Q&A: Maisie Berens and Daerion Williams, IDPSA

As we celebrate the inspiring professionals who will lead our professions into the future, it’s also important to be aware of what it takes to get there for those who are underrepresented.

While First Nations, Métis and Inuit peoples make up 4.9 percent of the general population, their representation in professions such as architecture, interior design and landscape architecture remains marginal.

The RAIC’s Indigenous Task Force notes that there are only 20 qualified Indigenous architects currently practising in Canada—representing 0.2 percent of architects in the country. In 2016, about one percent of landscape architects identified as Indigenous in 2016. Indigenous representation rates are similar for interior design, at less than one percent of the profession, and for engineering programs, accounting for only 0.6 percent of undergraduate enrolment and 0.73 percent of the profession.

The University of Manitoba’s Winnipeg campus is located in the centre of Canada, in the city with the country’s highest proportion of urban Indigenous peoples. As a university, U of M enrols one of the highest percentages of Indigenous students in the nation. A groundbreaking student organization has emerged here—the Indigenous Design and Planning Students Association (IDPSA).

The organization took root in 2018, through the inspired efforts of co-founders Reanna Mersaty and Naomi Ratte. It became an official  student association in 2019. IDPSA is the first of its kind, as a student-led community-building and advocacy organization for Indigenous design students.

As we consider the experience of this exemplary organization, AIA Canada recognizes that the need and desire for improved equity within architectural education has repercussions throughout our profession. As part of its Guides For Equitable Practice, the AIA has developed a Supplement on Equity in Architectural Education that acknowledges how attaining an increase in diversity and creating a welcoming culture for all within academia accelerates progress towards equity, diversity, and inclusion (EDI) in each sector of the profession.

AIA Canada’s Pauline Thimm recently spoke with current IDPSA co-presidents Maisie Berens and Daerion Williams to learn more about the journey of Indigenous students into our profession, and how organizations like IDPSA are breaking new ground—and paving the way for others to follow.

Welcome, Dae and Maisie.  How would you like people to know you?

Dae // I’m Daerion Williams. I’m entering my second year of undergrad in landscape architecture at U of M.  I am also an Indigenous designer. 

I am an Indigenous and mixed European woman with family in Norway House Cree Nation, Ireland, Germany, Scotland, and Wales. Each has history and traditions that have inspired me to pursue an occupation that allows me to make positive change to urban spaces in Canada. My Indigenous identity was not initially something I expected to hold in the forefront here in my studies, but these two threads immediately became woven together—it’s exciting and also terrifying.

I’m starting my second term of leadership with IDPSA.

Maisie // I’m Maisie Berens. I am Anishinaabe and a member of Berens River First Nation, located in Treaty 5 territory.

I have just graduated with my Bachelor of Environmental Design, and am starting my Masters of Interior design (a two-year program) this fall. 

As far as I am aware, I am in line to be the second professional Anishinaabe interior designer in Manitoba. I would love to become my own boss and open my own design firm that specializes in hospitality spaces. 

This is my first year as co-president of IDPSA.

What drew you to the built environment design professions? How did you end up here?

Dae // I grew up “artsy”—designing clothes and room interiors. I loved drawing, but I was initially intimidated by the idea [of pursuing a design profession]. I was discouraged initially because I was under the impression that design professions were all math-based.

I didn’t do well in math in high school. I also struggled with exams and memory-based learning, so I was not sure that a post-secondary education in design was even an option. Once I learned that excelling in every aspect of math wasn’t necessary, I was encouraged to pursue this path. I realized it was worth trying to do an undergrad [in environmental design] that is project-based, instead of exam-based, to see if I liked it.

And I have. I have also excelled quite a bit, and I am doing well in classes. I work hard to have my projects look good and make sense.  And I am able to put myself in my projects—I am really proud of this. 

Studying landscape architecture represents a lot of things that I hold dear: working with the land and advocating for things that can’t speak.  Where I live now, in Winnipeg, [this means] waterways, the importance of the riparian edge, and looking after the “lungs of the city” and its richness and diversity.

Maisie // My journey into architecture started later—I was 24 when I started at university, and I didn’t know about the architecture program coming in. When I heard about it, I also thought a strong background and ability in math was needed.

Since am not strong in math, it didn’t seem like an option for me. But then I learned about the Bachelor of Environmental Design program, and I was curious to learn more.

I booked a meeting with an advisor who reviewed my high school transcript. He told me that although it would be a long journey to get the grades and meet the requirements for application, I could do it. It took me three years to get into the Bachelor of Environmental Design program, and then three years to finish it. 

