The Stories We Tell, with Josué Rivas

Transcript

Alexis Clements  

Hello and welcome back to The Answer is No. I’m your host, Alexis Clements and this week I’ll be talking with photographer, educator and organizer, Josué Rivas.

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If you were following the Standing Rock protests against the Dakota Access Pipeline, particularly in 2016, when the government and privately funded mercenaries violently confronted the protesters, you likely saw at least some of Josué’s moving and intimate images. Of Mexica and Otomi heritage, Josué spent months building relationships across the many indigenous groups who gathered at the protest camps, ultimately collaborating with a number of them to create his award-winning images. 

Josué’s experience at Standing Rock proved to be an important moment of expansion and deepening for his practice. In the years since, he was named a Magnum Foundation Photography and Social Justice Fellow, he co-founded Indigenous Photograph, co-authored the Photo Bill of Rights, and became the curator of Indigenous TikTok, among many other achievements. 

[music]

As has been the case in so many other areas of the arts, the pandemic highlighted pre-existing inequities in the field of photography, particularly around who was getting offered jobs, whose work was being shown incultural institutions, and how people were being paid. As part of an effort to quantify and call attention to these inequities, some of those who went on to author the Photo Bill of Rights put out a visual storytellers survey. Among the many stark results revealed by the survey was the fact that the average salary among over 700 respondents was $25,000 per year. And indigenous and POC photographers were far more likely than others to make less than that. 

Other concerns highlighted by the survey, were things like access to health insurance, whether or not photographers feel safe while on assignment, overall financial insecurity, and the fact that these uncertainties, among others, were contributing to high rates of people considering leaving the profession altogether. 

[music]

So the thing I always like to ask people right at the top, is just to get a sense, when you were a little kid, what you imagined your adult life would actually look like?

Josué Rivas  

I actually did not see myself living to have an adult life, to be honest, when I was a little kid. I think that having a sense of, you know, survival that was turned on very quickly, at age seven, I lived more for the present than to really imagine myself as an adult. And I think that also came from me understanding, you know, the value of making it another day. I, you know, unfortunately had to live on the streets when I was really young. It has been helpful in the way that I see my work, and what I’m doing here on earth is to just remember that, you know, tomorrow’s not really promised. And now I have a little bit more of a sense of ambition in myself. But back then I definitely did not think I was going to make it.

Alexis Clements  

At what point were you making the shift to think about photography or think about the arts as something important to your life?

Josué Rivas  

So I grew up in a household that both my parents were, they would photograph, like, events in our city back in Mexico, in Guanajuato. It was like quinceañeras and baptisms, and, you know, the local celebration for the Virgin Mary. And they would like make prints and things like that. So I grew up actually around, you know, cameras since I’ve known. And there was also a big level of hate, I mean would call it hate, I think that’s probably the only thing that I ever hated was cameras, because my father was heavily addicted to alcohol. So I related cameras to my father.

I went through a ceremony that allowed me to understand, you know, the healing power of a camera. And through that, that’s what became the vehicle for me to in one way heal the relationship with my father, but then also to be able to help others see the power of this healing, you know. And by healing, I don’t mean, you know, some very new-agey type of thing, it’s just more of, I think that by expressing myself through images and through storytelling, and seeing the beauty in those in the, in the shadows of society, I saw myself. I saw, oh, wow, like, I remember when I used to be in the streets, nobody, I think people would look at me in a way that was either as a marginalized person or as a person who fucked up or something like that, you know. So for me, it was like, whenever I would see, like, for example, a lot of houseless folks in my community in Orange County, in California, where I live, and I would see myself in them. And for, in the very, very beginning of me picking up the camera, which is actually my father’s camera that he sent me — it’s a film camera, a little Minolta film camera — and I started just hanging out with houseless, folks, and then really understanding how the image could be useful, not just another photograph of a homeless person.

Alexis Clements  

Can you tell me a little bit more about what you mean by that, that these images could be useful?

