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Tag: Native Americans

  • US Marshals team up with California Native American tribe to address cases of missing and murdered Indigenous people | CNN

    US Marshals team up with California Native American tribe to address cases of missing and murdered Indigenous people | CNN

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    CNN
     — 

    The US Marshals Service is teaming up with a Native American tribe based in Northern California for a new push aimed at addressing cases of missing and murdered Indigenous people, a growing crisis that tribes say has not received enough attention.

    The Yurok Tribe was chosen as the first pilot location for the federal agency’s Missing and Murdered Indigenous Persons Initiative (MMIP), which is part of the Justice Department’s efforts to address disproportionately high rates of violence experienced by Native Americans, including Indigenous people, its website says.

    The Bureau of Indian Affairs, a federal agency aimed at enhancing life for Native Americans, estimates there are more than 4,200 missing and murdered cases that have gone unsolved. The agency lists out many of the cases and photos of the missing on its website. But despite the numbers, cases involving Indigenous people have largely gone under the radar and advocates have been pushing for additional dedicated law enforcement resources and attention in the news media to the crisis, CNN previously reported.

    Authorities say they have long faced a number of challenges that have prevented them from solving cases. Police say in some cases it involves family-on-family crime and relatives refuse to provide information because they don’t want the person responsible to go to jail. In other cases, there is limited evidence, CNN previously reported. Tribal communities generally don’t have doorbell cameras or exterior security cameras that help police investigate cases in urban or suburban areas.

    The partnership with the Yurok Tribe, which was announced on Tuesday, will involve a collaboration between the tribe and USMS “to share information, identify goals, and develop strategies for improving public safety for Yurok Tribe, its members, and the broader community,” the USMS said in a press release.

    The Yurok Tribe is currently the largest tribe in California with more than 5,000 members, according to the tribe’s website. The tribe has been a leader in fighting the crisis of missing and murdered Native American and Indigenous people and calling for programs to prevent future cases.

    “The Yurok Tribe is extremely grateful to partner with the US Marshals Service on this important and timely initiative,” Joseph L. James, chairman of the Yurok Tribe, said in a statement. “The knowledge and tools we will gain from this unique partnership will significantly increase our capacity to keep our community safe.”

    In January, the tribe received a $350,000 grant from the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians to hire a full-time investigator for ongoing and cold cases involving missing and murdered Indigenous people, according to CNN affiliate KRCR. Tribal leaders also recently requested $200 million dollars from the state government to fight the crisis, KRCR reported.

    The crisis spurred the FBI into action enlisting the agency’s intelligence resources best known for fighting crime and terrorism to create a master database last year of missing Native Americans in New Mexico and the Navajo Nation, CNN previously reported.

    The database – which includes photos of the missing along with their age, gender and date of last contact – has been praised by advocates who insist that the cases of missing and murdered Native Americans don’t receive the attention they deserve from police, CNN reported.

    The issue has also garnered the attention of President Joe Biden’s administration, which has rolled out a number of initiatives to address violence against Native Americans including a new unit within the Bureau of Indian Affairs to investigate the cases while coordinating resources among federal agencies and Indian country.

    Members of the Yurok tribe and USMS recently met to discuss the partnership and the potential to work together on a wide range of activities – depending on the tribe’s priorities, the release said.

    The targeted areas may include training on missing child investigations, data analysis, public outreach, sex offender registration and enforcement as well as investigative support for the tribe’s law enforcement officers, the release says.

    “It is my sincere hope that by dedicating resources in Indian Country and partnering with the Yurok Tribe, U.S. Marshals will help address the problem of missing children from the Yurok Tribe and assist with other public safety initiatives, such as ensuring that registered sex offenders in the area are compliant with their statutory requirements,” US Marshals Service Director Ronald L. Davis said in a statement.

    “We are fully committed to supporting the Yurok Tribe’s efforts to keep their communities safe,” he added.

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  • Telehealth Is Filling Gaps in Sexual-Assault Care

    Telehealth Is Filling Gaps in Sexual-Assault Care

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    This article was originally published by Kaiser Health News.

    Amanda Shelley was sitting in her dentist’s waiting room when she received a call from the police. A local teenage girl had been sexually assaulted and needed an exam.

    Shelley, a nurse in rural Eagle County, Colorado, went to her car and called a telehealth company to arrange an appointment with a sexual-assault nurse examiner, or SANE. The nurse examiners have extensive training in how to care for assault survivors and collect evidence for possible criminal prosecution.

    About an hour later, Shelley met the patient at the Colorado Mountain Medical urgent-care clinic in the small town of Avon. She used a tablet to connect by video with a SANE about 2,000 miles away, in New Hampshire.

    The remote nurse used the video technology to speak with the patient and guide Shelley through each step of a two-hour exam. One of those steps was a colposcopy, in which Shelley used a magnifying device to closely examine the vagina and cervix. The remote nurse saw, in real time, what Shelley could see, with the help of a video camera attached to the machine.

    The service, known as “teleSANE,” is new at Shelley’s hospital. Before, sexual-assault patients faced mountains of obstacles—literally—when they had to travel to a hospital in another county for care.

    “We’re asking them to drive maybe over snowy passes and then [be there] three to four hours for this exam and then drive back home—it’s disheartening for them,” Shelley says. “They want to start the healing process and go home and shower.”

    To avoid this scenario, teleSANE services are expanding across the country in rural, sparsely populated areas. Research shows that SANE programs encourage psychological healing, provide comprehensive health care, allow for professional evidence collection, and improve the chance of a successful prosecution.

    Jennifer Pierce-Weeks is the CEO of the International Association of Forensic Nurses, which created the national standards and certification programs for sexual-assault nurse examiners. She says every sexual-assault survivor faces health consequences. Assaults can cause physical injuries, sexually transmitted infections, unwanted pregnancies, and mental-health conditions that can lead to suicide attempts and drug and alcohol misuse.

    “If they are cared for on the front end, all of the risks of those things can be reduced dramatically with the right intervention,” Pierce-Weeks says.

    Pierce-Weeks says there are no comprehensive national data on the number and location of health-care professionals with SANE training. But she says studies show that there’s a nationwide shortage, especially in rural areas.

    Some rural hospitals struggle to create or maintain in-person SANE programs because of staffing and funding shortfalls, Pierce-Weeks says.

