Ken Williams, playwright and journalist, received his MFA in Playwriting from the University of Alberta in 1992. He is a member of Gordon's First Nation band, Saskatchewan. His latest play, Project 7 (1996), presents striking metaphors of First Nations experience.
Williams has also spent two years as a journalist with Windspeaker. He now writes for Maclean's magazine in Toronto. In the following interview, he discusses various aspects of the complex relationship he has with writing and First Nations identity.
Ken Williams spoke with Athabasca University Professor David Brundage in Edmonton in December 1997.
Videoclip of Ken Williams discussing "labels."
Aurora: What got you started writing plays?
Williams: About ten years ago at the University of Alberta I took a course called Introduction to Playwriting. I fell in love with it right away. It was one of those moments in life when you know that's exactly what you're meant to do. It was almost like I was born to do this.
Aurora: You have said before that even though you may have been born to playwriting, you were not originally encouraged in that direction.
Williams: Being a writer was not looked on, at home, as a very lucrative or interesting career. My relatives worked on the rigs, on farms, or in forestry. My family wanted me to do the more conventional thing, like be a lawyer or teacher or chartered accountant. They just didn't understand. Artistic careers are becoming more accepted now. But I had to go out and find it. Along the way, I've been a door-to-door encyclopedia salesman, a medic in the Canadian Armed Forces, a bartender, a student, a Land Claims historical researcher....
Aurora: This wide experience quite clearly informs the characters and settings of your work. Another element informing your work, it would seem, is First Nations identity. In an essay called "Pretty Like A White Boy: The Adventures of a Blue-Eyed Ojibway, " Drew Hayden Taylor says " it's not easy having blue eyes in a brown eyed village." You have said you empathise with this in- between situation, since you belong to a Cree First Nation but are also part white. Before we go into how this affects your work, could you describe the situation itself?
Williams: No one believes you're native, for the first thing. You tell them you're Cree and they say, "Funny, you don't look like one." Funny, I should look like one, because as far as I'm concerned I am one. My mother was from Gordon's First Nation in Saskatchewan. So am I.
Still, that constant questioning of heritage is very annoying. After a point you give up. I don't mean you give up being who you are, you just give up arguing with people about it. People are interested in what label you have. If you don't fit their preconception of what they thought you would look like, it throws their world out of whack. So they have to justify why you call yourself native.
Aurora: How does this particular perspective affect your writing?
Williams: Outsiders look at things more objectively. You get a different perspective. Thomas King, who is a great native writer, said he became a writer as a Canadian, but he was born in the United States. He has an outsider's point of view of Canada, which allows him to look at our foibles, our little problems, and our quirks more clearly than we would, because we're in the middle of it. We don't notice our little ticks and mannerisms unless someone points them out to us. I'm on the outside of both native and white culture. I'm not really a white person and while native people sometimes accept me, I've not really been a part of that, either, because people don't think I am native.
Aurora: But if you are an outsider, it also seems you are, like Will in Thomas King's comic novel Medicine River, an outsider in search of belonging.
Williams: The past being lost is a big theme in my work. Finding your way home, or discovering a home. The issue is usually there, even if it is more subconscious than direct.
Aurora: In this light, could you describe your play Project Seven?
Williams: Project Seven is about identity in its most basic sense: what happens when your identity has been robbed, and how you try to re-establish that. What happens when you try to find yourself.
There are four main characters:
Assassins who have no past and feel no compunction about what they're asked to do—to kill people without question. They used native people as a source of assassins, because no one would believe a native person is capable of pulling off a political killing like that. They'd be the last suspects. It also plays on common types that we see in the movies.
Lester and Linda start discovering their past and their identities, and they try to reach out to become native people who have been separated, in this case artificially as clones, from who they are. There's resistance from MacDonald and Daniel.
Aurora: The name "MacDonald" has a clear reference to history.
Williams: Yes, unfortunately, the reference isn't always clear to a lot of people. It's Sir John A. Macdonald.
The other character, Daniel Scott—actually D.C. Scott—alludes to another historical figure who a lot of Canadians don't know. Scott was Minister of the Interior responsible for Indian Affairs in the 1920s. His goal was to eliminate Indian people within one generation, through the Indian Act. I decided to name this character Daniel, because I didn't want to be that direct, but I at least wanted to have the allusion to Duncan Campbell Scott. He also wrote elegiac poetry— "the lovely Indian people" —as if he might be describing an Indian person or a tree in the same breath.
