Band Member Voices
October Culture Column - Community Leadership
By Nazhike, Mille Lacs Band Member
As Anishinaabe, we have always understood that leadership is not confined to titles or offices. In our traditional ways, leaders were not chosen because they sought recognition or authority, but because they demonstrated the qualities favorably to honoring the spirits, community, and the customs. These were often knowledge holders, hunters, healers, singers, grandmothers, and respected individuals who carried the trust of the people. Their leadership was woven into the fabric of everyday life, and it was through them that our communities survived and thrived.
Traditionally, non-official leadership took many forms. A skilled hunter would lead when it was time to provide food; a grandmother with insight into kinship and relationships would step forward to resolve family disputes; a community spiritual knowledge holder would lead in ceremony, reminding the people of their responsibilities to the manidoog and to creation. These leaders did not claim authority over others, rather, their leadership emerged naturally as the community recognized their gifts and followed their example. This model ensured balance, as no single person held control over all aspects of life. Instead, leadership was shared, and decisions were made collectively for the well-being of the whole.
Today, our society often confuses leadership with political power or financial influence. We are taught to look for official titles like chief, director, and commissioner, as if leadership exists only within those roles.
But as Anishinaabe, we remember that leadership is not about position; it is about action, service, and accountability to the people. If we look closely, we can still see local, non-official leaders all around us: the language teacher giving their evenings to mentor youth, the cultural worker organizing ceremonies, the young parent making sure children hear songs and stories, or the community member showing up consistently to help without needing to be asked.
The future of our people depends on knowledge being passed down. Non-official leadership is mentorship in action. It is the grandmother who keeps kinship strong, the cousin singing songs, the uncle who brings youth to ricing camps, or the auntie who makes sure roles are understood. These leaders may not carry a title, but they carry something more valuable: the continuity of culture. The survival of language and identity rests not on institutions alone but on us as individuals who take responsibility in our daily lives.
Applying this model today means valuing these contributions just as much as we value those with formal titles. It means recognizing that someone does not need to sit on a council, run an organization, or manage a program to be a leader. Their leadership is in the ways they live their teachings and influence others by example. When we uplift these individuals, by supporting their efforts, compensating their time, and ensuring their voices are included in community decisions, we strengthen the foundation of our people.
This approach also counters one of the biggest challenges we face today: burnout. Too often, we rely on a small number of individuals to carry the weight of governance, cultural work, and/or community needs.
By broadening our understanding of leadership, we allow responsibilities to be shared across many shoulders, just as our ancestors did. Local leadership is resilient leadership because it comes from every corner of the community, not just the top of a structure. Think of who was/is involved without the title.
As Anishinaabe, we must ask ourselves: who are the quiet leaders in our communities today? Who is teaching without recognition, guiding without credit, and giving without expectation? These are the ones our ancestors would have followed, the ones who continue to embody balance and responsibility. If we commit to honoring their leadership, we will not only preserve our culture, we will ensure that our way of life remains strong for generations to come.
Miigwech
