Braiding Sweetgrass for Young Adults: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants

“This seemingly trivial grammatical rulemaking in fact expresses deeply held assumptions about human exceptionalism, that we are somehow different and indeed better than the other species who surround us.”

Kimmerer notes that most plant and animal names are not capitalized unless they include the name of a person or a formal place name. She identifies this as an example of the subtle but systemic human exceptionalism that pervades Western ideology, leading humans to believe they are superior to other beings.

“The flourishing was not from Skywoman alone but from the alchemy of all the animals’ gifts coupled with her deep gratitude. Together they formed what we know today as Turtle Island, our home.”

The second chapter of the book is a retelling of a Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe origin story: Skywoman falls from Skyworld and is rescued by the animals, who make land for her on Turtle’s shell. The story emphasizes both the generosity of the other living beings and the Skywoman’s gratitude for their gifts. Both are necessary for Earth, known as Turtle Island, to flourish.

“Included in this book is a bundle of healing stories that allow us to imagine a different relationship in which people and land are good medicine for each other.”

Kimmerer visualizes the book as a braid of sweetgrass, a traditional gift of kindness and gratitude of the Potawatomi people. The metaphor literalizes Kimmerer’s attempts to combine Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and lessons gleaned from plant life within one book.

“What we see is the power of unity. What happens to one, happens to us all. We can starve together or feast together. All flourishing is mutual.”

For Kimmerer, the systems of communication and exchange that exist between trees act as a powerful symbol of unity and mutual aid. She encourages readers to model this unity in their communities by taking action to ensure that all members of the community can flourish.

“But when the food does not come from a flock in the sky, when you don’t feel the warm feathers cool in your hand and know that a life has been given for yours, when there is no gratitude in return—that food may not satisfy. It may leave the spirit hungry when the belly is full.”

Kimmerer proposes a gift economy—in which natural resources are received with gratitude as gifts—to replace the market economy, which sees natural resources as commodities to be bought and sold. Here, she suggests that food in particular is more meaningful when the eater acknowledges the sacrifice of life necessary for their meal to exist.

“Tahawus is the Algonquin name for Mount Marcy, the highest peak in the Adirondacks. It’s called Mount Marcy to commemorate a governor who never set foot on those wild slopes.”

Kimmerer argues that using Indigenous place names where possible honors the spirit and history of the peoples closest to the landscape. This passage suggests that white settlers sought to claim ownership of the space through naming without meaningfully engaging with the landscape.

“From a worldview where I knew plants as teachers and companions to whom I shared a mutual responsibility and where we asked questions like, ‘who are you?’ to a scientific worldview where questions were, ‘what is it?’”

This passage draws a distinction between Indigenous ways of knowing and the scientific worldview Kimmerer adopted as a botanist. She suggests that an Indigenous worldview sees mutual reciprocity in humanity’s relationships with plants, while scientific thinking sees humans as separate from and superior to other forms of life.

“The responsibility does not lie with the maples alone. The other half belongs to us. We participate in its transformation. It is our work, and our gratitude, that distills the sweetness.”

Kimmerer frames the production of maple syrup as a collaborative effort between humans and maple trees. Humans care for the trees, and in exchange, the trees provide sap, which humans laboriously transform into syrup. She understands gratitude to be an essential part of this process.

“My mother and Hazel Barnett, unlikely sisters, learned from the plants they both loved. Together, they made a balm for loneliness and a strengthening tea for the pain of longing. Their friendship was medicine for each other.”

In this chapter, Kimmerer’s daughter Larkin narrates her mother’s relationship with a neighbor, Hazel Barnett. Their unexpected relationship acts as an example of the type of reciprocity and mutual care Kimmerer advocates elsewhere in the book among all species of life.

“What would it be like to be raised on gratitude, to speak to the natural world as a member of the democracy of species, to raise a pledge of interdependence? No declarations of political loyalty required, just a response to a repeated question: ‘Can we agree to be grateful for all that is given?’”

This chapter explicitly compares the Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address to the American Pledge of Allegiance. Kimmerer argues that the expressions of gratitude at the heart of the Thanksgiving Address are more likely to inspire political unity and action than the declarations of loyalty in the Pledge of Allegiance.

“Is the water still supporting life? Are all those birds still healthy? When we can no longer see the stars because of light pollution, the words of Thanksgiving should awaken us to our loss and spur us to restorative action.”

Kimmerer argues that the Thanksgiving Address is not only a statement of gratitude but also a call to action. This passage suggests that when the words of the Address cease to be true, humans are called to restore landscapes to protect the Earth. Kimmerer implies that the Pledge of Allegiance does not contain a similar call to action.

“The earth loves us back in beans, corns, and strawberries. Food could taste bland, but it doesn’t.”