Josué Rivas  

One day, when one of the people that I used to photograph, he was heavily, he was really high on something, I don’t know what he was high on. And he started forcing me, in a way, just really like heavily saying, photograph me, photograph me. And then he said, you have to bring these back photos of this, you have to bring prints. So I went, and I, you know, I did them, and I brought him prints. And then he said, he looked at it and he said, I don’t want to be this person anymore. He said, I don’t want to be, you know, this, I don’t want to look like this. And he went on, to move on to, you know, cleaning himself and got a job and a little apartment, and stuff like that. 

But, for me, you know, that hate towards photography, towards cameras, in terms of my father, was also very much linked to this one specific thing. I remember he would always, every time we would go to this little communities that, to be honest, were really poor, he would always, if people didn’t have money to pay for the photographs, for the print, he will give them away for free. And my mom, my mom used to get pissed, because she was like, what do you mean, you’re giving away free, like these are, these are money, we’re going to, we need to eat, you know. But I remember my father always just being giving like that. And then I remember every time we would go back to those communities, we would always be fed. Everybody, everybody would be like, hey, come into our house, there’s, you know, we have some tortillas and some, you know, beans and, you know, some chicken, you know. Let us feed you because that one time, when we did not have any money to maybe buy the only photo that we’ll ever have of this event, you gave it to us for free. So, so that’s, I think, again, just in retrospect, realizing that the camera is a healing tool, is a tool for connection, and is a tool for — as a tool for reconciliation, the process is more important than the actual image, actually.

Alexis Clements  

Did seeing somebody make a living at this help you feel that it was possible for you?

Josué Rivas  

Well, I think it’s a little different. When I think of, for example, with my mom and my dad, even though, you know, we were merchants, you know. My father was, you know, part artist, part merchant, you know. We would photograph things, like, for example, he would photograph, like, this mountain that was like, you know, where the virgin appeared, and then he will put a virgin, like, he would like Photoshop, back when like Photoshop was done in like the film, in the lab, and then he would Photoshop the Virgin and then he would sell little like, you know, little key chains. 

For me, there was a lot of observing that the image was, in fact, the product. Where now I see myself, in my personal practice, no my parent’s practice, I see myself as the image is not the product, the product is healing. I want to make sure that everybody that’s involved in the collaboration of whatever it is that I’m making, it’s honored financially, and at the same time, we’re doing something that is going to help all of us have self awareness and self realization. So, it’s different because with my parents, like, yeah, they would sell, like, physical things. Like, I sell prints, but they are like super limited. It’s the difference between taking something and something being gifted to you.

Alexis Clements  

Aside from watching your parents in their work, how else did you learn about photography and begin to build your skills?

Josué Rivas  

First of all, I dropped out of high school. I actually never liked school. I still don’t like school. I felt that because of my experience living on the streets very young, and also just kind of seeing how a lot of people just bullshit themselves to be honest. Like a lot of people never do what they really want to be doing and they’re just unhappy, you know. And I remember, you know, meeting different characters through my life really, as a young person, that were kind of like archetypes, right? And I started seeing like, wow, like, that person has a dope car and has all these things, but they’re just like grumpy all the time. You know? [laughter] And you’re like, wait, why is that? And then you start you start observing. So I think that for me, when I was in school, it just didn’t work. It just didn’t make sense. It was like, it was like an operating system that didn’t make sense for my operating system, which was like, oh, like, all these people are just gonna, like, pretend they’re learning. 

So when I got my first camera, I didn’t know what the heck I was doing. And I was very free about it. Like, I didn’t pressure myself to say, like, oh, this is the right way to do it. It was more of, are you feeling it or not? I did enroll to a couple classes in a college, like a community college, for photography, in which I learned the basis of film. My teacher, if she’s listening to this, will just laugh. [laughter] You know, I would be like that kid, that was just like, late to class and like, would not pay attention. But then like, I would deliver my work, and they would be like, okay, this is pretty good, so I can’t, I can’t really say anything. [laughter]

I remember one time, you know, in the very beginning, when I start editing photos, she was very much like, your stuff in black and white is really good and the rest, it’s okay. And I was like, alright, thanks. And then I started kind of like realizing that even though school wasn’t a thing for me, that there was a lot of value in learning that way. For some people.

