Meet the Inuit throat singers revitalizing the tradition and engaging new audiences

Sisters Tiffany Ayalik and Inuksuk McKay were children when they first learned the Inuit cultural practice of throat singing.  

“If you ask a kid when they first learn to do ABC’s, they probably wouldn’t be able to tell you exactly when. It was just a normal part of childhood for us,” says McKay.

Together the sisters make up the electronic throat singing duo, PIQSIQ [pronounced pilk-silk]. The duo’s roots stem from Nunavut but they grew up in Yellowknife, N.W.T.,

Throat singing is a musical tradition, a bonding activity and a game that involves two women, standing face-to-face, testing their vocal agility and improvisation skills.

Like many other Inuit and Indigenous traditions, throat singing almost went extinct due to  colonialist pressures from the Canadian government and the Catholic Church. But today, it’s being revived and even reimagined by a new generation of Inuit youth as part of a larger cultural renaissance to celebrate and spread awareness of Inuit culture.

When people ask throat singer Nikki Komaksiutiksak to describe throat singing, she tells them the story that her grandmother told her. 

“One day when a group of men went out hunting … they never came back to the community to feed the women and children,” said Komaksiutiksak, executive director of Tunngasugit,  a resource centre in Winnipeg that helps Inuit from the North who are transitioning to life in Winnipeg.  .

“Two women went down to the ocean and they started mimicking different animal noises with their throats. That’s how they caught their food to feed their children.”

This, she says, is the origin of throat singing. However, throat singing is not just a cultural practice. It’s also an art form, a bonding activity and a game. 

“Basically the first person that laughs is a loser,” Komaksiutiksak joked. “So it’s a bit of a competition now.”

PIQSIQ and Komaksiutiksak are a small but vital part of a cultural renaissance that’s happening in Inuit cultures and it’s the younger generation that motivates them to keep going.

They say there’s a hunger there in younger Inuit audiences to learn whatever they can, reclaim this tradition and re-imagine it in new and innovative ways.

“Now people are doing some of the things that we’re doing like bridging or weaving throat singing with Celtic music or with rock’n’roll, country, folk and electronic stuff,” Ayalik said. 

WATCH: Improvised throat singing performance by PIQSIQ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dC6cTjT-n64%C2%A0

Shame and suppression

As children, Ayalik and McKay would often throat sing on camping trips when they ran out of things to do. However, when they asked family members to teach them new songs, they always noticed an element of discomfort.

It was not until they were older that the sisters learned that at one point, throat singing almost went extinct.

In the early 1900s, Christian missionaries set up a formidable presence in the North, banning cultural practices such as drumming and throat singing in schools and public spaces.

“It was heavily taboo and even illegal at one point and you could be fined or even imprisoned if you were caught practicing,” McKay said.

In the 1960s, Aisa Qupiqrualuk — an Inuit carver and storyteller who later became an Anglican minister — encouraged women in Nunavik to revive several traditions, including throat singing. 

Ayalik and McKay believe that this was the beginning of throat singing returning into daily Inuit life.

For Komaksiutiksak, throat singing was a huge part of her upbringing until she landed in the child welfare system. She ultimately had to take on the personal responsibility of keeping up with the tradition by herself as she became more and more separated from her family and culture.

Komaksiutiksak started throat singing with her cousins around the age of eight. Soon afterward, her aunt would take them on expeditions to travel the world and perform at showcases, all while educating others on the Inuit cultural tradition. 

But behind the scenes, Komaksiutiksak says the children suffered physical and emotional abuse. She and her sister eventually ran away, and ultimately landed in several group homes throughout the remainder of her childhood. 

As part of the child welfare program, Komaksiutiksak was forced to take Indigenous cultural programs. However, none of the activities that they offered — such as powwow — reflected any aspect of her Inuit culture. To stay connected to her roots, she improvised.

“I would throat sing to the girls in the group homes and to the workers that were working because that was my identity and I needed to ensure that I did not forget where I came from and who I was,” Komaksiutiksak said. 

New generation

Today, more than 20 years after leaving the child welfare system, Komaksiutiksak said the power of throat singing saved her during her most challenging years.

Because of that, it was imperative for her to continue the tradition, but also to pass it down to her daughters, Chasity and Caramello Swan.

“When we were younger, we would fight and then we would start singing and after that we would be best friends again,” Chasity said. “It feels good for the soul.”

Caramello, 22, echoed her sister’s sentiments and said that she feels more connected to her family when Chasity, 20, sings with them.

“When I sing with my mother, I remember the vibrations,” Caramello said. “And I remember the feeling of being in her. It’s like a hug from my heart and my throat.”

Watching both her girls learn, thrive and understand the importance of throat singing has been rewarding for Komaksiutiksak to witness. As she looks towards the future, she hopes that the tradition of throat singing will empower future generations in their identity as Inuit.

Ayalik and McKay hope to see that happen as younger generations continue to explore and find joy in throat singing and other Inuit traditions.

“I feel like there’s a beautiful momentum that’s happening .. where people are seeing how beautiful it is as a practice and how complimentary it is to collaborate these sounds with things that you would never think of putting together,” Ayalik said.

“I’m so excited to see the shame melt away.”