<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:foaf="http://xmlns.com/foaf/0.1/" xmlns:og="http://ogp.me/ns#" xmlns:rdfs="http://www.w3.org/2000/01/rdf-schema#" xmlns:schema="http://schema.org/" xmlns:sioc="http://rdfs.org/sioc/ns#" xmlns:sioct="http://rdfs.org/sioc/types#" xmlns:skos="http://www.w3.org/2004/02/skos/core#" xmlns:xsd="http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#" version="2.0" xml:base="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/">
  <channel>
    <title>History</title>
    <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/</link>
    <description/>
    <language>en</language>
    
    <item>
  <title>Bringing Their Stories to Life: An Archive Aims to Preserve the Histories of 12,000 Native Veterans who Served in World War I</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/bringing-their-stories-to-life</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;Bringing Their Stories to Life: An Archive Aims to Preserve the Histories of 12,000 Native Veterans who Served in World War I&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-f35a625f7efe1b875b4314f345dfacdfc9901eb40d9b6f7215f33137ae29c5f1"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/fall-2025" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Fall 2025
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 26 No. 3
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-229c4b4e6fec93d6e46109a457a233a6fb7cc9e1f36a88a8fd139ff6a0f2bd33"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-99a0c824a4c6be2ce803455c97f96e70e9fd673d5fcfdab2fc5fbd7f7897ea3d"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by William C. Meadows&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In April 1918, the last year of World War I, Private First Class Leo McGuire was driving an ambulance to and from a field dressing station near Seicheprey, France, to retrieve wounded soldiers. McGuire was a member of the Osage Nation from Oklahoma and had enlisted when he was 19 years old. On one of his trips, a shell exploded near the ambulance, throwing it from the road. McGuire was knocked unconscious and when he awoke, returned to his duty station on foot. Although suffering from an injury in his  back and not yet recovered from the shock, he still tried to return to duty that afternoon, but the medical officers insisted he wait until the following day. For his heroic actions, the U.S. Army awarded him the Distinguished Service Cross, the nation’s second highest award for gallantry. He was the first U.S. soldier to receive this award. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-1156-story-slideshow-images-default-2" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-1156-story-slideshow-images-default-2-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/Haskell_WWI_8%27x5%27-gallery_0.jpg?itok=d5rUa4Px" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"790","rel":"slick-node-1156-story-slideshow-images-default-2"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/Haskell_WWI_8%27x5%27-gallery_0.jpg?itok=MITFvqCu" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/Haskell_WWI_8%27x5%27-gallery_0.jpg?itok=MITFvqCu" alt="Black and white image of a large group of US Army soldiers outside a brick building." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="759" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Almost 500 former students of the Haskell Institute (now Haskell Indian Nations University) in Kansas served in World War I, including these U.S. Army soldiers outside one of its buildings in 1918.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Almost 500 former students of the Haskell Institute (now Haskell Indian Nations University) in Kansas served in World War I, including these U.S. Army soldiers outside one of its buildings in 1918.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/1962_08_6335_500-%281%29-gallery_1.jpg?itok=E001Z_GV" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1183","rel":"slick-node-1156-story-slideshow-images-default-2"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/1962_08_6335_500-%281%29-gallery_1.jpg?itok=js4P-zyb" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/1962_08_6335_500-%281%29-gallery_1.jpg?itok=js4P-zyb" alt="Four soldiers, one playing a bugle, stand in line" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="507" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Left to right:&lt;/em&gt; Company G 13 Infantry 8 Division soldiers Anton Mentag (Aleut), Owen Yackeyonny (Comanche), Stacey Sitting Hawk (Cheyenne) and James Hezekiah Chebahtah (Comanche) at Camp Mills Base Hospital in Long Island, New York, in 1919. Captain T. J. Hewitt said of Mentag, “He can play anything from a charge to the rag-time on the bugle.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Left to right:&lt;/em&gt; Company G 13 Infantry 8 Division soldiers Anton Mentag (Aleut), Owen Yackeyonny (Comanche), Stacey Sitting Hawk (Cheyenne) and James Hezekiah Chebahtah (Comanche) at Camp Mills Base Hospital in Long Island, New York, in 1919. Captain T. J. Hewitt said of Mentag, “He can play anything from a charge to the rag-time on the bugle.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/165-WW-137B-011-gallery.jpg?itok=VwOqfHWV" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"913","rel":"slick-node-1156-story-slideshow-images-default-2"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/165-WW-137B-011-gallery.jpg?itok=H96fvYmS" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/165-WW-137B-011-gallery.jpg?itok=H96fvYmS" alt="The Distinguished Service Cross is pinned to the lapel of a soldier by an office." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="657" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On August 8, 1918, Chief of Service Col. Percy Jones pins the Distinguished Service Cross on Private Leo F. McGuire, a member of the Osage Nation and the first U.S. soldier to receive this prestigious award.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On August 8, 1918, Chief of Service Col. Percy Jones pins the Distinguished Service Cross on Private Leo F. McGuire, a member of the Osage Nation and the first U.S. soldier to receive this prestigious award.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2025-12/GettyImages-146803915-gallery.jpg?itok=7eSytUr8" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":861,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-1156-story-slideshow-images-default-2"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/GettyImages-146803915-gallery.jpg?itok=K6cIUpuh" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2025-12/GettyImages-146803915-gallery.jpg?itok=K6cIUpuh" alt="Full color image of the Distinguished Service Award medal" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="331" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On August 8, 1918, Chief of Service Col. Percy Jones pins the Distinguished Service Cross on Private Leo F. McGuire, a member of the Osage Nation and the first U.S. soldier to receive this prestigious award.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Getty Images/svengine&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On August 8, 1918, Chief of Service Col. Percy Jones pins the Distinguished Service Cross on Private Leo F. McGuire, a member of the Osage Nation and the first U.S. soldier to receive this prestigious award.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Getty Images/svengine&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At least 12,000 Native American, Alaska Native and Indigenous members of Canada First Nations served in World War I. Among them were ambulance drivers such as McGuire as well as officers, infantrymen, pilots, sailors, communications experts, nurses, cooks, musicians and others who served. Limited documentation and scattered sources have long made finding and recording their stories difficult, and the details of their service could have been lost to time. However, for the past eight years, the Sequoyah National Research Center at the University of Arkansas in Little Rock has been trying to acquire the stories of all of the known 12,000 Indigenous veterans who served in World War I and make these records accessible to their families, Native communities and other researchers. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Little Rock has a close connection with soldiers of World War I as its Camp Pike (now Camp Joseph T. Robinson) was one of the main training centers for soldiers from Arkansas and Oklahoma. Daniel Littlefield, the director of the research center, said, “That really made a name for us.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Littlefield was a professor of English at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock, and the archive grew out of his desire to add Native American writings to his American literature classes. Yet no collection of such writings existed at that time. He and fellow English professor James Parins at the university began compiling a bibliography of Native authors and eventually published two volumes titled “A Biobibliography of Native American Writers.” From the materials they collected, particularly Native-published newspapers, they formed the American Native Press Archives in 1983. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As the archive had no budget, it was run by Littlefield, Parins and volunteers from 1983 to 2006. After securing a space and financial support from the university, the archive was renamed the Sequoyah Research Center in 1999 and then the Sequoyah National Research Center in 2008. Today, it has a staff of two and continues to be helped by student interns and volunteers.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The center has acquired the largest collection of Native-published newspapers and periodicals in the United States and has become the official archives of the Indigenous Journalists Association (formerly the Native American Journalists Association). Journalist Paul DeMain (Oneida)—who started the independent newspaper News From Indian Country in 1986 and served as its editor for 33 years—donated a large collection of his newspapers. The center’s archive is the “legacy of [Native] newspaper publishing,” DeMain said. “It will be able to tell the story [of Indian Country] as told by Indigenous people from as many perspectives as possible.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Over time, many Native authors and others have donated a wide variety of materials about and by Native Americans to the archive at the center, including books, photographs, personal papers, transcripts of interviews as well as films, music and other video and audio recordings. Littlefield said, “We call it the world’s largest collection of Native expression. If they say it, write it, speak it, film it, sing it, we try to collect it.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As the archive contained many records about Native veterans, in 2017, the center’s staff decided to create an exhibition about World War I  Native American code talkers, the servicemen who used their own language to convey “coded” messages over radio transmissions. Yet they realized they were only one part of a far larger picture. Eventually, they collected and displayed the names of 2,300 Native veterans at the center.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Many Native soldiers of World War I were identified from Indian boarding school publications in the archive. Many of these schools put students through military-style training, including drills and how to handle riffles. “A lot of those guys went right out of boarding schools into the military,” Littlefield said. School publications often listed those who enlisted and published letters they wrote to the schools and their families while serving. One such letter from Robert Big Thunder (Ho-Chunk) was published in the 1919 Chilocco “Indian School Journal.” He describes his combat service, the use of Ho-Chunk language in “code talking” as well as the wounds he received and subsequent convalescence. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 2019, the United States World War I Centennial Commission asked the center to help provide materials for its website. But once the commission concluded in 2020, the center decided it would endeavor to collect and curate materials about all the 12,000 Native World War I veterans. The center’s “Modern Warriors of World War I” database now has the records of more than 6,200 veterans and is continuously growing. In addition to contributions from families and other institutions, the center has partnered with Dickinson College in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, and Indiana University Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology to obtain many records. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The files have revealed some surprises. For example, several Native veterans were musicians. Many wrote that their regimented training in boarding schools helped them in boot camp and adjusting to military life. Others described visiting historical sites in France that they had learned about in school. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The center is now digitizing its thousands of records so they can be available through a website, which is expected to be launched in 2026. The goal was “to preserve it, but not take it away from the communities,” said the center’s archivist, Erin Fehr (Yup’ik). While many studies focus on numbers and statistics, the database was designed to humanize the individual soldiers and show the communities from which they came. “So when a great-grandson wants to find out more about his great-grandfather’s service in World War I, he will be able to go onto our website and pull all of the material that we’ve been able to find,” Fehr said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The collection is open to anyone conducting research but can offer much to Native peoples and scholars. Internships and graduate research opportunities have enabled Native students to help identify, organize and learn from the collections. “I feel like I’ve learned a lot about my ancestors,” said Charlie Smith (Cherokee), a public history graduate student. “This is something I can contribute toward and will help build up my future professional life.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Choctaw author Sarah Elisabeth Sawyer relayed how a son’s account of his father Tushpa’s faith in God and resilience during the Choctaw Trail of Tears inspired her to write her novella, “Tushpa’s Story.” Sawyer said, “Without the Sequoyah National Research Center preserving and sharing this piece of history, I would never have known about Tushpa, and his journey might have remained lost.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Judy Allen (Choctaw), executive director of public relations for the Choctaw Nation, used the collection to create a web-based digital archive about Choctaw veterans. She said, “Erin was generous with her time and records so that the World War I Choctaws could be included.” She said the center also provided information that helped the Choctaw Nation request medals of valor for some of its World War I soldiers.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Our goal is to bring these men to life,” Fehr said, “to show they were humans just like you and I, and that they had families. They had hopes and dreams, and yet they set those aside to serve in the U.S. military.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Native Veterans of World War I&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;More than 12,000 Indigenous men and women served in a variety of roles in the U.S. military during World War I. They came from communities  in Canada and across the United States. Each of their experiences before, during and after their service was unique. Here is a snapshot of just a few of the 6,200 veterans whose stories are recorded in the Sequoyah National Research Center’s collection.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Calvvin Nahoto Atchavit wears a medal adorned military uniform in black and white photo." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="541299d3-cebf-495f-bcd9-0174ea2c8cb9" height="398" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/Atchavit-C-flat-gallery.jpg" width="316" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Private Calvin Nahoto Atchavit (Comanche)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Calvin Atchavit was born on June 20, 1893, in Indian Territory, along West Cache Creek near Faxon, which later became Cotton County, Oklahoma. Orphaned while young, he and his brother were raised by their aunts. He was working as a mechanic in Walters, Oklahoma, when he was drafted on April 25, 1918, and began his military training at Camp Travis, Texas. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;On September 12, 1918, he was wounded in the battle of St. Mihiel, which was fought between American and German forces in northern France. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross “for extraordinary heroism in action” while serving with Company A, 357th Infantry Regiment, 90th Division, A.E.F. near Fey-en-Haye, France, on September 12, 1918. During the attack of his company, though he had been severely wounded in the left arm, Private Atchavit shot and killed one of the enemy and captured another. In another action, while laying land wire and cutting enemy communications and barbed wire in no man’s land, he became separated from his group. Getting into a skirmish he was wounded in the hip, but he was still able to return several days later with a German prisoner.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;He distinguished himself in another battle, aided by his skills relaying messages in his Native language as a code talker.  In 1919, the Oklahoma City Times published his picture and reported that the Belgian Government had given him a “WAR CROSS, for talking over the lines when they were TRAPPED BY THE ENEMY. His Comanche tongue helped get messages across that were not understood by the enemy.” Atchavit returned to the United States on June 5, 1919, and was discharged June 16, 1919. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After the war, he and his wife, Sarah Passah, were farmers in Cotton County, Oklahoma. He died on October 9, 1943, at age 50 and is buried at Highland Cemetery in Lawton, Oklahoma. In 2012, the Comanche Indian Veterans Association posthumously awarded Atchavit the Numu Pukutsi (Comanche Contrary Warrior) Award.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Black and white studio portrait of Private Albert Grass (Standing Rock Lakota) " data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="2584a538-f6ff-4eec-9ce6-d3a6a1ad76ca" height="430" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/Screenshot-2025-11-19-at-12.01.42%E2%80%AFPM-gallery.jpg" width="311" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Private Albert Grass (Standing Rock Lakota)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Albert Grass (Hehaka Mani [Walking Elk]) was born February 7, 1897, at Cannon Ball, North Dakota. He was the grandson of Chief John Grass and served as the last Dakota Sioux hereditary chief. He was the first Sioux soldier to enlist in Company I, 2nd North Dakota. Soon a private in Company A, 16th Infantry, 1st Division, Grass gained distinction as a dispatch runner and scout. He also served as a code talker, using his Lakota language. As a 1921 news article in the collection reports, “When Germans cut in on the ground wireless or telephone lines from listening posts, it was Grass and Richard Blue Earth, another Sioux who was killed in action, who communicated in the Sioux language between the outposts and the command headquarters to the utter confusion of the Huns.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After avoiding German machine-gun fire, Grass was killed while attempting to get water for his comrades by a bomb dropped from a German plane on July 20, 1918, during the Battle of Soissons in northern France. When his body was returned in 1921, his elaborate funeral was attended by more than 3,000 people, including members of the men’s warrior society the White Horse Riders, an American Legion Post and a Catholic church.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Black and white studio portrait of Corporal Otis Leader" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="ca5b133d-d460-40ff-8d4d-e42ff8c818ad" height="402" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/Otis-Leader-%28Choctaw%29-8.5%27x11%27-gallery.jpg" width="304" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Corporal Otis Leader (Choctaw/Chickasaw) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Otis Leader was born March 6, 1882, near Scipio in Indian Territory in what is now Oklahoma. At the age of 34, after U.S. federal agents mistook him for a “Spanish Spy” in 1917, he wished to show his willingness to defend his country and so enlisted in the U.S. Army. He would serve as a corporal in Company H, 16th Infantry, 1st Division. After an artillery round killed his entire gun crew at Chateau-Thierry, Leader armed himself, flanked two “machine gun nests” and captured 18 German prisoners. He was wounded twice and poisoned with chemical gas twice. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;He participated in the battles of Cantigny, Soissons-Chateau Thierry, St. Mihiel, Verdun, and the Argonne Forest. While convalescing at a hospital in France after being gassed, he was called upon to continue to serve as a code talker, communicating military messages in Choctaw to those in battle. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In Paris, French painter Raymond Desvarreux chose Leader for the subject of a portrait as the “Ideal American Doughboy.” U.S. General John Pershing called Leader one of the war’s “greatest fighting machines.”  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;For his outstanding service, Leader received two French Croix de Guerres, two Silver Citation Stars, the Purple Heart with clusters and several other awards. After World War I ended, he worked in several positions for the Oklahoma State Highway Department and was active with American Legion Posts. Leader died on March 26, 1961. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Musician Fist Class Guy Maktima stands in military uniform with his arm on a chair." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="9985490f-6ea1-43ac-bd56-717fe323ae72" height="472" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/MS1226_F11_P-Guy-Maktima_20_x33_-gallery.jpg" width="308" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Musician 1st Class Guy Maktima (Hopi)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Guy Maktima was born on October 27, 1891, and grew up in Mishongnovi Village on the Hopi reservation in Arizona. As a high school student, he attended the Sherman Institute, an Indian boarding school in Riverside, California, where he was a noted long-distance runner, a member of the cross-country team and tried out for the 1912 Olympics. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;He later graduated high school from the Phoenix Indian School, where he enlisted in the Arizona Army National Guard’s 1st Infantry, Company F. From May 13 to October 26, 1916, he joined 28 other American Indians for border patrol duty at Naco, Arizona, to search for Mexican revolutionary Francisco “Pancho” Villa, who was being pursued by General John Pershing. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 1918, his unit was activated for service in World War I. The company was reorganized and became the 158th Infantry Band, which included five other American Indians and Maktima, who played trombone. They served in France from August 1918 to April 1919. Playing throughout the French countryside, Maktima and his fellow Native soldiers were thought of as curiosities as many French had never seen American Indians before. On Armistice Day, November 11, 1918, the band performed at many celebrations. The next day, Maktima was promoted to Musician 1st Class. That December, the band performed for U.S. President Woodrow Wilson at the American ambassador’s house in Paris. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In April 1919, he returned to New York and was honorably discharged on May 3, 1919. He died on December 16, 1985.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Private Robert Frank “Chief Rekwoi” Spott wears a military uniform and stands for a black and white studio portrait" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="b16d5ade-7401-408c-807f-6e0fa00e81e8" height="494" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/Robert_Frank_Spott_from-UW-Pullman_14_x22_-gallery.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Private Robert Frank “Chief Rekwoi” Spott (Yurok) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Robert Spott was born in 1888. He came from the Yurok village of Requa (Rekwoi) in northern California. Within six months, Spott went from peaceful fishing on the Klamath River to fighting in the trenches of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive in France. He served as a message courier in the U.S. Army’s 111th Infantry Regiment, 28th Division, and later in the 40th Division. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Spot received the French Croix de Guerre with Palm for rescuing a wounded French general. Later he was poisoned by a chemical gas during a battle in Bordeaux and was hospitalized for a year in France following the war. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Spott went on to serve as the chairman of the Yurok Tribal Council and president of the California Indians Association. He also became an anthropologist and worked closely with Alfred Kroeber, with whom he was lead author on the 1942 publication “Yurok Narratives.” Spott is responsible for much of the early ethnography about the Yurok people. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Spott would continue to be a leader in his Native community for several decades. He died on August 28, 1953, in Crescent City, California.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Isaac Sequajaw Willis wears a Navy uniform in a black and white studio portrait." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="200c9876-e326-4a8d-aca2-f8616309d892" height="418" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/NARA_1327_b143_f5602_0003-gallery.jpg" width="290" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Musician 2nd Class Isaac Sequajaw Willis (Little Traverse Ottawa)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Isaac Sequajaw Willis was born December 10, 1897, near Charlevoix, Michigan bordering Lake Michigan. He attended Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania from October 1913 to June 6, 1917. Willis enlisted in the U.S. Navy in Philadelphia the next day at the age of 19. He served on the USS Kentucky, a training ship designed for coastal defense that operated along the East Coast. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Having played music at Carlisle, Willis served as a Musician 2nd Class. While in the Navy he wrote several letters to Carlisle School Superintendent James Francis Jr. to thank him for sending him issues of the school’s “Carlisle Arrow and Redman.” Willis tells him about other former Carlisle students in service and even apologizes for missing the 1918 graduation due to his military service. Willis also commented on the excellent food and clean quarters as well as his joy in crossing the Atlantic Ocean. He noted how well the musicians were treated by the other sailors and that the captain sent them a box of candy. In his letter he wrote, “I will never regret joining the Navy.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Willis was honorably discharged September 11, 1919.  He died April 29, 1957.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;During World War I, at least 14 Native American women are known to have served as nurses in the Army Nurse Corps and the American Red Cross in France and the United States. Information about many of them is archived at the Sequoyah National Research Center.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Ruth Cleveland Douglass Counihan in front of a house with small children." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="2b09dcf1-0ca2-4aa1-9efb-ff82426b0d80" height="286" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/RuthDouglass_withmother_fromLynnGreenway_5%27x4%27-gallery.jpg" width="388" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2nd Lt. Ruth Cleveland Douglass Counihan (Mille Lacs Chippewa) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Ruth Cleveland Douglass was born March 28, 1893, in Brainard in northern Minnesota, and later attended Pipestone Indian School at Pipestone in southwest Minnesota. She enlisted as a nurse for the U.S. Army on January 16, 1918. She spent eight months at Camp Pike in Arkansas before being sent to Bazoilles-sur-Meuse, a commune in France that was being used as an evacuation hospital. After spending 10 months in France she returned to the United States, where she worked at General Hospital at Fort McPherson, Georgia, for 15 months and then at Station Hospital in Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas, in September 1920. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Douglass experienced many challenges during her service. On the third day of her voyage to France on the USS Leviathan, an influenza epidemic broke out. By the time they reached France, 80 soldiers and two nurses had perished. She later worked in pneumonia, surgical and other wards, and following the Armistice, helped decorate and distribute Christmas presents and wine to convalescing soldiers. Tending wounded in France, Douglass recalled, “The first thing a nurse puts on in the morning is a ready smile. The boys responded splendidly.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Douglass wrote about her time in service in 1919: “I am not a regular Army Nurse, but came in as a War Emergency Nurse.” She commented, “Contrary to public opinion, the emergency still exists.” &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Douglass married Patrick Sheahy on March 13, 1922. After his death she married James F. Counihan on June 26, 1930. She died on January 13, 1965, in Portland, Oregon, at the age of 71. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h6&gt;&lt;img alt="Lula Leta Owl Gloyne wears a nurse's uniform and smiles to the camera." data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="81050cc7-9417-4703-afc7-ffde88412c8f" height="412" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/Lula_Owl_10%27x9%27-gallery.jpg" width="354" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of Sequoyah National Research Center&lt;/h6&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2nd Lt. Lula Leta Owl Gloyne (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Lula Leta Owl was born December 27, 1891, in North Carolina. She graduated from the Hampton Institute, a university historically dedicated to educating Black and Native American students, in 1914. She then obtained her nurse’s training at Chestnut Hill Hospital School of Nursing in Philadelphia, graduating in 1917 and becoming the first Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians registered nurse. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Owl was a nurse on staff at St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal School on the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation in South Dakota when a call went out for nurses to serve in World War I. She volunteered for overseas duty, but unable to pass the seaworthy exam due to extreme seasickness, was sent to Camp Lewis, Washington, where she served for the duration of the war. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Owl was the only Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians officer in World War I, serving as a 2nd Lieutenant in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps. She secretly married Jack Gloyne in 1918 (even though it was forbidden, as she was an officer and he an enlisted man). The couple went on to have four children. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After the war, Gloyne served as a U.S. Indian Health Service field nurse in South Dakota, North Carolina and Oklahoma. She was also instrumental in the founding of the first hospital for her Cherokee people in 1937. In 1943 she was declared a “Beloved Woman” (Ghigau) by her tribe, a prestigious Cherokee title historically bestowed on women who demonstrated exceptional leadership or contributions to her community or great heroism in battle. She died April 17, 1985, at age 93. In 2015, she was inducted into the North Carolina Nurses Association Hall of Fame. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-a90332799db91b79ce3feddbdc97c5937106c5d598094bad9b5b77cc3e7e2d36"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
William C. Meadows
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;William C. Meadows is an author of several books about Native veterans and a professor of Anthropology and Native American Studies at Missouri State University.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Sun, 21 Dec 2025 15:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ColavecchioS</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">1156 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
<item>
  <title>On Dangerous Ground: Oglala Lakota Land Used as a Bombing Range in World War II is Still Perilous</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/Badlands-bombing-range</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;On Dangerous Ground: Oglala Lakota Land Used as a Bombing Range in World War II is Still Perilous&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-41824dd4d11d4c043a11450a8f2e24014a7a5cf3c4cd5d4e021650f5744267b3"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/fall-2023" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Fall 2023
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 24 No. 3
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-eadddd8143c4a21484bd143fe0363493405bd617b3f7dce203bb0e0142bda9ae"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-6cec7e652f15e77ae403c5b7a675646c8318999b0116148645226f579b8ed101"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by William C. Meadows&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Shawn Swallow vividly remembers the first time he detonated an unexploded bomb on his Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in southwest South Dakota. “It was scary,” he recalls. He thought, “It could go off. I could blow up.” The year was 2004, and he had been one of several men from his Oglala Lakota community who had volunteered to train how to dispose of unexploded bombs on a part of the reservation used for target practice during World War II.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-871-story-slideshow-images-default-4" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-871-story-slideshow-images-default-4-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2023-10/gallery-dangerous_grounds_target.jpg?itok=YVRctn-G" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"800","rel":"slick-node-871-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-dangerous_grounds_target.jpg?itok=WOK_r7lT" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-dangerous_grounds_target.jpg?itok=WOK_r7lT" alt="An aerial view of an expanse of land. In the center, a target made of mounded earth is visible." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="750" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A target built of dirt for World War II pilots to practice dropping bombs can still be seen on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Christopher Boyer/kestrelaerial.com&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A target built of dirt for World War II pilots to practice dropping bombs can still be seen on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Christopher Boyer/kestrelaerial.com&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2023-10/gallery-Oglala_Sioux_Tribe.jpg?itok=8n0LcHq8" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"798","rel":"slick-node-871-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-Oglala_Sioux_Tribe.jpg?itok=aPzyqccn" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-Oglala_Sioux_Tribe.jpg?itok=aPzyqccn" alt="A man in civilian dress shakes hands with a man in military uniform. Two other people hold up a banner reading "Ellsworth Air Force Band: Friends of the Oglala Sioux Tribe"" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="752" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On June 26, 2008, then Oglala Sioux Tribe President John Yellow Bird-Steele (second from right) signed an agreement with Colonel Scott A. Vander Hamm (far right) that the U.S. Air Force would work with the tribe to clean up the former bombing and gunnery ranges.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Rapid City Journal&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On June 26, 2008, then Oglala Sioux Tribe President John Yellow Bird-Steele (second from right) signed an agreement with Colonel Scott A. Vander Hamm (far right) that the U.S. Air Force would work with the tribe to clean up the former bombing and gunnery ranges.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Rapid City Journal&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2023-10/gallery-dangerous_grounds_map.jpg?itok=oc4zjtm8" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"796","rel":"slick-node-871-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-dangerous_grounds_map.jpg?itok=P8nfkrpu" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-dangerous_grounds_map.jpg?itok=P8nfkrpu" alt="A map depicting the locations of Badlands National Park, the Badlands Bombing Range, and the Air Force retained area" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="754" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Badlands Bombing Range that was used by pilots from what is now Ellsworth Air Force Base for target practice covered nearly 350,000 acres, some of which became what is now Badlands National Park. The U.S. Air Force still owns 2,500 acres that had been used as a gunnery range.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Information provided by the U.S. Air Force&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Badlands Bombing Range that was used by pilots from what is now Ellsworth Air Force Base for target practice covered nearly 350,000 acres, some of which became what is now Badlands National Park. The U.S. Air Force still owns 2,500 acres that had been used as a gunnery range.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Information provided by the U.S. Air Force&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2023-10/gallery-unexploded_munitions.jpg?itok=Y4A5g97f" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"900","rel":"slick-node-871-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-unexploded_munitions.jpg?itok=4ydg9d3j" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-unexploded_munitions.jpg?itok=4ydg9d3j" alt="A World War II rocket warhead about the size of a football lies on rocky ground with a pen next to it for scale" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="667" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Unexploded munitions such as this rocket warhead are still found on the Badlands Bombing Range on Oglala Lakota lands.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Shawn Shallow&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Unexploded munitions such as this rocket warhead are still found on the Badlands Bombing Range on Oglala Lakota lands.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Shawn Shallow&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2023-10/gallery-unexploded-ordinance.jpg?itok=_y9Np8cP" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"475","rel":"slick-node-871-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-unexploded-ordinance.jpg?itok=z0KfMvVQ" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-unexploded-ordinance.jpg?itok=z0KfMvVQ" alt="A photo showing a man preparing to detonate an explosive beside another photo of a cloud of smoke against a landscape" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="301" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Left: The safest way to dispose of unexploded ordinance is set them off with other explosives where they were found. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Right: Removal crews stay a significant distance away when the explosives are detonated.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of National Park Service (2)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Left: The safest way to dispose of unexploded ordinance is set them off with other explosives where they were found. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Right: Removal crews stay a significant distance away when the explosives are detonated.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of National Park Service (2)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2023-10/gallery-car_bodies.jpg?itok=WmwL29Z3" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"900","rel":"slick-node-871-story-slideshow-images-default-4"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-car_bodies.jpg?itok=b7CfW8zS" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2023-10/gallery-car_bodies.jpg?itok=b7CfW8zS" alt="A row of rusted, antique car bodies in a grassy landscape" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="667" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Car bodies that had been used as targets during World War II are among the debris that still litter the former bombing range.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jerry Penry&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Car bodies that had been used as targets during World War II are among the debris that still litter the former bombing range.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jerry Penry&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nearly two decades later, Swallow now heads the Badlands Bombing Range Program dedicated to cleaning up the military debris left on the land of the Oglala Sioux Tribe, his Oglala Lakota people. While primarily limited funding has led this work to be sporadic since the military stopped using the land after the war, this past summer his team resumed its methodical and sometimes dangerous tasks. After decades of disposing of unexploded bombs, Swallow’s teams have it down to an art. “You don’t get complacent by no means,” he said. “But you know what to expect and the precise things you need to do.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Swallow grew up surrounded by his Oglala Lakota community. His family was one of many forced to leave the reservation to make way for the bombing range. During World War II, Canada’s Air Force and the U.S. Army Air Corps took land owned by at least six First Nations communities in Canada and 16 American Indian tribes in Alaska, Arizona, California, Minnesota, Nevada, New Mexico and South Dakota for use as practice bombing ranges. In the United States, they did so under the guise of “eminent domain,” which allowed the government to condemn or purchase land for the war effort. Military forces would use these lands to practice dropping bombs from planes and shooting ammunition at ground targets, leaving behind a scattering of debris that included shell casings and unexploded bombs.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After the war, some First Nations were given back their parcels of land and have won lawsuits against the Canadian government for not cleaning up remaining military pollution. The U.S. government also said tribes could have their lands back. But the ammunition contaminated the environment and made it unsafe for any person, wildlife or livestock to roam. In South Dakota alone, 38 military installations still have land contaminated by hazardous materials, including the former gunnery and bombing ranges along the northern border of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The Oglala Lakota people in the area were left with a mess that they then told the U.S. government it would have to address. “We will not take back land that is not clean,” said Swallow. Although the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency no longer classifies this area as a uninhabitable brownfield site, more than 80 years later, the Oglala Lakota people are still unable to walk safely on their own land.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;Lost Homes&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In 1942, the U.S. Department of War and Army Air Force took possession of 341,726 acres of land on the Pine Ridge Reservation to create the bombing range for military personnel in training. Despite Oglala Lakota and other peoples living in the area, the U.S. government deemed it “empty and useless.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The Army seized their land, paying farmers and those living on communal Lakota land mere dollars an acre before relocating them. The July 7 to August 24, 1942, Tract Register for the Army Service Forces’ Office of the Chief of Engineers Real Estate Division lists 874 Lakota and non-Indian landowners (including some school and county sites) who had between half an acre to 960 acres seized. While land quality varied, Lakota residents were often paid less than a dollar to $8 per acre. Some who declined to participate reported having their land condemned and received no compensation. Some non-Native counties, schools and individuals, however, were disproportionately paid. For example, one Washington County School’s .53-acre tract of land sold for $1,035.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In the documentary “Darkest Night” produced by the Little Wound School on the Pine Ridge Reservation in 2022, Lakota elders describe what taking these lands did to their people. Some Lakota residents were told the Japanese were invading to encourage their rapid relocation. “They put fear into my grandma and other people that lived out there,” one elder recalled. Another remembered a story of those attending a church service on the last day they were on their land. “They were praying for a miracle where they wouldn’t have to leave,” he said. “While they were in the church, about 10 of those big bombers flew over … the church and dropped about 300 bombs onto a flat about a mile and a half away. That sure let them know it was time to leave.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt; Most Lakota residents were given only 10 days to leave their homes, and in 1942, many did not have vehicles. Some would have to kill their livestock as they could not take them with them. Mickey Hartnett, a co-manager for the Kansas State University Technical Assistance to Brownfields Program, still has Lakota relatives living on the Pine Ridge Reservation. “They basically packed up what possessions they could on wagons and left,” Elders told him. They said they “abandoned their farms and homesteads.