Alexis Clements  

What was it like starting off for you, trying to find gigs as a photographer?

Josué Rivas  

I used to work in a restaurant. I worked in restaurants since I was like 14, you know —washing dishes, bussing tables. The expectation for me, growing up, from my parents, or from my mom, really, was, you know, just to work in a factory or work in a restaurant and, you know, provide for my family and things like that. And I, I adopted that, you know. I didn’t see myself as an artist until later on, when I went to the ceremony, and I, you know, I moved out of the house. And I started kind of exploring a way for me to heal about some of the trauma that I had just gone through, where I almost passed away. So what that meant, it was that, for example, I made a friend who, like, let me borrow this camera. And then I started taking these classes. And then I started applying for scholarships and things like that. 

And I ended up getting an internship at the OC Weekly, in Orange County. And that’s, you know, then I started being able to go into concert photography, and food photography, and all these different things. And that’s when everything really changed, is when I started getting on the road with some of these bands, that I started seeing, like, oh, wow, like, there’s so much more, there’s so much more to life than Orange County. 

Through a lot of that I ended up building this larger community, especially of indigenous communities that I’m now, you know, after years, just being able to, to relate to. Because early on my path as a photographer, as a storyteller, it was something that I just followed. So I guess I didn’t look at it as a career. It was, to me, the journey of telling stories, and me being an artist, mostly it’s just my purpose on Earth. You know, it’s just like, I actually don’t see myself not being in the creative business.

Alexis Clements  

When did you start to get a sense of there being these big disparities in how you and others were being paid for your work? I feel like it’s something that’s not so easy to get a real sense of. People want to keep the prices and the rates secret. They always want to be able to say, look, it’s just a meritocracy, it’s not white supremacy, or misogyny, or anything else, I’m just giving the most money to the most talented person. But we all know that’s a lie.

Josué Rivas  

Somebody literally said to me, what you said. He was just like, oh, we’re not, we’re not picking based on color, we’re just picking based on talent. And I was like, what? Like, you’re telling me that you have not, you can not find one person of color that was talented? Like, that’s not true. 

I’m only 31 years old and I just, I really feel like I’m in the beginning of my career. I think that one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned so far is that abundance, it’s our right. I have learned that, at least personally, that it’s okay and I’m worthy of abundance, and I’m worthy of respect and value because, and again, I don’t want this to sound egotistical, but really what I bring, and what channels through the work that I do, it’s something that nobody could ever pay for. Like, nobody can ever truly give me enough money to take my spirit.

As I work and I do the things that I do with my artwork, I’m putting a piece of my spirit in them. So I learned that, and then you start seeing that, you know, sometimes it’s okay to show up and be like, hey guys, you’re underpaying me and I don’t like it and my spirit is telling me that like this is not cool. So, you know, please pay me well. [laughter] Or like please, please honor the, please honor the rate because, you know, I think of money in terms of energy and if you think my, you know, my energy is valued at a low level, that I don’t value it, then I don’t think we’re going to be able to have a deal there, you know. 

To be honest, it’s like, as a person of color, it’s much harder to be like, hey, pay me well, and not be seen as marginalized, or like, you know. Like, I remember talking to people a year ago, about, like, Black Lives Matter, and, like, hey, it’s kind of fucked up that your team is only, like, one person of color. And like, you have like 20 other people that are mostly men that are not people of color. And they will be like, well, you know, that’s just how it is. And I’m, like, and then I will see those same exact people, it’s so funny to me, it just cracks me up, that I see those same exact people that were like, doing that shit, like, putting that Black Lives Matter flag on their house. And I’m like… And they’re all like, inclusive, you know, we’re inclusive now. It’s almost like, my teacher Fred Ritchin says this all the time, it’s like, we’re driving 100 miles per hour, looking at the rearview mirror. And in this industry, especially in this society, in American society, we’re like, pretty behind on like, some basic shit. Like, land acknowledgments for indigenous peoples, like, you know, being able to make sure that we honor and acknowledge that, you know, that genocide of indigenous peoples, that enslavement of, you know, African folks. And I feel like we’re catching up, but it’s almost like a forced catch up.

