source but also restoring the power to control, withhold, or circulate knowledge according to Indigenous protocols. Ultimately, these practices reaffirm that Indigenous knowledge systems must be respected as their own legal systems, not simply accommodated within colonial frameworks and jurisdictions.

Contemporary Challenges, Calls for Justice and Media Transformation

Indigenous Peoples have been experts in interactive media since interactive storytelling began (L’Hirondelle, 2014). Indigenous oral traditions, performative practices, and visual-symbolic media have long served as interactive systems of knowledge transfer, governance, and spirituality. In the contemporary context, Indigenous media makers and technologists have also been at the forefront of innovation, developing tools that address climate change, geospatial mapping, data sovereignty, and artificial intelligence. For example, Indigenous scholars and organizations are working to ensure Indigenous data sovereignty is maintained in digital mapping systems and AI training models (Carroll et al., 2019; Lewis et al., 2020). Indigenous-led patent activity and intellectual innovation continue to expand in areas such as environmental monitoring, land-based computing systems, and language revitalization technologies (Walter & Suina, 2019).

However, dependence on mining to create contemporary digital technologies presents significant ethical challenges for Indigenous communities. Many of these communities are environmental stewards of lands that contain lithium, cobalt, rare earth elements, and other materials used for devices such as smartphones, electric vehicles, and servers. As global demand for these resources rises, so too does the pressure on Indigenous territories, raising questions of ecological justice and Indigenous jurisdiction over extractive industries (Simpson, 2017; Whyte, 2018). These tensions foreground the importance of Indigenous leadership in digital futures, not only as creators but also as protectors of land-based ethics.

Foundational policy documents and legal frameworks provide guidance on the evolving needs of Indigenous media development in Canada. These include the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), adopted by the UN General Assembly in 2007, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) Report released in 2015, and the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (MMIWG) Final Report published in 2019. Each document outlines systemic failures and the necessary transformation of Canadian institutions, including media, to reflect Indigenous rights, narratives, and perspectives.

UNDRIP, which Canada committed to implementing through the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act in 2021, includes critical articles on cultural and media sovereignty (Government of Canada, 2021). Article 16 most directly addresses media rights:

Indigenous peoples have the right to establish their own media in their own languages and to have access to all forms of non-Indigenous media without discrimination. States shall take effective measures to ensure that State-owned media duly reflect Indigenous cultural diversity. States, without prejudice to ensuring full freedom of expression, should encourage privately owned media to adequately reflect Indigenous cultural diversity.  (United Nations General Assembly, 2007, pp. 14-15)

It supports Indigenous media sovereignty not only through representation but also by recognizing Indigenous Peoples’ right to define and disseminate their own stories, languages, and worldviews.

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s Calls to Action include specific directives related to media. Calls to Action 84, 85, and 86 each target critical gaps in public broadcasting, cultural production, and journalism education. Call to Action 84 recommends that CBC/Radio-Canada support reconciliation by developing Indigenous-language programming and reflecting Indigenous cultures in its operations. Call to Action 85 calls for increased funding and support for the Aboriginal Peoples Television Network (APTN) to continue producing programming by and for Indigenous Peoples, thereby promoting understanding of Indigenous issues across Canada.

Call to Action 86 is especially relevant for postsecondary institutions and journalism programs, and directly informs this course’s mandate. It reads:

We call upon Canadian journalism programs and media schools to require education for all students on the history of Aboriginal peoples, including the history and legacy of residential schools, the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Treaties and Aboriginal rights, Indigenous law, and Aboriginal–Crown relations. (Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, 2015, Call 86).

This call positions education as essential to reconciliation, underscoring the importance of rethinking journalism curricula to include Indigenous histories, perspectives, and frameworks of understanding.

The MMIWG Final Report, Reclaiming Power and Place (2019), builds on and intensifies these directives. The inquiry offers a comprehensive critique of media portrayals and their role in the systemic violence experienced by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. It explicitly states: “Media representation is not neutral. Power is at the core of what is considered ‘newsworthy’; News media representations of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and of the violence against them, are linked to what is deemed worthy or unworthy of coverage” (National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, 2019, p. 387). This powerful indictment of media practices is followed by a series of Calls for Justice, many of which focus on journalism, entertainment industries, and public culture.