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In spite of the danger, some refused to leave the reservation. However, the Lakota families who did relocate moved to other areas along its edge or away entirely. The small payments they received for their land were not enough for them to be able to buy new homes. Emma Featherman-Sam (Oglala Lakota), the first director of the Badlands Bombing Project, recalled, “It really was a sad time for these people that lost lands there. They feel that the government came in and took the lands without their permission.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;An August 1, 1942, letter from Under Secretary of the Interior Abe Fortas to Secretary of War Henry Stimson recognized the financial impacts upon the Oglala Lakota people: “The 8,500 Indians of the Reservation cannot permanently spare the 382,000 acres [sic] desired by the War Department without disastrous affects upon the tribe’s economy. This department is willing and anxious to obtain for the War Department the use of this Indian land at the earliest possible moment and at the lowest possible cost.” Fortas also requested assurance that the land would be returned to the Lakota people, yet this process would not begin until after 1975.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;Misfires&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This bombing range on the Pine Ridge Reservation was used extensively from 1942 through 1948 as air-to-air and air-to-ground gunnery ranges and for precision and demolition bombing exercises. Planes would fly the 50 miles from the Rapid City Air Base (now Ellsworth Air Force Base) near Rapid City, South Dakota. Most firing took place within the present-day South Unit or Stronghold District. Old cars and 55-gallon drums painted bright yellow served as targets, while bombardiers aimed at 150- to 250-foot-wide circular bullseyes constructed of raised earth marked with a cross. Visible from the air, some culturally important sites and hundreds of fossil resources were destroyed in the bombing, including some large fossil remains of the elephant-sized titanothere.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Not all firing was accurate. Many pilots in training had difficulty in defining the exact boundaries of the firing range. National Park Service accounts report that miles outside of the boundary, residents recalled that they had to dive under tractors while cutting hay to avoid bombs dropped by planes. In the nearby town of Interior, a church and the building containing the community’s post office had 6-inch shells shot through the roof. Oglala Lakota resident Marvin Cuny lived just outside the boundary of the bombing range. “They started a fire up there and we was fighting the fire,” he recalled. “We had to take off and run because about eight or 12 fighter jets flew over and started shooting at them barrels.” Although no people from the community died from the misguided attacks, another elder recalled having some of their horses shot by planes strafing targets. In addition, at least a dozen members of flight crews perished in training accidents.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After the war, the South Dakota National Guard used portions of the bombing range as an artillery range. The military finally stopped using most of the land in 1968, when the U.S. Army Air Force declared most of the range “excess property.” That year, the U.S. Congress returned 202,357 acres of the former range to the Oglala Lakota Nation and designated 136,882 acres as the Badlands National Monument, later renamed Badlands National Park. In 1978, all remaining badland Bombing Range lands were declared excess except for 2,486 acres on Bouquet Table, formally known as the Impact Area and renamed the Air Force Retained Area or Badlands Gunnery Range. This parcel was used for National Guard artillery practice between 1966 to 1973, and although retained by the Air Force, is no longer used by the military.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;Bad Lands&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The ground in and around the areas of the Oglala Lakota lands used for target practice became littered with discarded bullet shells and unexploded bombs, or ordinance, referred to as UXO. These are explosive or chemical munitions that were fired but did not activate. Throughout the Stronghold District, UXO ranges from small bullets to large bombs. Pieces of or entire UXO can be hard to locate because it can be only partially visible on the surface, covered by vegetation, snow or other matter, or even buried up to 20 feet below ground. Large explosive shells are occasionally found eroding out of the Badlands buttes. While some UXO can be physically removed, others require controlled detonation where they are found.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Since 1948, teams from several U.S. agencies, including the Air Force, Army Corp of Engineers, Department of Defense and the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), have periodically surveyed and cleaned up sections of the range. In 1980, the EPA determined it was a “superfund” site and allocated additional funds for its cleanup. At first, the approach was to collect the debris and UXO and bury them in disposal sites on the reservation. Then in 1993, the Oglala Sioux Tribe established the Badlands Bombing Range Project funded by the Department of Defense.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;While cleaning every square foot of the area is unlikely, plans were developed to remove all ordinance near inhabited or traveled areas. Teams had to receive specialized training in how to locate and map ordinance that was later removed through contracts with personnel hired by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. Hartnett was working at the EPA in 1995. He had extensive experience in cleaning up military sites, so he was assigned to spend several months locating ordinance dump sites on the reservation.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Several public meetings were held in local district halls to inform people of the efforts to return their lands and clear them of military and other debris. Hartnett recalled, “We had one public meeting that was on the reservation, and while we were showing pictures of some of the bombs that were dropped back then, someone came walking into the hall carrying a bomb and saying, ‘Is this one of them?’” The hall was quickly evacuated, and an Air Force bomb squad was summoned to dismantle the bomb.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;From 1994 to 2006, the Technical Outreach Services for Native American Communities program in partnership with Kansas State University and Haskell Indian Nations University provided training for members of Native American communities near former military sites who wished to learn how to clean them up. Featherman-Sam oversaw the first UXO teams, including many Lakota veterans. From 2006 to 2014, 17 tons of material was collected from target areas, including more than 500 unexploded cartridges and bombs.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Now contained entirely within the Pine Ridge Reservation and co-managed by the National Park Service and the Oglala Sioux Tribe, the South Unit of the Badlands Bombing Range is considered the most dangerous. Christian Knutson (Oglala Lakota) has seen UXO on the land most of his life, as he grew up near the range and now serves as park ranger at the Badlands’ White River Visitors Center. “Nowadays, mostly you’ll find little casings and bullets from like the 20 mm,” he said. “But I have found a few bigger UXOs.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Park visitors tend to avoid this area, which is farther away from major highways, more remote and less accessible, requiring a truck or travel by foot. So most discoveries of UXO in the South Unit come from back-country hikers or local ranchers who use several grazing areas in the unit for cattle and horses. Residents and visitors are instructed to heed posted UXO warnings and never to approach, touch or disturb any UXO, but rather to note the location and report any to staff of the visitors center.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This past summer, after several years hiatus from lack of funding and then the COVID-19 pandemic, Shawn Swallow’s teams resumed their work. They have conducted a visual inspection of areas and used metal detectors to look for anomalies on or below the surface. Once located, any munitions and explosives were recorded and targeted for removal or detonation.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;Deep Impacts&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Today more than 10,000 individuals are working on removing UXO across the United States, including on the lands of several tribal nations. Although few individuals who experienced the forced relocation from Pine Ridge firsthand are alive today, their descendants are still affected psychologically and financially by the loss of family lands. Although Lakota peoples were allowed to repurchase their lands starting in the 1960s, many could not afford to do so or had had established homes elsewhere. One U.S. Army Corps of Engineers report estimates that only about one-fourth of the land has been reoccupied by descendants of the initial evacuees.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“The people who were children back during that time are a lot of the elders now that come to our meetings,” Featherman-Sam said. “Some of those elders get up and they cry when they talk about what happened to them during that time.” Knutson said, “I do know that there is still a group of people here that view the South Unit as land lost.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Although today some of the range is used for grazing and hiking and is inhabited by Lakota families, much debris remains to be removed and years of work still lay ahead. Despite numerous cleanup projects, a 2023 assessment still lists The Pine Ridge Gunnery Range and the Badlands Bombing Range as “medium risk” sites and UXO are still frequently reported. However, Swallow indicated that areas of high, medium and low risk still exist based on their proximity to homesteads. In 2019, planes using radar developed a topographic map that showed that 90 percent of areas with suspected UXO are located within 750 feet of an access road.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Swallow sees a day the work could be completed and said he feels as an Oglala Lakota tribal member that he is “obligated to clean it.” Yet he also said, “I don’t see it done in my lifetime” because of the cost and intermittent commitment of funding. To complete the job, he estimates, would take $17 million. Still, Swallow takes great pride in helping restore his tribe’s lands and protecting people. “Knowing that we took care of something that could have endangered somebody,” he said. “That’s the rewarding part.” &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-484a7fde7d1659e4c3657bc917b333469a2d6f2a5c4714c4da2f6e76a535f557"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
William C. Meadows
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;William C. Meadows is an author of several books about Native veterans and a professor of Anthropology and Native American Studies at Missouri State University.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Mon, 30 Oct 2023 18:30:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ThorneLE</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">871 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
<item>
  <title>Attu’s Lost Village: Descendants of Aleut Community Relocated During World War II are Reclaiming their Legacy</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/Attu-Island-Lost-Village</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;Attu’s Lost Village: Descendants of Aleut Community Relocated During World War II are Reclaiming their Legacy&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-1b4e2a3c51418760afb92df174bd6a01286af15ddbb8d3011ded53bfa447b368"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/fall-2022" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Fall 2022
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 23 No. 3
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-91a82df7a3a1dae77cbd6b97e522b5b495fdb317eea9c543a5927f5c997128f9"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-19e7c4e732dd4dfb0a2f1ce0a9697b53d19d5a23d5fcf680a7b4890a0869e6ba"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by William C. Meadows&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;As Alaska’s westernmost Aleutian Island came into view, Theresa Deal recalled, “I was getting chills.” Aboard a U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) research vessel, Deal was among the 11 passengers who in 2017 were the first Aleut people to step foot on Attu—or Atux̂as as they call the island—since World War II. “My mom was born here. She was forced to leave,” she said. “It was just magical. There’s not many adjectives that I could find that can describe the feeling of going back.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_attuvillagemountain.jpg?itok=f4WNlklt" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"867","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_attuvillagemountain.jpg?itok=0IFpx8rK" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_attuvillagemountain.jpg?itok=0IFpx8rK" alt="A landscape photograph of the island where the mountain reaches the water." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="692" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Beneath this mountain once was the Aleut village of Attu. Now Attu Island is uninhabited.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Zoë Sobel/KUCB&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Beneath this mountain once was the Aleut village of Attu. Now Attu Island is uninhabited.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Zoë Sobel/KUCB&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_attuvillage.jpg?itok=W0Y5Xq-u" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"792","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_attuvillage.jpg?itok=uF6VYm2u" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_attuvillage.jpg?itok=uF6VYm2u" alt="A black and white image of houses built at the base of the mountain, right next to the water." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="758" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In the 1930s, the Attu village was inhabited by about 40 Alaska Native people.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleutian/Pribilof Project Collection, ASL-PCA-233; J. Malcolm Greany Papers and Photographs, Aleutian Islands, 1941. ASL-MS253-01-14, Alaska State Library Historical Collections&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In the 1930s, the Attu village was inhabited by about 40 Alaska Native people.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleutian/Pribilof Project Collection, ASL-PCA-233; J. Malcolm Greany Papers and Photographs, Aleutian Islands, 1941. ASL-MS253-01-14, Alaska State Library Historical Collections&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_church.jpg?itok=aeGazEeI" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1165","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_church.jpg?itok=an8PHRn6" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_church.jpg?itok=an8PHRn6" alt="A black and white image of the interior of a church with white walls decorated with images of Jesus and saints as well as candles." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="515" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;One of the most prominent buildings in the community was a Russian Orthodox church, reflecting the external influence on their Aleut culture.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleutian/Pribilof Project Collection, ASL-PCA-233; J. Malcolm Greany Papers and Photographs, Aleutian Islands, 1941. ASL-MS253-01-14, Alaska State Library Historical Collections&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;One of the most prominent buildings in the community was a Russian Orthodox church, reflecting the external influence on their Aleut culture.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleutian/Pribilof Project Collection, ASL-PCA-233; J. Malcolm Greany Papers and Photographs, Aleutian Islands, 1941. ASL-MS253-01-14, Alaska State Library Historical Collections&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_grassharvesting.jpg?itok=vX_0Ux4p" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"861","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_grassharvesting.jpg?itok=Azr5ocoL" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_grassharvesting.jpg?itok=Azr5ocoL" alt="A group of Aleut people crouch in the grass to harvest roots." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="697" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleut Agefangel (on the left) with Chief Mike Hodikof (standing) and his wife, Anastasia (on the right), collecting roots in 1936.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Alan G. May papers, 1902-1990, University of Alaska, Anchorage, UAA-HMC-0690; Bottom: Alaska State Library Historical Collections, ASL-P01-3598&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleut Agefangel (on the left) with Chief Mike Hodikof (standing) and his wife, Anastasia (on the right), collecting roots in 1936.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Alan G. May papers, 1902-1990, University of Alaska, Anchorage, UAA-HMC-0690; Bottom: Alaska State Library Historical Collections, ASL-P01-3598&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_grassweaving.jpg?itok=hOEIGPkr" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"840","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_grassweaving.jpg?itok=Wj5sm98Z" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_grassweaving.jpg?itok=Wj5sm98Z" alt="Three Aleut women sit outside of the entrance to a house that has been dug out of the hillside. They are each weaving a basket. The image is black and white." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="714" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Attuans also harvested grass to make baskets. In this 1919 image, women are weaving in front of a traditional house, dug out of a hillside.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Alan G. May papers, 1902-1990, University of Alaska, Anchorage, UAA-HMC-0690; Bottom: Alaska State Library Historical Collections, ASL-P01-3598&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Attuans also harvested grass to make baskets. In this 1919 image, women are weaving in front of a traditional house, dug out of a hillside.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Alan G. May papers, 1902-1990, University of Alaska, Anchorage, UAA-HMC-0690; Bottom: Alaska State Library Historical Collections, ASL-P01-3598&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_boyonboat.jpg?itok=E93YrNzj" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":997,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_boyonboat.jpg?itok=ZpcGjv5j" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_boyonboat.jpg?itok=ZpcGjv5j" alt="A young Aleut man in army uniform and gear looks at the camera while holding onto the chain rail of the military ship." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="384" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleut Private Simeon Pletnikoff helped liberate Attu Island from the Japanese occupation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;National Archives, Photo No. DHBR-9041&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleut Private Simeon Pletnikoff helped liberate Attu Island from the Japanese occupation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;National Archives, Photo No. DHBR-9041&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_crowdedboat.jpg?itok=7dRb_PTE" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"762","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_crowdedboat.jpg?itok=SQIAvpU7" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_crowdedboat.jpg?itok=SQIAvpU7" alt="A group of Aleut residents of Pribilof Islands hold onto a railing and look off the ship. The image is in black and white." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="483" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleut residents of Pribilof Islands were evacuated in 1942 in anticipation of further Japanese invasion of Alaska’s islands.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;National Archives, Photo No. DHBR-9041&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aleut residents of Pribilof Islands were evacuated in 1942 in anticipation of further Japanese invasion of Alaska’s islands.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;National Archives, Photo No. DHBR-9041&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_twoboats.jpg?itok=B2MA26O9" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1128","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_twoboats.jpg?itok=lOG2N1mV" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_twoboats.jpg?itok=lOG2N1mV" alt="Three World War II U.S. Navy boats approach Attu Island. The photograph is in black and white and taken from the perspective of the furthest boat." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="532" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;American and Canadian forces stormed Attu in May 1943 to expel the Japanese invaders.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;U.S Navy, Courtesy of Aleutian Islands Photographs, 1942-1948, APRCA, University of Alaska, Fairbanks, UAF-1970-11-30&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;American and Canadian forces stormed Attu in May 1943 to expel the Japanese invaders.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;U.S Navy, Courtesy of Aleutian Islands Photographs, 1942-1948, APRCA, University of Alaska, Fairbanks, UAF-1970-11-30&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--8 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_reunion.jpg?itok=UQPHam-U" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"800","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_reunion.jpg?itok=7IdvtvkA" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_reunion.jpg?itok=7IdvtvkA" alt="An Attu Aleut descendant stands to the right of a U.S. veteran, holding a small woven basket and glass case with two more smaller baskets." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="750" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At the 75th anniversary reunion of the Battle of Attu in 2012, U.S. and Japanese veterans met Attu descendants such as Helen Ford, who showed a grass basket that her sister wove to U.S. veteran Joseph Sasser.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lisa Hupp, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At the 75th anniversary reunion of the Battle of Attu in 2012, U.S. and Japanese veterans met Attu descendants such as Helen Ford, who showed a grass basket that her sister wove to U.S. veteran Joseph Sasser.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lisa Hupp, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--9 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_attumilitarydebris.jpg?itok=Au02AhyW" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"900","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_attumilitarydebris.jpg?itok=UOxBRaT5" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_attumilitarydebris.jpg?itok=UOxBRaT5" alt="A rusted military gun sits in the tall grass overlooking the water." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="667" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This Japanese antiaircraft gun on Kiska Island is the type of military debris left behind here and on Attu after World War II. USFWS has since made strides in cleaning up the islands.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lisa Hupp, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This Japanese antiaircraft gun on Kiska Island is the type of military debris left behind here and on Attu after World War II. USFWS has since made strides in cleaning up the islands.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lisa Hupp, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--10 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_descendant.jpg?itok=Q6TuniXd" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"892","rel":"slick-node-742-story-slideshow-images-default-6"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_descendant.jpg?itok=kyh2CbGg" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_descendant.jpg?itok=kyh2CbGg" alt="An Aleut woman elder in a purple jacket holds a bundle of grass she has harvested on Attu Island. In the background sits a white cross in the field." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="673" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2017, 11 descendants of the original Aleut inhabitants of Attu returned to their ancestors’ homeland. They gathered grass for baskets and honored those who died with a white cross.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Zoë Sobel/KUCB&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2017, 11 descendants of the original Aleut inhabitants of Attu returned to their ancestors’ homeland. They gathered grass for baskets and honored those who died with a white cross.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Zoë Sobel/KUCB&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Aleut people, or Unangax̂ in their Native language, inhabited several villages in the Aleutian and Pribilof Islands off what was then Alaska Territory (this area would not become a U.S. state until 1959). As World War II approached, the Unangax̂ numbered just over 1,000 people living in 10 villages, which were inhabited by anywhere from 10 to 294 people.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The Aleutian Islands were strategically valuable for the United States, Canada and Japan. The Japanese invaded them to prevent the United States from building military air bases on the islands, which would have enabled U.S. planes to reach and bomb Japan. Japan also wanted to disrupt supply routes to the Soviet Union, build bases capable of reaching the Soviet Union if war with that country developed and draw U.S. forces away from the central Pacific.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;On June 3, 1942—just six months after Japan’s attack on Hawaii’s Pearl Harbor—the Japanese bombed the U.S. military at Dutch Harbor on Unalaska Island, beginning what would become the 13-month, 1,000-mile-long Aleutian Islands Campaign. Unangax̂ from Attu to the Alaskan Peninsula were affected. Japanese ground troops occupied the western islands of Attu and Kiska with no resistance. When the Japanese invaded Attu Island early on June 8, they found 42 Unangax̂ as well as Fred and Etta Jones, a radio technician and a school teacher, living there. Fred Jones was killed and one Unangax̂ man later died; the others remained on the island with Japanese troops for three months. Then Japanese forces were ordered to go to nearby Kiska Island to support their troops and to remove all of Attu’s inhabitants. Now prisoners, they boarded a coal freighter with few personal effects and were transported to Kiska and then to Hokkaido, Japan. An Unangax̂ woman died along the way. The remaining Attuans became the only Alaska Native prisoners taken to Japan during the war.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In Japan, the Attuans were housed in vacant railway employee dormitories. Although allowed much freedom of movement, they experienced poor living conditions and some violence, and a policeman stole some of their rations. Henry Stewart reports in his 2008 book “Alaska at War 1941–1945: The Forgotten War Remembered” that nearly half of the Attuans in Japan perished, including 16 of the 40 detainees and four of five children born there. Most died from acute tuberculosis, which 20 Attuans developed soon after arriving. Starvation accelerated their condition. Ten to 15 Attuans were often hospitalized at a time. Because the 881 Unangax̂ who were still living in 10 communities on Alaska’s islands were in a combat zone, the U.S. government evacuated them hastily to six locations officially deemed “refugee camps” in southeast Alaska. U.S. military forces then burned their villages to deny the Japanese any benefit from them. The former villagers were now housed at unsanitary and abandoned canneries, a herring saltery and rotting gold mine camps that had no plumbing, electricity or toilets. With little potable water, low-quality food and limited winter clothing, the Unangax̂ were appalled by the conditions of the camps and suffered greatly.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Accustomed to the barren, treeless Aleutians, many struggled with the forested realms of their camps, experiencing claustrophobia and depression. Larry Chercasen, who grew up on Umnak Island and was relocated to Ward Lake near Ketchikan, said in a 2008 interview for the University of Alaska’s Oral History Project that “I woke up one morning, I looked out of the port hole and the ship was real still and I saw trees. … I wondered what they were, and I thought what are those, big grass?” he said. “It was the first time I’d seen a live tree in my life…And the first time I heard thunder and lightning in my life. It frightened me to death.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The internment of the Unangax̂ lasted more than three years. Nearly 10 percent of the evacuees died in these camps.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;Attuans in Military Service&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Despite their situation, many Unangax̂ who had been in the camps still supported the U.S. war effort. Some escaped to find work with construction companies and military contractors. Others opened their homes for wounded or periodically shared their church on Unalaska Island with troops.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Aleut peoples from across the Aleutian Island chain and southeast Alaskan relocation camps also served in the military with distinction during World War II. Widespread induction of Aleut men did not occur until after the general relocation of Aleut peoples to southeast Alaska. There, men registered with local draft boards. Some did not wait for the draft and enlisted. Despite being interned, for example, evacuee Luke Shelikoff left the Lake Ward Refugee Camp to join the U.S. Army.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In May 1943, U.S. and Canadian forces stormed Attu to expel the Japanese. Among them were the 7th Scout Company and the 7th Reconnaissance Troop, which were combined to form the 350-man 7th Provisional Scout Battalion. This unit included a 30-man detachment from the 1st Alaskan Combat Intelligence Platoon (Provisional) of the Alaska Defense Command. Beginning in November 1941, the unit was commanded by Colonel Lawrence Castner, intelligence chief of the U.S. Army’s Alaska Defense Command. Members were recruited from Alaskan big game hunters, trappers, dogsledders, commercial fishermen, miners, prospectors and American Indian, and Inuit and Aleut peoples. Having no official uniform, they chose their own weapons and gear. Because the unit was composed largely of Alaskans, it quickly became known as the Alaska Scouts. Due to their dislike of dress code and unshaven nature, the group was dubbed Castner’s Cutthroats, although the name had no relation to their service.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The 66-man company was split into smaller commando-style teams. Having lived more than 8,000 years in the Aleutians, the Unangax̂ had extensive knowledge of their homeland’s food sources and geography, including the location of trails, the timing of tides and which harbors were safe in difficult winds. The military drew upon these Indigenous peoples’ invaluable information and survival techniques. According to a 1991 article in Alaska Magazine, Alaska Native Scout Drafin “Buck” Delkettie said, “We taught the Army instructors how to do things our way. How to take bear out of the woods, how to make our own snowshoes, how to go into the woods and catch your own food, how to just plain survive.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Utilizing the Indigenous scouts’ ability to live off the land, Castner taught them how to gather military intelligence. Members conducted long-range reconnaissance to spot Japanese troops as well as ground surveys and mapping, including searching for potential runways and beachheads for amphibious landings without being detected. Selected as a scout because of his knowledge of the Aleutian Islands, Simeon Pletnikoff, known as “Aleut Pete,” relayed in a 1992 University of Alaska oral history recording that he and other Alaska Natives helped scout Adak and Amchitka Islands and later participated in the reclaiming of Attu Island. Often working in small parties, the Alaska Scouts were mobile: they were lightly armed, generally used nonmilitary equipment and lived off the land while searching for Japanese troops.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After securing Amchitka and Adak, U.S. forces prepared for the first amphibious island landing in U.S. history on Attu. A U.S. bombing campaign had destroyed Attu village prior to retaking the island. U.S. troops assaulted four beaches along the 40-mile-long Attu, with Alaska Scouts serving as guides, map readers, scouts, advisers and snipers. The Battle of Attu was the principal Allied effort to end Japan’s only military campaign in the Western Hemisphere and contained some of the bloodiest hand-to-hand fighting of World War II.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The Aleuts’ valuable service helped to expel the Japanese invaders. Yet, as several minorities in the Pacific Theater of World War II experienced, some Unangax̂ found themselves mistaken for the enemy. In his oral history interview Pletnikoff recalled, “I had a heck of a time. Out on the front line, the Americans would get ahold of me and want to kill me and all that. They tried to take me to the Provost Marshall for impersonating a U.S. soldier.” He would have to say to them, “What’s the matter with you guys? I’m an Aleut.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;On August 15, 1943, scouts landed to reconnoiter Kiska Island. Finding no Japanese, U.S. forces landed, officially ending the Aleutian Campaign. They did not know that the Japanese had evacuated the 5,183-man garrison nearly three weeks before, and while patrolling the island over the next eight days, dense fog and confusion resulted in Allied forces firing on one another.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Unangax̂ from the Pribilof Islands—representing nearly half of the population—experienced a different trajectory than others in the Aleutian Chain. Long dominated by the USFWS, these men were classified as “wards of the government,” which initially prevented them from enlisting in military service. Kept on their islands, they were used for their labor and hunting skills in the seal-hide trade. In 1943, several left for military service. As the draft drained local manpower at Funter Bay Camp, the USFWS was able to have Unangax̂ in the military furloughed and others deferred so they could participate in harvesting fur seals that summer. After 87 Pribilof inhabitants and 13 other Unangax̂ produced $1.58 million in furs and seal byproducts, those on active duty returned to their stations.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;Resilience, Restitution and Reconnection&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;p&gt;While the war for the Aleutian Islands ended in 1943, it was far from over for the Unangax̂. Some remained in relocation camps as late as 1945—two full years after Japanese troops left the Aleutians. Some returned to find their villages burned and destroyed. The surviving 25 Attuans—including Alfred Prokopeuff, the sole surviving Unangax̂ baby born in Japan—and those from smaller villages on other Islands were not allowed to return. These became known as the “Lost Villages.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Taken from their homes, subjected to deplorable living conditions and losing most of their personal property, they persevered. They sustained themselves through devout focus on their version of Russian Orthodoxy, community values and inner strength. They protested and petitioned their treatment, left relocation camps to find work and refused the orders of their Japanese captors when possible. This resiliency would help them rebuild their lives after the war. However, Attuan survivors were scattered to other Aleut and Alaskan communities and to orphanages in Alaska and Washington, fracturing their remining community, language and culture. Less than 300 Attuan descendants are known to exist today. Many of the Unangax̂ remained silent about their ordeal for years, suppressing the story from grief and concern that they would be considered unpatriotic for speaking up about their treatment. Theresa Deal stated that her mother, Mariana Hodikoff—Attuan “prisoner number 36”—never spoke about her experiences in Japan.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After years of debate, U.S. government officials apologized to the Unangax̂ in 1988 and ordered restitution to 450 individuals for personal losses associated with their forced relocation and internment in southeast Alaska during the war. Under the terms of the American Civil Liberties Act of 1988, each survivor received $12,000. A $6.4 million trust fund was created for their communities.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;While historians have often focused on the Battle of Attu, for the Unangax̂ the legacy of World War II has been one of both geographic and cultural loss. The impacts of lost islands and villages, harsh treatment, scattered resettlement and displacement continues. Yet even though there has been loss, there has also been recovery.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In a National Park Service article, Alice Snigaroff Petrivelli reflects on the relocation experience and how they have since rebuilt. “It was humiliating for independent Aleuts to be treated like children. The evacuation made Aleut people feel as though they had no rights whatsoever,” she said. “I noticed that we were referred to as ‘these people’ whenever there was a discussion about the evacuees. Well, ‘these people’ are now in control of their own destinies, as much as any American citizen is, and will continue to do a good job preserving their culture and traditions.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Today Unangax̂ contribute as prominent community leaders throughout the United States. These include State Representative and businessman Carl E. Moses, physician Barbara Riley, sculptor John Hoover and Indigenous studies scholar Eve Tuck.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h2&gt;Restoring a Legacy&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;p&gt;With the closing of the Casco Cove Coast Guard Station in 2010, a pre-GPS communications station, Attu is no longer inhabited. Most of Attu Island is within the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge, which encompasses 1,400 islands and is under the USFWS management. Although challenging to get to, Attu is open to the public. As Refuge Manager Steve Delehanty explained, however, “The actual site of Attu village is not owned by the federal government. It’s not part of the Alaska Maritime Wildlife Refuge. It belongs to the Aleut Corporation.” This is one of the Alaska Native–owned 13 regional bodies that own and manage land for their peoples. In addition to the metal, wood and stone remains scattered across the island during the war, some areas still contained leaked oil, petroleum and lead. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers removed two petroleum leaks, numerous fuel tanks and other pollutants in 2016 under the Formerly Used Defense Site Program. Yet the island still does not have any facilities to accommodate lengthy public visits.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In 2012 an Attuan reunion in Anchorage, Alaska, allowed long-scattered relatives to reconnect, which led to the 11 descendants visiting the island in 2017. They were only able to reach the island with the help of a USFWS research vessel that had traveled two days to get there. During a five-hour visit, they held a remembrance service for all the Attuans near the remains of the former Attu village church. There they buried a Russian Orthodox cross, gathered soil, rocks and grass for basket weaving, walked on the beach and “maritime tundra,” and reconnected with their ancestors. Theresa Deal hiked to a memorial to the Attuans who once lived on the island. “That was an emotional thing. At least I’m glad that my mom’s name was on the survivor list because I’m here.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In 2018 descendants of Attuans, American and Japanese soldiers met at the Alaska Aviation Museum in Anchorage to commemorate the 75th Anniversary of the Battle of Attu. There, they premiered the Japanese documentary film about the Battle of Attu called “When the Fog Clears.” Helena Pagano Schmitz and Theresa Deal, both descendants of Attu Tribal Chief Mike Hodikoff, met at this event and decided to found the all-volunteer, nonprofit organization called Atux̂ Forever. Through this initiative, they hope to make Attu more accessible to descendants to visit and reclaim their culture and homeland.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“I feel our story is left out of World War II,” Schmitz reflected. “We lost our culture, we lost our language, and we lost our way of life, and I’m trying to bring it back.” Theresa Deal said, “I think it’s important to have access to the island for all descendants and future descendants.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-1f9851444dcdbfae55b6530260f55143934497654899e909aae3d55562cc278d"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
William C. Meadows
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;William C. Meadows is an author of several books about Native veterans and a professor of Anthropology and Native American Studies at Missouri State University.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Fri, 23 Sep 2022 20:09:38 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>EhrlichK</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">742 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
<item>
  <title>Lasting Impressions: Jennie Ross Cobb, First Female American Indian Photographer, Framed Cherokee Life in Indian Territory</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/Photographer-Jennie-Ross-Cobb</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;Lasting Impressions: Jennie Ross Cobb, First Female American Indian Photographer, Framed Cherokee Life in Indian Territory&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-e36e726f2f413336c7e33f7e03bfd781a73e41f6e8e720085cd586abab36d738"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/fall-2022" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Fall 2022
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 23 No. 3
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-0eacb84c9ddd3c30593e4ae77a707ef502f6e021c0364f44d036b96d3f7fd037"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-30bbb66d9376b5d3133705200ec43d54097fb0851093b0d50e4079b661005f38"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Karen Shade-Lanier&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In many ways, photographer Jennie Ross Cobb was much like some of her early subjects. She was a young woman from a respected family and a student at Cherokee National Female Seminary, one of the initial institutions of higher learning for women west of the Mississippi River. Also like her subjects, she was Cherokee. Yet she holds one key distinction. As the first known female American Indian photographer, she captured images of the Cherokee Nation’s people during a time of change, when they were still establishing in the area that would become Oklahoma and their tribal autonomy was especially vulnerable.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_jennie.jpg?itok=M90Imv_e" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":945,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_jennie.jpg?itok=-6A5wF1I" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_jennie.jpg?itok=-6A5wF1I" alt="A sepia-toned portrait of Jennie Ross Cobb taken about 1945. She wears a light colored blouse with a v-neck ruffled collar and is smiling softly." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="363" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jennie Ross Cobb circa 1945.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jennie Ross Cobb circa 1945.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_camera.jpg?itok=4vcbs45x" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":925,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_camera.jpg?itok=lkpOYqGA" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_camera.jpg?itok=lkpOYqGA" alt="Jennie Cobb's brown camera box sits open, angled on a studio backdrop" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="356" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Years after Jennie Ross Cobb had married and left her former residence of Hunter’s Home, she found this camera that she had left there years earlier still in the attic.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jeremy Charles. Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Years after Jennie Ross Cobb had married and left her former residence of Hunter’s Home, she found this camera that she had left there years earlier still in the attic.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jeremy Charles. Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_family.jpg?itok=YATVlvR9" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1237","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_family.jpg?itok=_gThILzx" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_family.jpg?itok=_gThILzx" alt="The Ross family sits on the steps to the front porch of a white house. The image is sepia-toned." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="485" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This photo of the Ross family, possibly taken by then Jennie Ross around 1900, includes her parents, Fannie Thornton and Robert Bruce Ross, who are seated in the center row.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This photo of the Ross family, possibly taken by then Jennie Ross around 1900, includes her parents, Fannie Thornton and Robert Bruce Ross, who are seated in the center row.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_school.jpg?itok=gl8c3xgv" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"944","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_school.jpg?itok=yKqfz9O2" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_school.jpg?itok=yKqfz9O2" alt="A group of well-dressed women in large frilly hats poses outside of a school building. The image is black and white." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="636" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;Cherokee National Female Seminary