Alexis Clements  

How did you get your feet underneath of you around things like, actually, this is what I’m worth, and I really think you should pay me this?

Josué Rivas  

First, I did not start like that. I started by, actually, like losing money. Like with this first internship that I did, the OC Weekly, it was like, I would give up my shift as a server to go and like photograph a band where there was like three people in the audience. And, you know, it was like, really shitty lighting, and it was really bad photographs. And then from there, you know, I would spend money, I would like, eat, blah, blah. So I would end up like losing money that day. 

However, I remember asking this photographer from that same place, from the OC Weekly, if I could come and assist him, you know, like, hey, I want to learn from you. And I remember him just like ignoring me about it. And then I started kind of like learning how much he got paid. Like, he wasn’t getting paid that much, either. You know? 

Like, early on, I saw that, that people really expect free photographs. Like people actually, people don’t understand the value of storytelling. However, I do feel that some of those opportunities with the OC Weekly, were so important, and fundamental to the way that, you know, that I started developing relationships. So I met a lot of artists, I met a lot of musicians. You know, I would, I would ask to go backstage and make a portrait of them, or whatever. And, through that, that’s how I started building a lot of my relationships. So I remember, I sneaked into a music festival. And I pretended to be press and I photographed the whole weekend. I literally, like, you’re just another photographer out of the hundreds that are here. However, there was this moment where the guitarist of the closing band, the band that was closing, he burned his guitar on stage, exactly where Jimi Hendrix burned his guitar. And I was like one of the only photographers that was able to make that image, because I was just there, at the right place at the right time. And then I remember going straight to, to the hotel room, and grabbing my computer, and then going to the Starbucks that was close, like in this shopping center, to get some WiFi, and I edited it and I sent it on Instagram to this band. And they posted it. And after they posted that, like everybody in the festival, like, was following me and like looking at my work

The reason why I share this is because I think that the wave of the future of photography, especially like storytelling, with like people that are not getting paid that much, it’s gonna be a lot of people, like extremely saturated, and you have to stand out enough, to yourself, like, that you have to push yourself enough to learn your value. Because I see like people that are, you know, just doing all this cool stuff, but like, but they’re like not getting paid, you know. And even like, you know, for mainstream publications, where it’s like, oh, I I get to photograph for the New York Times. I’m like, that’s awesome, but, you do know they’re gonna pay you only this much, right? And you also have to share the rights? And I think that people are willing to do things because they want to get a recognition. And I think that early on, I realized that if you do that, people are not going to respect you. Like people are actually gonna walk over you. And then at some point you’re just going to normalize it and think that is, that is how it is. Oh, you know, they want to take half of my rights, oh that’s just, that’s just the contract. It’s like, no, well, you can actually, we can restructure their contract. Like if you really, really want to work with me, then let’s figure out a different way to make sure this contract is fair.

Alexis Clements  

I feel like that’s a great point to transition to some of your organizing work. And I’d love to start that conversation by asking you a little bit about your experience at Standing Rock during the Dakota Access Pipeline protests. As I understand it, someone close to you invited you up there, and you were thinking you’d stay for a little while and then go home. But you ended up staying for seven months. Can you tell me a little bit about why you decided to stay?

Josué Rivas  

Yeah, I think that for Standing Rock, my experience there as a, as a storyteller, especially as an indigenous storyteller, you know, oftentimes, when I talk about this specific theme, it’s more difficult for me to talk about it, then it would be for somebody that I just went there for, like, a couple, you know, a couple days or something like that. Because when you’re photographing and you’re telling the story from the inside out, there is a level of accountability that you need to have to the community. And I think that what I learned the most from Standing Rock and documenting, and being present on the frontlines of, you know, of telling the story, is that, 1) that everybody had their own experience, and that that’s okay. You know, there were, there were people that went for a weekend and that’s all they had in their bandwidth. And they did what they needed to do. And there’s some people that invested themselves a little more. 

