KPR Presents Book Club: Braiding Sweetgrass, Part 1; Unknown

What can plants in nature teach us about the world we live in and our place in it? I'm Kay McIntyre and today on KPR presents Braiding Sweetgrass, Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer. Braiding Sweetgrass is the KU Common Book for this year in partnership with Haskell Indian Nations University. Dr. Kimmerer is speaking at KU virtually on November 10th, sponsored by the Hall Center for the Humanities. You can find out more at hallcenter.ku.edu. Braiding Sweetgrass is the fourth installment in the KPR Presents Book Club held virtually on October 21st, 2021. My guests are Dr. Robert Hagen, Dr. Jennifer Moody and Dr. Ray Pirati from the University of Kansas, and from Haskell Indian Nations University, Dr. Daniel Wildcat. To start out this evening, I asked each of them to introduce themselves and talk about how their work relates to Braiding Sweetgrass.

I'm Bob Hagen, thank you Kay. I'm an ecologist and I work at the University of Kansas as a lecturer and field education and internship coordinator for the Environmental Studies Program. I have lived in the Lawrence area for 30 years and for the last 15 years, I've had the privilege of teaching field courses that get students outside of the classroom and into natural areas to experience and learn about a variety of different habitats we have in this area. So very much in the spirit of what Dr. Kimmerer does with her own students. Jennifer? All right, hi. I'm Dr. Jennifer Moody. I'm a botanist and plant ecologist. I work as a researcher at the Kansas Biological Survey and Center for Ecological Research, where part of my job is managing the Native medicinal plant gardens, which part of what our mission there is to educate the public about native plants and native plants that have been used for food, medicinal, medicine, fibers that people can come and visit, and we're open to

the public all year round. Okay, I'm Dr. Raymond Pirati. I am a professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and I used to hold a joint appointment with the program in Indigenous Nation Studies. I teach several courses that deal with traditional knowledge of native peoples and how these relate to Western science and other topics within Western culture. And I have a lot of my research deals with investigation and publishing about Indigenous knowledge and its relationship and ethylbiology and to the Western scientific tradition. And last but not least, Dr. Wildcat. Yes, Fassan, Sayaghi, Zoya Ha, Yuchi Ha, Muscogee, Shidane Adenay. Good evening, everyone. I hope you're all doing well. My name is Dan Wildcat. I'm a Uchi member of the Muscogee Nation of Oklahoma, Creek Nation, and been

a faculty member and currently serving as chair in the Indigenous and American Indian Studies program at Haskell Indian Nations University. And they're about 36 years now. And yeah, and I teach in the area of Indigenous worldviews, culture, geography, you know, all of my courses are interdisciplinary, really, just like our Indigenous worldviews. You know, we never thought in boxes we never worked in silos in our tribal traditions. And I've been, you know, known Robin, I think now for at least two decades, maybe 25 years, but and just really impressed with the work that she does. And we both share a passion for bringing Indigenous knowledge and wisdom into, well, I won't say into Western science, but to help it inform and broaden

notions of what science is. And before we talk about the book, let's talk a little bit about Dr. Robin Wildkimmerer. In the biography listed in the book, she describes herself as a mother, a scientist, a professor at the State University of New York, and an enrolled member of the citizen Potawatomi Nation. What else can you tell me about Robin Wildkimmerer? Well, I'll go first. I've been fortunate to be a visitor in Robin's home in her house. And where she teaches, you know, in Syracuse, New York, is right in the backyard of the Anadogga Nation. And I can tell you that although she's a Potawatomi woman, she is dearly loved and respected by her Anadogga neighbors. And in fact, when we had a dinner at her house, elders and Anadogga tribal members showed up, and it was really just a joyful event.

