Land acknowledgments and performance

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 18/02/2025 (310 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

I sit on a committee, and like so many meetings across Canada, ours begins with a land acknowledgment. The same words, repeated to the same 12 people, in the same unthinking rhythm. And yet, despite saying it every single time, every single month, we still haven’t figured out how to reliably or correctly pronounce the names of the Nations we’re acknowledging.

At this point, it can’t be chalked up to an innocent mistake.

Maybe it’s self-sabotage, where we know the right course of action but subconsciously resist. Maybe it’s compulsive, a pattern so entrenched that breaking it would require facing something uncomfortable.

Or maybe it’s avoidance, because if we really confronted the weight of these words, we’d have to admit that they demand more from us than performance.

Land acknowledgments have become the gold standard of performative Indigenous allyship, a box to check rather than a commitment to change.

For many organizations, governments, and individuals, these words serve as a shield, a way to say, “Look, we acknowledge colonial harm!” While continuing to uphold the very systems that perpetuate it.

And the worst part? Many of us settlers, myself included, have fallen into this trap, believing that words are enough when real allyship requires far more.

When done meaningfully, land acknowledgments can be powerful. But most of the time, they fail.

When done meaningfully, land acknowledgments can be powerful. But most of the time, they fail. Here’s why: They’re an obligation, not a commitment. People say them because they’re supposed to, not because they’ve engaged with what they actually mean.

They cost nothing. There’s no real action or risk involved, no policy shifts, no wealth redistribution, no hiring of Indigenous leadership.

They centre settlers, not Indigenous people. Too often, land acknowledgments serve to make settlers feel enlightened while doing little to materially support Indigenous sovereignty.

This is performative allyship at its peak: saying the right words while nothing actually changes.

I know this pattern because I’ve done it, too.

Years ago, I told an Indigenous friend to “soften her tone” when she was speaking about injustice. I thought I was being helpful, making her message more palatable so that more people would listen. But what I was really doing was prioritizing settler comfort over Indigenous truth.

I was asking her to soften reality, to package her pain in a way that wouldn’t scare people away. And that’s exactly what land acknowledgments do when they aren’t backed by action. They take the raw truth of colonial harm and dilute it into something that makes us feel good, rather than something that demands change.

Land acknowledgments aren’t the only place where performative allyship shows up. We see it everywhere:

Corporate greenwashing: Companies adding land acknowledgments to their websites while actively extracting resources from Indigenous lands without consent.

Government hypocrisy: Politicians opening speeches with acknowledgments while passing laws that violate Indigenous sovereignty.

Non-profit tokenism: Organizations acknowledging the land while excluding Indigenous leadership from decision-making and funding.

That isn’t allyship. It’s branding.

If land acknowledgments are going to mean anything, they need to be tied to material action.

If land acknowledgments are going to mean anything, they need to be tied to material action.

Here’s what that can look like: compensate Indigenous knowledge keepers. If you’re using Indigenous teachings, pay Indigenous people.

Commit to “land back” and resource redistribution. Fund Indigenous-led initiatives, return land where possible, and advocate for policy changes that actually support sovereignty.

Shift power: move beyond words and ensure Indigenous voices are actually leading decision-making processes.

If your land acknowledgment costs you nothing, it’s just performance.

A final thought and a challenge to settlers: Next time you hear a land acknowledgment, ask yourself, “What has this institution actually done to support Indigenous sovereignty?”

And if the answer is nothing, then it’s time to demand more.

Because words are not enough.

They never have been.

MJ Jonasson is a Winnipeg-based thinker and advocate for community driven change. With a background in housing advocacy, Indigenous economic development, policy and social entrepreneurship, she has worked alongside communities to develop meaningful solutions that challenge systemic inequities.