And I think that also on the storytelling side, in my own personal experience of how I develop, and how I like, how I started seeing photography differently, because once you’re shown what it could be like, then you don’t want to return, you know. If you shape reality by the stories we tell ourselves and the stories that we told on a consistent basis, then who is shaping that reality? Then you start looking back into, you know, retrospectively, about the work that has been done, especially about indigenous peoples, and then you start seeing, wait, hold on, how come we did not get a chance to tell our own story? Like, instead of being, instead of being put in the, you know, as a subject, why didn’t we get the teachings of how to make a photograph, so that we can do it for ourselves? And I think that, that’s what I learned at Standing Rock, is that, so there’s, you know, all these visions, and really dreams and hopes of what the future could look like for indigenous storytellers.

Alexis Clements  

That is such an important point. I know I encounter that in my filmmaking, this question of how to give the people who are part of our work, who are the subject of the work, a role in creating and shaping the work.

Josué Rivas  

First, that’s the foundation of how I want to do work moving forward — it’s like collaboration, as much as possible. And that will probably affect a lot of the work that I make, which a lot of it sometimes is very photojournalistic and, you know, fly on the wall, especially a lot of protest, social justice stuff. But even then, there’s a level of collaboration that often happens, just like it happened with Black Lives Matter here in Portland. I was, I was able to show up every day, just kind of keep my mouth shut, and just like, listen. And if I want to be here every day, then what am I bringing to this? So then at that moment, that’s when I decided, okay, I’m not going to take any assignments, I’m not going to come out here and photograph for an outlet, I’m going to make the images for the people that are out here every day. And I’m going to start building those relationships. 

And I think that, that is important in the sense that, you know, even up until this morning, when I’m photographing this, this friend that I’m doing a project with over FaceTime. I mean, there was so much collaboration involved — everything from making sure your settings are right on your phone to, you know, making sure that you clean your space before, you know, we photograph the session, to how do you want to be represented? Do you want to have your traditional regalia? Do you want to have like regular clothes? And I think that that’s important. We need to start thinking in terms of what are the things that are shaping our reality? I think that’s the future, and we haven’t realized it fully because we’re still holding on to that like patriarchal, like Western mindset that says, in order for you to have value you need to take from something else. 

And it’s an interesting thing because, you know, when you say no, for example, like, in an industry that that expects you beg to be accepted, like, I remember before this Black Lives Matter movement came into fruition, people were so not ready to talk about these things. And then you would bring it up and then you would be looked at as, oh, like that person that’s making noise, you know. And they came to realize, uh, wait, hold on, like, they were just doing like some basic, like, just basic manners of humanity. You know, it’s like, if you’re telling the story about an indigenous man, can there please be an indigenous men in the production that is informing the process? 

I think that what happens is we’re going in, we’re going in a transition that is going to require us to unlearn and to, not even erase, but to update the programming that we’ve been programmed with. You have to be the bridge to make sure that you’re protecting the people that you’re making images with. And also, I ask myself this question, every single time I do anything: it’s, who are you making this for? Who is at the forefront of why you’re making this? And who’s going to benefit from this long term? And is it doing something to advance social change? Like, if you want me to do your commercial for McDonald’s, you know, and put indigenous peoples in there, and then we start seeing that, like, indigenous kids start eating more McDonald’s, and then they get diabetes, I’m not down for that. [laughter] 

Like, it’s really interesting the moment that we’re living in, because we’re never going to have this moment, again, where the indigenous narrative is like starting to, starting to come up in a way that I feel like in six months, hopefully less, there will be a point where all of a sudden, everyone around the country and around the world is will start understanding what, you know, what has happened to indigenous peoples, and also how indigenous peoples are alive. Like, there’s people that think that indigenous peoples are gone. They’re just like, oh, yeah, you’re a Native American? Like, okay, great. Like, I didn’t know you still existed. 

Alexis Clements  

Yeah, I think some of the powerful images that have come out of the past few years for me, as somebody who’s an outsider to that culture, is that reminder that that resistance has been going on for hundreds of years. And thinking about that legacy and the lessons that can be learned from the many different people who’ve survived attempts to erase them. I think it’s a really moving point that’s been made to me in ways over the past few years that I hadn’t heard it as a younger person.