    Training costs money and takes time. If rural hospitals train nurses, they still might not have enough to provide round-the-clock coverage. And nurses in rural areas can’t practice their skills as often as those who work in busy urban hospitals.

    Some hospitals without SANE programs refer sexual-assault survivors elsewhere because they don’t feel qualified to help and aren’t always legally required to provide comprehensive treatment and evidence collection.

    Avel eCare, based in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, has been providing telehealth services since 1993. It recently added teleSANE to its offerings.

    Avel provides this service to 43 mostly rural and small-town hospitals across five states and is expanding to Indian Health Service hospitals in the Great Plains. Native Americans face high rates of sexual assault and might have to travel hours for care if they live in one of the region’s large, rural reservations.

    Jen Canton, who oversees Avel’s teleSANE program, says arriving at a local hospital and being referred elsewhere can be devastating for sexual-assault survivors. “You just went through what is potentially the worst moment of your life, and then you have to travel two, three hours away to another facility,” Canton says. “It takes a lot of courage to even come into the first hospital and say what happened to you and ask for help.”

    Patients who receive care at hospitals without SANE programs might not receive trauma-informed care, which focuses on identifying sources of trauma, determining how those experiences may affect people’s health, and preventing the retraumatizing of patients. Emergency-department staffers may not have experience with internal exams or evidence collection. They also might not know about patients’ options for involving police.

    Patients who travel to a second hospital might struggle to arrange for and afford transportation or child care. Other patients don’t have the emotional bandwidth to make the trip and retell their story.

    That’s why some survivors, such as Ada Sapp, don’t get an exam.

    Sapp, a health-care executive at Colorado Mountain Medical, was assaulted before the hospital system began its SANE program. She was shocked to learn that she would need to drive 45 minutes to another county for an exam. “I didn’t feel comfortable doing that by myself,” Sapp says. “So my husband would have had to come with me, or a friend. The logistics made it feel insurmountable.”

    Sapp’s experience inspired her to help bring SANE services to Colorado Mountain Medical.

    Shelley and several other of the hospital system’s nurses have SANE training but appreciate having telehealth support from the remote nurses with more experience. “We are a rural community, and we’re not doing these every single day,” Shelley says. “A lot of my nurses would get really anxious before an exam because maybe they haven’t done one in a couple months.”

    A remote “second set of eyes” increases the confidence of the in-person nurse and is reassuring to patients, she says.

    Avera St. Mary’s Hospital in Pierre, South Dakota, recently began using teleSANE. Rural towns, farms, and ranches surround this capital city, home to about 14,000 people. The nearest metropolitan area is more than a two-and-a-half-hour drive.

    Taking a break from a recent busy morning in the emergency department, the nurse Lindee Miller rolled out the mobile teleSANE cart and colposcope device from Avel eCare. She pulled out a thick binder of instructions and forms and opened drawers filled with swabs, evidence tags, measuring devices, and other forensic materials.

    “You’re never doing the same exam twice,” Miller said. “It’s all driven by what the patient wants to do.”

    She said some patients might want only medicines to prevent pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections. Other patients opt for a head-to-toe physical exam. And some might want her to collect forensic evidence.

    Federal laws provide funding to pay for these sexual-assault exams, but some survivors are billed because of legal gaps and a lack of awareness of the rules. A proposed federal law, the No Surprises for Survivors Act, would close some of those gaps.

    SANE programs, including telehealth versions aimed at rural communities, are expected to continue expanding across the country.

    President Joe Biden signed a bill last year that provides $30 million annually through 2027 to expand SANE services, especially those that use telehealth and help rural, tribal, and other underserved communities. The law also requires the Justice Department to create a website listing the locations of the programs and grant opportunities for starting them.

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    Arielle Zionts

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  • Colorado rolled out one of the nation’s first alert systems for missing Indigenous people. The first person it was used for was found dead.

    Colorado rolled out one of the nation’s first alert systems for missing Indigenous people. The first person it was used for was found dead.

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    A 27-year-old man in Colorado went missing a day before the state’s new Missing Indigenous Person Alerts system went live on Dec. 30. One week later, he was found dead. 

    A Missing Indigenous Person Alert for Wanbli Vigil was issued Jan. 3, four days after the system went live. The Lakota man had last been seen in Denver on Dec. 29 and was the first missing person’s case to activate the statewide alert system, which operates under the Colorado Bureau of Investigation, according to CBS Colorado. 

    According to CBS Colorado, when activated, the system will send the person’s photo, name, description and other relevant details to state law enforcement agencies, who then have to disseminate the information. The public and media can sign up for alerts. 

    For Vigil, however, it did not prevent his fate. On Jan. 6, Denver police announced that his body had been found. An investigation is underway, the department said, but it does “not appear to be suspicious in nature at this time.”

    Vigil’s aunt, Jennifer Black Elk, told CBS Colorado prior to the discovery of his body that the family had organized a search party to try and find him, checking hospitals, jails and “whatever leads we can think of.” The last time he was seen was at his apartment building. 

    “He was really struggling with some spiritual issues,” she told the CBS station. “We’re wondering exactly where did he go, how did he disappear, where did he end up or who is he with?”

    While it’s unclear what his cause of death was, advocates for the search of missing Indigenous peoples say the alert took too long to get out to the public. Even though the alert system itself initiated just one day after he went missing, the Colorado Bureau of Investigation told CBS News it did not activate the missing person alert until Jan. 3 when they received the request from the Denver Police, at which time it was shared on their and Denver police department’s social media pages. 

    “As we’ve stated in the past, all CBI alerts serve as a tool in the toolbox to aid law enforcement in their investigative efforts to locate a missing person. I cannot speak on behalf of the Denver Police, but the alert is only a piece of the efforts of law enforcement to local a missing person,” a CBS spokesperson told CBS News. “…Colorado’s statewide alert system – including AMBER – cannot be activated by the CBI without the request of the local agency.”

    Monycka Snowbird, the program director for the Haseya Advocate Program, told CBS Colorado she believes the year-end holidays are what caused the delay, saying that if it had been an Amber Alert, the holidays “wouldn’t have mattered.” 

    “It shouldn’t matter if it’s a Lakota man on a holiday or a white child on a holiday,” she said, “that response should have been immediate.” 

