Reflections from Ratiwennahní:rats

I am now nearing the end of my time at Ratiwennahni:rats (a Kanien’kéha Mohawk language immersion program). In a couple weeks, we will be done with the first half of the year. Amongst us students, what we do post-graduation determines our ability to maintain and continue our fluency. It creates a heavy weight of responsibility to know that whatever we choose to do shapes our futures as speakers. Kanien’kéha (Mohawk language) is one of the hardest languages to learn in the entire world—it takes countless hours just to reach the fluency of a 5-year-old first-language speaker. 

As Onkwehón:we (Original People), studying our original languages comes with a  responsibility that goes far beyond learning a language as a hobby. This work goes deep—actively determining the survival of our languages, and therefore, our way of life. As a life-giver, I can feel the urgency of becoming fluent enough to be able to raise children in aóskon onkwehonwehnéha (only original language). To raise children with English feels incorrect. 

It feels significant to share some of these perspectives from my language learning journey because much of the world is unaware of the realities Onkewhón:we face. I often find myself in situations where people ask if I’m in school, or what I do for work. I usually respond by talking about Ratiwennahní:rats, and people typically respond with excitement, sharing their own experiences with different languages. When I explain further, many ask if they too can learn an Indigenous language. I don’t always know how to respond. The lengths that our people have gone through just to have a chance at saving our languages are immense. Our history is dense.

Across the Haudenosaunee Confederacy, we’ve arrived at a scary point in our evolution. Our people have been in survival mode for centuries, continuing to persevere through it all. Today, our communities continue to fight to keep our languages and way of life alive. The Tuscarora people no longer have any living first-language speakers and at least one Seneca community faces the same reality (there are still a few first-language Seneca speakers alive, though not within each Seneca community). The Cayuga, Onondaga and Oneida people have very few first-language speakers still with us. Within Mohawk communities, there are major conversations happening surrounding the workload that must be done to ensure our language survives. Without the guidance of first-language speakers, our languages are at risk of being lost, or changed. It is essential that we keep our languages alive—not to drop the responsibility of carrying our language onward for the faces to come.

I am now a little over a year into learning Onkwehonwehnéha. Language work requires deep, strong roots, and many variables can hinder the journey of becoming a fluent speaker. Niawenhkó:wa (a big thank you) to the Center for Earth Ethics for their support in my language learning journey and for providing a platform to share these perspectives. I am eternally grateful for all the support I’ve received thus far and for the opportunity to share pieces of my journey.