You’ve both persevered despite obstacles in getting here. Can you speak to this experience personally, and from what you are observing in your communities?  What are the hurdles?

Maisie // I have seen how Indigenous academic success isn’t always the first thing on the mind of teachers and school principals. There is often a default to pushing these students into the trades.  

I want to see Indigenous kids given some hope instead—some sense that they can dream beyond just what is shown to them as a [limited] list of jobs to aspire to. There is nothing wrong with being those things, or pursuing those paths. But I did get the overwhelming feeling of being put in a box, and being told that this is all I can amount to. What Indigenous kids need is support and hearing stories from those who have succeeded, beyond the limited futures we are often shown.

Now look at us—Dae and me. Despite both of us not doing the best in high school, we’re co-presidents of a large student group at the University of Manitoba. We have people coming to us, seeking us out for our opinions, wanting to hear about our ways of life.  People are asking for our leadership.

Our built professions lag significantly in adequate Indigenous representation. Based on your experiences, how could other Indigenous students be attracted?

Dae // To draw more Indigenous students, programs should seek to really understand how accessible they are.

Maisie // Sometimes it is difficult to see the possibilities, to know there is more opportunity out there. We need to help kids and teachers understand why it’s important not to sideline people and leave them out systematically, and underestimate their potential. Don’t assume what people should do, or are capable of.  

How does IDPSA support this need?

Maisie // The basis for IDPSA and its Calls to Action is responding to what we as Indigenous students in this faculty have identified that needs to happen to support our place in this program, and to provide a path into it.  

For example, providing a solid foundation of knowledge and cultural awareness through training for staff and non-Indigenous students is important to create a welcoming environment, where we can succeed and be role models for Indigenous kids.

I’ve seen attempts to incorporate Indigenous values into project requirements in studio without really knowing what they are, or taking the time to learn. For example, we’ve been asked to refer to the medicine wheel on projects, or simply add a totem pole—without understanding what these elements are, or how they are incorporated into the built environment. Totem poles are not relevant to Manitoba-based First Nations’ culture—they are a form of expression and significance specific to First Nations on the West Coast.

Dae // I agree. Just adding a totem pole, a medicine wheel on the ground, or a Métis infinity symbol—it becomes tokenism. Indigenous design is so much more [than reflecting simple images]. We understand that everything has a spirit, everything is worthy of respect, everything is worthy of being considered in design—from the small pebbles, to the tree roots, the bugs—everything is worthy.

Maisie // Also, we like to remind [settlers] that “Indigenous” is a blanket term that can be applied to multiple groups. In Manitoba, there are five different Indigenous groups alone—two types of Cree, Inuit, Anishinaabe, Métis, Dene. We get thrown into same category. The problem is when there is a belief that we are all the same, with the same values.

While there are good intentions, this outcome can be offensive instead. It demonstrates a lack of cultural awareness. IDPSA’s Calls to Actions include cultural training: a one-day training session to learn about the people of this land where FAUM is located, because connection to the land is elemental and requires specificity. Being of a place means knowing the place first.

Dae // There is real value in considering the land and the people and all these things around you.

Design is about people, it’s about connections. It is about creating things that will inspire others. It is uplifting and energizing—it gives you energy, even when you might be up for four or five days straight, working to finish a project for a deadline.

Design the world for people with the people in mind—this is so important! This is what keeps me here: being able to talk to and include the voices of those who may not otherwise take part, but who want to share and make their voices known.  

David Fortin, a Métis architect who also teaches design the University of Waterloo, has noted how important it is to encourage Indigenous students to “show up” in their work and have the ability to allow their ancestors to speak through them. Can you comment on your experiences with the way design is approached in your studies and studios?

Maisie // For the Interior Design department, currently there is no Indigenous representation within the staff, professors, or instructors.  

I also feel like the projects that students work on have not resonated deeply with Indigenous students. This is something for the University to reflect on, and to work to improve in the future.

We also recognize that we do have some amazing support within the broader Faculty of Architecture context. Having Elder Valdie Seymour as an Elder-in-Residence here is huge—and we recognize that this level of support is not necessarily available on other campuses in Canada.

Dae // For Landscape Architecture, we are lucky to have Bret Huson on the teaching staff. There aren’t many Indigenous students in the landscape program, but he really advocates for an Indigenous design process by coming to crits and helping us work through it all. He helps us incorporate two-eyed seeing as a way to bring Indigenous traditions together with modern ways. It is such a beautiful thing not to have to separate them as approaches.