&lt;p&gt;The Cherokee Nation built this school for young women in the tribe’s capital city of Tahlequah in 1889, replacing the original building, which burned down two years prior. The Cherokee Nation managed it until 1909, two years after Oklahoma became a state. Today, it is Northeastern State University. Here is the Cherokee National Female Seminary graduating class of 1902.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;h4&gt;Cherokee National Female Seminary&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Cherokee Nation built this school for young women in the tribe’s capital city of Tahlequah in 1889, replacing the original building, which burned down two years prior. The Cherokee Nation managed it until 1909, two years after Oklahoma became a state. Today, it is Northeastern State University. Here is the Cherokee National Female Seminary graduating class of 1902.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_traintracks.jpg?itok=Zy_Yk7-F" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"948","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_traintracks.jpg?itok=N1-IF6Ab" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_traintracks.jpg?itok=N1-IF6Ab" alt="Two seminary women balance on wooden train tracks. The photo is in black and white." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="633" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Students from the Cherokee National Female Seminary walk along the newly laid train tracks in Tahlequah.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Students from the Cherokee National Female Seminary walk along the newly laid train tracks in Tahlequah.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_schoolhouse.jpg?itok=4xGifAHf" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"963","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_schoolhouse.jpg?itok=bK9Xmrdy" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_schoolhouse.jpg?itok=bK9Xmrdy" alt="A black and white image of a rustic wooden single-room school house. A group of children and a young woman stand out front." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="623" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;Cherokee Life

