The sun slices through the early morning haze as I watch Tsuut’ina Nation dancers prepare for their grand entry at the Calgary Stampede. Their regalia catches the light—intricate beadwork shimmering, eagle feathers swaying with each careful movement. This isn’t just preparation for a performance; it’s a continuation of traditions that predate the Stampede itself by centuries.
“We’ve always been here,” Elder Rose Runner tells me, adjusting her granddaughter’s jingle dress. “But now we’re being seen in ways our grandparents couldn’t have imagined.”
For 112 years, the Calgary Stampede has branded itself as “The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth,” drawing over a million visitors annually to its rodeo competitions, chuckwagon races, and midway attractions. But beneath the veneer of cowboy hats and pancake breakfasts lies a complex cultural evolution that mirrors Canada’s ongoing reconciliation journey.
The Stampede began in 1912 when American promoter Guy Weadick convinced four wealthy ranchers to finance a frontier exhibition. What started as a celebration of a romanticized Wild West mythos has gradually transformed into something more nuanced—a reflection of southern Alberta’s multicultural identity and a platform for Indigenous presence that was once relegated to the margins.
Elbow River Camp, formerly known as “Indian Village,” represents this transformation most visibly. The traditional encampment features tipis from the Treaty 7 Nations: Siksika, Piikani, Kainai, Tsuut’ina, and Stoney Nakoda. What once existed as a cultural exhibit has evolved into a space where Indigenous communities assert agency over their representation.
“My grandfather participated in the first Stampedes when Indigenous people couldn’t even leave reserves without permission from Indian Agents,” says Cory Beaver, a young Stoney Nakoda educator who guides cultural tours at the Stampede grounds. “Now we’re partners, not just performers.”
According to research from Mount Royal University’s Indigenous Studies department, the Stampede has historically occupied a paradoxical position—simultaneously celebrating Indigenous cultures while existing within a colonial framework that displaced those same communities. Today, that relationship is being consciously renegotiated.
The Stampede’s economic impact is substantial. A 2019 Conference Board of Canada study estimated it generates approximately $540 million in economic activity for Alberta annually. But beyond economics, its cultural significance continues to evolve.
Walking the grounds on a busy Saturday, I’m struck by the contrasts. At the rodeo arena, traditional events like bull riding and barrel racing draw enthusiastic crowds. These competitions trace their lineage to practical ranching skills that shaped southern Alberta’s development. Meanwhile, at the nearby BMO Centre, the Indigenous Marketplace features contemporary Indigenous artists selling everything from traditional medicines to modern graphic art that challenges colonial narratives.
“The Stampede is where Calgary shows its many faces,” explains Dr. Aruna Srivastava, who researches cultural representation at the University of Calgary. “It’s simultaneously a celebration of rural heritage, a corporate networking extravaganza, and increasingly, a space where Indigenous peoples are reclaiming visibility.”
This visibility hasn’t come without struggle. Until recently, the Stampede’s portrayal of Indigenous cultures often relied on problematic stereotypes. The very term “Indian Village” remained in use until 2018, when it was changed to Elbow River Camp after consultation with Treaty 7 leaders.
For many Calgarians like Thomas Standing, whose Blackfoot great-grandfather participated in early Stampede events, the celebration carries deep personal meaning.
“My family’s story is woven into this event,” Standing tells me as we watch a demonstration of traditional horse culture. “There was a time when our ceremonies were actually illegal under Canadian law, but some cultural practices survived partly because they had a place at Stampede.”
Beyond Indigenous representation, the Stampede reflects other cultural evolutions. The event that once exclusively celebrated Anglo-Canadian ranching heritage now includes Filipino halo-halo desserts alongside traditional bannock, Caribbean steel drums alongside country music, and rainbow crosswalks near the Nashville North tent.
Calgary Mayor Jyoti Gondek has described the Stampede as “a celebration where everyone belongs,” though this vision remains aspirational rather than fully realized. Accessibility advocates note that the grounds can be challenging for people with mobility issues, and the high cost of admission creates economic barriers for many.
The Stampede’s cultural significance extends beyond the ten-day festival itself. Throughout the year, the Stampede Foundation delivers educational programs to thousands of students, teaching both traditional cowboy skills and Indigenous knowledge. These programs represent an attempt to contextualize the region’s complex history within contemporary understandings of reconciliation.
“We’re trying to move beyond the simplistic cowboys-and-Indians narrative,” explains Shannon Leggett, an educator with the Stampede Foundation. “The real story is about how diverse peoples have lived together on this land—sometimes in conflict, sometimes in cooperation.”
As evening approaches, I find myself at the grandstand for the chuckwagon races—perhaps the Stampede’s most controversial tradition. Animal welfare advocates have long criticized the event for horse injuries and deaths, forcing organizers to implement stricter safety measures. This tension between tradition and evolving values mirrors broader cultural negotiations happening throughout Canadian society.
The Calgary Stampede’s cultural significance ultimately lies in its capacity to evolve—from Guy Weadick’s romanticized frontier showcase to a more complex reflection of contemporary Alberta. While it continues to trade in certain nostalgic myths of the West, it increasingly acknowledges the fuller history of the territories where it takes place.
As I watch families stream toward the exits—some in cowboy boots, others in traditional regalia, many in everyday clothes from cultures around the world—I’m reminded that cultural significance isn’t static. Like all living traditions, the Stampede continues to be reimagined by each generation that participates in it, creating a cultural tapestry as diverse as the city itself.
