One of the most common questions I receive is whether, as a Mohawk educator, I should be teaching the dreamcatcher at all. For some, the answer is simple: the dreamcatcher is an Ojibwe teaching, therefore only Ojibwe people should teach it. I understand and respect that perspective. It comes from a genuine desire to protect Indigenous cultures after generations of appropriation. But the more I've researched, listened, and reflected, the more I've realized this conversation is far more complex than a single answer can capture.
The dreamcatcher is widely recognized as originating with the Ojibwe (Anishinaabe), and that history deserves to be acknowledged. Early documentation, including Frances Densmore's Chippewa Customs (1929), describes protective webbed hoops used on Ojibwe cradleboards, while Cath Oberholtzer's research traces their cultural significance and later commercialization. At the same time, Indigenous history has never existed solely in written records. It also lives through oral traditions, family histories, community memory, and lived experience. Lakota communities, for example, continue to share the story of Iktómi, the spider, weaving a web within a willow hoop as a teaching about life's journey, a tradition preserved today by the Aktá Lakota Museum & Cultural Center. Rather than seeing these histories as competing with one another, they remind us that Indigenous Nations have always been connected through relationships, trade, kinship, migration, and the sharing of knowledge.
My own relationship with the dreamcatcher exists within that complexity. I am Kanien'kehá:ka (Mohawk) from Wahta Mohawk Territory, but my understanding has also been shaped by family, community, and relationships that extend beyond a single Nation. That history does not make me Ojibwe, nor does it give me the authority to speak on behalf of another Nation. It does, however, shape the responsibility I feel when I teach. Every Bougie Birch experience begins by identifying the dreamcatcher as an Ojibwe teaching before exploring its history, the diversity of Indigenous Nations, and the relationships that have long existed between our communities. The dreamcatcher is not the destination of the experience. It is the doorway into a broader conversation about Indigenous history, identity, and understanding.
The question of commercialization is equally important. Some Indigenous people believe dreamcatchers should never be sold or taught commercially. Others create and sell them as artists, educators, and entrepreneurs. There is no single Indigenous consensus, and I don't believe it serves anyone to pretend there is. Rather than asking only who is *allowed* to teach the dreamcatcher, I believe we should also ask: How is it being taught? Is its history being honoured? Are the teachings presented accurately? Is the educator transparent about their own relationship to the knowledge? Is the work creating understanding, reciprocity, and respect? Those are the questions guiding the Indigenous Knowledge Stewardship Framework we are developing at Bougie Birch.
Perhaps the question was never simply who is allowed to teach the dreamcatcher. Perhaps the better question is who is willing to carry the responsibility of teaching it with honesty, humility, and respect. History is rarely as simple as we hope it will be. Archival research matters. Oral traditions matter. Family history matters. Lived experience matters. Indigenous knowledge has always been carried through relationships, and if our goal is genuine understanding, then we must be willing to hold that complexity rather than reduce it to a single narrative.
References
Aktá Lakota Museum & Cultural Center. Legend of the Dreamcatcher.
Densmore, F. (1929). Chippewa Customs. Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 86.
Oberholtzer, C. (2012). Dream Catchers: Legend, Lore and Artifacts. Firefly Books.