&lt;p&gt;By the turn of the 20th century, the Cherokee Nation had reestablished itself in northeastern Oklahoma— then part of Indian Territory. Though some Cherokee people maintained their language and many traditional practices, other aspects of life—the buildings in their community and style of clothing—reflected western influences.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After graduating from the Cherokee National Female Seminary in 1900, Jennie Ross worked as a schoolteacher in the Cherokee Nation. Here, she photographed her students in front of their schoolhouse.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;h4&gt;Cherokee Life&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;p&gt;By the turn of the 20th century, the Cherokee Nation had reestablished itself in northeastern Oklahoma— then part of Indian Territory. Though some Cherokee people maintained their language and many traditional practices, other aspects of life—the buildings in their community and style of clothing—reflected western influences.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After graduating from the Cherokee National Female Seminary in 1900, Jennie Ross worked as a schoolteacher in the Cherokee Nation. Here, she photographed her students in front of their schoolhouse.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_summer.jpg?itok=OByH3_Rc" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"965","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_summer.jpg?itok=04lImc_8" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_summer.jpg?itok=04lImc_8" alt="A group of women and a man lean and sit against a wooden fence enjoying watermelon. The image is black and white." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="622" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Friends enjoy watermelon slices on a summer afternoon near Park Hill, a community within the Cherokee Nation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Friends enjoy watermelon slices on a summer afternoon near Park Hill, a community within the Cherokee Nation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_turkey.jpg?itok=lLMgDo46" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"893","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_turkey.jpg?itok=7RUOTC2C" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_turkey.jpg?itok=7RUOTC2C" alt="A black and white photograph of a young boy with a dead turkey slung over his shoulder." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="672" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Some historians believe Blake Ross, Cobb’s nephew, is the boy shown here carrying a dead turkey behind Hunter’s Home.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Some historians believe Blake Ross, Cobb’s nephew, is the boy shown here carrying a dead turkey behind Hunter’s Home.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--8 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_parade.jpg?itok=qi-sECeP" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"983","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_parade.jpg?itok=RmQgFNv4" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_parade.jpg?itok=RmQgFNv4" alt="A black and white photograph of a parade procession with men in uniform on horseback pulling a decorated carriage." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="610" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Williams Hardware Co.’s entry in a parade in Tahlequah, Indian Territory.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Williams Hardware Co.’s entry in a parade in Tahlequah, Indian Territory.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by Jennie Ross Cobb, Courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--9 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_stairwell.jpg?itok=IpZaeDZc" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"953","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_stairwell.jpg?itok=UU7OCkk5" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_stairwell.jpg?itok=UU7OCkk5" alt="Jennie Cobb, now in her old age, stands to the right of a display case at the base of the stairs in Hunter Home. The photo is black and white." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="630" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Hunter’s Home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Built around 1838 by wealthy merchant George M. Murrell and his Cherokee wife, Minerva Ross Murrell, Hunter’s Home is the only pre–Civil War plantation home still standing in Oklahoma. It is now a historic site managed by the Oklahoma Historic Society and open to the public.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After the state of Oklahoma purchased Hunter’s Home in 1948 to preserve the site, Jennie Cobb returned to her former homestead and campaigned to become its caretaker and curator.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;h4&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Hunter’s Home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Built around 1838 by wealthy merchant George M. Murrell and his Cherokee wife, Minerva Ross Murrell, Hunter’s Home is the only pre–Civil War plantation home still standing in Oklahoma. It is now a historic site managed by the Oklahoma Historic Society and open to the public.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After the state of Oklahoma purchased Hunter’s Home in 1948 to preserve the site, Jennie Cobb returned to her former homestead and campaigned to become its caretaker and curator.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--10 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_huntershouse.jpg?itok=_bgwfUOC" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"965","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_huntershouse.jpg?itok=09RcJ1i5" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_huntershouse.jpg?itok=09RcJ1i5" alt="A faded black and white image of the Hunter's Home façade in winter. The ground is covered in snow." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="622" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;When Cobb returned to Hunter’s Home, she found not only a camera but also glass plate negatives of images she had once taken. Here is one of those images, a photo she took of Hunter’s Home during winter.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;When Cobb returned to Hunter’s Home, she found not only a camera but also glass plate negatives of images she had once taken. Here is one of those images, a photo she took of Hunter’s Home during winter.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--11 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2022-09/gallery_fireplace.jpg?itok=FlgUZ3zn" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"967","rel":"slick-node-739-story-slideshow-images-default-8"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_fireplace.jpg?itok=BUfXaX7I" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2022-09/gallery_fireplace.jpg?itok=BUfXaX7I" alt="Cobb sits in a wooden rocking chair besides the Hunter's Home fireplace. The image is black and white." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="620" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cobb remained curator of Hunter’s Home until her death at age 77 in 1959.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cobb remained curator of Hunter’s Home until her death at age 77 in 1959.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Courtesy of Hunter’s Home, Oklahoma Historical Society&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;By the time Jennie Ross was born on December 26, 1881, the Park Hill community in Cherokee Nation’s Tahlequah District had already seen its heyday as home to some of Cherokee Nation’s most notable leaders and privileged families. A group of Cherokees known as the “Old Settlers” had arrived in what is now eastern Oklahoma during the late 1820s. These members of the Cherokee Nation had left their ancestral lands in the southeastern United States to escape growing encroachment of white colonizers on Cherokee lands. They negotiated with the U.S. government and initially settled in Arkansas Territory before renegotiating for land in what would later become known as Indian Territory. Cherokee Nation West, as it was called, established its own government and capital, now known as Tahlequah.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The Cherokee peoples remaining in the East elected Cherokee Nation Principal Chief John Ross for the first time in 1828. In the decade following, factions among Cherokees emerged over how best to preserve tribal sovereignty under extraordinary pressure to leave. In 1835, a group of prominent tribal community members signed the Treaty of New Echota, ceding the last remaining Cherokee land east of the Mississippi River in exchange for land out West. Principal Chief Ross and most Cherokee people protested the treaty as fraudulently signed, yet it was ratified in the U.S. Senate by one vote. The forced removal of the Cherokee people in 1838–1839 was part of a decades-long Indian Removal campaign signed into law in 1830, which effectively forced tribes east of the Mississippi to give up their traditional homelands.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;John Ross was still principal chief when he arrived in Indian Territory with the last detachment of Cherokees to depart the East. He made his home in Park Hill where other affluent Cherokee peoples settled and began rebuilding their lives. More accurately, these Cherokee families—often bicultural and mixed race—depended on the labor of enslaved Africans to rebuild homes and businesses in the years after their removal from their lands in the East.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Park Hill was considered the cultural center of a new Cherokee Nation, with schools, churches, shops and stately houses anchoring new plantations. Among them, Hunter’s Home was built in 1845 by George Murrell, a white businessman who married into the Ross family. Unlike many Park Hill properties, Hunter’s Home survived the Civil War and today is the only preantebellum mansion that still stands in Oklahoma. After the Murrells left, a series of Ross family relatives managed the house. John Ross’s grandson, Robert Bruce Ross, took up the task sometime in the 1890s. He and his wife, Fannie, brought their youngest children, including Jennie, to live at Hunter’s Home. There, Jennie received her first camera.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Little detail is available about Jennie’s life in general. While we likely will never know if she asked for a camera, it’s been told that her father gave her one as a gift when she was about 15 years old. This coincides with innovations in photographic processes making cameras smaller, lighter and more accessible to amateurs. As seen in magazine ads of the day, photography was marketed as an exciting new hobby for young women. It was also considered a suitable activity that wouldn’t interfere with the expected demands of women’s domestic life. Even photo processing could be done in the confines of the home.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Jennie Ross turned a living room closet inside Hunter’s Home into a darkroom where she processed glass plate negatives. These “worked very well except during hot weather,” she is said to have told a Tulsa World reporter who interviewed her many years later. Even using one of her preferred brands—Eastman Kodak Photographic Dry Plates or Hammer Dry Plate Co.’s Photographic Dry Plates—summer’s heat worked against her. Film emulsion wouldn’t adhere to the glass if the solution was too warm, as was the case with several photos she said she took (according to the same Tulsa World reporter) of a young Cherokee cowboy named Will Rogers, who would soon grace the silver screen.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Future international entertainers aside, Jennie Ross’s photographic eye turned homeward. Among the few images credited to her is a collection of Hunter’s Home photographs made from glass plate negatives in the Oklahoma Historical Society archives. By the time her family took up residence, the house was already a half-century old, evident in its worn furnishings and soot-stained walls. Outside photos show damaged porch rails, chipping paint, buckling siding and unkempt landscapes. She framed her shots to take in details such as certificates on walls, a building’s reflection in a pond, even a tiny kitten under the dining table. More notably in this same photo, she captures two women treading the back staircase. Several of her photos around the home include family and friends in informal settings and poses that are closer to what is seen on social media platforms than what we might expect to see in early photography. Jennie Ross began her studies at the Cherokee National Female Seminary in nearby Tahlequah during the mid-1890s. With her camera, she captured seminary friends strolling Tahlequah’s wooden sidewalks, stepping along newly laid railroad tracks and enjoying watermelon slices with friends. After graduating the seminary in 1900, she worked as a teacher at several Cherokee Nation public schools. She photographed her students in front of their schoolhouse in Christie, west of Tahlequah.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Her subjects, however, extended beyond her family, home, peers and students. Her known work includes photos of the Cherokee National Supreme Court Building façade, a temperance society meeting on the town square and a town parade. In the Cherokee Nation capital, Jennie Ross’s “amateur” work appears to have reached a higher calling and quality, perhaps the effect of experience and a keener eye for perspective. This, however, assumes an order to the images that cannot be determined as they are not dated.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In 1905, at age 23, Jennie wed Jesse Cobb. The U.S. government hired Jesse to survey tribal lands in Indian Territory to break them into allotments. Unlike Cherokee tradition, in which tribal lands are held communally, allotments often divided families and communities. It was a measured blow against Cherokee Nation self-governance. If Jennie Ross Cobb was conflicted over marrying a man employed by the U.S. government—which was striving to end tribal sovereignty—that record is lost to time. The local newspaper, the Tahlequah Daily Arrow, reported the details of her wedding, stating that “the bride is one of the most popular and best known [sic] young ladies of the city. . . .  She is one of those young women of sterling qualities, of whose graces, charms and talents Tahlequah is justly proud.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The Cobbs eventually left the new Cherokee Nation that had been established in Oklahoma and settled in Arlington, Texas. There, they raised their daughter, and Jennie Cobb operated her own floral shop. Whether she continued to pursue her passion of photography is unknown.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After the State of Oklahoma purchased Hunter’s Home in 1948 to preserve the site, Jennie Cobb campaigned to become its caretaker and curator. She was appointed to the post and discovered one of her old cameras in the attic with some of her glass plate negatives. Those negatives were used in the state’s restoration of the historic site and are now part of the Oklahoma Historic Society’s collection. She remained curator of Hunter’s Home until her death at age 77 in 1959.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Jennie Cobb’s photos were invaluable in accurately restoring Hunter’s Home said Susan Teska, Hunter’s Home site director. “As a curator, I tend to look at the backgrounds of the photos. I tend to notice what the wallpaper looks like and what sorts of things are on the mantels or what the furniture on the porch looks like,” she said. Cobb “started the process of returning the house back to the time of George and Minerva. Today, we are just continuing what she began.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Cobb’s legacy, however, goes further than the walls of that historic home. Her images tell a story of a segment of Cherokee people largely assimilated in dress, custom, language and religion to European-American ways. Yet, their Cherokee heritage was part of a fundamental identity uniting all Cherokee people, traditional and progressive, even as their government was soon to be dismantled to make way for Oklahoma statehood.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“While only taking up the hobby for a few years, Cobb’s images are unique and document the Cherokee Nation at a critical point when establishing itself in the Oklahoma Territory,” said Michelle Delaney, a photo historian and assistant director of history and research for the National Museum of the American Indian. “These images establish a significant legacy for her in the history of the Cherokee Nation and in the history of American photography.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Just as the Cherokee Nation and its people survived U.S. attempts to dissolve its government and recovered to become the strong sovereign body it is today, Jennie Cobb’s work withstands the ages. As a photographic record of life, they defy simplified attempts to define the Cherokee experience. As a collection of Cobb’s memories, her photos reveal a dimension of humanity connecting Cherokee people today to their shared past.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-ba6135de7d0e164cfbb6c468ee75c8246646d1059ecdcf995f3f95ea5ff7e74a"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
Karen Shade-Lanier
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Karen Shade-Lanier (Cherokee Nation) is exhibits manager at the Cherokee National History Museum in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. She curated the “Through the Lens: The Photographic Legacy of Jennie Ross Cobb” exhibition that featured many of these images and was displayed at the museum in 2019 and 2020.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Fri, 23 Sep 2022 19:33:24 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>EhrlichK</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">739 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
<item>
  <title>Blundering to Plymouth: What the Pilgrims Should Have Known</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/blundering-to-plymouth</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;Blundering to Plymouth: What the Pilgrims Should Have Known&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-b2bdfa56900e22013c5e802508eeb4447010800c80497350451104d56d8cb0d5"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/winter-2020-0" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Winter 2020
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 21 No. 4
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-c5441ee7a10b28fb0bf7d1d6ab3d47edeff4d1bb0047fdaa4aedac7fc56dfec8"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-d89491b147d44f4c8fb7540358bef5f7fd6ced8fe42dfa0f7a455ffaf59ca39c"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by James Ring Adams&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fear and isolation seized the Pilgrims on the Mayflower when they lowered anchor off Cape Cod four centuries ago. William Bradford, one of their leaders, described it eloquently in his “History of Plymouth Colony”: “What could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness, full of wild beasts and wild men? And what multitudes there might be of them, they knew not.” It is a memorable passage, but it bears witness to inexcusably poor preparation for the expedition and willful refusal to gain advance information about the “wild men” they would encounter. Captain John Smith, who offered to share his experience in the region with the Pilgrims and was disregarded, called it “their intruding ignorance.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The organizers of this new colony were originally from England. Among the 100 or so passengers were “Separatists” who had sought a religious purity they didn’t find in the state-sanctioned Church of England. They fled England in 1607 and 1608 and settled in the Netherlands, first in Amsterdam and later in the university city of Leiden, where they remained for the next decade. Fearing assimilation of the younger generation and also a resumption of war between the Dutch and Spanish, they planned a settlement in North America. They arrived off Cape Cod on November 11, 1620. After inexplicably wasting five weeks blundering along the cape, they finally located the harbor already known to Captain Smith as Plymouth. There they founded what became the first permanent colony in New England under the name of New Plimoth.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Before their arrival in Plimoth in mid-December, however, the Pilgrims, unlike other European would-be colonists, made no discernable effort to learn about the Native inhabitants of that region. Their failure to do so was part of a pattern of incompetent preparation that directly caused a 50 percent mortality rate in the first winter. The leaders of the Wampanoag tribes had far better information about the English than the Plimoth colonists had about the tribes. In fact, an adviser to the Massasoit, chief of the Wampanoag confederacy, had lived several years in London and had intimate knowledge of the goals and vulnerabilities of its colonial adventurers. The Native leaders very likely felt sure, almost to the point of overconfidence, that they could handle the alien invaders.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-499-story-slideshow-images-default-10" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-499-story-slideshow-images-default-10-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2021-02/gallery_ship_0.jpg?itok=8_w0U6LP" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1217","rel":"slick-node-499-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_ship_0.jpg?itok=tbGg6GX7" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_ship_0.jpg?itok=tbGg6GX7" alt="The Mayflower II, a replica of the original Mayflower ship, at sea." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="493" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Mayflower II, a replica of the ship that carried the founders of New Plimoth to New England in 1620, was launched in Brixton, England, in 1957 and is now moored in the harbor of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Photo courtesy of Plimoth Patuxet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Mayflower II, a replica of the ship that carried the founders of New Plimoth to New England in 1620, was launched in Brixton, England, in 1957 and is now moored in the harbor of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Photo courtesy of Plimoth Patuxet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2021-02/gallery_stamp_0.jpg?itok=cRQWsZQQ" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"763","rel":"slick-node-499-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_stamp_0.jpg?itok=6JcGIu4y" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_stamp_0.jpg?itok=6JcGIu4y" alt="A postage stamp depicting the Mayflower in Plymouth Harbor" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="483" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The U.S. Postal Service issued this stamp depicting the Mayflower in Plymouth Harbor in 2020 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the ship’s arrival. Greg Breeding designed and Greg Harlin illustrated the stamp. Photo courtesy of U.S. Postal Service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The U.S. Postal Service issued this stamp depicting the Mayflower in Plymouth Harbor in 2020 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the ship’s arrival. Greg Breeding designed and Greg Harlin illustrated the stamp. Photo courtesy of U.S. Postal Service&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2021-02/gallery_map.jpg?itok=Pi0Q-o3k" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"844","rel":"slick-node-499-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_map.jpg?itok=MWoF1bxt" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_map.jpg?itok=MWoF1bxt" alt="A map of Plymouth Harbor and village of Patuxet drawn in the early 1600s." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="711" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This map was drawn by French explorer Samuel de Champlain during his expeditions down the New England coast in 1605 and 1606. It depicts Plymouth harbor and the then populous Indian village of Patuxet, which was later wiped out by a plague. Photo courtesy of Sarin Images/GRANGER&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This map was drawn by French explorer Samuel de Champlain during his expeditions down the New England coast in 1605 and 1606. It depicts Plymouth harbor and the then populous Indian village of Patuxet, which was later wiped out by a plague. Photo courtesy of Sarin Images/GRANGER&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2021-02/gallery_reenactment.jpg?itok=Rqg_0l6z" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"800","rel":"slick-node-499-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_reenactment.jpg?itok=6iyB3CE4" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_reenactment.jpg?itok=6iyB3CE4" alt="Wampanoag tribesmen and English settlers offer objects for trade in a historical reenactment" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="750" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wampanoag tribesmen and English settlers recreate trading in New Plimoth at the Plimoth Patuxet Museum. Formerly the Plimoth Plantation, this living museum and Smithsonian Affiliate changed its name in 2020 to reflect its growing emphasis on the Wampanoag Indian side of its history. Photo courtesy of Plimoth Patuxet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wampanoag tribesmen and English settlers recreate trading in New Plimoth at the Plimoth Patuxet Museum. Formerly the Plimoth Plantation, this living museum and Smithsonian Affiliate changed its name in 2020 to reflect its growing emphasis on the Wampanoag Indian side of its history. Photo courtesy of Plimoth Patuxet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2021-02/gallery_pipe.jpg?itok=m6lE9PO0" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"643","rel":"slick-node-499-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_pipe.jpg?itok=Q6W4hsHe" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_pipe.jpg?itok=Q6W4hsHe" alt="A black funerary pipe" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="407" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Railroad construction in the mid-19th century tore up a burial site at the former Wampanoag village of Sowams, near Warren, Rhode Island., turning up funerary objects such as this pipe. Wampanoag scholars established these objects’ connection with Ousamequin, the Massasoit who made a treaty with the English settlement at Plimoth in 1621. The repatriated pipe was reinterred at the original site in May 2017, along with the remains of Ousamequin. Photo Courtesy of Wampanoag Confederacy&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Railroad construction in the mid-19th century tore up a burial site at the former Wampanoag village of Sowams, near Warren, Rhode Island., turning up funerary objects such as this pipe. Wampanoag scholars established these objects’ connection with Ousamequin, the Massasoit who made a treaty with the English settlement at Plimoth in 1621. The repatriated pipe was reinterred at the original site in May 2017, along with the remains of Ousamequin. Photo Courtesy of Wampanoag Confederacy&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2021-02/gallery_coin.jpg?itok=oPYTp3GN" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1200","rel":"slick-node-499-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_coin.jpg?itok=sTmb4V7T" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_coin.jpg?itok=sTmb4V7T" alt="A $1 coin featuring a pipe being passed from a Massasoit hand to a colonist, representing the Wampanoag Treaty of 1621." src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="500" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A reproduction of the Massasoit pipe made by Ramona Peters (Mashpee Wampanoag) was the model for the 2011 Native American $1 coin, which celebrates the Wampanoag peace treaty with the Plimoth settlement. Image Courtesy of U.S. Mint&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A reproduction of the Massasoit pipe made by Ramona Peters (Mashpee Wampanoag) was the model for the 2011 Native American $1 coin, which celebrates the Wampanoag peace treaty with the Plimoth settlement. Image Courtesy of U.S. Mint&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2021-02/gallery_settlement.jpg?itok=vgMJQvyc" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"814","rel":"slick-node-499-story-slideshow-images-default-10"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_settlement.jpg?itok=Hg5kbYOT" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2021-02/gallery_settlement.jpg?itok=Hg5kbYOT" alt="Four people in historical costume walk through the reconstructed village of New Plimoth" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="737" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A reconstructed village of New Plimoth at the living museum of Plimoth Patuxet, 2.5 miles south of the original settlement and what is now the city of Plymouth. Photo Courtesy of Plimoth Patuxet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A reconstructed village of New Plimoth at the living museum of Plimoth Patuxet, 2.5 miles south of the original settlement and what is now the city of Plymouth. Photo Courtesy of Plimoth Patuxet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;h2&gt;Groping in the Cold&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The “intruding ignorance” of the Pilgrims started with a basic failure to learn how to navigate Cape Cod’s waters. Contrary to Bradford’s description, the New England coastline was hardly an unknown wilderness. It had been visited regularly by European fishermen and explorers for nearly a century. In a two-decade run-up to the Mayflower’s voyage, European expeditions had mapped and visited both sides of Cape Cod: Bartholomew Gosnold in 1602, Martin Pring in 1603, Samuel de Champlain and the French in 1605 and 1606, the major exploration of Captain John Smith in 1614 and the ill-fated voyage of Thomas Dermer in 1618, in which Dermer tried unsuccessfully to undo some of the damage done by one of John Smith’s subordinates and received a fatal wound from the Natives of Martha’s Vineyard. French and Dutch ships and three vessels of Smith’s fleet had anchored in Plymouth Harbor itself, which received its name from Captain Smith’s 1616 map of New England. Samuel de Champlain drew a recognizable map of the river mouth.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Captain Smith, who paired publication of his 1616 map with an influential exhortation to establish a fishing colony, was eager to return to New England with the Pilgrims but was rudely rebuffed. He complained that when he approached them, he was told that they had his books and didn’t need him. For lack of an experienced leader, the Pilgrims took a fatal misstep at the first moment of their arrival at Cape Cod on November 11. The Mayflower anchored off the tip of the cape, where the water was so shallow the landing party had to wade through three quarters of a mile of freezing muck to reach the beach. The passengers were so pent and eager to reach land that they made this slog repeatedly in the five weeks it took them to find the Plimoth anchorage. Because of the exposure, a large portion caught colds and pneumonia, and at least 40 died as a result. The folk historical image of a landing on Plymouth Rock is so far from the fact that it seems like a psychological expression of repressed guilt.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Fearing the “Wild Men”&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Worse than the blundering around Cape Cod Bay was the lack of regard for the Natives who happened to live in the area. The Mayflower passengers sustained themselves in the first weeks by digging up corn stored by the inhabitants for the winter. They then wondered why none of the locals came out to greet them. Their initial policy for first contact was shaped by self-interested prejudice.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Beyond their ignorance of the landscape, the Plimoth settlers seemed to have limited prior knowledge about the “wild men” they would encounter and very little interest in acquiring any. In their discussions at Leiden about relocation was only a slight, ambiguous mention about “converting the Natives” to Christianity, a salient motive for apologists for the Virginia Company colonizers at Jamestown in the preceding decade.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Pilgrims settled on a location where it seemed easiest to dispossess the original inhabitants. According to Bradford:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“The places they had thoughts on they would land were some of those unpeopled countries of America, which are fruitfull and fit for habitation being devoid of all civill inhabitants, where there are only salvage and brutish people, which range up and down little otherwise than the wild beasts.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Those who objected to the plan focused on Indian ferocity, with blood-curdling tales of their tortures (apparently gleaned from Champlain). For those settlers who survived the difficult sea voyage, Bradford wrote:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Should yet be in continual danger of the salvage people, who are cruel, barbarous, and treacherous, most furious in their rage and mercilous where they overcome, not being content only to kill and take away life, but delight to torment men in most bloody manner that may be, flaying men alive with the shells of fishes, cutting off the joints and members of others by piecemeals, and broiling them on the coals, and causing men to eat the collops of their flesh in their sight while they lived.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Even so, the Leiden congregants finally decided they were more afraid of the Spanish, with whom the 12-year Dutch truce was about to expire.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This passage, usually deleted in schoolbook abridgements of Bradford’s history, contradicts the idea that America was uncontested vacant land, open for superior European exploitation. It also belies the notion that the Pilgrims were benevolent missionaries, anxious to convert American Indians (an impression fostered by their advocates). The fact is that almost none of the new arrivals had any direct experience of Indians, let alone accurate knowledge of them. The Leiden congregants apparently had no access to the groups of American Indians from Mawooshin (Maine), Virginia or even Cape Cod Bay, who had been brought to England beginning in 1605. Several Esopus tribesmen from the lower Hudson River had come back to Holland with Dutch sea captains, but they did not make a good impression, and no records indicate that the Leidenites met them.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Although the Pilgrims had chosen Leiden in part because of its prestigious Leiden University (where their pastor John Robinson had enrolled), it’s not clear whether they received useful information from its learned debates. Even its best-informed geographers still had a lot to learn about American Native ethnology.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;What the Indians Knew&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This disregard of the Native population stood in sharp contrast to the wide-spread practice of other colonial adventurers. A high priority of early explorers was to kidnap and bring Native leaders back to Europe, where they could be debriefed and trained as interpreters and intermediaries. The George Weymouth expedition to Maine, or Mawooshen, in 1605 forcibly removed five Abenaki. (See &lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/alien-abductions-how-abenaki-discovered-england"&gt;“Alien Abductions: The Real Story of the Mawooshen Five,”&lt;/a&gt; in American Indian magazine, Fall 2015). The renegade Thomas Hunt, captain of a ship in the Smith fleet in 1614, captured 27 Indians from Cape Cod to sell as slaves in Spain; Smith denounced him furiously for poisoning future relations with Native peoples.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In the two decades before the Mayflower voyage, a significant number of these abductees were living in England and moving back and forth to America. Some of the abductees were guests of principals of various colonial companies. The Mawooshen Five contingent was divided between the households of John Popham, Lord Chief Justice of England and Sir Fernando Gorges, commander of the fort at the original Plymouth in England. Two were sent back home and played a crucial role in the Popham Colony at Sagadahoc in Maine. Two of Hunt’s captives, Tisquantum (Squanto) and Epenow, were eventually redeemed to England and one way or another managed to return home. Tisquantum lived in London with Joseph Slaney, secretary of the Newfoundland Company, and spent time at the fishing colony of Cupid’s Cove in Newfoundland.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Four years before the Mayflower sailed, the Virginia Company brought over a more or less voluntary delegation of Powhatan Indians featuring Rebecca Rolfe, who was also known as Pocahontas. Professor C. B. Rose notes that Rolfe was lodged several hundred yards from the house where Squanto was living. There are no reports stating this, but they had ample opportunity to compare notes about the English. Apparently the Pilgrims, isolated in Leiden, had no access to these Indians or to their intelligence briefings.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Most discussions of these captives dwell on what they could tell the colonizers. But the Indians were intelligent observers who learned a lot in England and brought this knowledge back home. Their insights into English motivations were available to tribal leaders who dealt with colonial settlers, and in some cases the returning captives &lt;em&gt;were&lt;/em&gt; the tribal leaders. Their experience and other interactions with explorers shaped Native strategies, for better or worse.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The diplomatic initiative at Plimoth clearly was in the hands of the Indians. At the arrival of the Mayflower, Tisquantum was sojourning with Ousemequin, the Massasoit, or paramount chief, of the Wampanoag, and they carefully managed the first contact with the Pilgrims. Ousemequin had good reasons to support the new settlement. His confederacy had been severely weakened by a plague transmitted by previous European contact. But his regional rivals the Narragansetts had been much less affected, and he wanted the support of English firepower. He could draw on a number of Native precedents, not all of which at this time had ended badly.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During the winter, the Wampanoag watched from a distance as the colony struggled. In mid-March, after several weeks in which the Natives showed themselves more boldly, one of them walked directly into the camp, calling out “welcome” in English. This was Samoset, a Native of Monhegan Island in Maine, who had learned some English from the fishing fleets. After a day of conversation, he promised to return with a more fluent speaker, a Native of Patuxet (the Native name for Plymouth) who had been kidnapped to England. This was Tisquantum, Massasoit’s ace card. This contact led to a top-level conference between the Massasoit himself and the Plimoth governor John Carver and eventually the signing of a formal peace treaty.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Tisquantum attached himself to the English as interpreter and famously taught the settlers how to acclimatize to the new land. (Yes, they did use fish to fertilize corn.) When his ambitions as a culture broker made him non grata to Massassoit, the Wampanoag sent another senior leader, Hobomak, to live next to the colonists as an adviser and minder. For the early years, at least, the Massasoit showed every sign of believing that he had the weak and struggling English colony firmly under control.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;On the other side, the Plimoth settlers realized quickly that their survival depended on their usefulness to the surrounding Wampanoag confederacy. They went to some pains to prove themselves reliable allies and learned to live with their neighbors. Their missionary efforts were mainly limited to setting an example of Christian living. This was a notable contrast to the more aggressive efforts of the later Puritan colony at Massachusetts Bay, which differed religiously in subtle but significant ways from the Pilgrims. The Plimoth settlers deserve credit for their acceptance of Native tutelage and their ability to overcome initial fear and ignorance. But the fact is, they had a long way to go.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-a866da0a062c3c82841f14aceae27192227e7a21399c000e27321f6e0b85257e"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
James Ring Adams
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;James Ring Adams is a senior historian at the National Museum of the American Indian and managing editor of American Indian magazine.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Thu, 11 Feb 2021 19:41:57 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>KlingbielEL</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">499 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
<item>
  <title>Women Warriors: Fighting on Many Fronts for the Right to Serve</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/women-warriors-fighting-many-fronts-right-serve</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;Women Warriors: Fighting on Many Fronts for the Right to Serve&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-545932fe3d5d459efb1d33481dcd71b45c6fb872fbdd63815cf210f99b4516c3"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/fall-2020" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Fall 2020
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 21 No. 3