Josué Rivas  

Yeah, I mean, the truth is, my friend says it very well, is that indigenous peoples are post-apocalyptic people. We already went through the apocalypse that we were facing. You know what I’m saying? So then you start thinking about the fact that, how did these post-apocalyptic folks still thrive in a society that up until 1978 — I cannot believe this up until 1978 — you cannot perform any, they call it religious, but it was just like spiritual ceremonies, because it was illegal in the United States. And then you start expanding your understanding that this system, that colonized a lot of our relations throughout the world, continues to colonize us, it just happens to be that now, you know, the colonization is happening through your phone, you know. So they’re not just mining like your resources in the land, but now they’re mining deep down inside your insecurities and fears. 

When I think about myself as an artist, and when somebody reaches out to me and says, hey, do you want to do this thing, the first thing that comes to my mind is, somebody else was getting paid a lot, probably a lot more than they’re gonna offer me to do this. And I’m gonna ask them politely to double it or triple it. Because I know that a lot of the times when, especially big corporations, come to you, you know, they’re trying to save money, you know. [laughter] They’re not thinking, oh, we’re here to truly benefit you, they come to you because they want something out of you. I think that people in, especially in the media industry need to understand that it’s, it’s time to make radical changes.

Alexis Clements  

Since 2017, you’ve been part of a few collective organizing efforts for image makers and visual storytellers. I know in 2018 you co-founded Natives Photograph, now called Indigenous Photograph, and more recently you were a co-author of the Photo Bill of Rights. What drove you to participate in these collective organizing efforts?

Josué Rivas  

In 2017, I remember being chosen to be the Magnum Fellow for Social Justice in photography. It was a pivotal moment, because not only did Magnum Foundation expose me to a lot of like media outlets and you know photo editors and you know, gave me a really a first glance of what that whole world looks like, because I had no idea before that. You know, before that I was not really considered by a lot of people probably even a photojouranlist, you know. 

As far as the philosophy and the approach that Magnum Foundation gave me, they implanted in me this great sense of thinking about the future. I started seeing how when you went to see a photo editor, you know, you walk into the big rooms of like these big corporations and you see like no people of color, you’re just like what the heck? Like one over there, kind of one over here, never at the top, never, you know, the executive, this executive that. So then I started saying okay, hold on. this is super messed up. And then you, like, literally see no indigenous peoples, even though the majority of us are living on the lands of other peoples that were here before us. 

So then, when that happened, I started thinking, well, first, I was really upset, you know. You get angry, right? You’re like, oh, man, there’s so much stuff, they don’t have that and… You know, you start getting frustrated. And then I went through this process of really trying my best to talk about it, but it wasn’t coming out right. It wasn’t coming out in the right way. And then I met Daniella Zalcman, you know, she’s the founder of Women Photograph, which is an amazing collective — it’s all over the world; it’s a remarkable collective. And then, you know, she started, also, she’s also passionate about these things. And she has worked with indigenous communities before, through her work. And I don’t know, there was just something there that was like a lot of chemistry, and also a lot of like, I stand with you, and she really helped co-founder this. Now we have two other co-founders, Tailyr Irvine, who is an amazing photographer, and also Brian Adams, who is a photographer up in Alaska. 

And the reason, the why of why did you start this, or why did you get into these other things, like the Photo Bill of Rights — it’s because, if they don’t have a table that is inclusive and that has a seat for you in an equal way, then you have to make your own table. A lot of it, it’s understanding the future, but also understanding that nobody is going to do it for you, unless you get up and do it. And then also, that as the opportunities come, as this larger weaving that you’re doing, collectively, with everybody else, starts to grow, then there’ll be a point where, for example, you have to say no, right? You have to say, hey, that’s great that you want to do that project, and I feel like I’m worth a little bit more than that. 

We need to bring balance to this industry. We need to bring way more photographers that are telling their own stories. And then, oh yeah, that’s great that you are doing all that, but I have, you know, the cover of Time magazine with President Biden, oh, let’s let’s have an indigenous photographer do that. Because they always stop right there. You know, they’re like, oh, yeah, this is great, but then you get like the big gigs and it’s like, really, the same person?

