Eekwol
Born: Lindsey Knight
Affiliation: Muskoday First Nation (Cree-Saulteaux peoples)
Growing up in Saskatchewan on the Muskoday First Nation
reservation, Lindsey Knight (a.k.a Eekwol) started her hip hop career at the age
16 and had released her first album, self-titled Eekwol, by 1998. Eekwol experienced tough times growing up on the
reservation, but found support in her family. Eekwol and her brother both found
music to be an outlet in a difficult environment. Eekwol and her brother, who
goes by the moniker Mills, were both drawn to hip hop for the same reason most
Natives are: “It’s a relatable genre because a lot of the people who are doing
hip hop are in the same sort of struggle,” Knight says, “Whether or not they recognize
it, or are doing anything to change it.”
Knight
feels a strong connection between the traditional narratives of Native peoples
and hip hop. “In the back of my mind […] our ancestral history runs through our
blood and our spirits,” Knight claims, “and I think that a lot of the times, youth
relate to that kind of storytelling [in hip hop] because of our storytelling
traditions.” While a lot of hip hop can be negative, Knight is able to buck the
trend by keeping her words positive and empowering. “It’s a really good medium
to share your story,” Lindsey says.
When first branding herself, Knight chose the moniker
‘Lowkee’ as her graffiti tag. When she discovered another female was tagging
with the name ‘Loki’, Knight ingeniously spelled Lowkee backs…and Eekwol was
born. While Knight is done with “hitting up less than average graff,” as she
puts it, Eekwol as a hip hop name represents totally equality in the game. “I’m
talking gender, cultural background, etc.,” Knight says, “I don’t want to be
categorized because I’m a female or Aboriginal, I wanna be recognized for my
dedication, talent and love for this hip hop art.” In other words, Knight wants
Eekwolity.
The main
message Eekwol is hoping to get across to her audience is “to live life the
best way you know how and to not be afraid to think and be critical.” In a
society that forces compliance and conformity upon Native peoples, her point
cannot be overemphasized. In reference to the problems on the reservation,
Eekwol comments: “It has become so complicated because people are divided
spiritually (Christian vs. Traditional), economically (band system, dependency
on government money) and socially (drunk, non-drinkers).”
Knight feels that the loss of
culture has changed Native youth’s values. “What was once important to many
Native people has changed. Residential schools play a huge part in this.”
Knight continues: “I guess I wish more people on the rez could educate
themselves on the history and traditional ways of the past to gain a better
understanding of where they stand.” Knight feels that people are becoming too
corrupt and materialistic. “I just get so mad when everyone gets jealous at
‘councilor Joe’s’ new Ford F150 when, in reality, it’s bought by government
money siphoned outta some other area of funding.” Eekwol’s song Too Sick, she identifies with struggling
Natives, with the haunting chorus of “Too sick to stop this cycle/ Hammer this
nail in to my head/ Living in the cost/ Of a culture lost /Some say I’m better
off dead.”
In Look East, Eekwol repeats a chorus of: “Look to the East where the night meets the day/ Ay ya Hey, hear the old ones say/ ‘Bring back the will and reason to fight’/ ‘Protect us and we’ll make this right,’” meaning that in reviving the old culture Native people can progress further. With conviction in her voice Eekwol looks to the future: “Don’t’ act like it’s over/ Too late, done is done/ The kids need a future/ Warrior daughters and sons.” Eekwol even slips in a verse in her native Cree language.
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