Métis Storytelling Through New Media as a Means of Virtual Sovereignty

Decolonization often feels like an afterthought, prompting the need for Indigenous leadership in pioneering new areas of research and innovation. New media stands as a crucial realm for Indigenous representation, countering stereotypes and considering virtual landscapes within the context of land-based struggles. Considering the possible dystopian scenario of colonial governments using virtual reality as a means of land appropriation, the imperative arises to claim virtual spaces as sovereign Indigenous territories. This begs the question, could the virtual be harnessed for land-based education, expanding accessibility for displaced and differently-abled individuals? How could this uplift our communities while still emphasizing the significance of physical connection to the land? These queries demand immediate attention within the discourse of Indigenous new media, as we must address them before they are addressed for us. The intersection of new media and Indigenous storytelling and politics are essential to current decolonial praxis and we must take it as our own before even our virtual spaces are colonized. In “A (Brief) Media History of the Indigenous Future,” Jason Edward Lewis argues that we must develop an Indigenous Future Imaginary in contrast to the settler future imaginary, often portraying a future absent of Indigenous Peoples. Chelsea Vowel echoes this sentiment in “Buffalo is the New Buffalo,” advocating for the repair of our kinship ties in accordance with wâhkôhtowin (expanded kinship) and the revitalization of our traditions despite post-contact adversities. Lisa Jackson’s VR piece, “Biidaaban: First Light,” epitomizes this decolonial intervention, prompting viewers to contemplate their place in history and question their role in the future. Visions of a post-apocalyptic Toronto display ongoing Indigenous survivance, therefore depicting colonialism adapting to Indigeneity. However, the endeavor to conceptualize decolonial new media remains a work in progress. The inquiry posited by “Making Kin With the Machines,” “how do we as Indigenous people reconcile the fully embodied experience of being on the land with the generally disembodied experience of virtual spaces?” (Lewis et al.),” spotlights the challenge of reconciling tangible land-based experiences with the relatively intangible experience of occupying virtual spaces. In a time where it seems as though the virtual and the physical are in opposition, is it possible to bring the two into productive conversation? To engage in land-based learning and to be in relationship with the land through virtual means? Is it outlandish to conceive of doing this while asserting the importance of physical presence on the land? The inception of the game Infinite River exemplifies the auto-pedagogical nature of Indigenous-led creation, wherein creative endeavors serve as conduits for self-discovery, cultural exploration, and comprehension of the world. By taking inspiration from, and going on to subvert the racist tropes inherent in the classic game Oregon Trail, I argue that Infinite River contributes to the creation of virtually sovereign spaces. By no means does Infinite River alone create an all encompassing virtually sovereign space, yet as we continue to create more virtually sovereign experiences we contribute to the creation and self-determination of truly virtually sovereign spaces for our communities.

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