    CBS News has reached out to the Colorado Bureau of Investigation and Denver police for more information about the process they followed in this particular case and what prevented an immediate social media announcement that Vigil was missing. 

    Native Americans make up a disproportionate share of missing persons cases in the U.S., with more than 9,500 reported missing cases since 2020, according to data from the National Crime Information Center. The federal government is responsible for handling these crimes, as well as murders and assaults, but generally falls short in committing to do so. In 2018, for example, prosecutors declined to prosecute nearly 40% of all federal Indian Country cases. CBS News has extensively researched this problem, as well as some of the ongoing cases, in the podcast “Missing Justice.” 

    According to the Missing & Murdered Indigenous Relatives Taskforce of Colorado, who helped conduct a search for Vigil, the young man marks the 69th Indigenous person from Colorado to be missing or murdered since 1977. At least two dozen of those cases remain unsolved, according to the group. 

    Correction: A previous version of this story misstated the date police activated the missing persons alert for Vigil. It was Jan. 3, not Dec. 30.

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  • Senators call for accountability for federal law enforcement in Indian Country after CBS News’ “Missing Justice” investigation

    Senators call for accountability for federal law enforcement in Indian Country after CBS News’ “Missing Justice” investigation

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    Understaffing, investigative mistakes, challenges with recruitment: As the CBS investigative podcast “Missing Justice” details, the gaps evident in the investigation into Christy Woodenthigh’s death affect law enforcement across Indian Country. Montana Sen. Jon Tester is calling for investigations into how federal law enforcement – specifically the Interior Department’s Bureau of Indian Affairs – conducts itself in Indian Country. 

    In the final episode of the podcast, Tester called for the BIA to conduct a broad “internal” investigation into its law enforcement division and said Congress needs to hold a hearing on BIA’s staffing, manpower and competency. 

    “I think that if you’ve got law enforcement personnel that are not doing their job, especially when it comes to a homicide or any major crime, then there is a question of competence and training,” the Democrat said in response to trial testimony from BIA agents who admitted to not following certain investigative protocols when they responded to the March 2020 death of Christy Woodenthigh on the Northern Cheyenne reservation. “Those questions need to be answered.”

    Tester, who has served in the Senate for 16 years, has previously called for more transparency into the BIA and FBI investigations into the deaths of Woodenthigh and others on the Northern Cheyenne reservation. These new investigations should focus on “law enforcement in general, particularly around large, land-based Indian tribes around this country, because that’s where I think most of the problems are,” he said.

    Montana Sen. Jon Tester
    CBS News reporters Bo Erickson, left, and Cara Korte interview Montana Sen. Jon Tester in his Capitol Hill office.

    Jamie Benson/CBS News


    Tester said he trusts the BIA law enforcement to investigate itself because “if they screw it up and they cover something up,” the agency officials could be fired since they are political appointees.

    Woodenthigh’s family and tribal leadership describe in “Missing Justice” how they pushed BIA authorities to investigate her death, and waited for months for an indictment. Last December, the suspect was acquitted at the trial where BIA agents admitted to not following certain investigative protocols. “I don’t feel like justice was served,” Christy’s sister, Aleda Spang, said. “I feel like we have to serve justice ourselves.”

    In response to “Missing Justice” reporting, spokespeople for six other senators on the Indian Affairs committee – Republicans Steve Daines from Montana, John Hoeven from North Dakota and Lisa Murkowski from Alaska, along with Democrats Catherine Cortez Masto from Nevada and Tina Smith from Minnesota – also shared calls for increased oversight of BIA law enforcement.

    The committee’s chairman, Democrat Brian Schatz from Hawaii, weighed in: “Senator Schatz supports holding a public safety-focused committee hearing during the upcoming Congress,” a spokesperson said. 

    And to address officer understaffing, Tester said he is working on a bill to boost BIA salaries from its current level of less than $50,000 to recruit agents.

    The Interior Department could address understaffing by declaring “a ‘crisis’ in law enforcement in Indian Country, particularly those with the BIA programs to start with,” said Walter Lamar, an enrolled member of Blackfeet Nation in Montana, who spent five years as the head of the BIA’s office of law enforcement and 19 years as an FBI agent. The crisis response could be set up “just like any other disaster or emergency” to leverage more staff and resources from other Interior Department agencies to fill the law enforcement gaps on Indian reservations. 

    Walter Lamar
    Former Bureau of Indian Affairs Deputy Director Walter Lamar at his home.

    Cara Korte / CBS News


    “There may be one or two officers working on a million-plus acre reservation – a million-plus acre reservation – with a population that has drug issues, that has violent crime,” Lamar, a current law enforcement consultant, told CBS News in an interview. “That [understaffing] would not be tolerated anywhere else in this country. That is absolutely unacceptable.”

    More members of Congress, which oversees Indian Country policies, need to understand these law enforcement issues in Indian Country are “as big a problem as it is,” Tester said. 

    Tester said for the past four years, his Senate Democratic caucus has not received updates on Indian Country issues like law enforcement and healthcare because the two senators who gave these briefs left Congress. 

    The senator pledged to restart these updates, and when asked after the interview when these briefs would begin, an office spokesman said “Senator Tester has been in contact with leadership about issues affecting Indian Country” and is “looking forward to highlighting those issues before his [Democratic] Caucus” in next year’s Congress. 

    The BIA has not responded to any questions regarding Christy Woodenthigh’s case, the management of the BIA, or Tester’s calls for oversight throughout the six-part “Missing Justice” series. The Interior Department oversees the BIA and the office of Secretary Deb Haaland, the first Native American cabinet secretary, declined an interview request. Haaland’s office also said other Interior Department officials were not “available for this story.”

    While this podcast series was being released, the Interior Department and the Justice Department announced a new memo of understanding between the BIA law enforcement and the FBI meant to increase communication between the agencies during Indian Country investigations. The Interior Department also announced its Missing and Murdered Unit solved 68 missing persons cases and five murder cases since the unit formed last year.

    CBS News also learned on Dec. 12, that a team of Interior Department officials including Assistant Secretary for Indian Affairs Bryan Newland and U.S. Attorney for Montana Jesse Laslovich, traveled to the Northern Cheyenne reservation to meet with tribal leaders for the first time since the tribe sued the United States. The suit, filed in July 2022, alleges the federal government breached its “solemn fiduciary duties” to the tribe by “failing to provide adequate law enforcement services.” 