We are really lucky to have these people [Elder Valdie and Bret] available to help and attend reviews, and be there with us to ask the right questions—to not just push modern design practices, but also acknowledge and incorporate Indigenous values.

When the ancestors speak through you—it refers to the idea of designing for seven generations behind and ahead of you. It’s about using these values to guide what are you creating, and being aware of how it affects those in the future.

How do we learn this together?  Having good representation is a foundational piece—first, you have to be there. How can we do things differently?  How can everyone take part?

Dae // We do have amazing profs—both European and Indigenous—and this has allowed us to soar. This access to representation and support lets us explore. It is really wonderful.

Maisie // I also like how we are able to open up the conversation: recognizing that there are other Indigenous perspectives, from Indigenous students from outside of North America. Settlers also have amazing ideas.

Are instructors changing how they deliver courses?

Maisie // In history class, we got to pick a continent and community—something outside of regular curriculum—to study in depth, to listen and talk about it in a way they would not have otherwise done before. There is an impressive diversity of students in general at U of M, and we are getting a chance to see how others navigated colonialism in other parts of the world. We are seeing students coming to Canada from elsewhere who are able to explore their cultures. It inspires us to do the same.

As a result of IDPSA and increases in Indigenous student presence, the act of bringing yourself forward, when traditionally that has not been the case, is catching on.

IDPSA is a truly unique organization within the landscape of Canadian design schools, and perhaps beyond. Can you share a bit more details about the IDPSA origin story, understanding neither of you were actively involved at that time? How did you get involved?

Maisie // IDPSA was co-founded by Reanna Mersaty and Naomi Ratte in 2018, and became official in 2019, as a response to a desire for Indigenous students to come together and make sure we are connected, and to share similar experiences. It was really needed because we are only a small population. It was also a response by Indigenous students who were repeatedly hearing inaccurate Indigenous histories, and were frustrated at being told a history of our own people that was written by settlers and was inaccurate. Those stories didn’t reflect any understanding of the value systems of Indigenous communities: how we value land, money, and survival, and how knowledge is passed on. Our stories reflect our experiences and represent how we share knowledge—not from a book, but from lived experience. We needed to create Calls to Action to demand that people who know what they are talking about are involved.

If we’re going to do architecture, let’s do it right!

How have IDPSA’s goals evolved since 2019?  What are some of your goals for this upcoming school year?  

Maisie // We are fortunate that we have a strong base to work from, thanks to past IDPSA leaders. To adapt to the constant change in leadership as students come through the program, we have each needed to recreate relationships with past alumni and others.

We are now also striving to create stronger relationships within the University of Manitoba in general. We connected with engineering students at ENGAP (Engineering Access Program) for Indigenous students to get into, prepare for, and succeed in the U of M Price Faculty of Engineering, and we will also look at other groups where we can support the uplift of Indigenous students. We have started to organize regular and ongoing events, such as Feasts for the broader U of M community to come together at.

Our next goal is to expand our reach and connect with ILANDS, the Indigenous students at UBC SALA (School of Architecture and Landscape Architecture) [Currently the only other similar student organization for the design programs.] Knowing that we can support each other is important. We are looking for ways to connect with other Indigenous student groups on other campuses. We don’t know if there are many others yet, in the US in particular. We are such a small community! We will start with connecting to those groups that already exist, and we are also looking to help others launch.

As part of our Advocacy goal, we have also reached out to local high schools, and we have secured funding to help. We plan to get out to meet and visit students from the schools in person.

Do you have any words of encouragement for other design students or schools who are interested in developing something similar to IDPSA?

Dae // Don’t be afraid or nervous to reach out! We want to connect with all Indigenous students across Canada. Don’t be afraid to take that step: there will be people around you who want to see this thrive. The more presence we have, the more support grows, the better design will be because of new perspectives coming into the field that were not heard from before.

Maisie // Be strong. Don’t let the imposter syndrome get to you. Everyone brings something to the table, so use your passion to strengthen your voice and to support those around you.

Any words of wisdom for employers in support of emerging Indigenous practitioners?

Maisie // For employers, they should understand that you need people in the room to design for them effectively. You can’t be disconnected from those you are designing for. You need to talk to these people and listen to understand what they need, and to know what the correct process is to show you respect them, in order to get the respect back—to build the relationship to keep going. Don’t just rely on getting Indigenous people to come and talk—have them on the team, we also need scholars from those fields. Research is not enough.  

For more information, follow @um.idpsa on Instagram and visit www.aia.org/resource-center/guides-equitable-practice

As appeared in the October 2024 issue of Canadian Architect magazine

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