Lebret was a more obscure reference. She's named after a residential school near my reserve, that some of my aunts went to. Unless you're from that area of Saskatchewan, you're not going to know what Lebret is. I don't even know who the original Lebret was. It's something someone might discover later if they ever do any research on the play. They'll say, "Oh, that's kind of a coincidence."
Aurora: The play seems like a marriage of historical, political, and pop culture genres.
Williams: I didn't intend to do this, but apparently I'm the first native writer to put clones on stage. Also, I think it's the first native science fiction play ever written, which is something I didn't intend to do.
What's quite funny is I don't like reading science fiction. I like writing it, but the impression I got was if you're going to be a writer, don't be a science fiction writer.
Aurora: As you say, Project 7 is unusual in its approach to First Nations issues. We don't see life on the reserve as we do, say, in a film like Dance Me Outside. Directed by Bruce McDonald, this film seems to be quite popular with First Nations as well as non-native audiences.
Williams: I had a lot of expectations of Bruce McDonald as a filmmaker. I've seen Highway 61 and Road Kill, and both were very good movies. So I thought that if Bruce McDonald is hooking up with W.P. Kinsella, it's got to be a sure winner. It wasn't. I was very disappointed.
The issue of W.P. Kinsella aside, the movie failed to capture a sense of excitement. They were trying to be a little oddball. Reserve life can be strange. It's sometimes a twilight-zone experience. And certainly most people think of reserves as despair, poverty, and hopelessness. I'm not saying that doesn't exist, but there's also a great sense of community and a strength in that community.
Aurora: Was that missing in the film?
Williams: Yeah. The characters are trying to get off the reserve. The fun is had by making fun of white people. They didn't make fun of each other, and we make fun of each other a lot. It's mostly gentle fun; it keeps you humble.
Aurora: Would this be because an outsider was directing it?
Williams: Exactly. It was a community he didn't know, written by a writer (Kinsella) who didn't know the community. They brought in some native writers to write the screenplay. None of them worked out, apparently. The more writers you have on the credits tends to tell you how bad the film is. Bruce McDonald should have had more control over that project.
Aurora: You referred to the "issue" of Kinsella as writer of stories about native people in collections such as Dance Me Outside, Born Indian, and Scars. Novelist Rudy Wiebe, a white writer who has treated native subjects in works such as The Temptations of Big Bear has accused W.P. Kinsella of disrespect and appropriation in his "Indian" stories. Kinsella, for one thing, writes in the assumed voice of a native narrator. He speaks of living in Hobbema, though he has never actually visited that reserve, or any other, it would seem. What is your view of the debate between these two writers?
Williams: Kinsella was pretty clear. He said he could write anything he wanted. Wiebe said you've got to go in and learn about the people; become one with them; grasp what they want. He espouses intense research and almost being a sociologist or anthropologist. Then we find out that he made things up, too. Their argument was rather ridiculous: two white guys arguing about who has the right to write about native people and how to do it.
Kinsella's books aren't flattering to native people, but they're not flattering to white people either. I found most of the evil in his books comes from white people, and the Indians he portrays are just dealing with life as it comes along. Sometimes it's funny and sometimes it isn't. He writes some tragic stories about what happens to native people caught up in the white system. I'm defending his work at some level. The fact that he uses Silas Ermineskin as his narrator is problematic. I don't really like it that much, but I think it was effective for what he wanted to do.
Wiebe, on the other hand, is just as guilty. The Temptations of Big Bear allowed him to write in a narrative style that is called "deconstructionist." They're just using real characters, real people, and historical events, for the sake of a novel. As far as I'm concerned he has no greater right than Kinsella does. I don't think Kinsella was as bad as people painted him. He started to get out of hand with some of his work, but it wasn't as bad as people were portraying it.
Thomas King was asked to join in the debate. "I have no place in there," he said. "There's no point in it at all." I think he thought it was funny, too, that two white men were arguing about whether they had the right to write about native people. My point of view, though, is that anyone has the right to write about it. If you don't like what someone writes, challenge them. Don't say, "You can't write about native people." The implications are that I can't write about white people. I can only write about half-white half-Indian males.
