
Wanda John-Kehewin is a Cree writer, poet, fiction author and script writer. She is an Indigenous woman searching for the truth and a way to be set free from the past. Spells, Wishes, and the Talking Dead, a collection of poetry and prose, is about the grief she feels in working to make sense of the world and her losses as an Indigenous woman. It plays with form, space, and language, comparing meanings in English and nêhiyawêwin (Plains Cree).
Wanda is the author of the Dreams series of graphic novels including Visions of the Crow. Her other work includes Seven Sacred Truths, YA novel Hopeless in Hope, and In the Dog House, which won the World Poetry Foundation’s Empowered Poet Award.
Interview by Isabel Jones
Isabel Jones (IJ): You explain in your preface that you want to examine the influence and meaning of language to try to figure out what language means to poetry and what poetry means to language. You play with syntax and grammar in ways that draw attention to the writing itself. Can you talk about these ideas and the choices you made to write in both nêhiyawêwin (Plains Cree) and English?
Wanda John-Kehewin (WJ-K): I was inspired by Layli Long Soldier’s poem ‘Wahpanica’ from Whereas. In this collection she inspects language and construction of meaning as she writes. In my piece ‘Confusion’ I inserted the words ‘comma’, ‘period’, and other punctuation words into my work to draw attention to the way English is written. It slows down the reader and leads to examining and questioning the language and meaning.
There was a time I was questioning my identity as a poet. I had been doing readings and being introduced as a Cree poet. I really had to think about whether I could call myself that. I wasn’t writing in Cree so wasn’t I just another English poet? I didn’t grow up with the language. When I was young my grandmother would tell me what to do in Cree — wash the dishes, clean up . . . so I understood those daily terms. I saw her reading syllabics which was interesting. I don’t read and am not fluent in Cree, but my cousin helped me with some translation for this book. My cousin told me that 70% of the Cree language has disappeared. I wanted to bring in the language and to see it side by side with English, to create a bridge between the two languages.
IJ: Spells, Wishes, and The Talking Dead is an intriguing title. Can you tell us what each of these three sections represents and how the style of writing: poetry, prose, Cree, or English reflects your ideas?
WJ-K: In Spells there’s some magical thinking. Not actual spells, but beliefs. I was exploring and asking, ‘what do I believe’? Wishes is about the knowledge we carry, my wishes for myself, for my children, for healing. The Talking Dead is the ancestors speaking to us, being carried down through us. I think about the trauma in their bodies and how that has been passed on. Women are born with every single egg we will ever need in our lifetime. We were there in our mothers’ and grandmothers’ bodies. We are born with our children in our body as eggs. As we hear our ancestors’ stories, we can actually decipher what was happening in their bodies. For instance, with certain events cortisol levels would be raised, adrenaline would be flowing. It makes sense that whatever my mother and grandmother went through, I would have gone through too.
IJ: You let us know you find that writing acts as a therapeutic medium for making sense of intergenerational trauma resulting from colonialism. How does the telling and sharing of the stories, expressing the deep damage and emotion of that trauma, help you to understand and transform that energy?
WJ-K: I wrote my first poem at age six. It was the way I expressed my feelings, got my thoughts out. It is my processing tool. Some people are painters, some are gardeners. There are many ways to explore your creativity. I was going through a time of depression and though I hadn’t read publicly yet, I went to other writers’ readings. I heard Vera Manuel read ‘Brother I cry’. She read it with such grace and power that the whole room was quiet. I was crying through this poem about the sorrow she felt for her brother. It was hard to listen to, and the pain was raw, but she read it without a quiver in her voice. I went up to her after and asked, ‘how do you do that? How do you talk about these things without crying?’ She said she was able to do it because of years of healing and sharing her truth. I decided then and there I would stand in my truth. I learned from other writers and readings about how to do this. Hearing her talk about such traumatic things as going to residential school helped me realize that I could help others by sharing my stories. I used to tell people to read this, read that, as ways to learn the trauma that has happened. I realized though that writing and publishing could reach a bigger audience, would get the message across in a wider way.
IJ: The journey you take us on through poetry and prose vividly conveys the hurt, injustice, and insidiousness of colonialism. You talk about the reflection and hard work it has taken to be the person you are today. Do you hope that sharing your journey will inspire readers, Indigenous or not, in their own journeys?
WJ-K: In my writing, I wanted to give my mother a voice along with my grandmother, ancestors, and my children of course. Hopeless in Hope is a middle-grade book. I wrote it to inspire children who are in care. I wanted a story to help children know that ‘my mother left me which means she doesn’t love me’ is not the only story. As they get older, knowing the trauma the mother went through, what was happening for her can help them forgive and heal.
I used to work for the Ministry of Children and Family Development, and I wondered who was explaining things to these children. Instead of saying ‘my mom is an alcoholic and doesn’t love me that’s why she doesn’t visit me’, we can try to help by putting a spin on it by saying she has experienced trauma like going to residential school, things have happened to her. Maybe she does love me but can’t show it. We can help create understanding and create a bridge to help kids feel something else other than what they feel. Parents give promises they can’t keep and for the longest time kids believe it. I believe keeping promises to children is part of healing and changing generations. I needed to write something for those kids, to give them some history, mini-teachings. As they get older, they can understand, and it can help them forgive and heal. As well, I always write for my own kids so they will have a legacy after I’m gone.
IJ: In The Talking Dead section you write about Chief kihew: “Great-Great-Great Grandfather / your Heartbreak and Resilience / i carry like a witness / being a witness can be dangerous if i carry it all by myself” and then “i hope you feel the love that travels through my existence / Travelling through my existence can be dangerous without a voice”. What influence do you feel in your written voice or in your children’s lives from your grandfather and other ancestors? Do you feel the effects of lived trauma lessening as your family timeline advances?
WJ-K: It is said that it takes seven generations to heal from major trauma. My aunt told me I’m only the fourth generation–darn! I need to be the seventh! The trauma has definitely lessened. My daughter now thinks her life is horrible if I won’t buy her a toy, whereas for me it was ‘mom, you left me for 10 years’. I’ve experienced my mother leaving, domestic abuse, many hardships. It’s interesting to see that balance shift. The healing has been a beautiful journey. I’ve learned about the chemicals in the body. When you are out of sorts you need to stop and try to think about what is going on in the body. I try to teach my daughter that when she is heightened, she is sending cortisol through her body which can make you spiral. I have enjoyed learning about the body and what it can do to protect you. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia when I was younger, and it has been a bit of a gift. When you come from trauma, you don’t know when enough is enough and just keep going all over the place. My body tells me when I’m doing too much. It’s pretty miraculous in telling you what you need, how to treat it. It’s important to listen to the wisdom in the body