Language Revitalization Begins With Encouragement
Learning an Indigenous language takes courage.
So does teaching one.
For anyone who has ever put themselves in the vulnerable position of being a student—trying to learn the Ojibwe language, understand cultural teachings, or reconnect with knowledge that was interrupted across generations—it can be intimidating. The same is true for teachers, elders, language speakers, and community members who are willing to share what they know.
Sometimes people are afraid of making mistakes. Sometimes they are afraid of being judged. And sometimes, unfortunately, the hardest criticism comes from within our own communities.
At a time when Indigenous languages are being revitalized across Native nations and communities, we need to remember something fundamental:
We need to be kind to one another.
Our elders deserve our love and respect for everything they preserved and carried forward. Our young people deserve our love and respect for everything they are trying to learn and build. And everyone who has the courage to contribute—whether by teaching a class, sharing a single word, creating a language resource, or developing an entire program—deserves encouragement.
The future of the Ojibwe language depends on all of us.
We Are Where We Are for a Reason
It is easy to look at the current state of an Indigenous language and ask why more knowledge was not passed down.
Why didn't our grandparents teach us?
Why didn't our parents speak the language with us?
Why don't more people in our community know how to speak Ojibwe?
These questions can quickly become accusations.
But we need to understand the history behind the circumstances we have inherited.
Indigenous languages were deliberately suppressed through colonial policies and institutions. Families were disrupted. Children were removed from their homes and communities. Boarding and residential schools punished Indigenous children for speaking their languages. Cultural practices were attacked and Indigenous identities were targeted for assimilation.
When language transmission was interrupted, it was not because Indigenous families did not love their children or because elders did not value their language.
People were surviving.
The fact that many of us did not receive everything that our ancestors once knew is a natural consequence of the historical, cultural, and linguistic circumstances we have inherited.
That does not mean we should give up.
It means we should understand where we are starting.
Honor What Our Elders Carried Forward
Our elders deserve tremendous respect.
Many Indigenous elders grew up in circumstances in which speaking their language or practicing their culture could carry real consequences. Some experienced direct discrimination or punishment. Others inherited the effects of generations of cultural suppression.
And yet they carried things forward.
They preserved words.
They remembered stories.
They maintained ceremonies.
They passed on teachings.
They kept cultural knowledge alive in whatever ways they could.
We should approach our elders with gratitude for what they were able to preserve rather than anger about everything that was lost.
Every piece of knowledge that survived is evidence of resilience.
Encourage Our Young People to Learn
We also need to extend that same compassion to our young people.
It is easy to become frustrated when young people do not immediately engage with the language or culture in the ways we hope they will.
But learning takes time.
Young people are growing up in a world filled with competing demands, influences, technologies, and expectations. They may not always know how important language and culture will become in their lives.
We should not assume that a young person who is not ready to learn today will never care.
Instead, we should keep the door open.
Our young people are the future of Indigenous language revitalization. The future is already in their hands, and our elders are not getting any younger.
That makes our responsibility clear: we need to create opportunities for young people to learn, participate, ask questions, make mistakes, and find their own relationship with language and culture.
The Courage to Teach Matters
Teaching an Indigenous language can also be vulnerable.
Imagine standing in front of a classroom and teaching what you know while knowing that someone might criticize your pronunciation, your grammar, your methodology, your credentials, or your relationship to the language.
It takes courage to do that.
The same is true for someone who creates a new language resource, develops a curriculum, teaches a community class, records a lesson, or shares a word they have learned.
Not everyone who contributes will get everything right.
But language revitalization cannot happen if everyone is too afraid to try.
We need room for learning.
We need room for growth.
We need room for correction without humiliation.
And we need to recognize that people who are genuinely working to strengthen the language are usually doing so because they care deeply about it.
Don't Tear Down the People Building Something
Sometimes people who are trying to revitalize Indigenous languages and cultures take heavy criticism from within their own communities.
A teacher starts a class.
Someone develops a language-learning resource.
A community member creates a new program.
A speaker shares a word.
Someone creates a new tool for young learners.
