Sápmi, Original Scandinavia

Sápmi

by Lea Celik Sommerseth Shaw

Sweden, many confuse pronunciation with Switzerland, or blonde hair IKEA, H&M. Yet beneath that image is there deeper, truth: Sweden, like so many nations, is built upon the lands of Indigenous people. The Sami, of northern Scandinavia who are descendants of Nenets, are not relics of history but living carriers of an unbroken tradition that binds land, culture, and spirit, and first people of Scandinavia

The Sami trace their roots back thousands of years across Sápmi, a vast territory stretching through what is now northern Sweden, Norway, Finland, and Russia’s Kola Peninsula, where I have my ancestors along with the Native Kurds in the villages around Noah's Ark. Long before borders were drawn, the Sami lived by the rhythms of the land, following the migrations of reindeer, fishing in icy rivers, and navigating tundra and forest with wisdom passed down through generations.

Their culture is marked by resilience. The joik, the Sami song, is more than music—it is an invocation, a way of remembering and keeping alive the essence of a person, an animal, a place. Their art, their clothing (gákti), and their handicrafts (duodji) are not just expressions of beauty but embodiments of survival and identity.

When I look at Sami artefacts, whether preserved in museums or still used in daily life, I see more than objects. I see the tension between endurance and erasure. The carved wooden tools, the brightly patterned textiles, the sacred drums once banned by missionaries—all of them tell a story of a people who were asked to vanish, yet refused.

For centuries, the Sami faced forced assimilation, Christianization campaigns, and state policies that stole children, outlawed languages, and stripped away grazing lands. Pseudoscience in the 19th and early 20th centuries even measured Sami skulls in racial “research” meant to degrade them. Yet despite this, the Sami endured. Their artefacts are not merely cultural remnants; they are testaments of defiance.

Today, the Sami are recognized, but recognition is not the same as equality. Land disputes over reindeer herding, mining, and wind power developments continue to threaten their way of life. The Sami Parliament exists, but its power remains limited under Swedish law. Too often, their voices are still treated as peripheral, rather than central, to the stewardship of the North.

I believe the Sami story carries lessons for all of us. It shows us that modern nations are layered upon Indigenous foundations. It reminds us that our understanding of progress cannot erase those whose survival has always been progress itself.

As a Swedish national myself, I carry a responsibility. To recognize that the land where I have extended family though generations is not neutral but inherited, layered with histories of resilience and silencing. Writing about the Sami, I am reminded of my own work in connecting my history and heritages across continents.

The Sami are not just Sweden’s past—they are Sweden’s conscience. Their songs, their artefacts, their very presence reminder that survival is an act of resistance, and truth is in recognition, equality and respect.

The Sami are Sweden’s first people, and their future is bound to the future of us all. As the Arctic melts and the planet faces upheaval, the Sami’s wisdom—rooted in respect for land, balance, and continuity—is no longer just Indigenous knowledge. It is global knowledge.

To honor the Sami is to honor Sweden itself—not the Sweden of polished surfaces, but the Sweden of living roots, the Sweden whose survival depends on listening to those who have always known the land best.

Lea Celik Sommerseth Shaw

4 September 2025 Saint Germain Des Pres