When Inclusion Starts to Feel Like Exclusion

 🎨 When Inclusion Starts to Feel Like Exclusion

By Tina Winterlik aka Zipolita

I was excited at first.
A craft fair table for only $15 — that’s a rare find. Usually, tables go for $50 or much more, and as a local artist, that small difference can mean the choice between joining or sitting out. I imagined my beadwork, paintings, and rainmakers catching the winter light — a joyful way to share energy and connection.

But then came the question:
“Please identify your ethnicity and ancestry.”

And my heart dropped.

Why, in 2025, are we still asked to label and categorize ourselves to share art in community spaces?

I understand the good intentions — celebrating Indigenous creators, encouraging diversity, representation, visibility. But sometimes inclusion starts to feel like a test — as if our worth as artists depends on proving where we belong.

My background is layered: Coast Salish–Songhees great-great-grandmother, Kalapuya, Iroquois, Swedish, Portuguese, French, Canadian–European–Bohemian. A mosaic of roots and stories. Like so many artists in BC, I carry threads from many directions, woven together by the land I live on and the art I create.

I withdrew my application.
Not in anger, but in quiet protest. Because art should be the bridge, not the barrier.

This moment made me think about the art world I’ve walked through — the juried shows, gallery walls, cruise ship corridors, Granville Island studios, the Canada Council, the BC Federation of Artists, and the exclusive world of Circle Craft. It’s always been a balance between talent and access — who gets invited, who gets funded, who gets believed.

Artists like Emily Carr faced rejection for decades before her genius was recognized.
Xwalacktun has carved his spirit into public spaces, bridging worlds through Coast Salish tradition and modern art.
Chief Dan George spoke truth through poetry and film, reminding Canada to listen.
Frida Kahlo turned her pain into defiant color.
Georgia O’Keeffe redefined what it meant to see the world as a woman artist.
Van Gogh sold one painting in his lifetime but painted from pure love of life’s movement and light.

Every one of them carried struggle, identity, and the question of belonging.

And so do we — every artist who tries to find a place to simply share our work without being dissected by labels or bureaucracy.

Sometimes I wonder if the art scene in BC — with its grant systems, juried panels, and curated spaces — has lost touch with its original spirit: community, creativity, and connection. When the focus shifts from the art itself to the paperwork that defines it, something sacred is lost.

So yes, I walked away from that $15 table.
Because I believe that authenticity matters more than approval.
My art carries stories — of color, resilience, spirit, and the hope that someday, we’ll see each other beyond the boxes.

“I don’t need to explain who I am to share what I love.” 💫

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🌿 Reflective Questions

1. How does labeling artists by identity affect the authenticity and inclusivity of art spaces?
2. What would an art world look like if no one had to prove where they came from to belong?
3. How do heritage and creativity intersect — and where should they remain separate?
4. Would Emily Carr have been treated differently today under modern grant and inclusion systems?
5. How can organizations like the Canada Council for the Arts and BC Federation of Artists evolve to better support artists with mixed or complex ancestry?
6. How do artists like Xwalacktun bridge the gap between cultural preservation and modern expression?
7. Why do “juried” shows and gallery systems often leave grassroots creators feeling excluded or unseen?
8. What would it take for community markets and festivals to celebrate art for art’s sake again?
9. How do we honor Indigenous ancestry respectfully — without reducing artists to checkboxes or quotas?
10. How can each of us, as creators and viewers, push the art world toward more empathy, openness, and truth?