Instead of receiving encouragement, they may encounter suspicion, criticism, or accusations about their motives.
That can be deeply disheartening.
We should ask ourselves what kind of environment we are creating.
If someone is genuinely trying to strengthen the Ojibwe language and culture, we should begin from a position of respect and good faith.
That does not mean we should never correct one another or discuss disagreements. Accuracy matters. Cultural protocols matter. Language knowledge matters.
But correction and accountability do not require cruelty.
We can challenge ideas without destroying people.
We can teach without humiliating.
We can disagree without treating one another as enemies.
Colonialism Taught Us to Divide Ourselves
There is a deeper history behind this dynamic.
Colonial systems have repeatedly used division as a tool of control. European empires sometimes recruited members of one community to fight against another. In the United States, Indigenous people were at times enlisted or employed to participate in conflicts against other Native nations.
These patterns are part of a larger history of divide-and-conquer strategies.
When people are taught to distrust one another, they become easier to control.
Those patterns can continue even after the original colonial structures have changed. Oppression can leave behind internalized patterns of competition, distrust, shame, and self-criticism.
That is why language revitalization is not simply a matter of recovering vocabulary and grammar.
It is also about rebuilding relationships.
When We Are Mean to Ourselves, Everyone Loses
Internalized oppression can take many forms.
Sometimes it becomes low self-esteem or the belief that we cannot succeed.
Sometimes it becomes conflict between community members.
Sometimes it becomes the tendency to dismiss someone's work before understanding what they are trying to accomplish.
And sometimes prejudice is directed toward other marginalized communities.
These patterns do not strengthen Indigenous communities.
They weaken them.
When Indigenous people turn against one another, we can unintentionally reinforce the very systems that have historically worked to marginalize Indigenous languages, cultures, and communities.
Language revitalization needs a different energy.
It needs generosity.
It needs patience.
It needs accountability without humiliation.
And it needs people who are willing to recognize that we are all working within a history that none of us created.
Kindness Is Part of Language Revitalization
Kindness might sound like a small thing compared with the enormous challenges facing Indigenous languages.
It is not.
Language revitalization is fundamentally relational.
A language survives because people use it with one another. Grandparents speak with grandchildren. Teachers work with students. Families learn together. Communities create spaces where language can be heard, practiced, and passed on.
That requires trust.
And trust requires relationships.
If we want more people to learn Ojibwe, we need to make learning environments where people feel safe enough to try.
If we want more people to teach Ojibwe, we need to support people who are willing to step forward.
If we want young people to embrace Indigenous culture, we need to make cultural spaces places of belonging rather than judgment.
Kindness does not mean lowering our expectations.
It means creating the conditions in which people can meet those expectations.
We Are Brothers and Sisters in the Struggle
Anyone who is trying to keep an Indigenous language and culture alive is participating in something larger than themselves.
The student who learns one Ojibwe word is contributing.
The elder who remembers and shares a teaching is contributing.
The fluent speaker who teaches a class is contributing.
The parent who uses an Ojibwe word with a child is contributing.
The educator who creates an Indigenous language curriculum is contributing.
The community member who develops a new resource is contributing.
The person who makes a mistake, learns from it, and tries again is contributing.
We should see one another as brothers and sisters in the struggle to keep our languages and cultures alive.
That means giving one another the benefit of the doubt.
It means celebrating effort.
It means helping people improve rather than simply pointing out their shortcomings.
And it means remembering that we are on the same side of something much larger than any individual disagreement.
The Future of the Ojibwe Language Belongs to All of Us
Language revitalization will not be accomplished by one person.
It will happen through thousands of small acts of courage and commitment.
Someone teaches a word.
Someone learns it.
Someone uses it with their child.
Someone creates a lesson.
Someone records a story.
Someone starts a language class.
Someone encourages a learner not to give up.
Someone thanks an elder.
Someone makes room for a young person.
Over time, those actions become a movement.
The Ojibwe language has survived because people have cared enough to carry it forward.
Our responsibility now is to make sure the next generation has even more opportunities to learn, speak, teach, and live the language.
And that begins with how we treat one another.
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