Aurora: Margaret Atwood and other Canadian writers have spoken against this perceived narrowing of options, associated with "political correctness." Still, it seems that "native" stories served up by non-native writers frequently rely on stereotypes. Don't films—perhaps including Dance Me Outside —promote distortions?
Williams: Yes, they do. Ever since Dances with Wolves, Indians have been cool. That's a great film, cinematically and following film formulas. As for promoting native rights, it is still reliant on typical Hollywood dramatic forms: there's got to be Good; there's got to be Bad. In this case, there are the good Indians and the bad Indians; good white people, and bad white people. Nothing new is promoted. The film promotes the cause of the Dakota, but at the expense of the Pawnee.
So certainly Hollywood is not very careful how they present Indian people. But when you're working with film and theatre, you're working with fiction. Fiction has to fit a certain form in order to present something coherent within 90 minutes to two hours. You have to present an image that people identify with quickly.
So, all the native men in movies have very long, straight black hair. A lot of native men don't have very long, straight black hair. They might have a bone choker as well and a leather jacket. Okay, I wear a leather jacket, but I don't have long hair or a bone choker.
How Indian women are portrayed has always been an issue. Right now Indian women are being portrayed through the eyes of either Indian or non-Indian men as mother-earth figures. That portrayal happens without a lot of thought; it doesn't allow the woman to be a human being. But then again, we have to deal with stereotypes. You cannot have very intense character studies in film.
And we can't be afraid of native bad people. Gary Farmer got into this with the Coen brothers' movie Fargo. The native man in Fargo—who is crucial to the plot—is a loud, violent man. Farmer was upset; I wasn't. It's part of a true story. What is wrong with having a native bad guy?
In Project Seven, Lester is an amoral man. He has no compunction about killing. We have good and bad people too. We can't be just cardboard-cutout good people—the Good Indians.
I try to portray women as characters. I give them their own struggles, past, baggage, and skills to deal with it. I don't say she's a woman so she's got to be the one who ultimately wins. If you get wrapped up in that, you're not going to create good drama.
This is one of the things I had to deal with when I was first writing. I had wonderful plots and cookie-cutter characters who fit the plot line. That isn't very satisfying for the viewers. They know what's going to happen. I found that by creating characters searching for something, I create real characters—male, female, children or adults.
Aurora: On the subject of your own your writing again, we haven't yet spoken of humour. There is a certain wryness in the ironies of "Project 7." You have had some contact with the writer Thomas King, a master of comic and satiric style, as he demonstrates in Medicine River and Green Grass, Running Water. Has he had an influence on you?
Williams: The only influence he had on me was to say, "Try and make it funny. "I thought that was a flip thing to say. Why bother? I didn't think I was a very funny guy. But it makes you think about what you're doing. His idea is to entertain people and maybe something will seep in through the entertainment. People may look at things differently. That was the message I got from him: try to make this enjoyable for people. Don't educate them.
That was something I had to overcome as a writer. I was so sure of myself—that I knew all the answers. I've grown out of that quite quickly. It's a big world out there; there are many points of view. I'm just presenting one point of view. At one point I wanted to hit people hard with my theories and my point of view. Now I want people to sit back and watch the play. If they don't get all the references, that's fine. At least on one level they will be intrigued by the drama and the humour, by the mystery of the play.
Aurora: Are you afraid that, by using entertainment, you're furthering conventional ideas?
Williams: No, I'm not. I used to think that. I have seen a lot of work which was politically driven. It's almost like a sermon. People don't respond to that very well. I know I don't respond to it at all.
Why should I believe that I'm any smarter or any better than anybody else? I want people to enjoy the work. My goal is to take people on a roller coaster ride, where you get to look over the edge. You know you're safely in your seat, but maybe for a moment you lose yourself. You get wrapped up in the mystery. Why are there seven clones? What is the goal? What is MacDonald up to? Will Lebret find her way out? Will she understand what the dreams mean? Will Daniel wreck everything for everybody?
So I think entertaining people will serve. And at the same time I want people to realize that native people aren't what they think they are. I think that will come across.
Aurora: To complete this discussion of playwriting and storytelling, let's return again to the issue of identity. Thomas King muses on the problem of defining native literature (introduction to All My Relations: An Anthology of Contemporary Candian Native Fiction). He concludes that for now the only definition is literature produced by natives. How would you define native writing?
Williams: I asked an American friend of mine, "Are you a native American, or an American who's native?"