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-8da382aa62d92a7d98a9b704dbb5f6e9aedea5b83f4ed7f46e7037b35e4aa4d1"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-bc767f21742f04a617006125e894012f95537f224b988fc97224fbf7a88dc698"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Anne Bolen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ola Mildred Rexroat didn’t even know how to drive a car when she climbed into a cockpit for her first flying lesson in 1940. Born in 1917 in Kansas, where her father was a newspaper publisher, her family would later move to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, where her Oglala Lakota mother taught at the local school. Rexroat would go on to earn a bachelor’s degree in art from the University of New Mexico in 1938. But as the United States prepared to enter the Second World War and called for pilots, she was drawn to flying. With the few dollars a month she earned from working at the Bureau of Indian Affairs and then for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers helping to build airfields, she paid for the 35 hours of flying lessons she needed to join the Women Airforce Service Pilots, or WASP, in 1944. Rexroat was the only American Indian among the 1,074 WASP who served during World War II.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-472-story-slideshow-images-default-12" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-472-story-slideshow-images-default-12-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/MSS251_2_1_OpenerRexroat.jpg?itok=ePhkDBH2" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":919,"rel":"slick-node-472-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/MSS251_2_1_OpenerRexroat.jpg?itok=XtmTjJXN" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/MSS251_2_1_OpenerRexroat.jpg?itok=XtmTjJXN" alt="Women Airforce Service Pilots at Eagle Pass Army Air Base" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="707" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Women Airforce Service Pilots at Eagle Pass Army Air Base in Texas in 1944. Back row, left to right: Virginia S. Knapp Healy, Virginia N. Grant, Virginia M. Williams Hubbard, Ann M. Karlson Kenney, Anna Hopkins White, Eleanor Hinkle Vaughn, Virginia Mullen and Jacqueline Twitchell Morgan. Front row, left to right: Margaret Helburn Kocher, Anne TePas Wiltsee, Ruth Carter Johnson, Margaret Cox Stegall, Edith K. Smith Beal, Patricia J. Blackburn Bonansinga, Dorothy Sorensen Van Valkenburg, Mary A. Jershin O’Rourke and Ola Mildred Rexroat—the only American Indian to serve as a WASP during World War II.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Image Courtesy of WASP Archive, Texas Woman's University&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Women Airforce Service Pilots at Eagle Pass Army Air Base in Texas in 1944. Back row, left to right: Virginia S. Knapp Healy, Virginia N. Grant, Virginia M. Williams Hubbard, Ann M. Karlson Kenney, Anna Hopkins White, Eleanor Hinkle Vaughn, Virginia Mullen and Jacqueline Twitchell Morgan. Front row, left to right: Margaret Helburn Kocher, Anne TePas Wiltsee, Ruth Carter Johnson, Margaret Cox Stegall, Edith K. Smith Beal, Patricia J. Blackburn Bonansinga, Dorothy Sorensen Van Valkenburg, Mary A. Jershin O’Rourke and Ola Mildred Rexroat—the only American Indian to serve as a WASP during World War II.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Image Courtesy of WASP Archive, Texas Woman's University&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/535876.jpg?itok=WV0bB9WB" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1098,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-472-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/535876.jpg?itok=kp_zC9GD" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/535876.jpg?itok=kp_zC9GD" alt="Marine Corps Women Reservists" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="422" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Left to right: Marine Corps Women Reservists Minnie Spotted Wolf (Blackfoot), Celia Mix (Potawatomi) and Viola Eastman (Chippewa) at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, in 1943.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;National Archives Photo No. 535876&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Left to right: Marine Corps Women Reservists Minnie Spotted Wolf (Blackfoot), Celia Mix (Potawatomi) and Viola Eastman (Chippewa) at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, in 1943.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;National Archives Photo No. 535876&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/IMG_1708%20copy.jpg?itok=xPhbvDHb" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1131,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-472-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/IMG_1708%20copy.jpg?itok=ZSUAtQks" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/IMG_1708%20copy.jpg?itok=ZSUAtQks" alt="Photo of Laura Wright posing in parka" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="435" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Laura Wright served in the Alaska Territorial Guard from 1942 to 1947 before becoming a world-renowned parka maker.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of Sheila Ezelle&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Laura Wright served in the Alaska Territorial Guard from 1942 to 1947 before becoming a world-renowned parka maker.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of Sheila Ezelle&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/KW2_6005_f.jpg?itok=cMaIWaz1" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1046,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-472-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/KW2_6005_f.jpg?itok=UmqtQsWu" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/KW2_6005_f.jpg?itok=UmqtQsWu" alt="The color guard of the Native American Women Warriors" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="402" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The color guard of the Native American Women Warriors, founded by Mitchelene BigMan (Apsáalooke [Crow]/Hidatsa, in front), posted and retired the colors (flags) at the 2017 Native Nations Inaugural Ball at the National Museum of the American Indian. BigMan donated two Native American Women Warriors jingle dresses to NMAI's collections. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The color guard of the Native American Women Warriors, founded by Mitchelene BigMan (Apsáalooke [Crow]/Hidatsa, in front), posted and retired the colors (flags) at the 2017 Native Nations Inaugural Ball at the National Museum of the American Indian. BigMan donated two Native American Women Warriors jingle dresses to NMAI's collections. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/IMG_2251%20%281%29.jpg?itok=JuvqfJDF" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":676,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-472-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/IMG_2251%20%281%29.jpg?itok=J1_l_khp" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/IMG_2251%20%281%29.jpg?itok=J1_l_khp" alt="Gunner’s Mate Marilee Spottedwolf (Northern Cheyenne), off Australia’s coast" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="260" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Gunner’s Mate Marilee Spottedwolf (Northern Cheyenne), off Australia’s coast, is a third-generation Navy veteran.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of Marilee Spottedwolf&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Gunner’s Mate Marilee Spottedwolf (Northern Cheyenne), off Australia’s coast, is a third-generation Navy veteran.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of Marilee Spottedwolf&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/20160928_01a_kjf_ps_035.jpg?itok=w9fg_Xen" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1207,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-472-story-slideshow-images-default-12"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/20160928_01a_kjf_ps_035.jpg?itok=EUm1YtHG" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/20160928_01a_kjf_ps_035.jpg?itok=EUm1YtHG" alt="Veteran liaison Juanita J. Mullen (Seneca Nation)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="464" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Veteran liaison Juanita J. Mullen (Seneca Nation) consulted on the National Native Veterans Memorial at NMAI in Washington, D.C. She said of the winning design, “It’s beautiful. It represents us very well.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Veteran liaison Juanita J. Mullen (Seneca Nation) consulted on the National Native Veterans Memorial at NMAI in Washington, D.C. She said of the winning design, “It’s beautiful. It represents us very well.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;As women weren’t allowed into combat at the time, the WASP ferried planes and officers from base to base, tested new planes and sometimes trained other pilots. They also towed targets, 20-foot-wide wire circles, that gunners would practice shooting using live ammunition from the air or ground. “They would turn their aircraft so they estimated when they made a 90-degree turn and were headed at a right angle toward us, then they could begin firing at our target—or were supposed to fire at the target and not the plane,” she said, as they had a few near-misses. “I know you heard that joke about that WASP who said ‘Hey, boys, I’m towing the target—not pushing it!”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Despite the WASP’s consistent success, the male-dominated U.S. Armed Forces thought “every time a woman climbed into a cockpit, it was an experiment. They were waiting for them to fail,” says Nancy Parrish. She and her mother, Deane, one of the few surviving WASP, founded Wings Across America to document the women’s stories, including the one about towing targets Rexroat recounted in 2001. In spite of the constant struggle to prove herself, Rexroat—nicknamed “Rexy”—was always a positive force for her sister WASP. “Her spirit lifted everyone,” says Nancy Parrish.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Formidable Forces&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Native women have led and served their people in and outside of war long before and after the United States was formed. In addition to cooking, providing needed supplies and caring for wounded, they have taken up arms. For example, the Oneida tell of the woman Tyonajanegen who fought on horseback alongside her husband, an army officer, at the 1777 Battle of Oriskany during the American Revolution. After he was shot in the wrist, she loaded her husband’s gun for him so he could keep fighting.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Some Indigenous women courageously plowed through glass ceilings, becoming among the first Native women to support or serve in the U.S. Armed Forces. Judith Bellafaire, curator of Women in Military Service for the America Memorial Foundation, describes Cora E. Sinnard (Oneida) and Canadian Charlotte Edith Anderson Monture (Six Nations of the Grand River) as being among the 14 Indigenous women who served in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps in World War I. The Army Nurse Corps grew from 2,000 to nearly 60,000 during World War II. Some nurses, including Lakota Marcella Ryan LeBeau (see page 23), followed the front, treating the wounded in makeshift hospitals.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Even before the United States entered World War II following the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, the U.S. military enlisted the help of Alaska Natives to patrol their homelands against Japanese invasion. Of the nearly 6,400 volunteers and the few employees who formed the Alaska Territorial Guard (ATG), only a couple of dozen were women. One was sharp-shooter Private Laura Wright, who once hit a target 49 out of 50 times. Wright was part of the ATG from 1942 to 1947. Her granddaughter Sheila Ezelle says she would keep her eye out for invading Japanese while delivering mail on skis or by dog sled. She continued to serve her community by delivering babies as a midwife and later designed world-renowned parkas. Ezelle describes her as “a very capable woman.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;According to the America Memorial Foundation, about 800 Native women served in the U.S. military during World War II, including in the Women’s Army Corps (WAC) and the Navy reserve called Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES). Minnie Spotted Wolf of the Blackfoot Tribe in Montana also became the first American Indian woman to join the Marines. Known for her skill in breaking horses on her father’s ranch, she served as a heavy equipment operator from 1943 to 1947.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In addition to serving in the military, thousands of Native women supported the troops during both World Wars by working in war-related industries and through efforts such as Red Cross clothing drives. After every war, women have also cared for the physically and mentally wounded when they came home. “Whether providing support in the form of supplies and healing or serving as leaders and warriors in their own right, Native women have always played critical military roles for their tribal nations and the United States,” says Alexandra Harris, a senior editor at the National Museum of the American Indian. She and NMAI Historian Mark Hirsch coauthored “Why We Serve: Native Americans in the United States Armed Forces.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Regardless of how Indigenous women have served their communities and country, their stories are rarely found in the annals of American military history. In part, this omission could be because those histories typically focus on battles, says Hirsch. Yet throughout the more than two centuries of U.S. military history, he says, “Women are at the center of the story, not a marginal part of the story.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Writing Their Own Histories&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;On and off the battlefield, Indigenous women have served in every branch of the U.S. Armed Forces. Just as other women veterans, they joined for a variety of reasons and they shared some of their struggles. However, as Native women, some have experienced additional challenges.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Some turned to military service because they were following in the footsteps of their family members and had a desire to defend their people. Marilee Spottedwolf is a direct descendant of Northern Cheyenne War Chief Spotted Wolf, who led the Battle of Rosebud Creek in Montana on June 17, 1876, a week before Little Bighorn. “In Cheyenne culture, the Rosebud Battle is referred to as the Battle Where the Girl Saves Her Brother. Chief Comes In Sight was surrounded, about to be shot, when his sister, Buffalo Calf Road Woman, rode in on her horse and saved him. In that height of the genocide, a lot of women actively participated in war,” Spottedwolf says. “Having that kind of legacy plays into what we do today. ... The woman veteran is not uncommon in our tribe.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A third-generation Navy veteran, Spottedwolf served from 2010 to 2017 during Operations Enduring Freedom and Iraqi Freedom as a Gunner’s Mate Petty Officer Second Class. She helped maintain weapons ranging from 9 mm handguns up to entire weapons systems. She also trained crew members how to use them and made sure that they had enough ammunition. “My job was to help keep everybody alive in a firefight,” she says.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As she was often the only Indigenous person on board, she felt at times like “the weird exotic in a lot of my commands. I am not just a Native, but a Plains Native, from a landlocked part of the country. Kind of ironic.” She was also frequently one of only a handful of women. “You face all the adversity being a Native American female in a male-dominated MOS [military occupational specialty],” she says. But that helped drive her. “It pushed me to the kind of level that I became an asset.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Mitchelene BigMan (Apsáalooke [Crow]/ Hidatsa) knows from experience that Indigenous servicewomen often don’t get credit for their work and feel they have to try harder to prove themselves. BigMan enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1986. After U.S. servicewomen were finally allowed into combat in the 1990s, she served as a Sergeant First Class, working as a mechanic in Operation Iraqi Freedom with two deployments in Balad. “We were the first to volunteer for the craziest missions knowing we may not make it home,” she says. In Iraq, “when we had to go to a village, I’d be the first one to go in,” she says. “I’d have to pretend that I was not scared, even though I was.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;When 23-year-old Private Lori Piestewa (Hopi) became the first Native woman to die in combat in 2003, BigMan says she thought, “She made the ultimate sacrifice. She kissed her kids goodbye and didn’t come home. I listened to flute music and burned sage. I just cried. It hit home. It could have been me.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“As a soldier, we are trained not to think we are women,” says BigMan. She was often told, “You wear your heart on your stripes” because she cared about those under her command. “Those soldiers relied on me, expected that I would bring them home safe.” But then, “If I am a soldier, well, then treat me like one,” she says. “Treat me as a comrade.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While many tribes acknowledge and respect their women veterans, BigMan says that initially after she retired in 2009, “My own people didn’t recognize what I had done.” She founded Native American Women Warriors to raise awareness of women veterans’ contributions. The organization also helps Native veterans find employment and educational opportunities and provides some emergency funds to pay for the cost of necessities such as rent, utilities and food.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;When the Native American Women Warriors first led the color guard at powwows instead of the men, she says they found resistance from tribal members: “They said we weren’t supposed to march in front.” The women have since marched in their bright red, white or blue jingle dresses decorated with metal cones in color guards at various powwows, parades and even the Native Nations Inaugural Ball at the National Museum of the American Indian in 2017. The jingle dance is a “dance of healing,” BigMan explains. “Every time our ladies go to dance, we are dancing for all veterans who have passed.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Lakota Army Specialist Kella With Horn from the Two Kettle Band of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe in South Dakota looked to the military as an opportunity to grow. “It wasn’t in our world to know what college was,” she says. “I always knew from a kid I was going into the military.” She wanted to join the Marines, but as a single mom with an 18-month-old son, she didn’t feel that branch would take her. So she enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1986 when she was 20 years old and her mother stepped up to help with childcare. Later when she married another soldier and they had another child, if they were both called away to duty, her mother would once again help take care of her children. “They will tell you, ‘the Army didn’t issue you a kid, so figure it out,’” she says. “You have to make a decision: is it going to be my career or my kids?”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After three years of active service and five years in the reserve, she attended college using funds from the GI Bill, eventually earning a master’s degree in business administration. With Horn decided to found the Lakota Women Warriors organization in October 2014 to increase recognition for female veterans and to serve as mentors for young Native women. “We want to instill in them that they have options, such as joining the military and entering college,” she says. “I tell them, ‘You can still do this. You just have to have it in your heart.’”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Members of the group will now serve as a color guard in powwows, community gatherings, parades and other events. When they march, they wear their military jackets or other indications of their military branch with traditional skirts to encourage other women veterans to be proud of their service. She says, “We want to empower who they are.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Sometimes this boost is particularly needed for those who have served in support roles, as they don’t always get recognition for their service. Dorothy Button (Seneca Nation) joined the U.S. Coast Guard Reserves in 1989 when she was 28 years old because she “wanted to help people.” However, she never served on a ship. During her 20 years of service, Yeoman Button aided in the recovery efforts in Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina by paying the bills that kept critical supplies flowing. Following the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001, she was recalled to active duty to again process paperwork quickly. “I was glad I got to be a part of it,” says Button. “We were holding down the home front while other people were keeping us safe elsewhere.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Caring for Veterans&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Brenda McEwing (Dakota) was a U.S. Army Telecom Operations Chief for 23 years. She served from October 1990 to May 1991 in operations such as Desert Storm and October 2005 to November 2006 in Operation Iraqi Freedom. In her truck full of communications equipment, she would follow the troops until she was given the signal to stop and set up—in less than 20 minutes. Parked just behind the front lines, she would have to tear down and pack everything up quickly and move to the next site within communications range of the soldiers, sometimes close enough to draw fire. “We had to stay with them no matter what,” she says. Sometimes they would do this for days at a time in the hot desert, eating cold food and taking sponge baths using their helmets.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Such energy is hard to tame. After McEwing retired in 2006, she struggled to find her new purpose. Then one day it came to her. She says, “I thought, ‘I will support soldiers.’” She founded the First Nations Women Warriors in 2014 to raise funds to build houses for homeless Native veterans. In March, the organization broke ground on its first home, being built for Orville and Shirley Boni (Apache) on the San Carlos Apache Reservation in Arizona.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Orville joined the Marine Corps right out of high school in 1970 and was immediately thrust into the Vietnam War. A year of combat was enough to give him severe post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and drive him into alcoholism. Unaware of any benefits or assistance for veterans, he struggled to recover. Then he met Shirley. “Marriage was a great blessing for me,” he says. Finding Shirley and faith helped him survive. He says, “That is why I am living.” Forty years later, Orville is serving as a heavy equipment operator for the Bureau of Indian Affairs on the San Carlos Apache Reservation. The couple is living with Orville’s son until their home is completed. McEwing and the Bonis celebrated the groundbreaking together. “It was an emotional ceremony,” says Shirley. Unfortunately, the COVID-19 pandemic has halted construction for now.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Mary Louise LaForge served as a U.S. Air Force Buck Sergeant from 1976 to 1983 and is now the veteran tribal outreach worker for her Crow Tribe in Montana. She says that Native liaisons for tribal veterans are necessary because “a lot of the veterans don’t ask for help.” In addition to being intimidated by all the paperwork, they are often not comfortable talking with non-Native people. As she is not only Crow but also a veteran, “I speak their language,” she says. She does everything from helping them get healthcare benefits to applying for burial with military honors. She also helps them with basics like obtaining food and transportation to the nearest veterans clinic, which is 50 miles away. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, she has to arrange televisits with doctors and counselors for patients, including those suffering from PTSD and MST, or military sexual trauma.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“Some of them were pushed to the point of doing anything to get out, including taking a less than honorable discharge,” says LaForge. She is now helping a couple of women who suffered MST to apply for their records to be amended. The women did so in response to the murder of U.S. Army Specialist Vanessa Guillén. On April 22, 2020, Guillén disappeared from Fort Hood Army Base in Killeen, Texas. She is believed to have been the victim of sexual harassment, culminating in her brutal assault and murder. Guillén’s death has encouraged many women finally to speak out about the MST they endured. “They are just coming forward,” says LaForge. “It is all coming to light.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Beginning in 1980, Juanita J. Mullen (Seneca Nation) served as a Traffic Management Specialist in the U.S. Air Force, tracking cargo and troops, including ensuring that human remains made it home. Then, she says, “I spent over 20 years away from my tribe and my people, and I didn’t want to work away from my culture anymore.” She now serves as the American Indian/Alaska Native veteran liaison for the Center for Minority Veterans at the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) in Washington, D.C., connecting with Indigenous people across the nation and abroad.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Before the onslaught of the coronavirus, Mullen would “bring the VA to the tribes.” She traveled to powwows and other tribal events to set up booths to distribute information about veterans benefits and introduce local VA staff to tribal members. Now she uses video conferences to communicate with tribal nations and their veterans as well as to collaborate with representatives from Australia, New Zealand, England and other foreign countries to exchange information about how to work with Indigenous and other minority veterans.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Honoring All Who Served&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Native women and their family members have waited a long time for their service to be recognized. Between 1942 and 1944, the WASP flew more than 60 million miles in 75 different types of military aircraft. However, as civilians, they did not receive military benefits or burials until the U.S. government finally granted them veteran status in 1977. The WASP were awarded the Congressional Gold Medal in 2010. Ola Rexroat died in June 2017 at the age of 99 and was later interred with full military honors in Arlington Cemetery.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Alaska Territorial Guard members were not granted veteran status until 2000. Laura Wright died in 1996 at the age of 87. Her family accepted her discharge papers at a ceremony acknowledging the service of about a dozen ATG members in 2017. Ezelle, who attended, says, “I was very, very proud.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The idea that all veterans should be acknowledged for their service is one of the driving forces behind the National Native American Veterans Memorial at the NMAI in Washington, D.C. BigMan served on the memorial’s Advisory Committee and Mullen spoke at the community consultations held to inform its vision. Spottedwolf says of the memorial, “To be able to contribute on that level to a broader understanding, to be able to represent our Indigenous people and the contributions we’ve made—it is very fitting."&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;div style="background-color:#eee; padding:30px; margin-bottom:10px;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;img alt="Marcella Ryan LeBeau (Lakota)" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="dc6dfe03-1f88-4152-8b50-6ea68b1fe5e4" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/Screen%20Shot%202020-09-10%20at%2012.12.02%20PM.jpg" width="100%" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p style="font-size:13px; line-height:1.5"&gt;Marcella Ryan LeBeau (Lakota). Photo Courtesy of American Veterans Center&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Nursing on the Front Lines and Beyond&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A Lakota of the Two Kettle Band, Marcella Ryan LeBeau began taking care of people at age 10, when she nursed her dying mother on their Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe’s reservation in South Dakota. LeBeau joined the U.S. Army Nurse Corps in 1943 and served as a nurse during World War II. As part of the 76th General Hospital, she was “following the war,” tending to wounded from military operations such as the June 1944 D-Day invasion in Normandy. As air forces flew overhead into battle, she says, “We could see the sky just filled with silver planes.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In a tent hospital, LeBeau also treated those who fought in the Battle of the Bulge in western Europe’s dense Ardennes Forest from December 1944 to January 1945. The buzz bombs flew over day and night. Just miles from the front, she says, “we could feel the concussion of the ack-ack” on the ground. On January 8, a bomb hit the hospital’s motor pool, killing 25 military police. A nurse coming through the aftermath warned her, “Don’t go there. They are going to need you tonight.” So she rested before going on duty. Years later, she returned to the area to ensure that these soldiers were not forgotten. A plaque at the site lists all their names.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;One of the patients she helped during the war was Eugene Roubideaux, a Native soldier from the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. He had lost both legs and was despondent. She stayed by his side, taking him newspapers from home, until he was suddenly transferred. After the war, at each nursing conference LeBeau attended, she would ask if anyone knew his fate. Forty years passed before a phone call from Roubideaux’s daughter reunited the attentive nurse and grateful patient. LeBeau says, “I choked up.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After LeBeau retired from the military as a First Lieutenant in 1946, she was a civil service nurse for 31 years. Her long career culminated with her serving as the director of nurses at the Indian Health Service in Eagle Butte, South Dakota. Her many honors include the French Legion of Honour in 2004, induction into the South Dakota Hall of Fame in 2006 and a Special Recognition Award from the National Congress of American Indians in 2020.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;At 101 years old, LeBeau continues to care for her people. This past May, she wrote an editorial appealing for tribal nations to be allowed to maintain “health checkpoints” at reservation entrances to stop the spread of COVID-19. She also often speaks on behalf of her culture and veterans. Reflecting on her own military service, she says, “It was a great honor.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-47f365a8c7508f373e4edb60eb63e4c3c6fe1bbad054464f0375d5d4141fc444"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
Anne Bolen
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;Anne Bolen is executive editor of American Indian magazine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Mon, 05 Oct 2020 15:03:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ChampionC</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">472 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
<item>
  <title>The Code Talkers' Legacy: Native Languages Helped Turn the Tides in Both World Wars</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/code-talkers-legacy-native-languages-helped-turn-tides-both-world-wars</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;The Code Talkers' Legacy: Native Languages Helped Turn the Tides in Both World Wars&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-0898c9c8eaa5e3824503904f69d576f55d5a7e55aa2d98579f6cb5bd34e29d0a"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/fall-2020" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Fall 2020
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 21 No. 3
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-8eb7cd814babbfa166b3b8b3070927fe41723ad5d21749c305e50b90f4938c0d"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-11d046549f02b8cd77ea618a0f221ddae3be35e3858963235613a78e9e9fcfc7"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by William C. Meadows&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Four years into World War I, the German military continued to thwart Allied maneuvers by monitoring their open-air communications and deciphering their coded messages. As late as the fall of 1918, German forces were still repeatedly countering Allied actions, so U.S. military strategists scrambled to find a means of rapid yet secure communications. The answer came not from new technology but Native culture—the languages spoken by those American Indians who the Marines would later dub “code talkers.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-478-story-slideshow-images-default-14" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-478-story-slideshow-images-default-14-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/07428_2003_001_AC.jpg?itok=MrlLEAkL" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1201","height":"922","rel":"slick-node-478-story-slideshow-images-default-14"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/07428_2003_001_AC.jpg?itok=yxargzXL" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/07428_2003_001_AC.jpg?itok=yxargzXL" alt="Navajo code talkers Corporal Henry Bahe Jr. (left) and Private First Class George H. Kirk" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="651" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Navajo code talkers Corporal Henry Bahe Jr. (left) and Private First Class George H. Kirk helped foil the Japanese forces in World War II. Here, they transmit over a portable radio in Bougainville in the South Pacific during December 1943.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;National Archives, Photo No. 127-MN-69889-B&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Navajo code talkers Corporal Henry Bahe Jr. (left) and Private First Class George H. Kirk helped foil the Japanese forces in World War II. Here, they transmit over a portable radio in Bougainville in the South Pacific during December 1943.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;National Archives, Photo No. 127-MN-69889-B&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/1962_08_6451_po_1155_c4_0.jpg?itok=abCM439G" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":809,"rel":"slick-node-478-story-slideshow-images-default-14"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/1962_08_6451_po_1155_c4_0.jpg?itok=HNPGlJQP" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/1962_08_6451_po_1155_c4_0.jpg?itok=HNPGlJQP" alt="Choctaw soldiers" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="473" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Choctaw soldiers such as these were among the first code talkers in World War I. This telephone squad (photographed at Camp Merritt, New Jersey, on June 7, 1919) had just returned from fighting. From left: Corporal Solomon Bond Louis, Private Mitchell Bobb, Corporal James Edwards, Corporal Calvin Wilson, Private James Davenport and Captain Elijah W. Horner.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Mathers Museum of World Cultures, Indiana University&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Choctaw soldiers such as these were among the first code talkers in World War I. This telephone squad (photographed at Camp Merritt, New Jersey, on June 7, 1919) had just returned from fighting. From left: Corporal Solomon Bond Louis, Private Mitchell Bobb, Corporal James Edwards, Corporal Calvin Wilson, Private James Davenport and Captain Elijah W. Horner.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Mathers Museum of World Cultures, Indiana University&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/184_CodeTalkers.jpg?itok=rmI3y5H3" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":987,"rel":"slick-node-478-story-slideshow-images-default-14"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/184_CodeTalkers.jpg?itok=tU8RsE0-" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/184_CodeTalkers.jpg?itok=tU8RsE0-" alt="Detail of an artist’s depiction of Charles Chibitty (Comanche) on Utah Beach" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="659" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Detail of an artist’s depiction of Charles Chibitty (Comanche) on Utah Beach during the Allied forces’ invasion of German-occupied France in World War II. “Indian Code Talkers,” Wayne Cooper, 2000, oil on canvas.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of the Oklahoma State Senate&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Detail of an artist’s depiction of Charles Chibitty (Comanche) on Utah Beach during the Allied forces’ invasion of German-occupied France in World War II. “Indian Code Talkers,” Wayne Cooper, 2000, oil on canvas.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of the Oklahoma State Senate&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/2008-code-talkers-tlingit-tribe-bronze-three-inch-medal-obverse-768x768.png?itok=-EgrVcXh" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"768","height":"768","rel":"slick-node-478-story-slideshow-images-default-14"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/2008-code-talkers-tlingit-tribe-bronze-three-inch-medal-obverse-768x768.png?itok=KI2HQXUh" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/2008-code-talkers-tlingit-tribe-bronze-three-inch-medal-obverse-768x768.png?itok=KI2HQXUh" alt="Code Talkers Recognition Act of 2008, Congressional Gold Medal" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="500" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2013, the U.S. Congress presented 33 American Indian tribes known to have code talkers with a gold medal specific to each tribe, such as this one for the Tlingit of southeast Alaska. Design by Susan Gamble, engraved by Renata Gordon and Joseph Menna, 2013, gold, 3".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Code Talkers Recognition Act of 2008, Congressional Gold Medal designs (exclusive of Native American Tribal Insignia). © 2008 United States Mint. All rights reserved. Image used with permission. Courtesy of the United States Mint.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2013, the U.S. Congress presented 33 American Indian tribes known to have code talkers with a gold medal specific to each tribe, such as this one for the Tlingit of southeast Alaska. Design by Susan Gamble, engraved by Renata Gordon and Joseph Menna, 2013, gold, 3".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Code Talkers Recognition Act of 2008, Congressional Gold Medal designs (exclusive of Native American Tribal Insignia). © 2008 United States Mint. All rights reserved. Image used with permission. Courtesy of the United States Mint.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;h2&gt;The Genesis of a Code&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Myths about Native martial abilities originated in colonial times when American Indians began to be recruited by U.S. Army forces as guides and scouts to perform reconnaissance. Because the Indigenous people who grew up in rural areas were used to navigating rugged landscapes to hunt, trap and fish, non-Native soldiers began to believe that American Indians were natural warriors who were stealthier and possessed innate skills such as an inherent sense of direction, heightened hearing and the ability to see farther at night.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Such stereotyping—which Vietnam veteran Tom Holm (Creek/Cherokee) calls the “Indian Scout Syndrome”—continued into World War I and beyond. This assumption often led commanders to place Native Americans in dangerous positions as scouts, point men and snipers. As American Indians found themselves expected to possess these abilities, they also often volunteered for some of the most dangerous assignments to fulfill military expectations, follow their tribal military heritage and boost their own self-confidence. As a result, a high percentage of Indigenous soldiers were wounded and killed in combat.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Indigenous skill that did become one of the most important and unique contributions to the U.S. Armed Forces was the ability to speak Native languages. The idea to use Native language as a “code” that would baffle the Germans was discovered when commanders overheard their Native soldiers speaking to each other in the field. Units in France began experimenting by placing small groups of Hochunk, Eastern Band Cherokee and Choctaw soldiers on telephones to send messages in their Native languages; it foiled the Germans. The impact was immediate, as demonstrated by the successes of Eastern Band Cherokee soldiers in the 30th Division at Montbrehein and Choctaw and Cherokee in the 36th Division at Forest Ferme. By the end of the war, several Native languages were being used at various locations throughout the Western Front. Although the term “code talker” did not appear in Marine records until 1944, numerous military officers referred to the use of Native languages as “code” by the end of World War I.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;These Native communicators set a precedent that was expanded upon in World War II. During 1940 and 1941, the U.S. Army recruited small groups of Comanche, Chippewa, Oneida and Meskwaki to create codes in their respective languages. The U.S. Marine Corps began training Navajo to do so in 1942, and the Army formed a group of Hopi soldiers to do so in 1943. In the 8th U.S. Army Air Force, a group of Canadian Cree soldiers in the 9th Bomb Command and two Crow in the 97th Bomb Command used their Native languages as codes in Europe.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;A Secret Recipe&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Native soldiers developed two types of Native American Code Talking (NACT). First developed by Choctaw in World War I, Type one NACT contained coded vocabulary, collections of words or phrases that were assigned to military subjects, within their languages. Type two NACT simply used existing Native languages. Both forms worked as codes because they were based on languages unknown to the enemy and, as the new codes were not based on mathematical processes as found in most code and cipher systems, the enemy had nothing to which to compare them.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During World War II, Comanche soldiers created about 250 coded terms, while Navajo soldiers eventually developed more than 700 terms. Many terms were based on everyday things in the tribal communities such as animals, food, material items and descriptions. Examples of code terms include the Comanche terms for tank (“wakaree’e” or “turtle”) and telephone exchange (“puhihwi tekwapu kahni” or “metal talking house”); the Hopi terms for ship (“pa-a-ki-hu” or “houses on water”) and the M-1 rifle (mouth and one); and the Navajo term for grenade (“ni-ma-si” or “potatoes”). A 1941 edition of the journal “The Masterkey” reports that one of the tribes in the Chippewa and Oneida group developed terms based on the colors of military hat cords and other insignia, with the Native word for “blue” meaning infantry, “yellow” meaning cavalry and “red” for artillery. The Comanche even had a code name for Adolf Hitler—“Po’sa taiboo’” (Crazy White Man). Hopi, Meskwaki and Canadian Cree also had specially devised code terms, although the number is unknown.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Eight Hopi code talkers were in the 81st Division. Although Frank Chapella, Franklin Shupla and Warren Koopyaquaptewa were all from the village of Tewa, they were both Tewa and Hopi and so spoke both of these tribes’ languages. Frank Chapella’s wife, Elidia Chapella, and his son, Marshall Shupla, recall how these three individuals spoke to one another in Tewa (their matrilineal classification through their mothers) and in Hopi with the other five members of their unit.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Some Type one NACT groups like the Comanche and Navajo also developed alphabet systems, using the first letter of English words translated from Native words to spell out names of individuals and locations. For example, the translation of the Comanche words for pear, ant, rain, ice and snake could be combined to convey “Paris.” While the Comanche used an open system by using any word that translated to the desired letter, the Navajo developed a set vocabulary, such as “wol-la-chee” (ant) for the letter a, “shush” (bear) for b, “moasi” (cat) for c and so on. Later they developed three interchangeable words for each English letter. Both systems prevented repetition and inhibited breaking of the code.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;One of the benefits of using these codes derived from Native language was open-air messages could be sent faster, often in one to two minutes compared to existing encryption methods requiring up to four hours to craft, communicate and decode. NACT messages were typically brief—usually less than three lines—to avoid creating radio congestion, drawing enemy attention, providing repetition or giving the enemy more transmissions to analyze. “Whenever we sent a message it was short, sweet and to the point,” Comanche code talker Roderick Red Elk noted.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Because of the speed of their communications, code talkers were especially important in relaying information and conveying orders that needed immediate implementation or response, such as troop movement, enemy resistance, evacuation of wounded and directing artillery, ammunition and other supplies. “It was in these defensive positions where you used it quite a bit,” Comanche code talker Forrest Kassanavoid said. “All critical information, something they felt was really top secret, was in Comanche.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During 1943 and 1944, U.S. Army, Navy and Marine Corps representatives considered increasing their numbers of American Indian code talkers. However, Army and Navy leaders were skeptical the code talkers’ messages were secure and decided not to expand their units. The Marine Corps expressed optimism but kept silent about its growing program.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Despite these decisions, several Army and Army Air Forces units each had small groups of Native communicators. In the Pacific, seven Lakota soldiers in the 302nd Reconnaissance Troop became known as “MacArthur’s Boys,” while the 5th Bomb Command in the 5th Army Air Force had a radio net of 15 Native Americans who sent radio communications in Acoma-Laguna, Apache, Crow, Hopi, Lakota and other Native languages. In the Pacific, the Navajo, the largest group of code talkers, served in every major campaign, from the battle on Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands from August 1942 to February 1943 to the conflicts on Okinawa, which lasted from April to June 1945.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;The Code That Almost Wasn't&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;One of the greatest ironies of the Native code talkers in both World Wars is that many attended Bureau of Indian Affairs boarding schools aimed at assimilating them into mainstream American culture by eradicating their languages and cultures. While the schools varied greatly regarding how much they strived to suppress Indian culture, they typically did not permit any cultural practices or the speaking of any Native language.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Yet many were determined to retain their Native languages, continuing to speak while at home or with other students when teachers could not hear them. Farina King (Diné) told how her uncle, Navajo code talker Albert Smith, talked in Navajo to rocks, sticks and other items while outside his boarding school to maintain his language.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“We were forbidden at that time to talk Comanche. That was strictly a no-no, and if we did talk Comanche, we got strictly punished … paddled or forced to wax floors,” relayed code talker Charles Chibitty about his tribal language. “So when we see them coming, when we’re talking Indian, we hush-up real quick. Like I say, they was always trying to make little white boys out of us … but it never really worked,” he said. “When Hitler started kicking around, they was looking for Indians, and they come back to us and asked us to use our language for that special unit, to use to send messages.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Despite boarding schools’s efforts to eliminate Native languages, their military-style operations preconditioned the American Indian students for military service. “We had to march every place we went,” says Kassanavoid. “We practically all wore the same kind of clothes [uniform] when we were there. … Everything was done by the numbers there at the Indian school, so that gave us a good preparation when we went into the Army.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;A Lasting Legacy&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Native Americans and First Nations peoples made many contributions to both World Wars in terms of troops, war bonds, agricultural production and reservation resources. Yet their languages had perhaps the greatest impact. Members of more than 30 Native Nations served as code talkers for the U.S. Army, Army Air Forces, Marine Corps and Navy during the World Wars. Groups of code talkers ranged in size from as small as two (Ho-chunk) to eight (Choctaw) individuals in World War I and from two (Crow, Creek, Seminole and Tlingit) to 17 (Comanche) to more than 400 soldiers trained among the Navajo (of which, around 285 saw combat) in World War II. Although by the end of the Second World War, the Japanese had identified the use of Navajo language against them, none of the Indigenous codes were broken in either World War.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A few Navajo code talkers continued code talking exercises while stationed in China after World War II. However, by 1950 advances in communications encryption technology surpassed the need for code talking. Several World War II Navajo code talkers who later served in the Korean War yet were not stationed together reported that the Navajo code was not used in Korea.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While popularly believed to be a secret program, dozens of news articles and other sources about Choctaw, Comanche, Sioux, Hochunk and other Native soldiers speaking in their languages as code—many from high ranking military officers—appeared just after the First World War and reports about Comanche, Meskwaki, Chippewa, Oneida, Lakota and Navajo code-crafting troops circulated before, during and after World War II. While great efforts were made to conceal the Marines’ Navajo Program, more than 45 sources mention it between 1943 and 1968, when it was officially declassified. Multiple Marine Corps news releases in 1945 suggest that while the subject of Navajo code talkers was no longer classified by the war’s end, the Navajo code book and alphabets remained classified until 1968.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While some groups of code talkers have been honored in their respective communities and states, decades passed since the end of World War II before they were honored on a national level. The Honoring the Navajo Code Talkers Act of 2000 bestowed gold Congressional Medals for the first 29 Navajo Code Talkers and silver Congressional Medals for the others. The Code Talkers Recognition Act of 2008 provided a gold Congressional Medal for each tribe and a silver for each surviving code talker or their family. Choctaw Code Talker Association President Nuchi Nashoba says, “It was an incredible moment. I can’t put into words the pride we felt. Those men deserve to be honored.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As of now, only four Navajo code talkers are known to survive—Thomas Begay, John Kinsel, Peter MacDonald and Samuel Sandoval. However, the legacy of Native American code talkers lives on through the unique contributions they made with their Indigenous languages—the countless lives they saved by helping to shorten both World Wars as well as the pride and cultural history that continues in their respective communities and the nations they defended.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Reflecting on the contributions of her father and the other Hopi code talkers, Rosa Honani (Hopi) says we should “be proud of our code talkers … because as small of a group as they were, they were part of the defeat [of the Japanese]” and that they are indicative of the “importance of keeping our language alive.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“There were thousands and thousands of soldiers that got killed,” said Chibitty. “If what little we did saved some of those lives, then I’m proud I was a part of it. … We did something, to use our language. … I was glad that I could do that for the country. … And we’d probably do it again if we have to, even at our age.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;div style="background-color:#eee; padding:30px; margin-bottom:10px;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Marine Corps Sgt. Major Ronald L. Green (left) greeted Navajo code talker Samuel T. Holiday" data-entity-type="file" data-entity-uuid="3ff6caae-95cc-443e-ba74-d7ee8a0963f6" src="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/inline-images/HF34HP.jpg" style="padding-bottom:10px" width="100%" /&gt;
