By Amy Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Kathleen Shannon for Greater Dakota News Service reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration
Ask any six-year-old and they’ll tell you just how to play the classic game of Go Fish: Get a handful of cards. Try to get four that match. Repeat as attention spans allow.
But swap out the fish for owls and say “gookooko’oo” instead of “go fish,” and you have Bineshiiyag: one of several new amusements in the Nashke Native Games award-winning line.
Launching a year and a half ago, the three-person business is trying to bolster Ojibwe language and culture in the Midwest—in a fun, accessible (not to mention, effective) way.
“Our mission is to increase awareness and the power of learning through gameplay. And boy, we just see it come to fruition every day,” says founder and CEO Tony Drews “Chi-Noodin” (Big Wind).
Language learners, teachers, families, and curious board-gamers alike can purchase the games, ranging from modern takes on traditionals (like Bagese: The Bowl Game) to fast-paced fur trade-simulation kits with puzzles and tile matching challenges (like Mii Gwech).
The games are an avenue for discovery; they can be played in Ojibwe or English (Dakota expansion packs coming soon!) Here, words are intentionally not forgotten.
Drews says there are less than 700 first-language Ojibwe speakers in the U.S.
“And if we don’t do something, we’re gonna become known as the people who were the Ojibwe,” he says. “Native history is Minnesota history. And without a spark, our youth aren’t gonna learn it.”
Drews’s great-grandmother only spoke Ojibwe. Her daughter was sent to Pipestone Indian Training School and now, Drews’s father doesn’t know more than four words in Ojibwe.
“It took one generation to strip my family of its culture, its language and the millennium of our culture,” Drews says. “We can’t talk about language and culture separately. They’re intertwined.”
Take the word mindimooyenh. Somebody who holds the family together. A term of high respect for an elderly woman.
“If you call someone an old woman in English, that’s a dig, right? So if we lose that word, we lose the cultural perspective of how we truly look at elderly women,” Drews says. “And the same with elders. We call our elders gichi-aya’aa: ‘the Great Beings.’”
Second-grade teacher Lisa Schussman’s students have played Ginebig: The Snake Game, Makizinataagewin: The Moccasin Game, and Bineshiiyag in her Lincoln Elementary classroom.
She loans out take-home kits at the Bemidji, Minnesota, school where many Native students attend; the area is surrounded by the Leech Lake (Ojibwe), Red Lake (Chippewa), and White Earth reservations.
“I just find it such a valuable way to get … excited about the language and about their culture and respect too,” Schussman says, overhearing students using words learned in the games.
“I think that a lot of times we get nervous to try or we don’t want to do something wrong, so then we don’t. But I’ve found that through the games, you’re a lot more willing when it’s in a fun, laughing atmosphere to just try.”
Goji’ewizi: Just try.
Amy Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.
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Sixty years ago this weekend, young activists marched across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, demanding their right to vote and changing history in the process. Today, another group of young people is using art to make their voices heard in Georgia.
A Boston-based arts group, beheard.world, has teamed up with Selma-area teens for "Selma Again," a production that blends dance, spoken word and music to shed light on the struggles the city still faces today.
Director and choreographer Anna Myer said the performance is about pushing forward, as well as looking back.
"The piece talks about real things that are happening and things that go to the heart," she said, "and it also talks about love and the only way forward is love and the only way to keep moving forward is if we do this together."
Myer said she first visited Selma years ago and was struck by how poverty and crime persist despite its historic significance. She and her husband, filmmaker Jay Paris, along with Selma natives, helped create a nonprofit initiative to blend nonviolence education, performing arts and storytelling for local youth.
It's part of the Selma Cross-Cultural Nonviolence and Performing Arts Academy, which was co-founded by Dallas County natives and civil rights veterans Charles Bonner and Viola Douglas, along with the Rev. Gary Crum of Elwood Christian Church. Through poetry and dance, teens confront modern challenges and honor past civil rights leaders.
Myer said this year's production highlights how today's youth can step into the legacy of activism left by the "foot soldiers" of the 1960s.
"In the performance in Atlanta, we're honoring civil rights veterans who are still alive - Andrew Young, and Charles Steele, and Faya Rose Sanders, and Lynda Blackmon Lowery," she added. "We're honoring them and we'll be also speaking their names in the piece."