I think also probably if she wasn't so busy teaching, researching, writing books, I think she'd like to cook more. She's an incredible cook. There was a lot of mentions of food in this book. I have to say I was a little envious of her cooking skills as well. Any other personal recollections or anything else any of the rest of you would like to add about Dr. Kimmerer? Well, I could talk a little bit about Robin. She started out about the same time I did. And she went the direction of studying plants where I've gone the direction of studying animals. And we sort of paralleled each other throughout our careers. And we've interacted like Dan said. I first became aware of her about 25 or 30 years ago. And over the years we've had a number of interactions. I've been invited to Syracuse to talk to the students there. I really enjoy Robin. I really admire

her. I think she's the stuff about the mother and all is important. But she's also a very, very fine and well thought of scientist who's been recruited by other universities who are interested in her for her experience and her research. Excellent. Thank you for those personal comments about her. It's always nice to know a little bit about the person that you're reading her work. Although this is such a personal work that I feel like by the time you finish the book, you really have a sense of her. When I began reading Sweetgrass, my first thought was Sweetgrass. What is that? Do we have that here in Kansas? And if not, is there another plant that holds a similar place culturally or is physically similar to Sweetgrass? Jennifer, I'll turn this question to you. Sweetgrass does not grow native here in Kansas. It likes it in much cooler, wetter environments.

We did grow some and we found out that this was going to be the common book for KU. We did source some and planted some. I think Ray has a braided version. I did bring some. It is a little small because it doesn't like our hot summers. It's a little bit stunted. But we would invite you to come out to the native medicinal plant garden north of Lawrence. You can experience it. I can't transmit the fragrance of the plant to you over the zoom call, but it smells wonderful. In terms of culturally, we certainly have plants that are important. And maybe Dan or could speak to this. But some of the other species that we have out at the garden are things like white sage that are very important to a lot of Native American people. And also, we have Echinacea, which has been used

medicinally, both by Native Americans, but also by worldwide now it's grown and is one of the largest herbal medicines. So those are a couple that come to mind off the top of my head. Neither are grasses. So it's not the same in form, but yeah, certainly some important plants. Dan, do you want to add anything to that? Well, I know. I think she hit the high points. I mean, we do have some sage that grows as you go west in Kansas. We have some of that. But, you know, I think the Echinacea is the thing that certainly comes to mind because it was so widely used and recognized for it's medicinal properties, purple cone flower. I'm glad you used both the lead phrase and the more familiar. We'll be talking quite a bit about the naming of plants a little bit later. Dan, I've asked you to read a selection from braiding sweetgrass. And I think

well, have you do that now? This is an excerpt from the very beginning of the book, which I think just beautifully captures where she's going with this book. Yeah, well, I don't think you could have picked a better selection. Let's start right at the beginning, okay? Hold out your hands and let me lay up on them a sheath of freshly picked sweetgrass, loose and flowing, like newly washed hair. Golden green and glossy above. The stems are banded with purple and white, where they meet the ground. Hold the bundle up to your nose, find the fragrance of honey vanilla over the scent of river water and black earth. And you understand its scientific name. Hi, Rikloey, Arerita, meaning the fragrant, holy grass. In our language, it is called Wengask, the sweet smelling hair of Mother Earth. Breathe it in and you start to remember things. You didn't know you'd

forgotten. Beautiful passage. Great way to start this book. It is. And I have to say as you were reading that, Dan, I was feeling a little envious of Jennifer with the sweetgrass in her hand. And I was half expecting you to go ahead and break it in and smell it and try to describe it to us. Yeah, I don't know that I can describe it better than Robin did. But I mean, to me, it's like that sweetest, you know, hay smell but I don't know. There's more depth to it than this kind of normal sweet hay smell. It's just really a wonderful smell and you can really see why it's held in such high esteem. I thought her sentence, breathe it in and you start to remember things you didn't know you'd forgotten was one of the most evocative sentences I've read in a long time. And I'd like to just throw that out to the chat. Knowing, of course, that sweetgrass does

not grow native here. But what things did reading, braiding sweetgrass remind you that you'd forgotten. If you'd like to share that with us in the chat, we would love to hear from you. It just occurred to me, Ray, you did, in fact, have a braid of sweetgrass with you. Would you like to share that with us and tell us where you got that from? I've had this for a couple of years now. My wife doesn't let me burn it because she has allergies. But the important thing about sweetgrass is when it's burned, the smoke that it releases is very fine, but also has a very, very strong sweet overtone to it. And that's where it's sort of is used in ceremonies to such a large extent. I mean, you can run your nose over it and smell the sweetgrass. And even this, which is a couple of years old, still retains the odor. And I also have baskets made of sweetgrass. But the key thing about it is that it's very important in ceremonial practices as a way of sort of relaxing the