"That's kind of an odd question," she answered.
I can apply that to a native writer. Am I a native writer, or a writer who happens to be native? It's still an odd question. Identity is very hard. It's one thing I struggle with, as we've seen.
I know who I am: I'm a Cree male born in Saskatchewan. These are things I can't argue with. Someone can say, "Your mother is Indian and your dad is not, therefore you're half Indian." Well no, I'm not. I'm Cree. I'm Canadian.
How do you identify native writing? I guess, like King says, if the writer is native. My cousin and friend, Jordan Wheeler , was asked the same question. He said, "Someone asked me, 'Why are there always native people in your stories?' Because I like native people. What's wrong with having native people in my stories? I know native people. I think they're good subject matter."
Similarly, I identify myself as a native writer. There might be the occasional story that won't have a native character in it, but I doubt it. There'll always be an Indian character, for nothing else, at least, than to employ native actors.
Aurora: How did you get involved writing journalism?
Williams: When I came out of university with my MFA, I was burnt out with writing drama. I was offered a position as an historical researcher with the Indian Association of Alberta. I thought I may as well do that and work on my plays as well.
At the same time, a newspaper was coming out called Native Journal. I read it and noticed they didn't have a book review column. So I wrote them a letter saying, "Here's my review of Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee. Tell me what you think. I notice you don't have a book review column. Do you want me to do a book review column?" It started that way: writing book reviews, music reviews, theatre reviews. When the first Dream Speakers came up, they asked me to cover the festival and gave me a camera. That started my photojournalism career.
I took little steps that weren't consciously planned. I was an arts reviewer for the longest time, then I started articles here and there. I did that for four years. I did some freelance video and film work; I did some acting. I was a rock musician.
Windspeaker, a well-respected native newspaper, hired me as a reporter in 1996. My journalism career has taken off and my playwriting career is climbing slowly.
Aurora: What's your mission statement as a journalist?
Williams: To be fair. It's as simple as that. Just to get many people's points of view. One of the things I learned in university was to take your voice out as much as possible and to substantiate everything you say. Do not editorialize. If you're going to print something, you've got to have the evidence to back it up.
Aurora: Can you give an example?
Williams: Yes. This is one I won an award for. The European Union has a ban on wild fur caught with leg-hold traps. What they do is ban all fur from that country. Canada, the U.S., and Russia have been banned, but they have all managed to get exemptions to these bans.
A group of aboriginal veterans from Saskatchewan was going to the European Union parliament to make its case. I know fur is a contentious issue. The simple thing would have been to report on the veterans' side. But there's also a native lobby group who are anti-fur, anti-trapping. Their point of view is just as important. I had to try and find as many sides as I could.
The Animal Alliance of Canada is anti-trapping and has a native committee. A trapper kept sending us faxes about how Indian Affairs was using Indian people to promote itself when in fact it was benefiting non-Indian fur farmers. All these groups have different points of view on this one issue.
I talked to them all. The challenge comes in trying to craft a fair story and maintain the dignity of everyone's argument. I think I gave everyone's point of view credence, and no one came out better than anyone else. They all felt that I did a fair article. I was quite proud of that story, because it was necessary to put my prejudices aside.
Aurora: What do you feel are some major contentious issues?
Williams: There's the idea of self-government and self-determination. There's the argument over determining and maintaining aboriginal rights.
There are concrete issues that do have a name--right now the Assembly of First Nations Chief Phil Fontaine is trying to get Indian Affairs to apologize for the residential school abuse. There's been this history of neglect and abuse and domination.
It seems whenever native leaders take a step forward, they have to fight a rearguard action to protect what they've managed to gain. It's almost as if Canada says, "Okay, we'll give you this, but we're going to take away this now." It's quite annoying. But there have been achievements.
Native people don't want to be welfare recipients. They want to be reliant on themselves. They want to be able to create institutions within an aboriginal context. They don't want to lose themselves; they don't want to assimilate. That's the biggest fear.
Aurora: How do you feel about the recent (24-25 November, 1997) Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) visits?
Williams: Well, there are two sides to that story. There was a group of native people who wanted to present the point of view of human rights abuses, but there was also a trade fair at the APEC gathering organized by natives.
There are two sides to the issue of human rights. I think some native leaders were trying to say, "Look, we can't be hypocritical here." Canada can stand up and be a paragon of virtue and say, "Hey, there's human rights abuses going on in those countries." And the native leaders are saying, "What about the human rights abuses occurring in this country?"
