Long before Red River became the symbolic heart of Métis identity, fur trade routes and kinship ties were forming across the Pacific Northwest. French Canadian and European traders formed enduring family and economic relationships with Indigenous women, creating unique, place-based Métis communities that combined cultural knowledge, survival skills, and adaptive lifeways. These were not outliers—they were integral to the region’s functioning.

Crucially, the Western Métis formed the very backbone of the fur trade economy in this vast region. They made up the majority of the workforce that powered fur companies across the Northwest as voyageurs, hunters, trappers, guides, interpreters, and labourers. Their deep understanding of the terrain, language, and cultural protocols—navigating both Indigenous and settler worlds—made them irreplaceable to the economic engine of the era.

To downplay their identity because of geographic distance from Red River is to deny their profound contributions to the history and economy of Western North America. These were communities shaped by place, language, and kin, not by colonial borders.

One of the most powerful markers of Western Métis identity is Chinuk Wawa, a sophisticated trade language that became the lingua franca of the fur trade and daily life in the Pacific Northwest. While Michif is often recognized as the language of the Red River Métis, Chinuk Wawa played an equally central role in unifying and expressing Métis identity in the West.

As researcher Henry Zenk and others have shown, this language originated in the lower Columbia River region and quickly spread with the mobility of Western Métis families. It became not only a tool for commerce but a written and expressive cultural medium in its own right—used by Métis, Indigenous nations, and settlers alike.

Land use tells a story, and in Western Métis communities, the long lot system—familiar to French Canadians in Quebec—appears again and again. In places like French Prairie, Oregon, and Frenchtown, Washington, land was divided into narrow strips running from rivers and lakes, revealing a deliberate and familiar design. This, paired with the appearance of Red River carts and other cultural markers, demonstrates how Métis practices travelled and took root throughout the West.

Today, colonial definitions of Métis identity are often shaped by legislation or bureaucratic frameworks that center Red River history while excluding communities that developed independently. Yet, as Dano emphasizes, historical records from the fur trade era rarely drew hard lines between eastern and western Métis populations. What mattered were shared roles, cultural practices, and community bonds.

Communities like the Little Shell Tribe of Chippewa Indians in Montana, early “French settlements” in the Pacific Northwest, and many others represent a foundational and living Western Métis identity—one that existed well before contemporary political definitions took hold.

The story of the Métis is not linear, nor is it bound to one geographic location. The Western Métis—with their own languages, lands, labour histories, and community ties—deserve recognition on their own terms. Their contributions to the fur trade, their survival and adaptation, and their cultural richness are vital chapters in the broader Métis narrative.

As conversations around Métis identity continue to evolve, recognizing the diversity of Métis experience is not only historically accurate—it is essential to building a more inclusive and truthful future.