Chris La Tray transforms a routine monthly update into a profound meditation on Indigenous resilience, community economics, and the quiet rebellion of maintaining culture in a world that often tries to erase it. Rather than offering a standard digest of events, La Tray frames the holiday season not as a time of passive consumption, but as an active site of economic solidarity and linguistic preservation.
The Economics of Survival
La Tray begins by dismantling the traditional narrative of Thanksgiving, rejecting the "bullshit narrative" that often obscures the historical reality of colonization. He points readers toward Rebecca Nagle's work as a necessary corrective, noting that for many, the holiday is simply "a day to eat and chill" rather than a celebration of a mythologized past. This reframing is crucial; it strips away the performative gratitude often demanded of Indigenous peoples and centers the immediate, lived experience of family and survival.
The commentary shifts quickly to the precarious nature of artistic livelihoods, where the holiday shopping season becomes a matter of life and death for small creators. La Tray highlights a stark statistic from an American Express survey: "small business owners estimate that Small Business Saturday sales will be responsible for 20% of their annual revenue." He argues that for many artists, this figure is an understatement, describing the period as a "consequential, make-or-break time for most small businesses, artists, and creatives dependent on retail as a part of their livelihood."
This focus on the micro-economy of the arts serves as a counter-narrative to the corporate frenzy of Black Friday and Cyber Monday. La Tray urges readers to support local, independent creators, specifically mentioning the work of Anna Brones and Brendan Leonard. He champions a specific, locally printed t-shirt as a symbol of this resistance: "This isn't some mega-produced bullshit either; it's a full color silkscreen from a local artist printed locally at a Missoula screenprinting outfit."
"I look forward to the day when copious buffalo trampled the rotting hulks of tens of thousands of police cars!"
This vivid, almost surreal imagery serves as a powerful metaphor for the displacement of state violence by Indigenous presence and natural order. While some might view this as hyperbole, it effectively captures the deep frustration with systemic oppression while offering a vision of a future where Indigenous sovereignty is restored. It is a reminder that for many, the struggle is not just for economic survival, but for the very right to exist on their own terms.
Language, Land, and the Power of Place
Beyond economics, La Tray weaves a thread of linguistic and cultural revitalization throughout the piece. He recounts a recent trip to the University of Minnesota, where he was introduced to the Midwest Indigenous Immersion Network (MIIN) and their language app. He notes that the Ojibwe People's Dictionary, a vital resource, is hosted there. This detail is not merely a travelogue; it underscores the critical role of academic institutions in preserving endangered languages, a theme that resonates with the historical struggle of the Métis people to maintain their distinct identity against assimilation.
La Tray also reflects on a panel discussion he participated in at the Mississippi Book Festival, held in the old supreme court chamber. He describes the setting as "very representative of the grandiose power dynamic of such a place" and found it "unsettling and a little disturbing." This observation highlights the tension between Indigenous voices and the institutions that have historically sought to silence them. The fact that the discussion was filmed by CSPAN and is now available online adds a layer of accessibility and permanence to these conversations, ensuring they reach a wider audience.
He connects this to the broader context of Indigenous storytelling, mentioning his enjoyment of the film Trudell over the more traditional The Last of the Mohicans this Thanksgiving. This choice is significant; while The Last of the Mohicans (1992) often romanticizes the colonial encounter, Trudell offers a raw, unfiltered look at the life of a Native American activist and poet. La Tray's preference signals a commitment to authentic representation over Hollywood fantasy.
The Sound of Resistance
The piece concludes with a celebration of cultural expression through music, a medium that has long been a vehicle for Indigenous resistance. La Tray shares an anecdote about joining his child's band, Swamp Ritual, to sing "God of Thunder" in honor of the late Ace Frehley. He then announces two upcoming shows for his own band, American Falcon, describing their sound as "loud and unrelenting." He notes that the last time they played a specific venue, "the breakers couldn't handle our raw power."
This description of raw, uncontainable power serves as a fitting metaphor for the enduring spirit of Indigenous cultures. Despite centuries of attempts to suppress their languages, traditions, and voices, these cultures continue to thrive, adapt, and roar. The inclusion of rock music in this context challenges the stereotype of Indigenous people as relics of the past, positioning them instead as dynamic, contemporary forces shaping the present and future.
Critics might argue that focusing on individual acts of resistance, such as buying local art or attending a rock show, distracts from the need for large-scale policy changes. However, La Tray's argument suggests that these small, daily acts of solidarity are the foundation upon which larger movements are built. They create the economic and social infrastructure necessary for survival in a hostile environment.
Bottom Line
Chris La Tray's piece is a masterclass in weaving personal narrative with broader social critique, demonstrating that the fight for Indigenous sovereignty is fought as much in the marketplace and the recording studio as it is in the courtroom. The strongest element is its refusal to separate cultural preservation from economic justice, showing that one cannot exist without the other. The biggest vulnerability lies in its reliance on individual consumer choices to drive systemic change, a strategy that, while necessary, may not be sufficient on its own. Readers should watch for how these grassroots efforts evolve into broader political movements in the coming year.