Indigenous Fredericton: The Wolastoqey, the Wolastoq, and How to Show Respect

Whose land this is

Fredericton sits in the traditional homeland of the Wolastoqey Nation. You will see the people’s name written several ways, and all of them are in use: Wolastoqey and Wolastoqiyik (and the spelling Wəlastəkwiyik) are what the community uses for itself, while Maliseet is an older exonym that came from a Mi’kmaw word and is still common in official and everyday speech. The Wolastoqiyik are the people of the Wolastoq, the river that runs through downtown, and they are one of the nations of the Wabanaki Confederacy, alongside the Mi’kmaq, Passamaquoddy, Abenaki, and Penobscot.

Two words matter here and they get said a lot for good reason: unceded and treaty. This land was never sold, surrendered, or signed away. The Peace and Friendship Treaties, first recorded in 1725 and 1726 and renewed through the 1700s, were not land-surrender agreements. They set out how the British and the Wabanaki nations would coexist, and they protected the right of Wolastoqiyik to keep hunting, fishing, and using their lands and waters. Because those treaties did not extinguish title, the phrase you will hear in acknowledgements, that Fredericton is on “unceded Wolastoqey territory,” is a plain statement of the legal and historical record, not a slogan.

That is also why you will sometimes hear the line “we are all treaty people.” The treaties bound both sides, so if you live here, you are part of that relationship whether or not your family ever thought about it. Sitansisk’s own website frames the community as living “in the spirit of Peace and Friendship,” and that framing is worth taking seriously rather than treating it as ceremony. For the fuller history in the Nation’s own words, the Wolastoqey Nation in New Brunswick is the source to read first.

Sitansisk: St. Mary’s First Nation, right across the river

You do not have to travel to find a Wolastoqey community near Fredericton, because one is part of Fredericton. Sitansisk, known in English as St. Mary’s First Nation, sits on the north side of the Wolastoq, directly across from downtown. Its main reserve, St. Mary’s, dates to 1867, and a second parcel, Devon 30, was added in 1929 a few kilometres upriver. The community has roughly 1,800 registered members, with about half living on reserve. If you have crossed the Westmorland Street bridge or driven through the north side, you have been in and around Sitansisk.

This is an urban First Nation woven into the daily life of the capital. St. Mary’s runs its own government and departments (housing, health, education, economic development, social services) and operates businesses that employ people from across Fredericton North, including retail and an entertainment centre. Like many communities it has seen ventures open and close: the community-run supermarket, for instance, closed in 2024. The point is not the balance sheet but the reality that Sitansisk is a working, governing, present community, not a historical footnote.

The name Sitansisk carries its own history, and so does the community’s memory of figures like Gabriel Acquin, a nineteenth-century Wolastoqey hunter, guide, and interpreter connected to the community’s early days. Rather than repeat second-hand versions of that history, we will point you to the community itself: the Sitansisk Wolastoqey (St. Mary’s First Nation) website publishes news, events, and a newsletter, and it is the right place to learn what the community is actually doing this year.

The Wolastoq and the reclaiming of the name

The river is the reason the people are called what they are called. Wolastoq is usually translated as “beautiful and bountiful river,” and you will also see “beautiful river” or “bountiful, good” on their own. The exact English gloss varies a little between sources and speakers, which is normal when you are translating a living language, and if you want the most careful version you should ask a Wolastoqey speaker rather than settle for any single tidy phrase. What is not in doubt is the shape of it: Wolastoqiyik means, roughly, the people of that river. The name of the people comes straight out of the name of the water.

Settlers renamed the river the Saint John after the day Europeans reached its mouth. For years there has been a community-led push to restore Wolastoq, framed by elders and youth alike as reconciliation and as identity. Wolastoq Grand Council figures and community members from St. Mary’s have been vocal that the land and water here were never ceded, and that giving the river back its name is part of giving the relationship back its honesty. There is genuine debate about spelling and about how far official renaming should go, and that debate belongs to the community.

If you want to spend time on the water and think about all this, our guide to getting on the Wolastoq covers the practical side, and our history of how Fredericton got its names sits right next to this story.

The annual pow wow and community gatherings

The single easiest and most welcoming way to show up is the Sitansisk (St. Mary’s First Nation) Annual Pow Wow. It has run for more than 25 years, it is typically held in the warmer months, and it is open to the public. Expect drumming and dancing, regalia, food, and vendors, and expect it to be a real cultural and spiritual event rather than a show put on for tourists. Hundreds of people attend, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, and visitors are genuinely welcome.

Being welcome is not the same as anything goes, and a pow wow has its own etiquette. A few plain guidelines carry you a long way: listen to the MC, who will tell you when photography is and is not appropriate and which dances are open versus ceremonial; stand and remove your hat for the grand entry and any honour songs if asked; do not touch dancers’ regalia; and if there is a giveaway or a specific protocol, follow the lead of the people around you rather than guessing. If you are unsure, ask politely, quietly, and once.

Dates move year to year, and we would rather send you to the source than print a date that turns out to be wrong. Check the Sitansisk / St. Mary’s First Nation website and social channels for the current year’s schedule, and watch local listings as summer approaches. Beyond the pow wow, keep an eye out for events tied to National Indigenous Peoples Day on June 21 and Orange Shirt Day / the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation on September 30, both of which usually bring public gatherings in and around Fredericton.

