First Nations fancy dancer Ernie Philip finds joy in dancing – a joy that is encapsulated in Dancing Bear, a documentary on his life from Canadian filmmaker Ben Ged Low.
Philip’s ability and gentle sense of humour have brought joy to many. A member of the Little Shuswap Indian Band, Philip has danced across the world, before queens and other heads of state at their invitation.
He has presented and performed for schools, powwows, festivals, conventions and exhibitions.
The Aboriginal Tourism Association of BC honoured him with their Ambassador Award in 2008 and Okanagan College recognized him as an honorary fellow in 2013 for his contribution and leadership in cultural awareness.
There is much to take pride in. But there is a darkness inside that still overwhelms him.
The dancing that has earned the Secwepemc elder more than 130 awards at powwows was learned as a youngster behind the tightly closed curtains of his grandfather’s house.
The harsh reality was that what Philip was doing to honour and celebrate his rich cultural heritage, was outlawed by church and government, just as it was at the residential school he was forced to attend in Kamloops.
While Philip can keep the memories at bay for months at a time, the power of the brutal treatment he and thousands of other First Nations people endured surfaces, and with them come the tears.
“Just the thought, the punishment, the hurt, the slaps, the punching, the work,” he says quietly. “They made you work at 5 in the morning, at 6 milk cows, then go to church.
“We never got to see our parents, not until summertime when we went home in June, but our parents used to work all the time at farms.”
Philip says that sometimes the tears come unexpectedly while he’s driving. Sometimes he stops to cry.
“I don’t know how my people can do it; it was hard all the time,” he says, pointing out the rage at the treatment First Nations people received may be buried, deep, but is still lurking. “There’s so many little things to deal with. We don’t even get to first base – like residential school – we suffered for that.”
First Nations people also suffered through the loss of their land and their way of life.
“We were free, we lived on the land and celebrated, we had plenty of food,” he says. “Now my people don’t know how to survive; they’re hungry, in pain and it’s sad. Our whole way of life was torn apart.”
Philip says First Nations people deserve to receive a settlement for all their suffering, even if it is a token offering.
“I don’t care if it’s 50 bucks, 25, at least something,” he says. “If it happened to another race of people they would sue for millions, but not for natives.”
As to the success of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Philip says that will depend on the country’s leaders.
A gentle and gracious man with a generous sense of humour, the 84-year-old always finds solace in his dancing.
“I put on the regalia and it takes away from the pain because people are smiling. It’s a good feeling, like we’ll say the way my forefathers were – happy and content.”
Philip bemoans the fact his people have been unable to go back to their traditional ways and is saddened by the fact many non-natives have a get-over-it attitude to what Canada’s aboriginals have suffered.
“The non-natives, they don’t see too much. They think talking about it is a harmful thing, but the best thing is for them to understand,” he says, noting painful barriers remain between natives and non-natives. “Once you start understanding what happened, it would be better.”
Philip is getting some help with that through Dancing Bear. Shown recently at Okanagan College, the feature-length film began as a cross-cultural attempt to understand the idea of truth and reconciliation in response to the residential school legacy.
“It juxtaposes the grey desolate and often brutal life of residential schools and the vibrant world of powwows and drumming groups and the power of community celebration, dancing and laughter; it is a portal into what was, what is, and what can be – and a dedication to the universal Creator,” reads a press release issued by University of British Columbia Okanagan, who also showed the film.
Philip, who was given the name Dancing Bear by members of the Sioux and Blackfoot nations, calls the film powerful.
“I was just minding my own business, it just came about,” he says of becoming the subject of the film.
Firmly settled in Gleneden, Philip looks back to his youth, a time when he could pick up and go, a time when he travelled thousands of miles on the rodeo or powwow circuit.
Sadly, he believes that although he had to work “triple times harder” than non-natives in his jobs in B.C. mines, forestry and on the railroad, it is harder for his children.
“It’s a tough life out there, they have to work all the time to prove themselves to be accepted,” he says, noting he began his railroad career at the age of 17. “I had worked all my life and it was better because I was accepted.”
At the thought of his beloved dancing, Philip brightens.
“I tell people, even if you lost part of your heritage, have pride in your identity,” he says. “I put on the beadwork – my identity. That’s really important, the dancing joy and respect. Nobody could take it away and that’s how I feel, the pride and joy.”