atmosphere so that anybody who's in the presence while the sweetgrass is being burned will have a sense of, you know, that it's supposed to instill sort of a peaceful, relaxed mood in all the participants in a gathering. This is an opposition to sage, which is used, the smoke is used to people to bathe themselves with sort of, so you bring the smoke over your body and all. And it has a much stronger, more, a cervix smell. And the sage is supposed to drive away anything problematic or anything that's negative about the way you're feeling at the moment. Whereas the sweetgrass is just supposed to calm, at least in my experience, the entire dynamic of any situation. What a beautiful plant. I feel a little envious that we don't have it here in Kansas. Today on the KPR Presents Book Club, we're discussing

braiding sweetgrass, indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teaching of plants by Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer. It's the KU Common Book for this year, and Dr. Kimmerer will be speaking at KU virtually on November 10th. You can find out more and sign up for that event at hallcenter.ku.edu. My guess on today's KPR Presents Book Club are Dr. Bob Hagen, Dr. Jennifer Moody, Dr. Ray Perotti, and Dr. Dan Wildcat. I'm fascinated with etymology. I always have been and the meaning of words. So I loved the sections of the book where she talks about naming of plants, and also her attempts to learn to speak Potawatomi in your own work. And maybe Bob, you can start this out. How do the names of plants, whether the Latin formal scientific names or the more common folk names that we use, how did those help lead to an understanding of plants and wildlife?

Well, the story I use to explain to students why I want them to learn the names of the plants and the animals that we encounter. It's the difference between attending a party where you know no one there. The experience can be really boring. You don't know what's going on. You don't know anything. Contrast that to a party in which you know at least some of the people. It's just much more interesting because with the name come the stories behind those names and the connections, and you can begin to kind of anchor yourself in a place. Instead of just being surrounded by a mass of anonymous green, you're, I guess, infected by friends or people, you know, plants and animals that you can get to know and who have stories and, you know, fates that our activities influence. Well, one thing that I've always noticed about living around plants is that people tend to not pay as much attention to them as they do to animals. And I think that's

unfortunate. I'm also guilty of that myself because my training is in zoology and animal behavior. But the more time I spend out here in rural Kansas, the more I become familiar with a wide swath of plants. And even though we don't have sweetgrass, we have a great number of plants that were culturally and dietetically and even medicinally significant to a number of people. I mean, we've mentioned eggination. We have probably at least two, and I think possibly three species of echinacea that grow in Kansas. In fact, it's actually considered a semi-commercial crop in some ways, which is unfortunate because people are, because in their, their desire to harvest it and make money from it are destroying some of the populations. But there are a lot of plants. And there is a book that one of my colleagues, Enrique Salmone published recently called Iwagara, in which he talks about the plant and knowledge of the Americas. And it's a wonderful

book for people who are interested in learning more about plants and the plants that are important to native peoples in the Americas to look at. Thoughts about how the Latin names versus the common names, how that influenced the way you think about, about plants and wildlife. Jennifer, I'm assuming that in your work, working specifically with native plants, that that's something that comes up all the time. Yeah, so, and this is something I struggle with is because I tend to think of the scientific names to the point where sometimes I forget what the common names are. And the issue with common names is that often, dissimilar plants can be called the same thing. So for example, cedar is a very good example. So the cedars, the western cedars that Robin talks about are not closely, I mean, they're not the same species, not even the same genus as what we call cedar around here. So yeah, so we have juniperous and that's thooja, right? So they're very different

lineages of plants, but we still call them cedar because they have similar traits, right? They're both very aromatic and they're both ever green. But I don't know that we could do the same things with our cedars that she talks about, the gifts that the western cedars give. I like scientific names. I like the beauty of the Latin names and especially like with sweet grass with odorata, the second part of the name that describes what, you know, describes something about the plant. To me, it's very beautiful, but it can be tricky for students to learn and to wrap your head around what these, you know, what these funny Latinized words are. There was one point where she talked about coming up with her own names for plants, a branch that looks like a wing or strong arms covered with moss. I'm curious if in your own studies and your own research, you've had the same thing that you've come up with kind of your own nickname as it were. Yes, especially for grasses,