"Selma Again" will be performed today (Fri., March 7) at Morehouse College's Ray Charles Performing Arts Center in Atlanta, and Sat., March 8, at Ellwood Christian Academy in Selma, as part of the annual Bridge Crossing Jubilee.
Myer emphasized the show's ultimate goal is to spark meaningful conversations, promote understanding and inspire action for lasting change.
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Music lessons. A trip to the theater. Experiences like these can help students recover from cataclysmic natural disasters like the LA fires, according to experts in music and the brain.
Research shows that learning to play an instrument improves listening skills and language development.
Neuroscientist and Associate Professor Assal Habibi, PhD, is director of the Center for Music, Brain, and Society at the University of Southern California, Dornsife College of Letters, Arts, and Sciences.
She said music students see improved decision-making, planning, and focus.
"We're not just giving them a toolbox of musicianship," said Habibi, "but we are giving them a toolbox to have better emotion regulation and better impulse control, and perhaps better respond to stressors around them when natural disaster happens in their environment."
The center works with children in the Youth Orchestra Los Angeles, and researchers noticed improved resilience during and after the COVID lockdowns.
They're also working with several children affected by the Altadena fire - kids who are part of the Los Angeles Children's Choir, which is based in nearby Pasadena.
Habibi said participation in musical and art experiences is especially helpful in the immediate aftermath of a traumatic event, because it facilitates access to emotion.
"Some of these students may not be able to really express what is going on for them, and the fear and anger around all that happened so fast," said Habibi. "But by going to seeing a musical performance, it gives them a connection and access to their emotion and a way to express themselves."
As schools rebuild after the fires, Habibi said she hopes art and music education will be available to help students recover and flourish.
Disclosure: University of Southern California Dornsife College of Letters Arts and Sciences and USC Price School of Public Policy contributes to our fund for reporting on Arts & Culture, Cultural Resources, Social Justice. If you would like to help support news in the public interest,
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By Amy Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Terri Dee for Michigan News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration
They’re unlikely friends, skull anatomy and glitter theory.
In a new-to-the-internet hair and makeup class, the two have come together via the University of Michigan.
Free and accessible to anyone with decent Wi-Fi, the goal is simple:
“That no matter who is sitting in the chair, that the person who is applying the makeup understands how to work with whatever skin tone is in front of them, and they understand how to work with whatever hair texture is in front of them,” says Sarah Oliver, the U Michigan professor who created this Equitable Stage Makeup and Hair course.
From 8 Chairs to Hundreds
Oliver, who teaches costume technology and design, knew she needed to broaden her students’ understanding of on-stage presentation.
There are over 250 performers at the school at any given time—from opera and dance to musical theater.
The catch? They can’t all fit in an eight-seat makeup room backstage. So the idea was born: Film demo videos and put them online.
In a matter of months since its March 2024 launch, over 1,800 people have taken the course, which includes lessons in aging, special effects, hair, and drag. Special guests collaborated (read: TV star Alexis Michelle) to bring expertise to the table.
That expertise, colleague Christianne Myers says, has too long rested on the shoulders of performers themselves.
“For us, [this course] really was about hair and makeup and meeting performers’ needs,” says the University of Michigan costume designer. “Particularly Black performers have so often been called upon to be the experts of their own hair in a really specific way in regional theaters.”
In addition to equity concerns, having unnatural makeup or hair takes viewers out of the show, as does a performer who isn’t their best self on stage.
“Maybe your performance is suffering because you’ve haven’t had as long a break because you had to go and do your own hair instead of knowing you were going to hair appointments that everybody else did, or that someone doesn’t understand the hair texture that you have and they don’t have the proper wig for you,” Oliver says.
“You don’t even realize that those performers are wearing a wig except for you because you have a wig that clearly doesn’t work for your hair texture or your skin tone,” she adds.
Accessible Across Stages
The Coursera modules are truly for anyone, performers and instructors alike.
People having makeup done in these instructional videos have a range of skin tones; ages across the spectrum are represented.
“Inclusivity is sort of baked into all the teaching modalities,” Myers says.
The videos, three years in the making, are high-quality and broken into sections—you don’t need to take them all. Click, watch, learn.
Then, take your whole self, and go perform.
Amy Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.
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