The Memoirs of Miss Chief Eagle Testickle: A True and Exact Accounting of the History of Turtle Island - some good may come of this after all

28 Feb 2024 - Art by Kent Monkman

Volume One

Let me start at the beginning. Miss Chief Eagle Testickle nitisiyihkason ekwa ohci niya acahkosihk, my name is Miss Chief Eagle Testickle and I come from the stars. I will tell you an atayohkanis, a little sacred story. It is the story of this land. It is my story, and the story of my people. But it is also your story, for we are all relatives. It is the story of where we have come from. And perhaps where we are going, although that part is up to you. It is not our way to tell you how to behave, yet we may show you the way. Though perhaps it's better for you to listen to what I say, not to what I do, and some good may come of this after all.

The Memoirs of Miss Chief Eagle Testickle is far from a "little sacred story." Beginning before life as we understand it, before the universe itself existed, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle's story traverses millions of years up to July 1, 1867, the date of confederation, of what is known historically as the birth of Canada. That is Volume One. The eagerly awaited Volume Two will only have to cover 156 years, but considering Testickle's joie de vivre and raucous activism, there will be more than enough material for volumes beyond. 

What Kent Monkman (The Rise and Fall of Civilization, Miss Chief: Justice of the Peace) and Gisele Gordon have done in creating The Memoirs of Miss Chief Eagle Testickle is nothing short of an actual history of North America. The deviation from standard history texts can be found on the cover where the words "North America" are red pen crossed out and replaced with "Turtle Island." This time the history is not being narrated by the colonizers or the conquerors. It is being told by a resistor, a survivor. All the Canadian history we were taught of the fur trade and the fathers of confederation is here, it is just viewed through the lens of the Indigenous people and the land itself, through the eyes of Miss Chief Eagle Testickle. While Testickle's recounting is far more entertaining and ribald than any of the texts I remember, it is also far more tragic and horrifying. The near extinction of the beaver, bison and Indigenous people is not a side effect of becoming civilized, it is destruction on a mythical and personal level. Testickle writes that

Once more I spoke eloquently and forcefully about the agreements and understandings between our people and the settler, and their need to respect our relationship to the land and its laws, but they merely nodded and made a show of listening. When they wrote their paper for Confederation, they mentioned us only once in their British North America Act, in a line that that the new Canadian government would have control over our affairs . . . Not one of these nations—or the Metis, with whom we shared the lands—was being consulted or considered in this transaction.

This is a recurrent theme throughout Memoirs, as Testickle struggles to express the importance of living with the land instead of pillaging it. The importance of mutual respect not only between different tribes of humans, but between all living creatures. Testickle is further befuddled by the settlers' sexual shame and inhibitions. There are hilarious and heartbreaking passages where Testickle is forced to seduce men who have been taught that their urges are unnatural or wrong. The liberation of a nation, one misicimasowin at a time. Testickle is uninhibited, ribald and believes sex is therapy, salvation and just a whole lot of fun. I just stumbled over choosing a pronoun to refer to Miss  Chief Eagle Testicle. The drag presents as female but references to lusty erections pop up with a gleeful frequency. Testickle has carnal congress across genders, races and even species. I will use "they" though I wish there were a pronoun befitting the exultant exuberance of a pansexual two-spirited creature of such magnificence.

Volume Two

If Volume One is a joyride through a horrific history, Volume Two of The Memoirs of Miss Chief Eagle Testickle: A True and Exact Accounting of the History of Turtle Island, leans into the horror. It can't help but do so. Beginning with Confederation and the beginning of the reservation system, Volume Two continues through the residential school era before taking an unblinking and heartbreaking look at the results of attempting to destroy a culture by destroying its children. Because Testickle has been such a plucky and optimistic narrator and protagonist, the memoirs grow painful to read as their spirit is almost broken. For a good chunk of Volume Two, Testickle is too weak to maintain a human form and to protect their people. As Testickle is frequently reminded by Wisahklecahk, a trickster spirit who farts with abandon and is literally earth-shaking sex, they are not to get too attached to these people, they cannot interfere.

Miss Chief Eagle Testickle does interfere and the results are dire. It is here that Volume Two becomes less history, it is almost contemporary so we know (though we've often denied or avoided) exactly what is happening. The results of the residential schools and the reservation system filter down through the decades, chronicled by a family Testickle has befriended and been adopted into, and it is extremely painful reading. It should also be noted that these memoirs are also art books, packed with Kent Monkman's paintings that similarly rewrite, with a great deal of humour and anguish, a surreal and realistic history of Canada's Indigenous people. (As a side note it is a wonder how McClelland & Stewart were able to reproduce such shimmering scathing art so well for the mere price of a memoir, its as if Spare had come with a bonus Rembrandt from the family collection.) Volume One's paintings are more tongue-in-cheek cheeky but Volume Two gets darker and intriguingly Monkman experiments with cubism. Whether it is a comment on industrialization, colonization by European culture, or a dig at Picasso's brutal machismo, is a topic for discussion. What is evident is that the effect is shocking and harsh.

It pains me to admit that at this point in my reading, I bogged down. The grief and pain was so palpable, and I was so culpable, that it hurt to read. Monkman puts a brave face on the prose and Miss Chief Eagle Testickle is resolute but as the culture is drained and devastated, so are the memoirs. Fortunately that only lasts through several chapters: "The Iron Horse Brought Destruction" through "When They Took Our Children" and "They Continue to Take Our Children" to "The Damage Was Passed Down for Generations." Testickle, in despair and still unable to sustain a human form, sinks into the earth and, as their people believe, takes strength by becoming one with the universe. From there it only takes a restorative romp with a sensual sasquatch and communion with the Buffalo Spirit, and a show of solidarity and strength from their chosen family, to allow Testickle to instigate an extraordinary cathartic finale.

Nothing is forgiven and no-one is saved, but hope is restored. The ending is cinematic enough, powerful enough, that it brought tears to my eyes. It is helped immeasurably by an astonishing series of portraits, full figurative stylings returned, that express the pride that pulsates through the pages. One of the most evocative paintings, of many that cry out for further delectation, is titled "Our peoples had held onto who we were despite all that was designed to erase us." And that is Miss Chief Eagle Testickle's message, they will not be erased. Testickle is a hilarious, furious, deceitful, magical, endlessly alluring character who winds up being an inspiration. As Miss Chief Eagle Testickle writes

It is the story of this land. It is my story, and the story of my people. But it is also your story, for we are all relatives. It is the story of where we have come from. And perhaps where we are going, although that part is up to you. It is not our way to tell you how to behave, yet we may show you the way. Though perhaps it's better for you to listen to what I say, not to what I do, and some good may come of this after all.