Aurora: Do you think it's hard to get people to feel the same way about our history?
Williams: Yes, it's very hard. Canadians don't really have a strong sense of history of themselves, let alone history of aboriginal people. When I came out of high school I could tell you the history of the USSR, of China, of Egypt, of Europe. I could name 15 treaties between these nations leading up the Napoleonic War. I didn't have a clue about any of the treaties that existed in Canada. And no one else did.
Aurora: What should we be doing to overcome that?
Williams: We can't force people. We should at least have a comprehensive Canadian history throughout primary, secondary and post-secondary schools, so we know what Canada is about.
The Americans have a very sexy sense of what their history is. It may not be correct, but they still have a sense of history. Canadians don't and that's a shame for everybody. It's unfortunate that people aren't curious on their own.
Aurora: What can people do?
Williams: (Smiling) Number one, they can read my plays or go see them. The newspaper I work for, Windspeaker, is a good start. Read contemporary native work. That's why people are the way they are; that's why they feel the way they feel. You'll find out that it's a very complex issue.
People like to pick on certain points. I know taxpayer organizations like to say, "We're paying all this money to Indian Affairs and that's how much all the Indians are getting." Well, that's not true. If that were the case, I'd be getting a cheque for $12,000 a year. I don't!
A big bureaucracy known as Indian Affairs gets all that money, then they spread it out. So that's just one little issue. People will not go beyond these issues unless they're curious. Read about it. But read about it from the native points of view so you can at least try to understand what their perspective is.
We should use all approaches. One approach isn't going to work. There will be people shocked into doing something when they hear someone say, "Look, this is what happened." It's really hard to grasp a total sense of what the residential schools did.
In Toronto there was the case of the guy at Maple Leaf Gardens who was molesting young men. One of those men committed suicide--the one who actually brought everything to the attention of the police and the public. No one is going to condemn that man for killing himself. No one is going to condemn him for the life he lived because he was an abused child. But when you look at that on a larger scale of thousands and thousands of people over five generations, how do you so much as start saying sorry for that? That's very hard to look at.
The churches, the institutions in Canada, were actively involved. There was enough evidence to know that sexual abuse was going on, but no one cared enough about the native people to do anything.
It's not just the sexual abuse that occurred in the residential schools—it was the slavery. These schools went up to grade eight. The school system for the most part was designed so that half your day was spent learning a vocation, but the other half was being sent out to local farmers to work as unpaid field hands. We hear about the Mount Cashel, Newfoundland, scandal. But there were at least a hundred Mount Cashels across Canada.
Aurora: In an essay summarizing the five generations of native peoples in Saskatchewan since European contact, Pat Deiter-McArthur a Cree writer and educator, says the current generation is faced with three choices: assimilation, integration, or separation. She feels that "integration allows Indian people to retain a sense of their cultural background while working and living within the larger society." Could you comment on this view.
Williams: I think separation is a little harsh and assimilation is a little harsh. She's right about integration. We will be native people in Canada. I think that's the only option we have left. Separation just does not work.
Great global economies exist. Nations can no longer be totally independent. They've got to rely on each other in order to maintain peace, stability, and good order. The European Union isn't working toward separation; it's working toward one large European concept, with independent nations within. The United States is a shell of a nation with 50 semi-independent states within it.
Aurora: Coming back to our opening theme, has the outward focus in your journalism and all the travelling you do given you a stronger sense of identity?
Williams: Yes, because you can only learn so much in your own neighbourhood. Traveling allows you to see the world and to see your own world again.
There's another benefit to travel, especially if natives want to travel, and that's being an ambassador of who you are. You're showing the world what a native person is. People are curious. When people from other countries visit Canada, I like to sit down with them and find out what it's really like for them. The same thing could be true with a native person travelling elsewhere. Then others become more enlightened.
All those jobs that I've had—bartending, door-to-door salesman, or rock musician, soldier, student, historical researcher—have molded my opinion. They've also molded my drama. As a writer, you need as much information as you can get.
There's no such thing as useless information. The quickest and best way to learn about anything is to go somewhere and immerse yourself in it. I recommend to anybody, not just native people, to go out and see as much as you can. It'll rattle your world. The reason a lot of people don't want to travel is because they don't want their world shaken up. But I go and look for those things. I have an opinion and I want to go see if it's right.
