Where Art & Advocacy Meet

Beadwork artist Becca Lynn on tradition, gender, and LGBTQ+ support

For Anishinaabe Two-Spirit and beadwork artist, Becca Lynn (she/they), each intricate pendant or pair of earrings she creates is about more than just craft; it’s cultural connection.

“There’s something magical and very spiritual about creating,” she says. “It’s about transforming [our] energy into something else.”

While beading has been an Anishinaabe practice for centuries, contemporary beading has morphed into an art form of its own, she notes, with modern creatives now employing their practice to reference popular culture, make political statements—or in her case, celebrate the nuances of queer and indigenous identity.

It was with this goal in mind that Lynn’s beadwork business, QueerKwe Designs, was born, and through it, that she’s working towards a more inclusive world, one bead at a time.

Reinventing Tradition

As Lynn explains, the tradition of beading is multifold. Beadwork harkens back to the rich indigenous culture of Great Lakes trade, wherein beads transformed from clay to glass and served as critical economic leverage for regional tribes during periods of colonization in the 17th and 18th centuries.

It’s also an ancestral form of self-expression, not only as it relates to dress, but also as a method of communicating with other tribe members. “We have always been a people that like to adorn ourselves,” Lynn says.

Ojibwe florals, for instance, which often feature patterned colors and symmetry, are not only lovely to look at but could also carry signals about dialect or clan membership throughout the community.

Then there’s the spiritual aspect of beading, which for Lynn, who comes from a long line of artisans, represents a means of cultural preservation and connection to her family’s powerhouse women, including her mother, her aunts, and in particular, her late grandmother.

In fact, Lynn says, her favorite beadwork collection to date is one called Nookomis, the Anishinaabemowin word for grandmother, which incorporates her grandma’s heirloom beads.

“Beadwork has always been a way for me to connect to my community,” she says. “It was a way for me to take all of the energy that I didn’t know what to do with and transform it into something beautiful.”

A Long Road

Lynn didn’t always love beading, though. In fact, when she was first learning the art as a middle-schooler, she hated it.

“I couldn’t sit still; I couldn’t stop talking. I didn’t have the dexterity or the patience,” Lynn notes. She was also starting to perceive her Two-Spirit identity at the time, which, in her largely conservative (and predominantly white) northern Michigan hometown, didn’t help matters.

“[By] late elementary school, I knew that I was different,” she says. “Being present [in beading practice] was really difficult when I was constantly running from those internal battles.”

The Two-Spirit term, per Lynn’s definition, is a contemporary placeholder, first coined in the 1990s to describe a centuries-old concept surrounding indigenous gender structures. Though it’s difficult to define in English, Lynn adds, the term generally refers to a state of being that falls outside of traditional male and female binaries, referring instead to a third gender that harnesses energies of both. Lynn says that each Two-Spirit’s experience is entirely individual.

Among indigenous cultures, Two-Spirit folk were traditionally accepted, and even embraced, for their unique worldview. “These [traits] were often thought of as gifts,” Lynn notes. “Why wouldn’t you want to [hear] and learn from someone who’s experiencing the world differently than you are?”

Colonization and forced Catholicism—which, in the Great Lakes region, dates back as far as the 16th century—subsequently erased much of that tradition, thereby increasing attitudes of homophobia and transphobia across indigenous spaces.

This included Lynn’s community, which she ultimately chose to leave as a young adult to fully and safely explore what queerness could look like. From there, her journey took her to the University of Michigan and an honors thesis surrounding Two-Spirit identity formation, and later, the #NoDAPL Standing Rock Protests, where she demonstrated for eight days, and in that time, witnessed police brutality that left her reeling.

It was about that time that Lynn rediscovered beading, but on her own terms as a way to work through and heal from those traumas. And once she started, she didn’t want to stop.

“I really [thought] about how lucky I was to leave my tribal community and explore my identity,” she says. “I wanted to create an online space of combining traditional beadwork practice with contemporary Pride flags. It seems so simple and easy, but I had never seen anything like it.”

Beading Begins

Enter: QueerKwe Designs (pronounced “queer-kway”), Lynn’s artisan beadwork shop, which combines the traditional indigenous practice of beading with contemporary queer representation.

“The main focus of my work is very queer-centered. Not [as many] artists are doing that year-round,” she explains.

In Lynn’s designs, this theme most often takes shape through Pride-centric colors or patterns, though she adds that her work is also driven by certain attitudes or current events. The on-going stigmatization of trans and non-binary folks, for example, has made for a recent uptick in representing those communities in her work.

Then, there’s the shop’s ending syllable, “kwe,” which is an Anishinaabemowin word meaning “woman.” As Lynn explains, this not only plays homage to the strength and resilience of indigenous women, but also the ever-evolving nature of her Two-Spirit identity.

“That was something I had to figure out,” she says. “I realized I didn’t have to leave my connection to indigenous womanhood to relate to both [genders].”

As for her other artistic inspirations? Lynn highlights fellow creatives, both online and in her community, as regular muses, as well as her beadworking family members. She is sure to mention artisan group White Feather’s Daughters, which includes her mom and aunts; Renee Dillard, a natural fiber artisan; and quillwork artist and basket maker Yvonne Walker Keshick.

Reclaiming Space

For Lynn, QueerKwe is also about celebrating a cultural space for the LGBTQ+ community in northern Michigan, in native traditions, and beyond.

“Remembering that this is my ancestral land, and that queerness and trans-ness have always been sacred here is something that’s [really important],” she notes. “We’ve always been here, and nobody can take that from [us].”

Widespread queer representation in tribal communities, however, is still lacking. Lynn says this makes her art and advocacy work, as well as that of other queer creators, all the more impactful, especially for those who might be struggling with their orientation or gender identity and lack resources. In fact, bringing her work back home is a key part of what’s made her own journey so beautiful.

“I get to work with local youth and let them know that they have a space here. When I was growing up, there were maybe one or two other [queer] people; but now, these kids have a safe space where they can be whoever they need to be,” Lynn says.

Continuing to grow that space, though, requires increased local support, especially when it comes to broaching tough conversations. With that in mind, listening to the queer community is a great place to start, Lynn says.

Other ways to enact change, she tells us, include supporting local youth, who in accordance with Anishinaabe tradition, are least-influenced by modern toxicities; contributing to queer visibility with flags, stickers, signage, and the like; and championing the work of queer organizations.

The real key, though, is accepting other people for who they are. “You don’t need understanding to have respect,” Lynn concludes. “You just have to listen to [people] and [keep] showing up.”

Find QueerKwe Designs on Etsy (etsy.com/shop/queerkwe) and on social media @queerkwe or Facebook.com/queerkwedesigns.

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