    Two people in the meeting said the officials and Northern Cheyenne leaders met to discuss the case and the meeting lasted nearly six hours. 

    “Missing Justice” is available wherever you get your podcasts. 

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  • Black Creeks expelled from tribe finally get their day in court, 43 years later | CNN

    Black Creeks expelled from tribe finally get their day in court, 43 years later | CNN

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    Washington
    CNN
     — 

    A version of this story appeared in CNN’s Race Deconstructed newsletter. To get it in your inbox every week, sign up for free here.

    Thursday could mark a turning point in Native American history. A hearing is scheduled about Black claims to Native citizenship. More specifically, the hearing will address the long-running demands of the descendants of Black people who were enslaved by the Muscogee (Creek) Nation that they be granted tribal citizenship and corresponding rights.

    Following the Civil War, the Muscogee (Creek) Nation was required to accept as citizens the people of African descent it had once enslaved. But a 1979 change to the tribe’s constitution defined citizenship “by blood.” As a result, Black Creeks and their descendants, known as Freedmen, were effectively expelled.

    Damario Solomon-Simmons, a civil rights attorney representing the two plaintiffs in the lawsuit, said he feels confident that the Muscogee (Creek) Nation District Court will decide in his favor.

    A descendant of Black Creeks, Solomon-Simmons has been involved in the citizenship battle for years. In 2018, he filed a federal lawsuit, but it was dismissed. (His grandmother was a plaintiff, but she died in 2019.)

    Solomon-Simmons filed a petition in March 2020, and says that the tribe’s 1979 decision was “completely racist” and “erroneous.”

    “It’s 100 percent anti-Black discrimination,” he told CNN. “They’re telling you that if you’re Black and/or (had) enslaved (ancestors), you can’t be a member of our nation.”

    Solomon-Simmons said the constitution not only strips Black Creeks of their citizenship – it also prevents them from securing the benefits given to tribal members: health care, education, housing, scholarships, cash assistance and more.

    Officials from the Muscogee (Creek) Nation insist the tribe’s citizenship requirements have nothing to do with race.

    Spokesman Jason Salsman told CNN in an email that the nation’s citizenship is diverse, and includes Black Americans, Spanish people, Mexicans and Asians.

    But he noted that the tribe has a “traumatic history” with people who aren’t Creek by blood and that this is a “challenging issue” for many citizens.

    “I can’t speak for the leaders of 43 years ago when this decision took place,” Salsman said. “But it should hardly be surprising that a nation like ours that has endured attempts at extermination, removal and other unjust federal policies enforced by outsiders would seek a constitution that requires Creek Indian ancestry and blood lineage among its citizens and leaders.”

    He added, “The matter before the Court is not a question of race but rather to determine whether our government is obligated by treaty to enroll individuals as citizens who are not Creek Indians.”

    David Hill, the principal chief of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation, underscored in an April 2021 letter the knottiness of this history, and the significance of confronting it.

    “The question of the enrollment status of the descendants of Creek Freedmen is an extremely complex one,” he wrote, “born in an era when African Americans and Native Americans alike faced traumatic injustices at the hands of the US government. … As good leaders, it is important for us to listen, acknowledge and openly engage with our communities and our citizens. When these issues arise, they are opportunities that allow us to reconsider if our policies are still reflective of who we are as a Nation.”

    Black Creeks have reason to be hopeful about their cause, which isn’t unique. Just last year, the Cherokee Nation jettisoned from its constitution language that defined citizenship purely by blood.

    “The Cherokee Nation’s actions have brought this longstanding issue to a close and have importantly fulfilled their obligations to the Cherokee Freedmen,” Deb Haaland, the first Native American Cabinet secretary, said in a May 2021 statement. “We encourage other Tribes to take similar steps to meet their moral and legal obligations to the Freedmen.”

    Here’s a closer look at the citizenship struggles dividing the Muscogee (Creek) Nation:

    To understand some of the challenges beleaguering Black Creeks’ in our present day, let’s rewind to the late 18th and early 19th centuries.

    During this period, the US government actively sought to “civilize” independent, self-governing tribal nations – Muscogee (Creek), Chickasaw, Choctaw, Seminole and Cherokee – by forcing on them the privatization of land and the use of enslaved people for labor.

    Many of these nations, especially the Muscogee (Creek) Nation, didn’t practice slavery in the way people tend to picture the institution.

    “It wasn’t chattel slavery, where people would lose their humanity and become property,” Caleb Gayle, a professor of practice at Northeastern University and the author of the 2022 book, “We Refuse to Forget: A True Story of Black Creeks, American Identity and Power,” told CNN. “It was, instead, a practice called kinship slavery. People were still peers. Slave identity wasn’t passed down from generation to generation. People broke bread and were seen as equals.”

    He added that a certain level of nuance is necessary when discussing slavery within the context of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation.

    “There’s been interaction between Black people and Native American nations for a very long time,” Gayle said. “That connection was further fortified through the project of civilization that the US government enforced again and again.”

    In 1866, in the aftermath of the Civil War, peace treaties granted not only emancipation but also tribal citizenship to Black people who had been enslaved by Native American nations.

    With the passage of the Dawes Act in 1887, the US government sought to identify who would be on which citizenship roll. Some ended up on the “by blood” roll; others, on the Freedmen roll.

    In 1979, when the Muscogee (Creek) Nation altered its constitution, those on the Freedmen roll were no longer able to keep the citizenship status they’d had for decades.

    “Even if your ancestors had never been slaves, even if they’d been adopted into the nation, even if they never had the stain of slavery on them, if you were on the Freedmen roll – often because your ancestors looked a certain way – the constitutional change kind of nullified your claim to the citizenship you once had,” Gayle said.

    Rhonda Grayson is intimately familiar with this history and its effects. She’s one of the plaintiffs in the lawsuit, and said that her ancestors were enslaved by the Muscogee (Creek) Nation.

    She’s among the hundreds of Black Creek descendants who’ve unsuccessfully applied for citizenship since 1979. She applied in 2019, she recalled, but was denied; her appeal also was denied.

    Grayson explained that she wants the Muscogee (Creek) Nation to issue an apology to Black Creeks for discarding them.

