Kiss of the Fur Queen

New Year’s Eve celebrations in Eemanapiteepitat in 1969 are a noisy affair with drunken revelers shooting guns. The din exasperates Mariesis, but Abraham urges her to distract herself with the recording of Jeremiah and Gabriel singing that Jeremiah sent them for Christmas. This is the closest the Okimasis elders have come recently to having their youngest sons home during the winter holidays. When a drunk Kookoos Coos arrives at their doorstep asking for his gun, Mariesis shoos him away.

Exploring Winnipeg, Jeremiah and Gabriel imagine old Kookoos Cook loading his rifle for the big midnight shoot-out. Gabriel informs Jeremiah that Father Bouchard has put a stop to the supposedly savage celebration, and now the revelers shoot at each other instead. Ever since the airport opened in Eemanapiteepitat, the abundant alcohol supply has driven many locals to addicted, unruly behavior.

As the boys approach Jubilee Concert Hall—a prestigious performance venue—Jeremiah notices two women. The first is clad in a midnight blue velvet coat lined with fur and is standing on the staircase to the theatre. The other, across the road, is Indigenous, pregnant, and barely out of her teenage years. A group of white men approach the girl; remembering the fates of Evelyn Rose McCrae and Madeline Jeanette Lavoix, Jeremiah wants to shout out a warning to her. However, before he can reach out to the girl, the cape-clad, hazel-eyed woman drops an envelope in Gabriel’s hand and walks away. Inside the envelope are two invitations to a performance by the Royal Winnipeg Ballet that night. The pregnant girl forgotten, the two brothers rush inside Jubilee Hall.

Prior to the performance, the guests attend an elegant dinner. Gabriel feasts on the delicious, exotic offerings. The brothers overhear a few guests talking about the various development projects that are to begin soon in Northern Manitoba, “the last frontier! […] [u]ninhabited!” (141). As the guests discuss Northern Manitoba’s bounty of diamonds, uranium, and natural gas, the brothers imagine their homeland being “developed” and their people benefitting, the Okimasis family growing so rich they would be “living in a thirty-seven-room palazzo” (142).

Inside the theater, Jeremiah wants to “minimize their conspicuousness” as the only two Indigenous people in the audience (142). However, he is soon transfixed by the music the orchestra is playing. Meanwhile, Gabriel focuses on the dancing, which seduces him beat by beat. Looking at the dancers, Gabriel finds his calling in an instant.

Jeremiah puts on a show-and-tell performance on the French Revolution in history class, using a doll dressed up as Marie Antoinette. Jeremiah consciously puts on his best Canadian English accent and uses humor to engage his class. When he describes the beheading of Marie Antoinette, he deftly pulls off the doll’s head, releasing a stream of ketchup, much to the delight of his classmates. In the applause, Jeremiah misses hearing the racist taunt—”War, war, warpaint” (147)—of his classmate Rob Bailey. When Jeremiah describes the French Revolution as one of the bloodiest periods in history, Amanda Clear Sky interrupts, saying that human history has seen many bloodier periods, including the colonization of North America and genocide of Indigenous peoples. Rob Bailey mocks Amanda, calling her “Princess Pocahontas” (148).

Miffed that Amanda interrupted his presentation, Jeremiah confronts her after class. Amanda informs Jeremiah that she was in fact rescuing him from embarrassment because the class was secretly ridiculing him. She also stresses the need for them to band together since Amanda, Jeremiah, and Gabriel are “the only three Indians in a school filled with two thousand white middle-class kids” (149). Leaving Jeremiah confused, Amanda walks off. Jeremiah notices Gabriel hurrying away. Gabriel tells Jeremiah that he is going to the gym for “bodybuilding” as Jeremiah had suggested.

Gabriel is not in the gym but a ballet class populated mostly by little girls in pink tutus. Feeling a paternal affection towards the children, Gabriel longs to pull their cheeks; however, he restrains himself as the mothers of the girls are watching the class. As the only adolescent male in class, Gabriel feels awkward, his masculine self-image taking a blow. Further, he feels like a “Weetigo” amid the sea of innocent, tiny creatures. However, the joy of learning ballet cancels out his embarrassment. He follows the instructions of his teacher closely, willing himself to be agile and pliant, “trying out this newfound language that spoke to him in a way nothing else had ever done” (153).

The Anderson High School puts on a live musical performance of The Gondoliers, a classical opera by Arthur Sullivan and W.S. Gilbert. The comic opera is set in Venice. What is most intriguing about Anderson High School’s performance is that it features two Indigenous boys: Jeremiah as the principal piano player and Gabriel onstage in the leading role of Giuseppe Palmieri. Gabriel’s appearance in particular is a revolutionary first, Indigenous actors playing white parts in opera being almost unprecedented.

Euphoric after the performance, the Okimasis brothers discuss the opera in the dressing room. Jeremiah wants to know where Gabriel picked up the elegant dancing, but Gabriel evades the question. A white classmate, Barry Saxton, interrupts the brothers and invites them to an after-party at his home.

The brothers are confused because they have never been invited anywhere by their white classmates. Jeremiah says they will come to the party, but Gabriel tells him, “Maw neetha niweetootan” (169): “I am not going.” Gabriel informs Jeremiah he is going to meet a friend instead, leaving Jeremiah befuddled. Meanwhile, Jeremiah finds another invite in his locker: one featuring an Indigenous warrior in traditional attire, an image that seems “pagan […] primitive […] Satanic” to him (162). The invite—from Amanda—is to a powwow at the Winnipeg Indian Friendship Center: “Show up. I dare you” (162). Jeremiah dismisses the note and heads to Saxton’s party.