Alexis Clements  

What do you think are some of the things that stand in the way of people saying no?

Josué Rivas  

Sometimes we don’t love ourselves enough to say, you know what, that’s actually, that doesn’t work for me, or I’m gonna pass on that. Like, we’ve been taught to be, like, obedient and feel guilty and feel fearful, like, oh, my god, if I say no to the opportunity… Like, it just happened to me last week, where somebody is, like, we want to do this big documentary series, this and that, and I was really excited about it. And then they’re like, hey, like, it didn’t work out like, da, da, da, da, da. And I was like, that’s cool. It doesn’t mean that the world’s gonna end if I don’t do that, and maybe it wasn’t a good fit for that. And then you move on, right? You create space. So a lot of it, I think, is about loving ourselves, being honest with ourselves and creating a paradigm for ourselves to, to have compassion towards us. Because a lot of the times when we say yes to things, and we actually are getting paid nothing or not that much, it’s because we’re not being compassionate for ourselves.

Alexis Clements  

And then what about saying yes? What projects are you really excited about right now?

Josué Rivas  

Yeah, I think the one big project, and it’s really thinking about this philosophy of indigenous futurism, is Indigenous TikTok. I think that what I’m noticing with this, you know, these platforms like TikTok, where they’re making, they’re making platforms where people can tell their own story. But there’s still a lot of limitations to the way that that is, and that is because of the algorithms that I think are used. But there is a way, which, that’s kind of what I’m trying to figure out, with this Indigenous TikTok project, is to create a curated version of Indigenous TikTok, and then present that not only for people, you know, on Instagram, on TikTok, to understand and educate themselves about indigenous issues, but also for, specifically for high school students. And for students in like, even in junior high, where, instead of saying, hey, it’s Native American Heritage Month, we’re gonna learn about Native Americans, go read this book, and then the kids never read it. Or go watch this movie that’s like, super old and nobody cares about. Then instead of doing that, you say, go and spend an hour on Indigenous TikTok, and give me a report on, you know, what was the most impactful one? What was the one that surprised you the most? 

Because the truth is, like, we’ve been programmed to believe that indigenous peoples are non-existent. And the truth is, that like, I mean, just look at Indigenous TikTok for like an hour, and you’ll be like, wow, there’s so much that I don’t know about this. And people are willing to share and, and to, you know, create content and tell their story, not only so that they can get likes and follows, but a lot of them are sharing, you know, there was this woman who was sharing like her story about addiction. And just like I was addicted, and like, I’m sorry that it hurts so many people and she, publicly saying, like, I have a big platform, and this is also part of me, it’s not just the cool regalia, you know, dancing. It’s like there’s also the side of me that you know, sometimes we say, we love the food but we don’t love the people, you know what I’m saying? So like, so like you gotta love the whole thing, you know. [laughter] And Indigenous TikTok does that, where you start seeing, oh wow, like people are complex and like indigenous people go to the dentist too, like, just like me. [laughter] Oh, what a surprise? 

I don’t know, I just think it’s funny that like, it’s we’ve really, really been programmed to think that like other people are different than us and we’re not. We all remember like the original dream, I think, and that’s embedded within all of us, is this, you know, this connection. And I think that’s a goal with a lot of the work that I do is to, for us to like bring us back to a place where we can remember.

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Alexis Clements  

Links to Josué’s website, to Indigenous Photograph, and so much more that was mentioned in this episode can all be found in the show notes on our website, theanswerisnoshow.com

And we want to hear your stories of saying no to bad gigs, whether on your own or as part of a collective effort. You can email us or record a voice memo and send it to theanswerisnoshow AT gmail DOT com You can also find us on Facebook and Instagram at theanswerisnoshow. 

If you have a spare minute, please rate and review us on iTunes, Spotify or your favorite podcast apps and share links with anyone you think might be interested in these episodes. 

Thanks so much to today’s guest, Josué Rivas and to Ali Cotterill, our co-producer and editor.

And remember, collectively saying no to bad gigs can help us all get to a better yes.

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