like, oh, that's the fuzzy stemmed grass or that's the, you know, feather-like grass. So I certainly do that until I can go back and identify it with the scientific and the given common name versus what I think of it. So yes, I do that. I think probably we all have done that. Dan? Yeah, I just wanted to go back to a theme that everyone has sort of raised in a way that I think's really important. And I think the importance of names is the stories that go along with them. And, you know, Bob started talking about, you know, going to a party where you don't know anyone versus going to a party where you know about your people. It's ultimately all about relationships. And I think one of the problems, so I'll give you my diagnosis of the problem with students learning Latin names. Latin is a dead language. No one walks around and speaks Latin every day. And so it's an obstacle in that sense right there. If you were to take the time to

discuss, you know, what that Latin name means and tie it in, as I think Bob was suggesting you can do, then you're really talking about, you're making some kind of tangible relationship. And I think the thing that comes through in the work of Rage, Interfer, and Bob is that you've really knowledge knowing is about relationship building. And the thing that I think is most powerful in this book is that Robin just sort of lays it out there. We have to build a relationship to learn what the plants will teach us. And that's critical. I mean, if you really think about that deeply, that throws the subjectivist kind of prison we want to put on science and everything really challenges it. And I think in a good way, because there are things

that you begin to appreciate about a place and a community. By the way, these plants live in communities too, don't they? You know, and that's what I love. Making talking about those relationships and not falling into the just kind of Lorna and classification system where you put everything in its perfect place. Well, I want to know about the relationships. And I think that's what's fascinating with indigenous names for plants and animals and features of the world. They're all deeply expressive of relationships. And one of the things that she says that's kind of connected with that is referring to plants and animals not as it, but as them. And she refers to a friend of hers who talks about seeing moose tracks and saying not something was here today, but someone was here today or upon finding a tree, a deer fly in her hat. She says someone's in there rather than

something's in there. And I also really appreciated that her students kind of challenged her on that and said, well, then aren't we anthropomorphizing? How do we draw that line? And how does that get in the way of science or does it? Like, well, it does. Bob, go ahead, go ahead Bob. I think one of the distinction she draws very beautifully in the book is the difference between science as a way of knowing and scientism, the sort of worldview in which that is the exclusive perspective. And so the science is an incredible tool because it basically provides a stable identifying name. It allows us to communicate across communities, human communities and regions and times. But Dan's right, the Latin itself is an alienating sort of language. And often, I have to teach students sort of three names, the genus, the species, and then a common name

to kind of anchor that to it. And it can be a barrier, but as Dan said, if you try this into stories and relationships, that helps make the names less than just a list that you're recording, but rather a picture of a community into place. Well, I think to follow up on what both Dan and Bob were saying is that the Latin names were given by scientists, people, people who identified the plant. And in practically every case, they were working from a specimen, quote unquote, which is no longer alive. And I think that really limits the usefulness of a lot of the Latin names. I know that's true in animals. And it's I'm pretty sure it's all true in plants as well. But the key thing is Dan emphasizes that when you learn the indigenous names for these these beings, which is probably the best way to refer to them, whether they're plants or animals

or anything else, is that the native names are derived from the stories. And when Native people teach their children about a plant, they always tell a story associated with it. And I think that's what Dan was getting at. That's that's true. And I was thinking about let's do a good example. And it's somewhere about halfway through the book. She talks about or maybe it's in the chapter where she talks about this idea of offering, making offerings. And she talks about how one might refer to quote a lake and a lake or a river. And it becomes a thing. And she says in her Potawatomi language that it's not a thing. It's a life that the connotation of that word is that that is a living being. And that just makes such a tremendous shift. And it really does

make a difference whether you see the world as full of resources or you see the world as full of relatives. And I mean, that's that's you just think about that. You know, that's a pretty fundamental world you shift. One of the points I just was going to say about the science itself is that when you're talking about it, you know, if you personify the organisms you study, science tends to come down upon you and tell you you shouldn't be doing that. I've resisted that my entire life because I've always tried to remind editors and reviewers that we are in fact talking about living things that are related to us. And if we can't refer to them and we're using the same nouns, we use the same pronouns we use to refer to each other, we're losing a lot of information. I was just going to say that since reading this book that I've been trying to