    “My motivation is redemption for my ancestors. They suffered just like any other Native American. They worked and built the Creek Nation to what it is today,” she said. “We’re fighting for our tribal rights. We’re entitled to them.”

    The disputes ricocheting throughout the Muscogee (Creek) Nation offer us an opportunity to reconfigure the way we think about identity.

    In fact, we may already be starting to see this change.

    In February 2021, the Cherokee Nation Supreme Court ruled that the nation had to remove “by blood” from its constitution. The decision meant that the descendants of Black people once enslaved by the Cherokee Nation would have the right to tribal citizenship.

    “Freedmen rights are inherent,” as Cherokee Nation Supreme Court Justice Shawna S. Baker wrote in the opinion. “They extend to descendants of Freedmen as a birthright springing from their ancestors’ oppression and displacement as people of color recorded and memorialized in Article 9 of the 1866 Treaty.”

    For many, especially Black Creeks, this development extends hope that they might achieve a similar outcome.

    Crucially, as citizenship conversations continue, we must maintain precision and sensitivity, Gayle urged.

    “It’s important to keep the focus squarely on the culprit that brought us to this point today. And that’s the US government. Its subtle and overt expansion of White supremacy is to blame here. These are two incredibly aggrieved, hyper-marginalized groups,” he said.

    In this light, Gayle added, “it’s impossible not to feel where the Muscogee (Creek) Nation is coming from when folks say, ‘We’re tired of being told who we are and being forced to modify and to accommodate.’ And it’s impossible not to feel where Black Creeks are coming from when they say, ‘Yes, we understand that – but we have a shared history that’s so potent and powerful as well.’”

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  • ‘This is history in the making’: First affordable housing for Native Americans coming to Irving Park

    ‘This is history in the making’: First affordable housing for Native Americans coming to Irving Park

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    CHICAGO (CBS) — As Native American Heritage Month ends, we look at the troublesome issue of housing.

    A University of Illinois at Chicago study shows half of Native Americans in Chicago are paying more than 30% of their income to rent their homes.

    They are almost twice as likely as whites to be denied home loans.

    We want you to meet a woman who has made it her life’s work to battle for housing equity for her people.

    And she’s not just succeeding – she’s making history.

    “This is going to be a beautiful site for our families, our Native American families.”

    To Shelly Tucciarelli this vacant lot near Irving Park and Sacramento is more than concrete and rocks – it’s the future.

    “We are going to be developing 45 units of 100% affordable housing and it’s going to be directed to our Native American community in Chicago,” she said.

    Tucciarelli is a developer and member of the Oneida Tribe.

    She turns vacant land into housing developments for Native Americans and low-income communities.

    Her work already includes an apartment complex that’s underway in Aurora.

    The Chicago site in Albany Park is a bit different for a very important reason.

    “This is the first AFF housing that’s been directed to the Native American community in Chicago’s history. So, this is history in the making,” Tucciarelli said. “We were promised housing about 50 years ago, and it never happened.”

    She says it still couldn’t happen without financial partners – including the city, private firms, and the non-profit Full Circle Communities.

    Finding funding is a huge challenge for many small businesses and projects.

    “One of the main things is access to capital. and trying to have that money to make the business work,” Tucciarelli said.

    The Irving Park development will have gardens, community space, access to health care, and space for ritual ceremonies.

    It was chosen so residents will be close to the American Indian Center, the American Indian Health Services of Chicago, Horner Park, and the Chicago River – all near and dear to this close-knit Chicago community of about only about 33,000.

    “I think we’re a close-knit community because we’re a smaller community. We were invisible, staying together and making our voices stronger is important,” Tucciarelli said.

    Shelly took us down the street to the Saint Ketari Center, where together, Native Americans practice their Catholic faith and their cultural traditions.

    Director Jody Roy told us Native American teachings and ethics are important in everyday life, and business.

    “There’s respect, humility, honesty, truth, bravery, wisdom. Those are all foundations that are morals and ethics of not only how we should treat each other but how we should run our businesses and our organizations. We’re all important and equal and have important roles,” Roy said.

    Shelly Tucciarelli says her role is to continue her work. So, what does she want to see next?

    “More housing. I don’t want this to be our first and only housing. To our Native American community land is everything.

    Also on Shelly’s long list of goals – an incubator space to nurture Native American small businesses, including artists who specialize in beading, painting, and more.

    She says she wants them to take their arts out of their homes so they can work together and show the world their talents.

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  • Asian faiths try to save swastika symbol corrupted by Hitler

    Asian faiths try to save swastika symbol corrupted by Hitler

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    Sheetal Deo was shocked when she got a letter from her Queens apartment building’s co-op board calling her Diwali decoration “offensive” and demanding she take it down.

    “My decoration said ‘Happy Diwali’ and had a swastika on it,” said Deo, a physician, who was celebrating the Hindu festival of lights.

    The equilateral cross with its legs bent at right angles is a millennia-old sacred symbol in Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism that represents peace and good fortune, and was also used widely by Indigenous people worldwide in a similar vein.

    But in the West, this symbol is often equated to Adolf Hitler’s hakenkreuz or the hooked cross – a symbol of hate that evokes the trauma of the Holocaust and the horrors of Nazi Germany. White supremacists, neo-Nazi groups and vandals have continued to use Hitler’s symbol to stoke fear and hate.

    Over the past decade, as the Asian diaspora has grown in North America, the call to reclaim the swastika as a sacred symbol has become louder. These minority faith communities are being joined by Native American elders whose ancestors have long used the symbol as part of healing rituals.

    Deo believes she and people of other faiths should not have to sacrifice or apologize for a sacred symbol simply because it is often conflated with its tainted version.

    “To me, that’s intolerable,” she said.

    Yet to others, the idea that the swastika could be redeemed is unthinkable.

    Holocaust survivors in particular could be re-traumatized when they see the symbol, said Shelley Rood Wernick, managing director of the Jewish Federations of North America’s Center on Holocaust Survivor Care.

    “One of the hallmarks of trauma is that it shatters a person’s sense of safety,” said Wernick, whose grandparents met at a displaced persons’ camp in Austria after World War II. “The swastika was a representation of the concept that stood for the annihilation of an entire people.”

    For her grandparents and the elderly survivors she serves, Wernick said, the symbol is the physical representation of the horrors they experienced.

    “I recognize the swastika as a symbol of hate.”

