In 2013, Labrador Inuk journalist Ossie Michelin photographed Indigenous activist Amanda Polchies kneeling in prayer, eagle feather in hand, before a line of Royal Canadian Mounted Police in riot gear.
A decade later, Michelin returned to New Brunswick to film a documentary on the clash that generated this iconic image of Indigenous resistance. This National Film Board of Canada production, titled Feather Fall, centres on the women and warriors who stood on the frontlines of a historic standoff.
The film opens to grainy documentary footage of the anti-fracking protests near Elsipogtog First Nation. The circumstances are these: Texas-based petroleum company SWN Resources sought to expand the shale gas industry into New Brunswick. The local Mi’kmaq community feared that hydraulic fracturing, or fracking, would contaminate their land and groundwater. First Nations community members erected blockades and encampments to prevent SWN trucks from entering the area.
After repeated confrontations with community members, SWN parked all their vehicles in a large lot with only one exit and entrance. Predictably, protestors built a barricade around the parking lot. On October 17, 2013, police raided the peaceful protest, armed with tear gas, pepper spray and rubber bullets. Amid this turbulence, Polchies got on her knees and held out an eagle feather to a row of armed officers.
Michelin, a TV reporter, took a photograph of this stand-off, which went viral around the world. The image has been featured in textbooks, magazines, newspapers, memes, artwork, and even on Halloween pumpkin carvings. Polchies has said that to her, the image is a “whisp of hope.” A reminder that people can stand up for what is right, despite the odds.
Michelin explained in an interview that a central focus of his documentary was the “quiet power of Indigenous women.” He went on to say that women featured “front and centre” in the movement’s leadership.
The filmmaker recalls grandmothers strategizing about keeping the peace and preventing people from getting hurt. Female activists sustained the protests, prepared food, barred guns and alcohol from the camps, and maintained safe environments for families. Though Michelin qualified that the protestors were “not passive,” he spoke highly of their commitment to peaceful methods, in contrast to the approach by the RCMP.
This theme of peaceful resistance is exemplified in the photo of Polchies, which lacks the machismo of the famous stand-off image from the 1990 Oka Crisis. While images of aggressive clashes typically attract media attention, the anti-fracking protest photo highlights the contrast between the officers and the Elsipogtog activists. Michelin observed that while the female leadership discouraged violence, “they’re the glue and they’re the backbone that holds this all together.”
In the film, Michelin’s narration recounts how the Aboriginal People’s Television Network sent him to report on an initial confrontation that ballooned into a six-month-long battle. With such extensive exposure to the protestors, Michelin was able to get to know people, win trust, “sit around the fire,” and report from a uniquely Indigenous perspective.
Michelin recalled that in the evenings, when the police left, people were “reconnecting to their culture, forming community, and thinking about their ancestors.” He credits this period for helping him forge relationships with people he remained in contact with for the following 10 years – many of whom featured in Feather Fall. As for Polchiesà, Michelin said they are “connected for life through this photo.”
Compared to the present day, the internet of 2013 was a different era, where virality was a new phenomenon. Michelin says that Indigenous activists of the time were taking to social media. He mentioned getting 15,000 followers on Twitter while covering the protests. Common practices of today, such as using live posting to keep the authorities accountable, were in part popularized by the Elsipogtog activists. Michelin recalls that while the RCMP had no social media strategy at the time, First Nations supporters used social media to save the anti-fracking movement from going “out of sight, out of mind.”
For a decade, Michelin’s photos and records of this time sat on a hard drive. He explained that neither he nor the subjects felt ready to speak about the protests. Though the community ultimately won the fight and even established a moratorium against fracking, the trauma of the conflict lingered.
In the film, interviewees referenced losing their innocence or experiencing panic attacks around RCMP vehicles. However, by the time of the 10th anniversary of the protests, Michelin felt that circumstances had “settled.” In his words, the “healing journey” had progressed to the point where he and the subjects were prepared to reflect on the past and celebrate their victories.
Opening with archival footage of the protests, fuzzy television video switches into crisp, present-day B-roll of freshwater springs. Meditative music interlaces with ambient noises of trees and streams, as the camera swoops and pans across the idyllic landscape. Human subjects appear, speaking about their intimate relationship with this land: how it provides them with sustenance, water, and medicine. How it evokes memories of family gatherings, or childhoods spent playing in the wild. How they aspire to share their connection with the land with their own children.
The multigenerational nature of this struggle is a theme in Feather Fall. During the protests, parents, grandparents, children and grandchildren fought together to preserve their land, community and culture. Adults led by example; children learned activism through watching the previous generation. In turn, Elders showed pride and support for their children who carried on with the fight. Michelin says that “nobody wants their children to have to fight something like this,” but nonetheless credits the protests for forging a deep sense of connection between family members.
After presenting an overview of the impact of fracking, the film returns to romantic B-roll of New Brunswick in the autumn. These drone shots take on an ominous undertone, with the uneasy feeling that this nature is at risk of being lost.
Michelin recalled how the trees carried gorgeous fall foliage. He instructed his crew, “Film every leaf! Get all the beauty shots of every leaf!” The day after filming, the wind stripped the trees bare.
Feather Fall is free to watch on the NFB website, which also offers a French version. Viewers outside of Canada can view it on the NFB YouTube channel.