təm kʷaθ nan Namesake
(Canada, 76 min.)
Dir. Evan Adams, Eileen Francis
Prod. Peg Campbell
Program: Canadian Spectrum Competition (World premiere)
In British Columbia’s Tla’amin Nation, a name is more than something one is called by. It is language that is intertwined with the land, connects one with the ancestors, governs when to harvest, and more. Given the importance and weight that titles carry, one can understand the deep hurt that the Tla’amin community has with the city of Powell River’s name in Evan Adams and Eileen Francis’ riveting documentary təm kʷaθ nan Namesake.
Named after Israel Wood Powell, one of the architects of residential schools in the region and the ban on the Potlatch, which striped the Tla’amin of their ceremonial practices, the city’s name is an open wound that has not been allowed to heal.
Attempting to address the symbol of the devastating generation-spanning abuse and segregation that colonialism brought on their people, the Tla’amin Nation, in an act of communal healing for the region, made the request in 2021 to have the city change its name. Understanding that change can be difficult for all involved, they worked closely with non-Indigenous members of the city to form a joint working group, which would provide recommendations and parameters for the proposal to city council. The fact that there had already been precedent for such a change made their request a small ask in the grand scheme of things, but also an important one.
Once an economic force and symbol of prosperity, at least for the predominantly white residents, due to its now defunct paper mill, the community had no qualms with renaming the Powell River Regional District to Qathet Regional District in 2018, a change that was sparked by the fact that the city and the district shared the same name. Officials even consulted Indigenous leaders for suggestions for the new name. However, a mere eight years later, the idea of renaming the city itself is a bridge too far for some to cross.
Taking viewers beyond the walls of contentious city meetings, and online misinformation campaigns, təm kʷaθ nan Namesake is a thought-provoking meditation on what it means to truly reckon with one’s past. Adams and Francis’ documentary shows that reconciliation without action is merely hollow words. The story may focus on the Qathet district, but one could easily transport the film to any community in Canada where the proposal to rename places, landmarks, streets, and institutions have sparked heated debates.
Skillfully dismantling the rhetoric that many use as a protective shield, Adams and Francis expose how the resistance to the name has little to do with history and everything to do with power. As Canadian historian Sean Carleton notes in the film, those who benefitted from colonialism often used the practice of renaming as a way to legitimize their power. It was a way to “allow them to see themselves in a land that wasn’t theirs.” Decades later, their descendants don’t give any thought to the names of the places they inhabit. When they do, they just assume the sanitized history they were taught as fact. The strategic tactics they take to rally support and get councillors to delay taking a vote, as if the issue will go away if they ignore it long enough, only further highlight this sentiment.
One of the fascinating things about the film is that in observing the resistance that certain locals have, and the way their movement quickly erodes into residential school denialism, is that their own arguments expose their hypocrisy. They argue that Powell’s history should not be erased because they feel he did good in the community, while simultaneously telling the Tla’amin to leave the past in the past and move on. As the audience observes in the documentary, at no point do the members of the Tla’amin Nation ever ask for Powell’s name to be removed from all the history books. In fact, they want nothing more than for the city residents to learn about the real history of the region.
It’s a history in which the Indigenous communities were decimated by the diseases that settlers brought with them. One where the Tla’amin were kicked out of their homes so that their land could be illegally sold for the construction of a mill. Not to mention the generation of individuals who are still reeling from being ripped from their parents’ arms and placed in schools designed to strip them of their culture and language.
As Adams and Francis’ documentary notes, when observing an immersion program designed to teach Tla’amin youth the importance of their language and historical practices, rebuilding everything that colonialism tore down in an ongoing and exhausting process.
Bringing audiences into these cultural lessons via the effective uses animation to visualize Tla’amin oral storytelling, the directors construct a captivating and insightful work. Capturing all sides of the debate through interviews with members of both the Tla’amin and the wider community, as well as archival footage, the documentary is a reminder that change is rarely comfortable, but a necessary part of growth.
A vital and impactful conversation starter, təm kʷaθ nan Namesake is an enthralling look at how the past and present impact our ability to move forward on the land together.