Call for Justice 2.7 urges all levels of government to fund and support Indigenous-led initiatives to improve the representation of Indigenous Peoples in media and popular culture. Call for Justice 6.1 speaks directly to media workers and institutions. It calls upon media corporations, unions, journalism schools, and cultural producers to adopt decolonizing approaches and commit to educating Canadians about Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. It emphasizes trauma-informed, culturally appropriate practices and accurate, non-stereotypical representations (National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, 2019).

These recommendations include specific actions: supporting Indigenous people to tell their own stories; ensuring representation is free from bias, discrimination, and false assumptions; and increasing the number of Indigenous journalists, producers, and executives through scholarships, training, and hiring practice (National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, 2019).

One of the guiding concepts in the Final Report is narrative sovereignty, or the right of Indigenous people to shape, own, and control the stories told about them. Reconciliation in media is not possible without recognizing and affirming Indigenous Peoples’ authority to define their narratives on their own terms (Corntassel, 2009; Gray, 2022).

Practical Resources for News- and Media-Makers

In response to the long history of misrepresentation and exclusion of Indigenous voices in media, several practical resources and ethical frameworks have been developed to support responsible journalism and research practices. These tools are designed to guide journalists, researchers, and media-makers in working ethically and collaboratively with Indigenous communities, while respecting sovereignty, consent, and cultural protocols.

One such initiative is the Reporting in Indigenous Communities program, founded by Duncan McCue, a veteran journalist and member of the Chippewas of Georgina Island First Nation. This program offers a toolkit for journalists covering Indigenous stories and encourages a shift from extractive to relational reporting practices. The approach emphasizes pre-interview preparation, deep listening, and the importance of understanding community-specific histories and protocols (McCue, 2022). The program is guided by the principle that ethical journalism in Indigenous contexts requires cultural humility and a commitment to decolonization.

Another foundational framework comes from Indigenous-led research methodology: OCAP®, which stands for Ownership, Control, Access, and Possession. Established by the First Nations Information Governance Centre (FNIGC), OCAP® is a set of principles asserting First Nations’ rights to govern data collection processes, analysis, storage, and use. These principles have become central to ethical research and journalism involving Indigenous Peoples in Canada.

In American contexts, the FAIR and CARE principles offer complementary guidance. FAIR refers to making data Findable, Accessible, Interoperable, and Reusable, while CARE introduces additional obligations centered on Collective benefit, Authority to control, Responsibility, and Ethics. The CARE Principles, developed by the Global Indigenous Data Alliance, explicitly respond to Indigenous data sovereignty concerns in the digital age. As Carroll et al. (2019) explain, CARE emphasizes that:

Indigenous data should be used in ways that are grounded in the context of the community and governed by Indigenous Peoples themselves, to ensure alignment with Indigenous worldviews, protocols, and goals.
(Carroll et al., 2019, p. 6)

These ethics of data care and collaboration resonate well beyond Indigenous contexts. They offer a higher standard for media-makers of all backgrounds and serve as best practices when engaging with any community, particularly those historically marginalized or misrepresented. As such, Indigenous media ethics should be considered not as an “exception” but as a model for transformative and just media practice (Walter & Suina, 2019).

Within research, triangulation and crystallization remain key strategies for ensuring trustworthiness and depth. Triangulation involves using multiple data points or perspectives to confirm findings. Indigenous scholars have powerfully reimagined these techniques through cultural metaphors. Hawaiian scholar Aluli Meyer (2008) compares triangulation to survival in nature, explaining that one can orient themselves only by finding at least two distinct markers in the landscape. This metaphor grounds the idea of research reliability in lived, place-based experience.