&lt;p style="font-size:13px; line-height:1.5"&gt;Marine Corps Sgt. Major Ronald L. Green (left) greeted Navajo code talker Samuel T. Holiday during the Reunion of Honor ceremony held on Iwo Jima, Japan, in 2015, to honor American and Japanese World War II veterans and their families.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;A Nearly Deadly Case of Mistaken Identity&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During World War II, U.S. Marines and Army troops mistook several of the Navajo code talkers who served in the Pacific as Japanese and captured them. Navajo code talker Samuel T. Holiday was just 19 years old when he and his 4th Marine Division landed with the second wave at Saipan in June 1944. When his boat was overturned, he almost drowned in the surf. Barely conscious and unable to rise out of the water’s edge he was pulled out by another Marine. The next day a Japanese artillery shell landed close to Holiday as he moved inland. The explosion threw him through the air, knocked him out and nearly buried him in the sand. Damaging one of his ear drums, the concussion left him with considerable pain, dizziness, numbness and ringing in his head. He soon developed a fever.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Not wanting to leave his post, he persevered, continuing to send and relay messages to other units. Returning from sending a message, members of his unit informed him of some shell holes full of water in the rear that were secure and that they had just bathed in. They encouraged Holiday to take advantage of them. Thinking it would feel good to pour water over his pounding head, he made his way there.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As he stripped down and entered the shell hole, the last of the other Marines were just leaving. Soon military police detaining a Japanese prisoner passed by. Not realizing he now looked exactly like the Japanese prisoners, he suddenly felt a bayonet in his lower back and an order in Japanese to “Get out of the water, Jap.” Holiday was in shock and thinking it might have been a Japanese, quickly turned around to find that “They had the bayonet right between my eyes. I said, ‘I’m PFC Samuel T. Holiday. I’m one of the Marines!’” Despite identifying his unit, the Marine did not believe him and continued to poke him with his bayonet and lead him toward the Japanese prisoners. Luckily another unit member recognized him, and after that soldier and finally their captain intervened, Holiday was released.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As Holiday reflected about fighting against the Japanese: “They were just young guys, and they really looked like Navajos.” After several similar instances occurred, non-Native bodyguards were assigned to some Navajo to prevent their misidentification and capture. Despite being mistaken again later, he participated in the invasions of Kwajalein, Saipan, Tinian and Iwo Jima before returning home to the Navajo Reservation in the fall of 1945. He was honored for his service at several events before his death in 2018 at 94 years of age.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-1f4ea09f19dd2c31edf2d1c222b58ccf75c654d027fdfc8a72bfdd1afca521ff"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
William C. Meadows
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;William C. Meadows is an author of several books about Native veterans and a professor of Anthropology and Native American Studies at Missouri State University.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Mon, 05 Oct 2020 15:02:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ChampionC</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">478 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
<item>
  <title>Peacemakers: Leaders Who Fought Against Wars and in Courts to Preserve Native Rights</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/peacemakers-leaders-who-fought-against-wars-and-courts-preserve-native-rights</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;Peacemakers: Leaders Who Fought Against Wars and in Courts to Preserve Native Rights&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-0fdbec8412af3bccda2e3bd64b7db77eaf4be7a8b03b5fae5f83d97d7ea0ffd0"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/fall-2020" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Fall 2020
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 21 No. 3
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-df9b8a3c93c7a0adc1ec7f242984ec31f6d41b37f235563f652833a3897a9e65"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-b4a4ce2323e0889bf4770e940953bc05da1960594aef5723a66305a54b7d93de"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Laurence M. Hauptman&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Many cultures honor their warriors, but some give even greater praise to the warriors who help make peace, or even better, avert war. Some of the greatest American Indians rank in the second group. The role of diplomat, negotiator and promoter of peace has always commanded the highest esteem among Native peoples.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-481-story-slideshow-images-default-16" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-481-story-slideshow-images-default-16-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/1959-221.jpg?itok=VHIaBzfF" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":893,"rel":"slick-node-481-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/1959-221.jpg?itok=wwfipNrh" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/1959-221.jpg?itok=wwfipNrh" alt="Cayuga Chief Deskaheh out front of Geneva" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="728" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 1923, Cayuga Chief Deskaheh (center) appealed to speak to the League of Nations in Geneva about the right of his people to govern themselves as a nation, but was denied. Here he stands with Bureau international pour la défense des indigènes (International office for the protection of Native people) members who supported his cause.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of League of Nations Archives, United Nations, Geneva&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 1923, Cayuga Chief Deskaheh (center) appealed to speak to the League of Nations in Geneva about the right of his people to govern themselves as a nation, but was denied. Here he stands with Bureau international pour la défense des indigènes (International office for the protection of Native people) members who supported his cause.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy of League of Nations Archives, United Nations, Geneva&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/medals_v2.jpg?itok=vAExDcQw" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"1016","rel":"slick-node-481-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/medals_v2.jpg?itok=44YK2Vev" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/medals_v2.jpg?itok=44YK2Vev" alt="medals" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="591" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Between the 17th and 19th centuries, British, French, Spanish and U.S. government representatives gave peace medals made of silver and bronze to Indian tribes to further negotiations and trade between the nations.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Bronze medal depicting King George II on the front (not shown) and a Quaker offering a peace pipe to an American Indian man on the reverse. 1.8" x 1.8". NMAI 24/1034&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. (front), 3. (reverse): Silver 1792 peace medal depicting former U.S. President George Washington shaking hands with an American Indian. Made by Joseph Richardson Jr. (1752–1831), 6" x 4.3". NMAI 22/8915&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Silver 1862 medal depicting former U.S. President Abraham Lincoln. 5.9" x 4.9". NMAI 24/1213&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Cast restrike of 1881 bronze medal depicting former U.S. President Chester A. Arthur on front (not shown) and American Indian chief with settler on reverse. 5.3" x 2.4". NMAI 26/5255&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photos by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Between the 17th and 19th centuries, British, French, Spanish and U.S. government representatives gave peace medals made of silver and bronze to Indian tribes to further negotiations and trade between the nations.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Bronze medal depicting King George II on the front (not shown) and a Quaker offering a peace pipe to an American Indian man on the reverse. 1.8" x 1.8". NMAI 24/1034&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. (front), 3. (reverse): Silver 1792 peace medal depicting former U.S. President George Washington shaking hands with an American Indian. Made by Joseph Richardson Jr. (1752–1831), 6" x 4.3". NMAI 22/8915&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Silver 1862 medal depicting former U.S. President Abraham Lincoln. 5.9" x 4.9". NMAI 24/1213&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Cast restrike of 1881 bronze medal depicting former U.S. President Chester A. Arthur on front (not shown) and American Indian chief with settler on reverse. 5.3" x 2.4". NMAI 26/5255&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photos by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/N34913.jpg?itok=70exWs8G" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":913,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-481-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/N34913.jpg?itok=0UiHglnl" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/N34913.jpg?itok=0UiHglnl" alt="Ponca Chief Standing Bear (Ma-chú-nu-zhe) " src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="351" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 1879, Ponca Chief Standing Bear (Ma-chú-nu-zhe) was the defendant in a U.S. court case that led to legal recognition of American Indians as people. NMAI N34913&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by William Henry Jackson.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 1879, Ponca Chief Standing Bear (Ma-chú-nu-zhe) was the defendant in a U.S. court case that led to legal recognition of American Indians as people. NMAI N34913&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo by William Henry Jackson.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-10/02.1992%20Billy%20FrankAlbert%20Schweitzer%20Award%20nickGunderson%20photo.jpg?itok=Roc1i_h6" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1222,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-481-story-slideshow-images-default-16"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/02.1992%20Billy%20FrankAlbert%20Schweitzer%20Award%20nickGunderson%20photo.jpg?itok=cCuTTyqB" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-10/02.1992%20Billy%20FrankAlbert%20Schweitzer%20Award%20nickGunderson%20photo.jpg?itok=cCuTTyqB" alt="Nisqually activist Billy Frank Jr. " src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="470" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nisqually activist Billy Frank Jr. led Northwest Indians in the fight to defend their fishing rights and the environment.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Northwest Indian Fisheries Commission.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nisqually activist Billy Frank Jr. led Northwest Indians in the fight to defend their fishing rights and the environment.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo Courtesy of Northwest Indian Fisheries Commission.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;As we honor veterans who have served in the U.S. Armed Forces, we must also honor the American Indians who have promoted peace and protected their people in other capacities. Some were leaders, taking their people away from danger. Many were diplomats, seeking to resolve conflict through negotiations. In our own day, activists and litigants have fought a different fight, using protests and courts to change the laws of the land.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Tribal diplomacy operated by formal protocols long before arrival of the Europeans. Official delegations carried wampum belts as credentials. Exchange of gifts continued in dealings with colonial powers. Each meeting produced a round of official presents, notably numerous Indian peace medals that European monarchs and then the U.S. government gave to chiefs and members of Native delegations.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;From the time of George Washington in the late 1700s, tribal delegations journeyed to the nation’s capital in often unsuccessful efforts to end hostilities on the frontier. During the 19th century, tribal delegations were wined, dined and often cheated, leaving a trail of disadvantageous dealings. But, as Herman Viola observed in “Diplomats in Buckskins,” many famous tribal leaders made the trip more than once, gaining in skill and sophistication with each visit. Over time, the diplomacy built up a record of government-to-government relations that is now the bedrock of Indian law.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Following are some outstanding Indigenous leaders who sought to make and keep peace.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;A Delaware Visionary&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;White Eyes, a Unami-speaking Delaware (Lenape), was a chief in the Ohio Country during the American Revolution. In the early 1770s, violence on the frontier between whites and American Indians threatened to lead to open warfare. White Eyes unsuccessfully attempted to prevent what would become Lord Dunmore’s War in 1774, fought primarily between the Shawnee and Virginia settlers. However, he served as an emissary between the two sides and helped negotiate a treaty to end the war.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Although most Delaware people opted for neutrality in the Revolutionary War, Chief White Eyes favored the American colonials. In April 1776, the chief addressed the Continental Congress in Philadelphia. In order to end the violence on the frontier and bring peace between Native peoples and the “Long Knives,” he pushed for the creation of a separate Indian state, one set apart for the benefit and protection of Indian nations.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 1778 at Fort Pitt, he completed an alliance with the United States, the first federal–Indian treaty in the new nation’s history. The sixth article of the treaty gave the Delaware people the right “to join the present American confederation [Articles of Confederation] and to form a state [the 14th state] whereof the Delaware Nation shall be the head and have a representation in Congress.” The treaty also provided for White Eyes to serve as guide for the American confederates when they moved through the Ohio Country to strike at their British and Indian enemies near Detroit.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In early November 1778, White Eyes and his warriors joined a U.S. expedition as a guide and negotiator. Soon after, the Americans reported that White Eyes had died. The cause of his death remains open to question. Yet, Herbert Kraft, a distinguished anthropologist and authority on the Delaware people, insists that while White Eyes was reported to have died of small pox, he was actually assassinated by white settlers in the Ohio Country. After the chief ’s death, the alliance with the United States eventually collapsed along with the idea of a Delaware people–lead state. Thus, despite White Eye’s efforts to protect his people, the Delaware Treaty of 1778 also marks the first in a long history of broken accords between American Indians and the federal government.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Haudenosaunee Diplomats&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Iroquois, or Haudenosaunee Confederacy of the Six Nations (Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca and Tuscarora), was deeply riven by the Revolutionary War, pitting some of these nations against others. The Oneida and Mohawk even fought each other in a pitched battle. In a heroic attempt to end the bloodshed, two Mohawk and two Oneida leaders traveled to the British-held bastion of Fort Niagara in 1779. These aged chiefs, one well into his 70s, carried a letter from American General Philip Schuyler requesting a truce to initiate a prisoner exchange. The letter guaranteed safe passage for the British to attend a future meeting in rebel-held Albany. However, the four Iroquois emissaries had a different objective: to restore peace in the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. All four—Oneida chiefs Good Peter and Skenandoah who were allied to the Patriot cause and Mohawk chiefs Little Abraham and Johannes Crine who espoused neutrality—were arrested and incarcerated in the dismal military jail at the fort. Little Abraham, the apparent leader of the delegation, perished as a prisoner of war in Fort Niagara’s black hole, a 4-by-4-foot underground, windowless cell.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The four Haudenosaunee were not the first or last to act as spokesmen for peace. Indeed, this role is set forth in “Gayanashagowa,” the Great Binding Law of the confederacy. In traditional beliefs Deganiwidah, the prophet known as Peacemaker, came from his home in Huronia to stem the internecine bloodshed among Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga and Seneca villages. Through the Peacemaker’s efforts and the great oratory of his disciple Hiawatha, they were able to establish the Haudenosaunee Confederacy on the principle of peace.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Indeed, the Haudenosaunee—who span both sides of the United States–Canada boundary—have frequently brought their complaints before international forums such as the League of Nations in Geneva, Switzerland. In the 1920s, Chief Levi General, known as Deskaheh, was from the Grand River Territory in Canada and attempted to bring action against the Canadian government. Among other issues, Deskaheh insisted that the Canadian government had interfered in Haudenosaunee traditional affairs, specifically in its efforts to impose an elected council on the people of the Six Nations Reserve (which was ultimately done in 1924). Canada, complained Deskaheh, had also violated Indian border-crossing rights guaranteed in the Jay Treaty of 1794. From Deskaheh’s death in 1925 onward, the Haudenosaunee have continued to bring their concerns before international organizations such as the United Nations.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;At times, the Haudenosaunee were joined by the Hopi of the Southwest, whose pacifism is rooted in their religious beliefs. The Hopi have long maintained that humanity now lives in the “Fourth World,” its last chance to get things right and save the planet. These efforts and the work of other Indigenous peoples around the world culminated in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People adopted by the General Assembly in 2007.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Fighting Through Law&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Standing Bear, a Ponca chief also known as Ma-chú-nu-zhe, chose another path to defend his people—U.S. law. In the Treaty of Fort Laramie in 1868, the U.S. government illegally gave Ponca lands in Nebraska to the Santee Dakota as part of its negotiations to end Red Cloud’s War. The Ponca were removed to Indian Territory in what is now Oklahoma. Many lost their lives to starvation, malaria and overall governmental mismanagement. One of these victims was Bear Shield, Standing Bear’s eldest son. Standing Bear had promised his son to bury him in the Ponca homeland along the Niobrara River valley. In January 1879, Standing Bear left Indian Territory for Nebraska with his son’s remains. Under orders from the U.S. Secretary of the Interior, Brigadier General George Crook arrested the chief for having left the reservation without permission.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;At the trial of United States ex rel. Standing Bear v. Crook in Federal District Court in Omaha, Standing Bear spoke on his own behalf. Raising his right hand, he said, “That hand is not the color of yours, but if I prick it, the blood will flow, and I shall feel pain. The blood is of the same color as yours. God made me, and I am a Man.” On May 12, Federal Judge Elmer Dundy ruled that “an Indian is a person” within the meaning of “habeas corpus,” a writ that brings a person before a court. The decision was a landmark, recognizing that an American Indian is a “person” under the law and entitled to its rights and protection.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Standing Bear returned to the land by the Niobrara River and buried his son alongside his ancestors. When the chief died there in 1908, he was buried alongside him. In 2019, in a formal ceremony in the U.S. Congress, a statue of this remarkable Ponca replaced one of William Jennings Bryan in Statuary Hall of the U.S. Capitol, in accordance with a resolution passed by the Nebraska State Legislature.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Defending Fishing Rights&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;During the social protests of the 1960s, Billy Frank Jr., a Nisqually, led Northwest Indians in the fight for the recognition of their fishing rights. Hydroelectric power development and increasing commercial fishing had taken its toll on Northwest salmon populations. In 1965, as the region’s salmon continued to decline, the tension between Native and non-Native sportsmen and commercial fishermen turned violent. Frank, who had been arrested in protests more than 50 times since 1945, maintained that the Nisqually and other Native Nations in the state of Washington had been guaranteed their rights to fish by treaty. His actions attracted national attention and support from noted Hollywood actors.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Ultimately, like Standing Bear, Frank chose a legal path to achieve his objective. In 1974, Federal Judge George Boldt made a historic decision in U.S. v. Washington that held that the 20 tribes of western Washington had rights to half of the harvestable salmon and were co-managers of the salmon resources in the state. This decision transformed Frank into a leading advocate of regional cooperation and a highly respected mediator. He became chairman of the Northwest Indian Fisheries Commission in 1981.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;By the time of his death in 2014, his career as an activist culminated in a major movement mobilizing both Natives and non-Natives in the Northwest to preserve and protect the environment. His long-time friend Hank Adams (Sioux-Assiniboine), a noted behind-the-scenes peacemaker in his own right, says, “Billy readily gained everyone’s trust, relying on a mutuality of respect.” Adams places Frank’s legacy in the long tradition of Native diplomacy. “Indian treaty-makers of nearly 200 years ago gave voice to the voice of Billy Frank Jr. and he to theirs for a lifetime.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 2015, President Barack Obama awarded Frank the Presidential Medal of Freedom posthumously. Soon after, the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge was named in Frank’s honor.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;They Also Served&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;American Indian service to the United States and Canada went well beyond serving as warriors on far-off battlefields. Some Native leaders chose a different path, to fight for their own people’s rights. White Eyes served as a go-between to promote peace and the dream of an Indian state. Iroquois diplomats such as Little Abraham, Johannes Crine, Scanando and Good Peter hoped to end the violence of the Revolution. Deskaheh tried to get international recognition for Haudenosaunee in their grievances against Canada. Standing Bear and Billy Frank Jr. both changed American law on behalf of Native people. All exemplify the other great Native traditions of diplomacy and peacemaking.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-e12870e4717b999c5387f41f33e7f57ed5a8c31bee3ea4d33a8d327ec97b891b"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
Laurence M. Hauptman
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Laurence M. Hauptman, a SUNY distinguished professor emeritus of history, is a frequent contributor to American Indian magazine.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Mon, 05 Oct 2020 15:01:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ChampionC</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">481 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
<item>
  <title>A Virtual Tour of History: Photo Archives Offer a Window Into Indigenous Life and Photography’s Evolution</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/online-photo-collections</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;A Virtual Tour of History: Photo Archives Offer a Window Into Indigenous Life and Photography’s Evolution&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-f83619349810cd2ea05b07deeda8f51511e17a3ae1f7de5a18899495c1bdb029"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/summer-2020" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Summer 2020
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 21 No. 2
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-6ffad8e075db1b4ff08551d8c6f6a3cf17a0498b45fd948c511bb8d841069f47"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-81288956edb50e804d8ea51b45b7509919701dceb409b2faa7c8228628a88086"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Michelle Delaney&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;As many teachers, parents, students and researchers discovered while self-quarantining this spring, the need for online resources is greater than ever. The National Museum of the American Indian recently expanded its bounty of online resources, offering even more behind-the-scenes glimpses into its vast collection of more than 820,000 objects.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-06/P34188.jpg?itok=i5M32ODE" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1000","height":"795","rel":"slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P34188.jpg?itok=iFaRX78c" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P34188.jpg?itok=iFaRX78c" alt="Michigan Governor G. Mennen Williams, Jacqueline Kennedy and then Senator John F. Kennedy met with Frank George of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Indian Reservation and former executive director of the National Congress of American Indians" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="629" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Left to right: Michigan Governor G. Mennen Williams, Jacqueline Kennedy and then Senator John F. Kennedy met with Frank George of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Indian Reservation and former executive director of the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, on August 6, 1960. Silver gelatin print. P344188. National Congress of American Indians&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Left to right: Michigan Governor G. Mennen Williams, Jacqueline Kennedy and then Senator John F. Kennedy met with Frank George of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Indian Reservation and former executive director of the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, on August 6, 1960. Silver gelatin print. P344188. National Congress of American Indians&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-06/P15385_001_20160510_ps.jpg?itok=QjZeGvAx" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1202","height":"530","rel":"slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P15385_001_20160510_ps.jpg?itok=3zCjsH7S" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P15385_001_20160510_ps.jpg?itok=3zCjsH7S" alt="Apsáalooke (Crow/Absaroke) chiefs who signed the Treaty of 1868 with the U.S. government at Fort Laramie, Wyoming" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="335" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This albumen print by war photographer Alexander Gardner shows the Apsáalooke (Crow/Absaroke) chiefs who signed the Treaty of 1868 with the U.S. government at Fort Laramie, Wyoming. The treaty was intended to bring peace with the Lakota people and established their reservation in the Black Hills in Dakota Territory. From left to right: U.S. lawyer H.M. Matthews, Mountain Tail, Pounded Meat, Black Foot, Winking Eye, White Fawn, White Horse, Poor Elk, Shot-in-the-Jaw, Crow (or Crane) and Pretty Young Bull. William T. Sherman Collection. P15385. Photo by Alexander Gardner&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This albumen print by war photographer Alexander Gardner shows the Apsáalooke (Crow/Absaroke) chiefs who signed the Treaty of 1868 with the U.S. government at Fort Laramie, Wyoming. The treaty was intended to bring peace with the Lakota people and established their reservation in the Black Hills in Dakota Territory. From left to right: U.S. lawyer H.M. Matthews, Mountain Tail, Pounded Meat, Black Foot, Winking Eye, White Fawn, White Horse, Poor Elk, Shot-in-the-Jaw, Crow (or Crane) and Pretty Young Bull. William T. Sherman Collection. P15385. Photo by Alexander Gardner&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-06/P12521A.jpg?itok=pQ2d2fSX" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1020,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P12521A.jpg?itok=8q6irgAm" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P12521A.jpg?itok=8q6irgAm" alt="ambrotype portrait of Chief Okemis of the Anishinaabe (Ojibwe)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="392" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The cracked ambrotype portrait of Chief Okemis of the Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) was made in Cheboygan, Michigan, in 1858. Wounded in battle during the War of 1812, Okemis signed the 1819 Treaty of Saginaw, in which tribes ceded 6 million acres in southern Michigan to the United States. He was almost 100 years old when he was photographed. Donated by Sarah Imhof. P12521A. Photo by Henry H. Smith&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The cracked ambrotype portrait of Chief Okemis of the Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) was made in Cheboygan, Michigan, in 1858. Wounded in battle during the War of 1812, Okemis signed the 1819 Treaty of Saginaw, in which tribes ceded 6 million acres in southern Michigan to the United States. He was almost 100 years old when he was photographed. Donated by Sarah Imhof. P12521A. Photo by Henry H. Smith&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-06/P25296A.jpg?itok=9Pznxsdu" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1132,"height":1300,"rel":"slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P25296A.jpg?itok=jt5iSExz" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P25296A.jpg?itok=jt5iSExz" alt="Daguerreotype of Cayuga tribal chief Wa-o-wa-wa-na-onk, also known as Peter Wilson" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="435" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cased in leather, this daguerreotype of Cayuga tribal chief Wa-o-wa-wa-na-onk, also known as Peter Wilson, was made in the 1850s. Handwritten inside the case is “Wa-o-wa-wa-na-onk to his friend P.E. Thomas—Sa-ga-oh.” Wilson was a signatory to the 1838 Second Buffalo Creek Treaty, which attempted to relocate the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois Confederacy) nations from New York state. However, he later said the treaty was fraudulent. He earned a medical degree from Geneva Medical College in 1844. P25296A. Photo by Philip E. Thomas&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cased in leather, this daguerreotype of Cayuga tribal chief Wa-o-wa-wa-na-onk, also known as Peter Wilson, was made in the 1850s. Handwritten inside the case is “Wa-o-wa-wa-na-onk to his friend P.E. Thomas—Sa-ga-oh.” Wilson was a signatory to the 1838 Second Buffalo Creek Treaty, which attempted to relocate the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois Confederacy) nations from New York state. However, he later said the treaty was fraudulent. He earned a medical degree from Geneva Medical College in 1844. P25296A. Photo by Philip E. Thomas&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-06/P10216.jpg?itok=mi8PjwdE" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1217","height":"886","rel":"slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P10216.jpg?itok=3hIhngw6" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/P10216.jpg?itok=3hIhngw6" alt="William “Buffalo Bill” Cody talking with one of the Lakota performers" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="687" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A 1891 silver gelatin photograph shows a rarely captured quiet scene of William “Buffalo Bill” Cody talking with one of the Lakota performers in his Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show. Cody’s shows, which toured many countries, would help perpetuate stereotypes of American Indians. Frank Lehner Photograph Collection. P10216. Photo by Frank Lehner&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A 1891 silver gelatin photograph shows a rarely captured quiet scene of William “Buffalo Bill” Cody talking with one of the Lakota performers in his Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show. Cody’s shows, which toured many countries, would help perpetuate stereotypes of American Indians. Frank Lehner Photograph Collection. P10216. Photo by Frank Lehner&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-06/999_pht_2017.0007.jpg?itok=hCLQLbEN" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1200","height":"612","rel":"slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/999_pht_2017.0007.jpg?itok=ULYHPfWI" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/999_pht_2017.0007.jpg?itok=ULYHPfWI" alt="stereograph shows American Indian chiefs riding in President Theodore Roosevelt’s inaugural parade" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="388" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This stereograph shows American Indian chiefs riding in President Theodore Roosevelt’s inaugural parade on March 4, 1905, in Washington, D.C.: Goyathlay (Geronimo/Chiricahua Apache), Quanah Parker (Comanche), Buckskin Charlie (Ute), Hollow Horn Bear (Brulé), American Horse (Oglala Lakota) and Little Plume (Piegan Blackfeet). Donated by Ken Maley. NMAI-999_pht_2017.0007. Photo by Benjamin lloyd Singley Keyston View Company&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This stereograph shows American Indian chiefs riding in President Theodore Roosevelt’s inaugural parade on March 4, 1905, in Washington, D.C.: Goyathlay (Geronimo/Chiricahua Apache), Quanah Parker (Comanche), Buckskin Charlie (Ute), Hollow Horn Bear (Brulé), American Horse (Oglala Lakota) and Little Plume (Piegan Blackfeet). Donated by Ken Maley. NMAI-999_pht_2017.0007. Photo by Benjamin lloyd Singley Keyston View Company&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-06/069_pht_001_005.jpg?itok=me-xTeJJ" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":896,"rel":"slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/069_pht_001_005.jpg?itok=3YEulBfl" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/069_pht_001_005.jpg?itok=3YEulBfl" alt="Postcard of nurses inoculating students" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="725" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This postcard, postmarked 1914, shows nurses inoculating students at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania, one of the many boarding schools to which U.S. government officials took American Indian children. Dale Jenkins postcard and photograph collection. NMAI-069_pht_001_005. The Leighton and Valentine Co., New York City&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This postcard, postmarked 1914, shows nurses inoculating students at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania, one of the many boarding schools to which U.S. government officials took American Indian children. Dale Jenkins postcard and photograph collection. NMAI-069_pht_001_005. The Leighton and Valentine Co., New York City&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-06/088_001_000_001.jpg?itok=2nrvXWI1" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"1201","height":"798","rel":"slick-node-430-story-slideshow-images-default-18"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/088_001_000_001.jpg?itok=gwpr19_k" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-06/088_001_000_001.jpg?itok=gwpr19_k" alt="To’hajiilee sheepherder Dorothea Begay (Diné [Navajo])" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="753" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Captured by professional photographer and filmmaker Ann Bromberg in New Mexico in 1996, this is one of her five evocative images in the NMAI collection depicting the life of To’hajiilee sheepherder Dorothea Begay (Diné [Navajo]). Ann Bromberg Photograph Collection. NMAI-088_001_000_001. Photo by Ann Bromberg&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Captured by professional photographer and filmmaker Ann Bromberg in New Mexico in 1996, this is one of her five evocative images in the NMAI collection depicting the life of To’hajiilee sheepherder Dorothea Begay (Diné [Navajo]). Ann Bromberg Photograph Collection. NMAI-088_001_000_001. Photo by Ann Bromberg&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;In January, NMAI increased the number of images of ethnographic and contemporary art objects in Smithsonian’s Online Collections Search Center (&lt;a href="https://collections.si.edu/search/" target="_blank"&gt;collections.si.edu&lt;/a&gt;) from about 38,000 objects to more than 122,000. This 10-year effort not only grew NMAI’s collection online but also helped update the museum’s records. Staff researched each item’s information, determining as much of its history as possible, from its creation until its acquisition.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The NMAI collections now housed at the NMAI Cultural Resources Center in Suitland, Maryland, have a rich history, beginning more than a century ago with the efforts of passionate collector George Gustav Heye. In 1916, he founded the Museum of the American Indian–Heye Foundation (MAI) in New York City, the predecessor of NMAI. Unlike museum staff today, Heye did not usually include detailed documentation with objects. Since MAI became the NMAI in 1989, the museum’s staff has been unlocking the origins of its original collections, which has helped expand the online records of NMAI objects in Smithsonian’s online collections.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Some of NMAI’s most engaging pieces within its collections are its more than 500,000 photographs and films. Of these, nearly 25,000 photos can be found in the Smithsonian Online Virtual Archives, or SOVA (&lt;a href="https://sova.si.edu//" target="_blank"&gt;sova.si.edu&lt;/a&gt;). This portal contains the manuscripts, correspondence, field notes and photographs of anthropologists and ethnographers; photographs by agents of the Bureau of Indian Affairs; projects by documentary photographers and photojournalists; the papers and personal family photographs of civil rights advocates and other leaders; as well as postcards, illustrated trading cards and advertisements.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The photos in the NMAI collections date from the 1840s to the present and cover American Indian and other Indigenous communities throughout the Western Hemisphere. They capture scenes of everyday Native life and traditions as well as poignant moments in history, such as tribal leaders at treaty signings, presidential inaugurations and presentations of the Presidential Medal of Freedom. “The value of historical photography is that it is a window into people’s lives,” says NMAI’s Head of Archives and Digitization Michael Pahn.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Some photos, postcards and advertisements in the collection also demonstrate how American Indians were offensively portrayed as stereotypes or attractions, such as the performers in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show. “We have to look at these critically,” says Pahn, “and think about the biases that the photographers brought with them as they took those images.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The value of images in the archives are not only what they show, but that they are stepping stones along the evolution of photography. Despite the widely held yet false belief by non-Native people that many American Indians in the 19th century thought the camera was a “shadow catcher” that could remove an individual’s spirit, the archive has many images from photography’s earliest days.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Among these are rare portraits of American Indians. The daguerreotype of Wa-o-wa-wa-na-onk, also known as Peter Wilson, set in an expensive leather case is an exceptional example. Like many who had daguerreotype portraits made, Wilson was an important leader. He was born on the Seneca Nation's Buffalo Creek Reservation (which was abandoned in 1845) in western New York state and advocated for Indian and treaty rights. The daguerreotype process was popular in America from 1840 to 1860. Using a wooden box camera, the photographer captured the image directly onto a silver-coated copper plate. After opening the lens cover to expose the plate to light, the daguerreotype was created by holding it over hot mercury until an image appeared. Many of the first photographers in Europe and America died of illnesses related to the dangerous chemicals used in making such images.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In the 1850s, the ambrotype (a cased image exposed on glass) and then the tintype (a cased, metal-coated image) portraits were less expensive to make and quicker to capture a sitter’s likeness. Large and small images were produced from glass negatives for many decades during the late 19th century, and are apparent throughout NMAI’s photo collection.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;By the mid-1850s, albumen paper prints began to be made from negatives by using the albumen in egg whites to coat the paper. This would bind photographic chemicals used to create the image to the paper. One photographer who used this process was Alexander Gardner, a Scottish-born photographer who excelled at wartime photography. He worked for the now-famous photographer Mathew Brady in his Washington, D.C., studio before capturing images of the scenes and soldiers of the Civil War. Gardner then traveled West with General William T. Sherman to document meetings, people and locations during the early years of the American Indian Wars of 1866 to 1868. The Gardner albumen paper prints in the NMAI archives are from Sherman’s personal collection.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The stereograph card was a popular product produced from 1850s to the 1940s. Two nearly duplicate images were set side-by-side on a card that was inserted into a viewer that combined the image and made it appear three-dimensional. Initially made for entertainment purposes, they also have historic value. One stereograph card in NMAI’s collection, for example, shows the parade for Theodore Roosevelt’s presidential inauguration.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;From the 1880s through much of the 20th century, most photographs were black-and-white silver gelatin paper prints. Images such as these are created when exposed onto a suspension of silver salts in gelatin coated onto a surface such as glass, plastic, film or paper. The use of baryta-coated paper to produce glossy prints, however, didn’t become popular until the 1920s and 1930s. The NMAI collection includes some unique prints, such as American Indian leaders meeting with U.S. presidents Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While experiments with color photography began as early as the 1850s, it didn’t really take off until the Eastman Kodak Company modernized color film in 1935. While cameras and developing processes improved over the following decades, photography leaped forward with the advent of digital images in the late 1990s. Digitization has nearly eliminated the need for camera film, and photographers now capture thousands of images anytime, anywhere. Today, the NMAI archives serve not only as a repository of historical images and objects from the past centuries but the works of contemporary Indigenous artists, activists and organizations.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In addition to serving as a research and teaching resource, the NMAI’s online archives provide an entrée into the museum’s collections at its Cultural Resources Center. While these collections help produce the scholarship for museum and online exhibitions, publications, articles and educational programming, even more importantly, they help connect Indigenous communities to the history of their peoples. Scheduled visits to the center offer the opportunity for tribal community members to view and study objects and photographs as well as their records.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;NMAI archives staff, led by archivist Emily Moazami, conduct extensive research to determine the circumstances under which these images were taken and any sensitive cultural content that would prohibit the public from viewing them. In addition, as stereotypical views of American Indians are perpetuated when historic photographs only describe their subjects as an American Indian or a person of a certain tribe, NMAI staff work with community members to “return people’s individuality to them by identifying them in photos,” says Pahn. “A photograph takes something abstract like a memory of someone you never got to meet and makes that person more real. How powerful and moving it is for them to see images of their ancestors.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;On February 25, the Smithsonian launched Open Access (&lt;a href="https://www.si.edu/openaccess" target="_blank"&gt;si.edu/openaccess&lt;/a&gt;), an additional online database that offers almost 3 million images that are available to download, share and use. These 2D and 3D digital files are from all of the Smithsonian’s 19 museums, nine research centers, libraries, archives and the National Zoo. Open Access items have a Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation, which means they are in the public domain and free of copyright restrictions. NMAI curatorial, archival and collections staff carefully selected the 180 images of objects from NMAI’s collections available through this database, as many of NMAI’s items have cultural sensitivities that would prevent them from being available for public viewing or use.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;As research continues to determine the origins of NMAI’s objects and photographs, more of the collection will become available through Smithsonian’s online databases. Until then, NMAI’s robust online resources serve anyone interested in learning more about Indigenous communities across the Western Hemisphere and will only prove more valuable as time goes by.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-1f7b97de02094a1bbf5341f227dadd2a77d0cff2ff2353b2c69427c3461003e7"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
Michelle Delaney
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Michelle Delaney is a photo historian and assistant director for History and Culture at the National Museum of the American Indian.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Fri, 05 Jun 2020 19:35:00 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ChampionC</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">430 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>
<item>
  <title>Native History is American History: NMAI is Bringing Indigenous Perspectives Into the Classroom</title>
  <link>https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/native-history-is-american-history</link>
  <description>&lt;div class="row bs-1col-stacked"&gt;
  