    New York-based Steven Heller, a design historian and author of “Swastika: Symbol Beyond Redemption?”, said the swastika is “a charged symbol for so many whose loved ones were criminally and brutally murdered.” Heller’s great-grandfather perished during the Holocaust.

    “A rose by any other name is a rose,” he said. “In the end it’s how a symbol affects you visually and emotionally. For many, it creates a visceral impact and that’s a fact.”

    ———

    The symbol itself dates back to prehistoric times. The word “swastika” has Sanskrit roots and means “the mark of well being.” It has been used in prayers of the Rig Veda, the oldest of Hindu scriptures. In Buddhism, the symbol is known as “manji” and signifies the Buddha’s footsteps. It is used to mark the location of Buddhist temples. In China it’s called Wàn, and denotes the universe or the manifestation and creativity of God. The swastika is carved into the Jains’ emblem representing the four types of birth an embodied soul might attain until it is eventually liberated from the cycle of birth and death. In the Zoroastrian faith, it represents the four elements – water, fire, air and earth.

    In India, the ubiquitous symbol can be seen on thresholds, drawn with vermillion and turmeric, and displayed on shop doors, vehicles, food packaging and at festivals or special occasions. Elsewhere, it has been found in the Roman catacombs, ruins in Greece and Iran, and in Ethiopian and Spanish churches.

    The swastika also was a Native American symbol used by many southwestern tribes, particularly the Navajo and Hopi. To the Navajo, it represented a whirling log, a sacred image used in healing rituals and sand paintings. Swastika motifs can be found in items carbon-dated to 15,000 years ago on display at the National Museum of the History of Ukraine as well as on artifacts recovered from the ruins of the ancient Indus Valley civilizations that flourished between 2600 and 1900 BC.

    The symbol was revived during the 19th century excavations in the ancient city of Troy by German archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann, who connected it to a shared Aryan culture across Europe and Asia. Historians believe it is this notion that made the symbol appealing to nationalist groups in Germany including the Nazi Party, which adopted it in 1920.

    In North America, in the early 20th century, swastikas made their way into ceramic tiles, architectural features, military insignia, team logos, government buildings and marketing campaigns. Coca-Cola issued a swastika pendant. Carlsberg beer bottles came etched with swastikas. The Boy Scouts handed out badges with the symbol until 1940.

    ———

    The Rev. T.K. Nakagaki said he was shocked when he first heard the swastika referred to as a “universal symbol of evil” at an interfaith conference. The New York-based Buddhist priest, who was ordained in the 750-year-old Jodoshinshu tradition of Japanese Buddhism, says when he hears the word “swastika” or “manji,” he thinks of a Buddhist temple because that is what it represents in Japan where he grew up.

    “You cannot call it a symbol of evil or (deny) other facts that have existed for hundreds of years, just because of Hitler,” he said.

    In his 2018 book titled “The Buddhist Swastika and Hitler’s Cross: Rescuing a Symbol of Peace from the Forces of Hate,” Nakagaki posits that Hitler referred to the symbol as the hooked cross or hakenkreuz. Nakagaki’s research also shows the symbol was called the hakenkreuz in U.S. newspapers until the early 1930s, when the word swastika replaced it.

    Nakagaki believes more dialogue is needed even though it will be uncomfortable.

    “This is peace work, too,” he said.

    ———

    The Coalition of Hindus of North America is one of several faith groups leading the effort to differentiate the swastika from the hakenkreuz. They supported a new California law that criminalizes the public display of the hakenkreuz — making an exception for the sacred swastika.

    Pushpita Prasad, a spokesperson for the Hindu group, called it a victory, but said the legislation unfortunately labels both Hitler’s symbol and the sacred one as swastikas.

    This is “not just an esoteric battle,” Prasad said, but an issue with real-life consequences for immigrant communities, whose members have resorted to self-censoring.

    Vikas Jain, a Cleveland physician, said he and his wife hid images containing the symbol when their children’s friends visited because “they wouldn’t know the difference.” Jain says he stands in solidarity with the Jewish community, but is sad that he cannot freely practice his Jain faith “because of this lack of understanding.”

    He noted that the global Jain emblem has a swastika in it, but the U.S. Jain community deliberately removed it from its seal. Jain wishes people would differentiate between their symbol of peace and Hitler’s swastika just as they do with the hateful burning cross symbol and Christianity’s sacred crucifix.

    ———

    Before World War II, the name “Swastika” was so popular in North America it was used to mark numerous locations. Swastika Park, a housing subdivision in Miami, was created in 1917, and still has that name. In 2020, the hamlet of Swastika, nestled in the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York, decided to keep its name after town councilors determined that it predated WWII and referred to the prosperity symbol.

    Swastika Acres, the name of a Denver housing subdivision, can be traced to the Denver Swastika Land Company. It was founded in 1908, and changed its name to Old Cherry Hills in 2019 after a unanimous city council vote. In September, the town council in Puslinch, Ontario, voted to change the name of the street Swastika Trail to Holly Trail.

    Next month, the Oregon Geographic Names Board, which supervises the naming of geographic features within the state, is set to vote to rename Swastika Mountain, a 4,197-foot butte in the Umpqua National Forest. Kerry Tymchuk, executive director of the Oregon Historical Society, said although its name can only be found on a map, it made news in January when two stranded hikers were rescued from the mountain.

    “A Eugene resident saw that news report and asked why on earth was this mountain called that in this day and age,” said Tymchuk. He said the mountain got its name in the 1900s from a neighboring ranch whose owner branded his cattle with the swastika.

    Tymchuk said the names board is set to rename Mount Swastika as Mount Halo after Chief Halito, who led the Yoncalla Kalapuya tribe in the 1800s.

    “Most people we’ve heard from associate it with Nazism,” Tymchuk said.

    ———

    For the Navajo people, the symbol, shaped like a swirl, represents the universe and life, said Patricia Anne Davis, an elder of the Choctaw and Dineh nations.

    “It was a spiritual, esoteric symbol that was woven into the Navajo rugs, until Hitler took something good and beautiful and made it twisted,” she said.

    In the early 20th century, traders encouraged Native artists to use it on their crafts; it appeared often on silver work, textiles and pottery. But after it became a Nazi symbol, representatives from the Hopi, Navajo, Apache and Tohono O’odham tribes signed a proclamation in 1940 banning its use.