This passage reflects Kimmerer’s belief that nonhuman beings such as plants are capable of acting with intention. She argues that the fact that fruits and vegetables taste appealing to humans is evidence of a loving relationship between humans and plants.

“When the colonists on the Massachusetts shore first saw Indigenous gardens, they inferred that the savages did not know how to farm. To their minds, a garden meant straight rows of single species, not a three-dimensional sprawl of abundance. And yet they ate their fill and asked for more and more again.”

For Kimmerer, the Indigenous practice of planting the Three Sisters (corn, beans, and squash) together is evidence of a long, evidence-based tradition of Indigenous ecology. The colonists’ rejection of this wisdom is evidence of their belief in the superiority of Western science over traditional knowledge.

“But I notice that my eyes and my thoughts pass quickly over the plastic on my desk. I hardly give the computer a second glance. I can muster no reflective moment for plastic. It is so far removed from the natural world.”

This chapter describes the process of weaving a black ash basket in a way that honors the life of the ash itself. In this passage, Kimmerer suggests that she struggles with plastic and digital objects because she cannot visualize their natural origins. The implication is that the technology of the modern world is incompatible with a natural worldview.

“We began by setting up experimental plots in the meadows to ask the plants the question, ‘Do these two different harvest methods contribute to decline?’ And then we tried to detect their answers.”

This passage reflects Kimmerer’s attempts to merge the restrictions of scientific practices with the Indigenous worldview in which she was raised. Rather than thinking of her research as something she is doing to the plants, Kimmerer frames the experiment as a collaboration between humans and plants.

“Political action, civic engagement—these are powerful acts of reciprocity with the land.”

Kimmerer argues that human beings have a variety of responsibilities in their relationship with nonhuman beings on Earth. At the core of those responsibilities is the duty to care for the Earth. This passage suggests that environmental activism is an act of care and that individuals should lobby their governments on behalf of the nonhuman.

“Philosophers call this state of isolation and disconnection ‘species loneliness’—a deep, unnamed sadness stemming from separation from the rest of Creation, from the loss of relationship.”

Kimmerer encourages readers to follow the example of the Anishinaabe first man Nanabozho in greeting and learning from nonhuman beings on Earth. This passage suggests that maintaining these relationships is essential not only to the health of the Earth but also to the spiritual well-being of humans.

“The hook-jawed leaders are allowed to pass, to guide the others, and to carry the message to their upriver relatives that the people are grateful and full of respect.”

The relationship between salmon and the Indigenous people of the Pacific Northwest is based on gratitude. The welcome ceremony described here begins by allowing the first salmon to pass and honoring them as leaders of the salmon community. Modern ecologists note that allowing the first salmon to pass ensures the strength of the group.

“Language is the dwelling place of ideas that do not exist anywhere else, a prism through which to see the world.”

This passage comes from Kimmerer’s discussion of the loss of Indigenous languages at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School. Her belief in the importance of Indigenous language is reflected in her use of Indigenous words throughout the book. Using the Indigenous names for plants alongside the English names reflects her belief in the validity and importance of Indigenous thought.

“Prosperity here led to the great potlatch tradition in which material goods were ritually given away. A direct reflection of the generosity of the land to the people. Wealth meant having enough to give away. The cedars taught how to share wealth, and the people learned.”

The fertile abundance of the old-growth cedar forests in the Pacific Northwest led to great prosperity for the Indigenous people who lived there. In this passage, Kimmerer subtly compares their habit of giving away wealth to the modern capitalist tendency to hoard wealth.

“Creation stories offer a glimpse into the worldview of a people, of how they understand themselves, their place in the world, and the ideals to which they aspire.”

The value of stories and storytelling is a central thematic concern in the book. This passage suggests that creation stories in particular are useful for understanding how a people see themselves in relation to others and the type of people they hope to become. She uses creation stories throughout the book to introduce major Indigenous concepts.

“The gods wished to end this failed experiment in humanity and sent great catastrophes to the world. They sent a flood, earthquakes, and most importantly, other species were given voices for their grief and anger at the disrespect shown them by the humans made of wood.”

Many cultures have myths involving great floods used as punishment for human sin. However, while the Christian myth of the flood involves the death of animals and humans, the Mayan creation myth sees the animals surviving. The fact that these animals also punish humans for their behavior demonstrates the great value animal life has in many Indigenous cultures.

“Our spiritual leaders interpret this prophecy as the choice between the deadly road of materialism that threatens the land and the people, and the soft path of wisdom, respect, and reciprocity that is held in the teachings of the First Fire.”

This passage encapsulates the argument at the heart of Braiding Sweetgrass. Kimmerer argues that modern society is at a crossroads and can choose to either embrace materialism and greed or reject these ills in favor of a reciprocal relationship with the Earth. Crucially, this choice is framed as a return to intimacy with the Earth and a rejection of modern problems, rather than the creation of a new path.