    &lt;div id="story--background-image" class="col-sm-12 col-md-12 col-lg-12 bs-region bs-region--top"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-top"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-background clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-background field--type-image field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-category clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-story-category field--type-entity-reference field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;History&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodetitle clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;span&gt;Native History is American History: NMAI is Bringing Indigenous Perspectives Into the Classroom&lt;/span&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-from-issue clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-from_issue js-view-dom-id-864aa6a695ab444181e1597a3091508929f7af63bc02bf5e2029883c2648de0e"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-nothing"&gt;&lt;span class="views-label views-label-nothing"&gt;From Issue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="field-content"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/issues/spring-2020" class="link--to-issue"&gt;
&lt;span class="from--issue-story"&gt;
Spring 2020
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="separator"&gt;
/
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class="issue-identifier"&gt;
Vol. 21 No. 1
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-authors-of-stories clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-authors_of_stories js-view-dom-id-7c2156975846d899d3e76d8ce1aa3cc795ef65bbcb94bff9efca1aad1b721350"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;ul class="blazy blazy--grid block-column block-count-1 blazy--view blazy--authors-of-stories small-block-column-1 medium-block-column-2 large-block-column-2" data-blazy=""&gt;&lt;li class="grid grid--0"&gt;&lt;div class="grid__content form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="author-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;
    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-by-line-section clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-by_line_section js-view-dom-id-03184ead0eb515302d4e460991ca7aa29cc7d957ba37553f1ae77d98c6c54bf0"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
      &lt;div class="item-list"&gt;
  