    Davis views the original symbol that was used by many Indigenous people as one of peace, healing and goodness.

    “I understand the wounds and trauma that Jewish people experience when they see that symbol,” she said. “All I can do is affirm its true meaning — the one that never changed across cultures, languages and history. It’s time to restore the authentic meaning of that symbol.”

    ———

    Like Nakagaki, Jeff Kelman, a New Hampshire-based Holocaust historian, believes the hakenkreuz and swastika were distinct. Kelman who takes this message to Jewish communities, is optimistic about the symbol’s redemption because he sees his message resonating with many in his community, including Holocaust survivors.

    “When they learn an Indian girl could be named Swastika and she could be harassed in school, they understand how they should see these as two separate symbols,” he said. “No one in the Jewish community wants to see Hitler’s legacy continue to harm people.”

    Greta Elbogen, an 85-year-old Holocaust survivor whose grandmother and cousins were killed at Auschwitz, says she was surprised to learn about the symbol’s sacred past. Elbogen was born in 1938 when the Nazis forcibly annexed Austria. She went into hiding with relatives in Hungary, immigrated to the U.S. in 1956 and became a social worker.

    This new knowledge about the swastika, Elbogen said, feels liberating; she no longer fears a symbol that was used to terrorize.

    “Hearing that the swastika is beautiful and sacred to so many people is a blessing,” she said. “It’s time to let go of the past and look to the future.”

    ———

    For many, the swastika evokes a visceral reaction unlike any other, said Mark Pitcavage, senior research fellow at the Anti-Defamation League’s Center on Extremism who for the past 22 years has maintained the group’s hate symbols database.

    “The only symbol that would even come close to the swastika is the symbol of a hooded Klansman,” he said.

    The ADL explains the sanctity of the swastika in many faiths and cultures, and there are other lesser-known religious symbols that must be similarly contextualized, Pitcavage said. One is the Celtic cross – a traditional Christian symbol used for religious purposes and to symbolize Irish pride – which is used by a number of white supremacist and neo-Nazi groups.

    Similarly, Thor’s hammer is an important symbol for those who follow neo-Norse religions such as Asatru. But white supremacists have adopted it as well, often creating racist versions of the hammer by incorporating hate symbols such as Hitler’s hakenkreuz.

    “In the case of the swastika, Hitler polluted a symbol that was used innocuously in a variety of contexts,” Pitcavage said. “Because that meaning has become so entrenched in the West, while I believe it is possible to create some awareness, I don’t think that its association with the Nazis can be completely eliminated.”

    ———

    Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.

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  • Asian faiths try to save swastika symbol corrupted by Hitler

    Asian faiths try to save swastika symbol corrupted by Hitler

    [ad_1]

    Sheetal Deo was shocked when she got a letter from her Queens apartment building’s co-op board calling her Diwali decoration “offensive” and demanding she take it down.

    “My decoration said ‘Happy Diwali’ and had a swastika on it,” said Deo, a physician, who was celebrating the Hindu festival of lights.

    The equilateral cross with its legs bent at right angles is a millennia-old sacred symbol in Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism that represents peace and good fortune, and was also used widely by Indigenous people worldwide in a similar vein.

    But in the West, this symbol is often equated to Adolf Hitler’s hakenkreuz or the hooked cross – a symbol of hate that evokes the trauma of the Holocaust and the horrors of Nazi Germany. White supremacists, neo-Nazi groups and vandals have continued to use Hitler’s symbol to stoke fear and hate.

    Over the past decade, as the Asian diaspora has grown in North America, the call to reclaim the swastika as a sacred symbol has become louder. These minority faith communities are being joined by Native American elders whose ancestors have long used the symbol as part of healing rituals.

    Deo believes she and people of other faiths should not have to sacrifice or apologize for a sacred symbol simply because it is often conflated with its tainted version.

    “To me, that’s intolerable,” she said.

    Yet to others, the idea that the swastika could be redeemed is unthinkable.

    Holocaust survivors in particular could be re-traumatized when they see the symbol, said Shelley Rood Wernick, managing director of the Jewish Federations of North America’s Center on Holocaust Survivor Care.

    “One of the hallmarks of trauma is that it shatters a person’s sense of safety,” said Wernick, whose grandparents met at a displaced persons’ camp in Austria after World War II. “The swastika was a representation of the concept that stood for the annihilation of an entire people.”

    For her grandparents and the elderly survivors she serves, Wernick said, the symbol is the physical representation of the horrors they experienced.

    “I recognize the swastika as a symbol of hate.”

    New York-based Steven Heller, a design historian and author of “Swastika: Symbol Beyond Redemption?”, said the swastika is “a charged symbol for so many whose loved ones were criminally and brutally murdered.” Heller’s great-grandfather perished during the Holocaust.

    “A rose by any other name is a rose,” he said. “In the end it’s how a symbol affects you visually and emotionally. For many, it creates a visceral impact and that’s a fact.”

    ———

    The symbol itself dates back to prehistoric times. The word “swastika” has Sanskrit roots and means “the mark of well being.” It has been used in prayers of the Rig Veda, the oldest of Hindu scriptures. In Buddhism, the symbol is known as “manji” and signifies the Buddha’s footsteps. It is used to mark the location of Buddhist temples. In China it’s called Wàn, and denotes the universe or the manifestation and creativity of God. The swastika is carved into the Jains’ emblem representing the four types of birth an embodied soul might attain until it is eventually liberated from the cycle of birth and death. In the Zoroastrian faith, it represents the four elements – water, fire, air and earth.

    In India, the ubiquitous symbol can be seen on thresholds, drawn with vermillion and turmeric, and displayed on shop doors, vehicles, food packaging and at festivals or special occasions. Elsewhere, it has been found in the Roman catacombs, ruins in Greece and Iran, and in Ethiopian and Spanish churches.

    The swastika also was a Native American symbol used by many southwestern tribes, particularly the Navajo and Hopi. To the Navajo, it represented a whirling log, a sacred image used in healing rituals and sand paintings. Swastika motifs can be found in items carbon-dated to 15,000 years ago on display at the National Museum of the History of Ukraine as well as on artifacts recovered from the ruins of the ancient Indus Valley civilizations that flourished between 2600 and 1900 BC.