Wolastoqey art and artists worth knowing

One of the best and least awkward ways to engage is to pay attention to, and buy from, Wolastoqey artists. The most nationally visible is Natalie Sappier, whose Wolastoqey name is Samaqani Cocahq. She is from Tobique (Neqotkuk) and has strong Fredericton ties, including a residency at the UNB Art Centre, and her bright, flowing figurative work and stage collaborations have carried Wolastoqiyik stories well beyond the province. Her own site, samaqanicocahq.com, is the place to see the work on her terms.

Wolastoqey artistic tradition runs deep and practical, especially brown ash and sweetgrass basketry, a craft passed down through families and increasingly recognized as fine art rather than souvenir. The Beaverbrook Art Gallery downtown has shown Wolastoqey work, including projects tied to the river and, more recently, contemporary Wolastoqey artists blending traditional imagery with street-art styles. Mi’kmaw and Wolastoqi women have also built online storefronts to sell their crafts directly, which is worth seeking out if you want to buy authentically.

A word on buying: authenticity and money matter. Buy directly from Indigenous makers or from shops and galleries that clearly credit and compensate them, and be wary of mass-produced “native-style” goods that send nothing back to the community. If you like museums and heritage generally, our Fredericton museums and heritage guide is a good companion, and the Beaverbrook is a natural first stop for seeing Wolastoqey art in person.

Land acknowledgements: meaningful versus performative

You will hear a land acknowledgement at the start of city council meetings, UNB and STU events, concerts, and conferences: some version of “we acknowledge that we are on the unceded traditional territory of the Wolastoqey.” The City of Fredericton’s own wording notes that the city “is situated in the traditional homeland of the Wolastoqey Nation since time immemorial.” Said with attention, an acknowledgement names a truth many people were never taught. Said on autopilot, it can become a box to tick before getting on with business as usual.

The difference is not the wording, it is what surrounds it. A meaningful acknowledgement usually names the specific nation (Wolastoqey, not a generic “Indigenous peoples”), gets the word unceded right, and is attached to something real: a relationship, a commitment, money, a change in how a place operates. A performative one is copied off a website, mispronounced without apology, and followed by nothing. Plenty of Frederictonians, Indigenous and not, are openly skeptical of acknowledgements that are all words and no follow-through, and that skepticism is fair.

If you are ever asked to give one, the honest move is to write your own in plain language, learn to say Wolastoqey and Wolastoq out loud, say why it matters to you, and then do at least one concrete thing. If you are not asked to give one, you do not need to perform anything. Learning quietly and acting on it counts for more than a polished sentence.

How to learn and show respect, without overstepping

Most non-Indigenous residents who want to “do the right thing” get stuck between doing nothing and doing too much. A workable middle exists. Learn the names first: Wolastoq for the river, Wolastoqey or Wolastoqiyik for the people, Sitansisk for the community across the water. Getting these right, and being willing to be corrected, is the baseline. Follow the Nation’s own sources: St. Mary’s First Nation and the Wolastoqey Nation in New Brunswick publish their own news and positions, and they should outrank any explainer, including this one.

A few more concrete moves, none of which require you to insert yourself where you do not belong:

• Show up as a guest at public events like the pow wow, National Indigenous Peoples Day, and Orange Shirt Day, and behave like a guest: listen more than you talk.
• Put money where it matters by buying from Wolastoqey artists and Indigenous-owned businesses.
• Read the hard history, including residential schools and the reasons September 30 exists, without expecting Indigenous people to teach you personally.
• Do not collect ceremony. Do not ask for smudges, teachings, or “your spirit animal,” and do not treat sacred practices as experiences to sample.

The unglamorous truth is that respect here looks like patience and homework more than grand gestures. When you are unsure whether something is open to you, assume it is not until someone from the community tells you otherwise, and take a decline gracefully. Our wider Fredericton guides and the things to do listings can help you plan the rest of a respectful visit around these anchors.

Contemporary realities, said plainly

This is not only history. The Wolastoqey Nation has been pursuing a major Aboriginal title claim covering a large portion of New Brunswick, and it has moved through the courts with rulings that have gone in different directions on different pieces, including questions about privately held land. It is an active, complicated legal matter, and the details shift, so we are not going to summarize a verdict for you here. If you want to understand it, read the Wolastoqey Nation in New Brunswick directly and follow reputable coverage such as CBC Indigenous and APTN.

Everyday realities sit alongside the legal ones. Members of St. Mary’s have long raised concerns about the health of the Wolastoq itself, from contamination to fish, and about the gap between acknowledgement and action. There are also ordinary frictions any city produces, from taxation questions to development. Naming these plainly is not lecturing, it is just being honest that Sitansisk is a present community with present interests, not a story that ended in the 1800s.

The good news for a newcomer or a curious neighbour is that none of this requires you to have an opinion on every dispute. It asks something simpler: know whose land you are on, use the right names, support the community’s own work, and listen when Wolastoqey people speak for themselves. That is the whole assignment, and it is one anyone living along the Wolastoq can take up.