Expanding on this, Cree/Metis artist L’Hirondelle conceptualizes triangulation through a specifically Indigenous lens. She describes it as:

Three teepee poles… over which the story narrative is draped, with the triptych-like narrative elaboration of triangulation that hence traces an Indigenous new media practice in contemporary time and space.
(L’Hirondelle, 2014, pp. 161–162)

This metaphor reinforces that in Indigenous media work, narrative coherence is both artistic and relational, often structured through repetition, resonance, and layered perspectives. These structures are evident in traditional storytelling as well as in digital art and community media.

As another essential practical step, media professionals are encouraged to consult and use Indigenous Style Guides. As introduced in the previous chapter, these guides—such as those developed by APTN, the Yellowhead Institute, and university-based journalism programs—provide tools for more accurate, respectful, and context-sensitive reporting. They include best practices for terminology, pronunciation, contextualization, and appropriate consultation. Style guides also challenge outdated representations and language use, advocating instead for affirming and accurate portrayals of Indigenous identities, histories, and contributions.

Together, these resources form a practical foundation for anyone involved in telling stories that include Indigenous Peoples. They affirm the importance of reciprocal relationships, grounded accountability, and narrative sovereignty in all aspects of research, media, and knowledge-sharing.

Summary

Indigenous media spans thousands of years and encompasses far more than contemporary digital platforms. From pictographs and winter counts to contemporary television and digital platforms, Indigenous Peoples have maintained sophisticated communication systems that serve multiple functions: historical record-keeping, identity formation, spiritual expression, and community connection. This journey reveals not simply an adaptation to new technologies, but a continuous assertion of sovereignty over storytelling, knowledge transmission, and cultural expression.

The concept of story sovereignty represents a fundamental shift from the external representation of Indigenous Peoples to Indigenous control over their own narratives. This shift challenges colonial frameworks that have historically misrepresented Indigenous communities and experiences. From the sophisticated visual literacies of petroglyphs and Plains Sign Talk to the groundbreaking establishment of APTN as the world’s first national Indigenous broadcaster, Indigenous Peoples have repeatedly transformed available technologies to serve community needs while maintaining cultural protocols.

Contemporary challenges include the environmental impact of communications technologies, addressing pretendians who appropriate Indigenous identity for personal gain, ensuring that Indigenous protocols govern the use of Indigenous knowledge, and creating media systems that serve Indigenous communities rather than exploiting them for external consumption. As legal frameworks like UNDRIP and the TRC Calls to Action create new obligations for respectful collaboration, these challenges require urgent attention from all media practitioners.

The future of Indigenous media depends on supporting Indigenous-owned and controlled platforms, respecting traditional protocols while embracing technological innovations, and ensuring that non-Indigenous media makers understand their responsibilities when engaging with Indigenous stories and communities. Whether you are a non-Indigenous media-maker or someone who is Indigenous to these lands, this chapter will inform the ethics of your media practice. As a media-maker or media consumer, it is important to recognize the histories of the peoples whose lands you are on, represent those lands accurately in your media and communications, and continually develop your own media-making ethics when working with local or global Indigenous communities.

The media have never been neutral. The power to control narratives shapes public understanding and policy decisions that affect Indigenous communities. The time has come to move beyond representations of Indigenous Peoples toward collaborations with Indigenous communities. This shift requires understanding that Indigenous media traditions offer sophisticated models for communication while honouring Indigenous ethics and protocols by which media practices benefit all communities.

For Indigenous Peoples, a few hundred years is not a lot of time. Everything that has happened since contact and colonization is still just a blink in Indigenous histories but it has been one impactful blink. Supporting Indigenous media sovereignty represents one path toward healing and reclaiming the power to tell their own stories on their own terms.