I've grown, as a dramatist and as a human being, by traveling and meeting people. One of the great things about being a journalist is you meet people who have different perspectives on the world.
Aurora: You're planning a possible move to Toronto, and working with Maclean's?
Williams: It's now a definite move to Toronto.
Aurora: If you stay with Maclean's, what will your hopes be?
Williams: I would really like to start an aboriginal affairs bureau, as a native person writing about native issues. That causes a negative reaction among some mainstream journalists because they think you're ghettoizing yourself. But there are so many good stories in the native world that Canada doesn't know about; stories that should be told. And I know how to get them. I can write sports stories, arts stories, business stories. And there are a lot of political issues that affect Canada. Ultimately, what happens with native people in this country will affect Canada.
Interview conducted by Dave
Brundage who co-ordinates writing skills courses and instructs English
courses at Athabasca University. English 211 Prose Models, English
212 Plays and Poetry, and English 308 Native Literature in
Canada. Dave Brundage's play "Springsong" was recently produced at the Frederic
Wood Theatre, at the University of British Columbia.
1. "Pretty Like A White Boy: The Adventures of a Blue-Eyed Ojibway" has appeared in An Anthology of Canadian Literature in English, edited by Daniel David Moses and Terry Goldie. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1992.
2. Drew Hayden Taylor is an Ojibway writer from the Curve Lake Reserve near Peterborough, Ontario. After graduating from the broadcasting program at Seneca College, North York, he worked as a radio reporter, a sound recordist for a film company, a trainee producer with the CBC, a promoter at the Canadian Native Arts Foundation, and a freelance writer. His articles and stories have appeared in Maclean's, The Globe and Mail, This Magazine, Anishinabek News, Cinema Canada, and Windspeaker. Taylor has written episodes for the Beachcombers and Street Legal. He is also an award-winning playwright. His published plays include Toronto at Dreamer's Rock, Someday, and Only Drunks and Children Tell the Truth.
3. Thomas King is arguably the most celebrated and internationally recognized Canadian native writer on today's literary scene. Of Cherokee, Greek, and German descent, he was born in Roseville, California but began his writing career in Canada where he spent ten years as professor of Native Studies at the University of Lethbridge. His short stories have appeared in journals in Canada and the U.S. He is the author of the children's book A Coyote Columbus Story as well as All My Relations: An Anthology of Contemporary Canadian Native Fiction. Listeners of CBC radio are familiar with the humour and satire of his program the Dead Dog Cafe. King has written the filmscript for the CBC-TV co-production of his novel Medicine River. His most recent books are the critically acclaimed Green Grass, Running Water, and One Good Story, That One. He currently teaches English literature at the University of Guelph in Ontario.
4. A four-hour TV mini-series of Big Bear will be broadcast on CBC in 1999. The screenplay is co-written by Wiebe and Gil Cardinal of Kanata Productions.
5. Jordan Wheeler reflects the multinational roots of contemporary Canada, being of Cree, Assiniboine, Ojibway, Irish, English, Scottish, and French descent. Born in 1964, he has published widely in newspapers, magazines, periodicals, children's books, and anthologies. He has also written plays with inner city youth and a film for CBC. A freelancer in the film and video industries, he has written for North of 60.
6. Dream Speakers is an annual festival of aboriginal filmmakers held in Edmonton. It is often attended by well-known artists like Graham Green, Tantoo Cardinal, and Drew Hayden Taylor.
7. Pat Deiter-McArthur (Day Woman) is a Cree Indian, a member of the fifth generation of native people in Saskatchewan, the first children since treaty-signing to be raised by their parents. Many of this fifth generation are not able to understand a native tongue. McArthur has a bachelor of education degree and has written two books, Dances of the Northern Plain and Games of the Plains Cree. She runs a consulting firm and has been contracted to the Federation of Saskatchewan Indian Nations to set up an employment agency.
The Globe and Mail’s article (2013), As Idle No More heats up, Cree playwright Kenneth T. Williams descends on Toronto provides a well rounded update to personal and professional achievements since this article was published.
Kenneth T. Williams: Twitter account @feralkenneth
Updated March 2014
Aurora Online
Citation Format
Dave Brundage (1998) An Interview with Kenneth Williams, Aurora Online