  &lt;ul&gt;

          &lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="views-field views-field-field-story-author"&gt;by Richard Walker&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
    
  &lt;/ul&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
    &lt;div class="col-sm-12 bs-region bs-region--main"&gt;
    &lt;div class="block-region-main"&gt;&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-pre-gallery clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-field-pre-gallery field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;At a public school in Seattle, Washington, Shana Brown is teaching American history. However, the topic isn’t the U.S. Constitution or the American Revolution. Brown, who is of Yakama and Muckleshoot descent, is leading her Robert Eagle Staff Middle School class in a lesson about the cultural, nutritional and spiritual connections people have with food.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodefield-story-slideshow-images clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      

&lt;div id="slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20" data-blazy="" data-colorbox-gallery="" class="slick blazy slick--skin--split slick--optionset--carousel slick--colorbox"&gt;&lt;div id="slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20-slider" data-slick="{"adaptiveHeight":true,"infinite":false,"lazyLoad":"blazy"}" class="slick__slider"&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--0 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-02/2019-12-16%2011.41.55.jpg?itok=7ac_hhLr" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":867,"rel":"slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/2019-12-16%2011.41.55.jpg?itok=HeMndAfa" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/2019-12-16%2011.41.55.jpg?itok=HeMndAfa" alt="Shana Brown leaning over students" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="750" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Shana Brown (middle) is one of the teachers changing how American Indian history is being taught in U.S. classrooms. Photo by Richard Walker&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Shana Brown (middle) is one of the teachers changing how American Indian history is being taught in U.S. classrooms. Photo by Richard Walker&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--1 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-02/Sarah%20Shear%20and%20Teachers%20with%20literature.jpg?itok=-ZdGAz6Q" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":854,"rel":"slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/Sarah%20Shear%20and%20Teachers%20with%20literature.jpg?itok=UoFKLyFz" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/Sarah%20Shear%20and%20Teachers%20with%20literature.jpg?itok=UoFKLyFz" alt="Sarah Shear sharing resources with educators during an NMAI teacher workshop" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="499" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sarah Shear (here sharing resources with educators during an NMAI teacher workshop) and other educators analyzed U.S. curricula and found that many “relegate the importance and presence of Indigenous peoples to the distant past.” Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sarah Shear (here sharing resources with educators during an NMAI teacher workshop) and other educators analyzed U.S. curricula and found that many “relegate the importance and presence of Indigenous peoples to the distant past.” Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--2 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-02/2019-12-16%2011.23.47_0.jpg?itok=NVlETG0G" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":785,"rel":"slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/2019-12-16%2011.23.47_0.jpg?itok=a-XHnhsa" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/2019-12-16%2011.23.47_0.jpg?itok=a-XHnhsa" alt="Students at Table with Teacher" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="459" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Teaching about Indigenous cultures engages and empowers Native and non-Native pupils, says Brown. “I see the students’ world transforming—they see [American Indians] not as relics or as victims or as separate. That lights a fire in my belly.” Photo by Richard Walker&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Teaching about Indigenous cultures engages and empowers Native and non-Native pupils, says Brown. “I see the students’ world transforming—they see [American Indians] not as relics or as victims or as separate. That lights a fire in my belly.” Photo by Richard Walker&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--3 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-02/day_2_049.jpg?itok=IZa8rXfC" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":804,"rel":"slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/day_2_049.jpg?itok=EufztzHh" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/day_2_049.jpg?itok=EufztzHh" alt="National Education Manager Edwin Schupman (Muscogee)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="470" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NK360° offers teachers training opportunities with NMAI staff such as National Education Manager Edwin Schupman (Muscogee). Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NK360° offers teachers training opportunities with NMAI staff such as National Education Manager Edwin Schupman (Muscogee). Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--4 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-02/Taino%20-%20hammock%20making_.jpg?itok=Aif7wM0R" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":813,"rel":"slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/Taino%20-%20hammock%20making_.jpg?itok=Y_kPa6M0" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/Taino%20-%20hammock%20making_.jpg?itok=Y_kPa6M0" alt="Hands-on activities such as weaving an Inka rope bridge" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="760" height="475" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NK360° engages teachers through hands-on activities, such as weaving an Inka rope bridge. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NK360° engages teachers through hands-on activities, such as weaving an Inka rope bridge. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--5 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-02/day_2_034.jpg?itok=lE6spX6A" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":1270,"rel":"slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/day_2_034.jpg?itok=taFiRz7M" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/day_2_034.jpg?itok=taFiRz7M" alt="Julie Cajune (Salish) helping a teacher" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="512" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NK360° connects instructors to Native educators such as Julie Cajune (Salish), who helped teachers understand the nuances of Indigenous cultures during the 2019 Summer Teacher Institute. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NK360° connects instructors to Native educators such as Julie Cajune (Salish), who helped teachers understand the nuances of Indigenous cultures during the 2019 Summer Teacher Institute. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--6 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-02/day_2_027.jpg?itok=qASpbQj0" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":926,"rel":"slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/day_2_027.jpg?itok=XPHbArbR" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/day_2_027.jpg?itok=XPHbArbR" alt="People standing around immersive exhibit" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="702" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NMAI’s exhibitions and vast collections give teachers an immersive experience with a vast array of Native cultures. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;NMAI’s exhibitions and vast collections give teachers an immersive experience with a vast array of Native cultures. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--7 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-02/June%209%20Furtrade%20Teacher%20WS.jpg?itok=vk08oVqW" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":"867","height":"823","rel":"slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/June%209%20Furtrade%20Teacher%20WS.jpg?itok=uFwyQnIU" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/June%209%20Furtrade%20Teacher%20WS.jpg?itok=uFwyQnIU" alt="Teachers examining beaver pelt" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="527" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;During a recent workshop, teachers examined a beaver pelt. The beaver fur trade played an important role in the history of the area now known as New York. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;During a recent workshop, teachers examined a beaver pelt. The beaver fur trade played an important role in the history of the area now known as New York. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slick__slide slide slide--8 slide--caption--bottom"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__content"&gt;&lt;div class="slide__media"&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/max_1300x1300/public/2020-02/NYC_11.2019-152.jpg?itok=s7ol1-Dn" class="blazy__colorbox litebox" data-colorbox-trigger="" data-media="{"type":"image","width":1300,"height":867,"rel":"slick-node-406-story-slideshow-images-default-20"}"&gt;&lt;div data-thumb="https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/NYC_11.2019-152.jpg?itok=SHio2O2d" class="media media--slick media--loading media--switch media--switch--colorbox media--image"&gt;&lt;img class="b-lazy media__image media__element img-responsive" data-src="/sites/default/files/styles/media_style_for_slider/public/2020-02/NYC_11.2019-152.jpg?itok=SHio2O2d" alt=""sale of Manhattan" portrayed on marker in New York Battery Park" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" width="749" height="500" typeof="foaf:Image" /&gt;&lt;span class="media__icon media__icon--litebox"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="litebox-caption visually-hidden"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A new exhibition opening at NMAI in New York and its accompanying lesson discusses the myth of the “sale of Manhattan” by Lenape and Mohican people to the Dutch, as portrayed on this marker in a park across from the museum. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="slide__caption"&gt;&lt;div class="field field--name-field-media-story-caption field--type-text-long field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;A new exhibition opening at NMAI in New York and its accompanying lesson discusses the myth of the “sale of Manhattan” by Lenape and Mohican people to the Dutch, as portrayed on this marker in a park across from the museum. Photo by NMAI Staff&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;nav class="slick__arrow"&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-prev" aria-label="Previous" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Previous&lt;/button&gt;&lt;button type="button" data-role="none" class="slick-next" aria-label="Next" tabindex="0" role="button"&gt;Next&lt;/button&gt;&lt;/nav&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="block block-ctools-block block-entity-fieldnodebody clearfix"&gt;
  
    

      
            &lt;div class="field field--name-body field--type-text-with-summary field--label-hidden field--item"&gt;&lt;p&gt;It’s an active session. Brown and her students first talk about the ties between salmon and the Indigenous people of the Pacific Northwest. This leads to a discussion about how and why Native Nations take action to protect and sustain salmon and habitat. Students then discuss foods that are important to their own families and what they mean to their own identity. At the end of the lesson, Brown asks her students, “What do you think it would mean to Northwest Native people if the salmon were suddenly gone?” A student replies that this would “kill something deep down inside.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Sharing Native Knowledge&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The lesson, which Brown was teaching her class this past December, was from a teaching module entitled “Pacific Northwest History and Cultures: Why Do the Foods We Eat Matter?” She helped write this and other lessons about Northwest Native peoples for Native Knowledge 360° (NK360°), the National Museum of the American Indian’s national education initiative.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;NMAI developed NK360° to help elementary through high school teachers incorporate Native American history, cultures and contemporary lives into their U.S. history, social studies and other curricula. Edwin Schupman (Muscogee), NMAI’s manager of national education, says NK360° looks deeper at “the real connections between Native American history and this place we call the United States.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After opening its museum in Washington, D.C., in 2004, NMAI wanted to get the wealth of knowledge it holds about Native cultures and peoples into the hands of educators. The challenges, Schupman says, were, “How do we change problematic perceptions and practices that have been ingrained for centuries?,” as well as, “How do we reach teachers outside the museum? Our aspiration is to reach teachers and students everywhere.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After several years of consulting with members of numerous Native Nations and educators, NK360° launched in February 2018. It now provides teachers with more than 30 teaching resources downloadable from the NK360° website (&lt;a href="americanindian.si.edu/nk360"&gt;americanindian.si.edu/nk360&lt;/a&gt;). NMAI also offers workshops and other training opportunities for instructors to learn foundational information and discuss NMAI’s lessons with education staff and other Native experts so they can feel confident in using the materials.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“It’s a very exciting time for NK360°. Building on our earlier work, we will be releasing a steady stream of primary resources and other educational materials over the coming years,” says Michael Hussey, NMAI’s assistant director for Education.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;While creating NK360° materials on the Pacific Northwest, NMAI education staff worked with educators and Native American communities in Washington state who had developed their &lt;a href="https://www.k12.wa.us/student-success/resources-subject-area/time-immemorial-tribal-sovereignty-washington-state"&gt;Since Time Immemorial (STI) curriculum&lt;/a&gt;. STI was created in response to legislation that passed in 2005, which "strongly encouraged" Washington’s public schools to include the history and culture of Washington’s Indigenous Nations in the state’s history and social studies curriculum. NMAI began talking with those who developed the state curriculum, including Brown, one of the writers of STI.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;STI was developed in consultation with the 29 federally recognized Native Nations in Washington state. NK360° was developed in consultation with numerous Native Nations and some 92 Native Nations are represented in the resources.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In 2019, Washington adopted NK360° lessons as part of STI, the first state to make NK360° part of its core curriculum. Schupman says that this is an indication that Washington state officials recognize the NK360° content as legitimate. “It meets requirements mandated by the state. It’s been vetted by education and cultural authorities, so it’s accurate. Teachers can use it with confidence.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Changing Perspectives&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Sarah B. Shear is assistant professor of Social Studies and Multicultural Education at the University of Washington–Bothell. She and colleagues from the University of Missouri analyzed U.S. history curriculum standards in all 50 states and the District of Columbia. In their 2015 article “Manifesting Destiny: Re/presentations of Indigenous Peoples in K–12 U.S. History” published in Theory and Research in Social Education, they reveal that the standards analyzed “overwhelmingly present Indigenous Peoples in a pre-1900 context and relegate the importance and presence of Indigenous Peoples to the distant past.” Further, since about 1900, U.S. history taught in public schools reflected U.S. policy toward its First Peoples: that the new Americans “settled the West” and “tamed the frontiers,” treaties were signed with tribes, and Native Americans moved to reservations or went to boarding schools, where they learned skills that enabled them to assimilate into the dominant population.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Shear says the long-used U.S. history curricula “provided justification for the reservations, for the boarding schools, for the genocide.” The truth is, she says, “The United States has always been a colonial power that views Native peoples as in the way.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In developing NK360°, NMAI staff examined 18 elementary, six middle school and four high school textbooks to analyze how Native American culture and history was being presented to students. Common themes were the arrival of people across the Bering Strait land bridge, Indians as the “first inhabitants” of the Americas and intersections with selected explorers, colonists and “American history.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The picture was grossly incomplete: most textbooks talked only about more commonly known Native Nations such as the Cherokee, conflicts with colonists such as the Indian Wars or other intersections with Europeans, and recognized figures such as Pocahontas. Few of the books presented American Indian perspectives on history or impacts on the colonists’ arrival on their lives or cultures.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Today, the broader, deeper discussions seen in Brown’s classroom are taking place more and more across the United States, showing that a sea change is underway in how American history is taught in public schools. Shear says an increasing number of states have state standards that require teaching of Native history. The National Congress of American Indians reports that 23 of the 28 states responding to its 2019 survey require the inclusion of Native history and culture in their history and social studies curricula.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Shear credits this movement to the growing economic and political influence of Native Nations, which was fueled by federal legislation in the 1970s and 1980s that cleared the way for economic development in Indian Country. In addition, Native educators and communities “are doing very powerful work from the ground up,” she says, to ensure their voices are heard and their peoples’ stories are accurately told.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Schupman says NK360° is correcting “some thoroughly ingrained misconceptions” and “encouraging teachers to reach out to Native communities. We see change happening.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Value Beyond the Classroom&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In Washington, you don’t have to look far for a reference to the state’s Indigenous heritage. People live and work in cities with Indigenous names like Seattle, Puyallup, Spokane, Tacoma and Walla Walla, and they fish and play in rivers with Indigenous names such as Hoh, Nisqually, Nooksack, Quinault and Skagit. Yet until legislation requiring the STI curriculum, Native culture was rarely discussed in classrooms.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Teachings that lack the voice of Native people can influence how non-Native people view and interact with their Native American neighbors, not only as youth but as adults. Some of these non-Native young people will grow up to become policymakers in city halls, state houses and the nation’s capital.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Kayla Guyett (Jicarilla Apache), Native literacy and culture specialist in the Highline School District near Seattle, says, “They were raised in a system that didn’t talk about it. But at this point in time, now we have resources. In the future, there won’t be any more, ‘That’s okay, that’s how you were taught.’ That will no longer be the case, and hopefully we will have better leaders.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In Washington state, if someone doesn’t work in some way with a Native Nation, he or she may interact with a city council member or school board member who happens to be Native American. In Seattle, the largest city in Washington and 20th largest in the United States, the school district is led by Superintendent Denise Juneau (Mandan Hidatsa), the school board’s president is Zachary De Wolf (Chippewa Cree) and the vice president is Chandra Hampson (Ho Chunk). In addition, Debora Juarez (Blackfeet) serves on the City Council.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The growing economic presence of Native Nations in this state is also offering more opportunities for Indigenous and non-Native peoples to interact. Many Native Nations are the largest employers in their regions. In addition to schools, several own museums, golf courses and hotels. The Puyallup Tribe owns a prominent holistic cancer treatment center.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In Washington, STI and NK360° materials are now used concurrently in kindergarten through 12th-grade classrooms. By the time a student in Washington graduates high school, he or she is expected to understand some basic facts, such as more than 500 Native Nations exists within the United States, treaty rights supersede most state laws, and many landmark court decisions and legislation have affected and continue to affect Indigenous sovereignty.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Robert Eagle Staff Middle School Principal Marni Campbell says the STI and NK360° lessons can accomplish even more: “We’re in the business of creating opportunities for students to develop as humans. Math and science, those things are part of it, but the bigger framework is scholarship, ownership, academic focus and respect and responsibility. We emphasize that a lot—who we are becoming, what we are as a nation. That’s why it’s critical that we understand what this land is and what our place is in it.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Empowering Teachers and Students&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Schools that are using the STI and NK360° lessons say students are receiving a more thorough and accurate presentation of U.S. and Native American history and that, as a result, Native students are not only more engaged but empowered.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Guyett says Native American students who formerly couldn’t relate to curricula that ignored their cultures or inaccurately portrayed Indigenous people are now more in-tune to the lessons. “If you’re Native and no one has talked about your people before, you’re less willing to be engaged. It’s not applicable to you,” Guyett says. With NK360°, “the engagement is through the roof. [Students] feel empowered to go out and talk about these things and make a difference.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;At Robert Eagle Staff Middle School, Principal Campbell says social studies students now refer to “settlement” as “colonization.” We’ve taught that for years, that it was settlement, but it’s not,” she says. “We colonized, we took things away from people who were already here. That’s a mind shift. … It’s about rethinking who you are in your place. When we understand the power of the land, we begin to understand our own responsibility to it. And that applies to every single thing our students learn.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This has been a win for schools and teachers. Gail T. Morris (Ahousaht), Native Education Program manager for Seattle Public Schools, says the graduation rate for Native American students was 52 percent when she joined the district in 2013. “Last year, it was 71 percent,” she says.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The world of non-Native students has expanded as well, as many now know that Native cultures are still thriving. “There’s been only one time when I had to correct a student that Native people should be talked about in present tense,” Brown says. “That would not have happened without STI and NK360°.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In Brown’s classroom, eighth-graders Kai Seaton (Diné) and Ty Fleming talked about what they learned in an NK360° class.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“We got to learn more about where we’re from,” says Seaton, who lives in Seattle but spends summers with his family in the Navajo Nation. “We got to learn about the culture of the land we’re living in, not just general areas.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Fleming studied about Washington’s dams and the effect on salmon populations, ate traditional foods and learned to prepare and weave cedar fiber. All of those things helped bring home the relevance of what was learned in the classroom—that Native cultures are not of the past but of the present.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“It’s been interesting and fun to learn about the people who are around me and their origin stories,” Fleming says. And even though different Native peoples have different origin stories, “it doesn’t mean they are wrong.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Brown says incorporating Native history into her lessons has inspired her and her students. “I see the students’ world transforming— they see [American Indians] not as relics or as victims or as separate. That lights a fire in my belly.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;div style="background:#f5f5f2; padding:20px"&gt;
&lt;h1&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Learning to Teach Native Knowledge&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Many teachers are not familiar with Native American history, or if they are, are not comfortable tackling some of the tough topics this entails, such as government assimilation policies, environmental changes that adversely affect Indigenous lifeways, and treaties and tribal sovereignty. NMAI’s NK360° connects educators nationwide with the resources they need to effectively teach such subjects in the classroom and beyond.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Essential Understandings&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;NMAI developed NK360° to dispel common assumptions about Native peoples—about their cultures, their roles in history, and their contributions to the arts and sciences. Its lessons show that Native cultures are not in the past but vibrantly alive today. Some 92 Native Nations from 17 regions in North, Central and South America are represented in NK360° materials.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Part of the core of NK360°’s resources is its “Essential Understandings,” basic knowledge about topics critical to Native people and their cultures. These subjects are not just history, social studies, government and civics but those that touch on many of the science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM) subjects, including astronomy, environmental science and geography. There are more than 30 downloadable lessons, among them “American Indian Responses to Environmental Challenges,” “The Inka Empire: What Innovations Can Provide Food and Water for Millions?,” “The Fish Wars: What Kinds of Actions Can Lead to Justice?,” and “Is a Treaty Intended to be Forever?”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;“I love the rigor of the materials,” eighth-grade teacher Clarence Brantley Jr. of Statham, Georgia, told NMAI. “I love the fact that they provide a wide scope of the American Indian experience that I can use in my classroom to create a discussion about people’s past and present and how that impacts me and my students.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Inspiring Teachers&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;NMAI hosts a variety of teacher workshops throughout the year and a multiday Summer Teacher Institute, during which educators learn basic concepts for understanding and teaching about Native Americans from NMAI staff and experts from Native communities, engage with exhibitions, receive instructional resources and create plans to integrate NK360° materials in their own classrooms. NMAI also offers a Teacher-in-Residence program in which a selected applicant spends eight weeks assisting staff with the development and testing of NK360° materials and training for educators.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Laura Lynn (Chickasaw ancestry/Eastern European/Syrian) is the program supervisor for the Office of Native Education in Washington state. She attended NMAI’s Teacher Training Institute in July 2018 and says the experience helped strengthen teachers’ confidence in teaching the lessons. “You find you’re not teaching about Native people, but in collaboration with Native people. You work with tribal educators and have full access to NMAI resources,” she says. “Once teachers see the organization and resources available to them, they feel very supported. You can see their excitement as they think about how to weave the curriculum into their instruction. Their creative juices start to flow.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Erin Coppola-Klein, a middle-school teacher in Washington, D.C., agrees. “I left each day with important questions to ponder, exciting ideas and possibilities to try next year,” she told NMAI.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;2016 Georgia Teacher of the Year Ernest W. Lee told NMAI that the workshop he attended “was a life-changing experience for me.” He says, “I am teaching U.S. history in an entirely different manner after having spent time at NMAI and being exposed to NK360°.”&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;h2&gt;Immersive Learning&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This fall, teachers will be able to provide their students an immersive way to experience Native cultures. “Native New York,” a new exhibition scheduled to open at the NMAI in New York City this August, will offer teachers and their students an opportunity to explore how Native peoples shaped the history in what is now New York. Following a guided path on the floor, they will be able to literally walk through history, listening to recordings of Native people telling their own stories. NK360° is offering an accompanying lesson that can be used in or outside of the exhibition.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;What is now New York is the ancestral home of the Lenape and Mohican Nations. After the Dutch arrived during the early 17th century, they began to build an extensive trade on beaver pelts, which they exported to Europe as part of its lucrative clothing market. The Dutch also wanted to acquire land. The Lenape and Mohican people, however, did not believe that land could be privately owned. In an exchange of gifts with the Dutch to welcome them, the Dutch thought the Indians sold Manhattan to them for what the Dutch valued as 60 guilders ($24) worth of trade goods. This myth has been perpetuated, even appearing on a mural displayed on a marker in New York’s Battery Park.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In the NK360° lesson, which is designed for third- and fourth-graders, the voices of Lenape and Mohican people help elementary students understand Indigenous values and concepts of trade and land ownership. It also emphasizes that Native people are very much a part of New York today.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In the curriculum, Curtis Zunigha, director of Cultural Resources for the Delaware Tribe, explains to students, “We are the descendants of the original Lenape people of ‘Mannahatta,’” he says. “I work to preserve and honor the culture and history that our ancestors have passed down over the generations.” Zunigha explains in words and images examples of traditional Lenape regalia and what the colors and materials represent as well as the meaning behind the movements in a traditional Lenape dance.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Johanna Gorelick, NMAI’s manager of education services in New York, says that this new teaching module and the rest of NK360°’s materials bring these often-unheard voices into the learning environment. “In elementary school, there is a dearth of materials on the Native perspective,” Gorelick says. “A lot of teachers are hungry for this."&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Find out more about NK360° and download its resources at &lt;a href="americanindian.si.edu/nk360"&gt;americanindian.si.edu/nk360&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
      
  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;section class="views-element-container block block-views block-views-blockauthors-of-stories-story-authors-bottom clearfix"&gt;
  
      &lt;h2 class="block-title"&gt;Authors&lt;/h2&gt;
    

      &lt;div class="form-group"&gt;&lt;div class="view view-authors-of-stories view-id-authors_of_stories view-display-id-story_authors_bottom js-view-dom-id-088e55940024109facc90e3c36c4d9ac745636acbd003d477f7982c18b412fc8"&gt;
  
    
      
      &lt;div class="view-content"&gt;
          &lt;div class="authors-row"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="author-bottom-display"&gt;
&lt;div class="author-image"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-informations"&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-title"&gt;
Richard Walker
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-description"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Journalist Richard Walker (Mexican/Yaqui) and his wife Molly Neely-Walker (Samish) live in Anacortes, Washington, within the homeland of the Samish Nation.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="authors-bottom-links"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

    &lt;/div&gt;
  
          &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;

  &lt;/section&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
  &lt;/div&gt;
  
  
&lt;/div&gt;
</description>
  <pubDate>Thu, 20 Feb 2020 15:20:33 +0000</pubDate>
    <dc:creator>ChampionC</dc:creator>
    <guid isPermaLink="false">406 at https://www.americanindianmagazine.org</guid>
    </item>

  </channel>
</rss>