Group Activity-Indigenous Media Milestones Comparison

Group size: 4 teams
Time: 50 minutes
Technology: Shared Google Doc or Padlet board

Instructions:

1. Setup and Topic Assignment (5 minutes):

Each team receives a different comparison topic using only chapter content:

• Team 1: Communication Evolution – “Traditional Indigenous media (winter counts, Plains Sign Talk) vs. Early print media (Cherokee Phoenix, syllabary)”
• Team 2: Media Representation – “Hollywood ‘Cowboys and Indians’ films vs. Indigenous-controlled films (Atanarjuat, Indigenous Film Crew)”
• Team 3: Broadcasting Development – “Early radio challenges (CBC Northern Service) vs. Indigenous broadcasting success (APTN launch and impact)”
• Team 4: Story Sovereignty Examples – “Pretendians (Grey Owl) vs. Authentic Indigenous voices (Ahasiw Maskegon-Iskwew, story sovereignty principles)”

2. Chapter Content Analysis (25 minutes):

Using shared digital workspace, teams work through their comparison:

Step 1 (8 minutes) – Information Gathering:

• Re-read relevant chapter sections for your topic
• List key facts about each side of your comparison
• Note important dates, people, and achievements mentioned in chapter
• Find specific quotes from the chapter that support your analysis

Step 2 (8 minutes) – Compare & Contrast:

• Create simple comparison chart with “Similarities” and “Differences”
• Identify patterns – what made some Indigenous media successful?
• Note challenges mentioned in the chapter that each faced
• Highlight innovations that were unique to Indigenous approaches

Step 3 (9 minutes) – Impact Analysis:

• Chapter connections – how do your examples connect to story sovereignty?
• Legacy effects – what does the chapter say about their lasting impact?
• Modern relevance – how do these historical examples relate to contemporary Indigenous media mentioned in chapter?

3. Findings Exchange (15 minutes):

Carousel presentation format:

• Teams post findings on shared workspace/wall
• 2 rounds of 6 minutes each – teams rotate to view other work
• Each viewing team adds one thoughtful comment or question
• Focus on connections between different time periods and media forms

Round 1: Teams move clockwise to next station
Round 2: Teams move clockwise again
Each team views 2 others, returns to see comments on their own work

4. Pattern Recognition & Chapter Synthesis (5 minutes):

Whole class discussion based on chapter themes:

• Story sovereignty – Which examples showed Indigenous control over narratives?
• Resistance and adaptation – How did Indigenous communities overcome media barriers?
• Innovation vs. appropriation – What’s the difference based on chapter examples?
• Continuing legacy – How do these historical patterns from the chapter influence today?

Instructor highlights how each team’s findings connect to the chapter’s main argument about Indigenous media sovereignty.

End-of-Chapter Activity (News Scan)

Indigenous Media & Cultural Representation Today

Purpose

This activity helps you connect the historical and cultural evolution of Indigenous media systems to current developments. You will examine how recent examples of Indigenous media and storytelling—from Indigenous-owned broadcasting and digital platforms to language revitalization through media and authentic representation initiatives—reflect principles of story sovereignty, cultural preservation, community control, and decolonized narratives.

Instructions

Using Google News or Indigenous media sources (such as APTN News, CBC Indigenous, or tribal newspapers), find a recent article (published within the last three months) about Indigenous media and storytelling—for example, Indigenous-controlled broadcasting, digital storytelling platforms, language preservation through media, authentic Indigenous representation in film/TV, or community-based media initiatives.

In 250 words, respond to the following:

1. Summarize the Article (100–150 words)

• Provide the article’s title, author, and date in APA format.
• Explain the article’s main focus and why it matters to Indigenous communities.
• Identify any findings, innovations, or arguments presented.

2. Connect to Chapter Themes (100–150 words)

• Relate the article to at least one key theme from this chapter (e.g., story sovereignty, authentic vs. colonial representation, Indigenous-controlled media, traditional communication systems adapted to contemporary platforms, or the distinction between Indigenous Voice and external representation).
• Analyze how the article illustrates continuity or change compared to historical approaches to Indigenous media, such as winter counts, Plains Sign Talk, pictographs, early Indigenous newspapers, Indigenous radio development, or APTN’s establishment.
• Evaluate whether the article demonstrates Indigenous agency and control over storytelling, or external representation of Indigenous communities.
• Cite your sources (both the article and this chapter) in APA format.

Note: The full text of the article must be included upon submission as an Appendix for verification.

Bonus Option: If you find an article from an Indigenous-owned media outlet, briefly compare how the coverage differs from mainstream media coverage of similar topics.

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