refer to plants and animals as somebody as opposed to some things. And I really like the language when she talks about non-human people that once we start thinking about plants and animals and lichens and fungi as non-human people, that does change how we think about our relationships with them. And I think that's the really beautiful message that goes throughout the book is thinking about how we can be in relationship and what our responsibility from those relationships are. And that maybe isn't something that science has an answer for. And that's okay because science is one way of looking at the world. It's not the only way and it's not, can't be applied to everything. So I really like that about that, this book and what I'm trying to apply now into my own thinking about things. And if I sometimes anthropomorphize plants, I'm a little bit more generous with myself when I do that now, because I do. Science is sort of coming back to that. The great

inside of evolution is that we are related. There is not a sharp dividing line between us humans and the rest of the living world and frankly what is non-living as well. And so in some ways the Western tradition that's been so destructive has been built on a falsehood, a idea that there's a sharp bright line between what is us in humans and therefore matters and everything else. And again, evolution says that you share a common ancestry with the carrot you are having for supper. And that is something that speaking to it, regarding them as sort of as beings kind of helps remind us of that deep connection that exists. Yeah, when Dan and I used to teach down at Haskell, one of the things we always emphasize to our students is that whatever you eat is related to you because if it wasn't you wouldn't be able to incorporate it into your body. The parts of when you digest something you're breaking it down and showing that it's made up at the same stuff that you are and that you're taking the stuff

that you eat and turning it into your own flesh and blood. And if you can't think of that in terms of relationships, you're really not thinking very much about what it means to eat, which is why Robin I think makes such a big deal about cooking is that eating is a very, very crucial part of indigenous culture. And it ties really strongly to her description of being a mother and her desire to be a good mother and some of the parallels that she makes between being a good mother and how mother earth provides for us. That was just a beautiful analogy that she makes in in not a heavy-handed way, but in a very poetic way. And I want to throw this out to the chat. Given the fact that she writes this as a mother and speaking of her desire to be a good mother, do you think this would have been a different book? Had it been written by a man? I can only say I don't think the book would have had the same tone. If it had been by written

even by an indigenous man. In a lot of traditions, this is particularly true in North America, the gatherers, the people who held most closely plant knowledge was often the women. The women held that knowledge. And I know Kelly Kinscher told me one time, you know, Kelly Kinscher is our own, you know, ethno-botnist at KU and a marvelous, marvelous when at that. And he told me that, you know, he was worried about the loss of some indigenous plant knowledge, because he said, you know, the women who took me out, you know, across the prairie in South Dakota. And they were all then and they're gone now. And the question is, did that knowledge get passed

down? And we do know, sometimes those knowledges for a number of reasons don't get passed down. But I really do think it definitely has a power of the mother's voice, a woman's voice in this book that I don't think, you know, even an indigenous man had tried to, had talked about the same things. I don't think they would have talked about it in quite the same way. No, I agree. That is one of the things that makes this book very special. And having tried to do the same basic sort of thing that Robin did, but for zoology, I can tell you that my book is very different than hers. It's, I think it's, I like it, but it's not the same book that she wrote. And the reason is a number of you people have pointed

out. Her book is much more personal and much more tied to her role as a homemaker and a, and as a mother. It also matters that she has daughters. Because if she had a son, she would probably have to teach differently. Because one of the key things, and I think Dan just alluded to this is that when you're looking at traditional knowledge is usually there's knowledge that's held by men and there's knowledge that's held by women. And a lot of the gathering knowledge and the plant knowledge is held by women. And it, and throughout the millennia, it's been passed on primarily to daughters. Sons could learn about it if they so chose, but it was primarily what was passed on to daughters. And the fathers or uncles, because you have to keep in mind that in Indigenous cultures that any older relative is a grandmother, a grandmother, or an uncle or an aunt, or even your mother or your father. And anybody of your generation is basically your cousin because

of all this emphasis on relationships that that Dan brought up and that Bob alluded to. That's Dr. Ray Pirati. Before that, we heard from Dr. Daniel Wildcat, Dr. Robert Hagen, and Dr. Jennifer Moody. It's the KPR Presents Book Club held virtually on October 21st, 2021. We're discussing Braiding Sweetgrass by Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer. Braiding Sweetgrass is the KU Common Book for Fall 2021. Dr. Kimmerer will speak at KU virtually on November 10th, sponsored by the Hall Center for the Humanities. You can find out more at hallcenter.ku.edu. I'm Kay McIntyre, our discussion of Braiding Sweetgrass will continue right after this.