    The symbol was revived during the 19th century excavations in the ancient city of Troy by German archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann, who connected it to a shared Aryan culture across Europe and Asia. Historians believe it is this notion that made the symbol appealing to nationalist groups in Germany including the Nazi Party, which adopted it in 1920.

    In North America, in the early 20th century, swastikas made their way into ceramic tiles, architectural features, military insignia, team logos, government buildings and marketing campaigns. Coca-Cola issued a swastika pendant. Carlsberg beer bottles came etched with swastikas. The Boy Scouts handed out badges with the symbol until 1940.

    ———

    The Rev. T.K. Nakagaki said he was shocked when he first heard the swastika referred to as a “universal symbol of evil” at an interfaith conference. The New York-based Buddhist priest, who was ordained in the 750-year-old Jodoshinshu tradition of Japanese Buddhism, says when he hears the word “swastika” or “manji,” he thinks of a Buddhist temple because that is what it represents in Japan where he grew up.

    “You cannot call it a symbol of evil or (deny) other facts that have existed for hundreds of years, just because of Hitler,” he said.

    In his 2018 book titled “The Buddhist Swastika and Hitler’s Cross: Rescuing a Symbol of Peace from the Forces of Hate,” Nakagaki posits that Hitler referred to the symbol as the hooked cross or hakenkreuz. Nakagaki’s research also shows the symbol was called the hakenkreuz in U.S. newspapers until the early 1930s, when the word swastika replaced it.

    Nakagaki believes more dialogue is needed even though it will be uncomfortable.

    “This is peace work, too,” he said.

    ———

    The Coalition of Hindus of North America is one of several faith groups leading the effort to differentiate the swastika from the hakenkreuz. They supported a new California law that criminalizes the public display of the hakenkreuz — making an exception for the sacred swastika.

    Pushpita Prasad, a spokesperson for the Hindu group, called it a victory, but said the legislation unfortunately labels both Hitler’s symbol and the sacred one as swastikas.

    This is “not just an esoteric battle,” Prasad said, but an issue with real-life consequences for immigrant communities, whose members have resorted to self-censoring.

    Vikas Jain, a Cleveland physician, said he and his wife hid images containing the symbol when their children’s friends visited because “they wouldn’t know the difference.” Jain says he stands in solidarity with the Jewish community, but is sad that he cannot freely practice his Jain faith “because of this lack of understanding.”

    He noted that the global Jain emblem has a swastika in it, but the U.S. Jain community deliberately removed it from its seal. Jain wishes people would differentiate between their symbol of peace and Hitler’s swastika just as they do with the hateful burning cross symbol and Christianity’s sacred crucifix.

    ———

    Before World War II, the name “Swastika” was so popular in North America it was used to mark numerous locations. Swastika Park, a housing subdivision in Miami, was created in 1917, and still has that name. In 2020, the hamlet of Swastika, nestled in the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York, decided to keep its name after town councilors determined that it predated WWII and referred to the prosperity symbol.

    Swastika Acres, the name of a Denver housing subdivision, can be traced to the Denver Swastika Land Company. It was founded in 1908, and changed its name to Old Cherry Hills in 2019 after a unanimous city council vote. In September, the town council in Puslinch, Ontario, voted to change the name of the street Swastika Trail to Holly Trail.

    Next month, the Oregon Geographic Names Board, which supervises the naming of geographic features within the state, is set to vote to rename Swastika Mountain, a 4,197-foot butte in the Umpqua National Forest. Kerry Tymchuk, executive director of the Oregon Historical Society, said although its name can only be found on a map, it made news in January when two stranded hikers were rescued from the mountain.

    “A Eugene resident saw that news report and asked why on earth was this mountain called that in this day and age,” said Tymchuk. He said the mountain got its name in the 1900s from a neighboring ranch whose owner branded his cattle with the swastika.

    Tymchuk said the names board is set to rename Mount Swastika as Mount Halo after Chief Halito, who led the Yoncalla Kalapuya tribe in the 1800s.

    “Most people we’ve heard from associate it with Nazism,” Tymchuk said.

    ———

    For the Navajo people, the symbol, shaped like a swirl, represents the universe and life, said Patricia Anne Davis, an elder of the Choctaw and Dineh nations.

    “It was a spiritual, esoteric symbol that was woven into the Navajo rugs, until Hitler took something good and beautiful and made it twisted,” she said.

    In the early 20th century, traders encouraged Native artists to use it on their crafts; it appeared often on silver work, textiles and pottery. But after it became a Nazi symbol, representatives from the Hopi, Navajo, Apache and Tohono O’odham tribes signed a proclamation in 1940 banning its use.

    Davis views the original symbol that was used by many Indigenous people as one of peace, healing and goodness.

    “I understand the wounds and trauma that Jewish people experience when they see that symbol,” she said. “All I can do is affirm its true meaning — the one that never changed across cultures, languages and history. It’s time to restore the authentic meaning of that symbol.”

    ———

    Like Nakagaki, Jeff Kelman, a New Hampshire-based Holocaust historian, believes the hakenkreuz and swastika were distinct. Kelman who takes this message to Jewish communities, is optimistic about the symbol’s redemption because he sees his message resonating with many in his community, including Holocaust survivors.

    “When they learn an Indian girl could be named Swastika and she could be harassed in school, they understand how they should see these as two separate symbols,” he said. “No one in the Jewish community wants to see Hitler’s legacy continue to harm people.”

    Greta Elbogen, an 85-year-old Holocaust survivor whose grandmother and cousins were killed at Auschwitz, says she was surprised to learn about the symbol’s sacred past. Elbogen was born in 1938 when the Nazis forcibly annexed Austria. She went into hiding with relatives in Hungary, immigrated to the U.S. in 1956 and became a social worker.

    This new knowledge about the swastika, Elbogen said, feels liberating; she no longer fears a symbol that was used to terrorize.

    “Hearing that the swastika is beautiful and sacred to so many people is a blessing,” she said. “It’s time to let go of the past and look to the future.”

    ———

    For many, the swastika evokes a visceral reaction unlike any other, said Mark Pitcavage, senior research fellow at the Anti-Defamation League’s Center on Extremism who for the past 22 years has maintained the group’s hate symbols database.

    “The only symbol that would even come close to the swastika is the symbol of a hooded Klansman,” he said.

    The ADL explains the sanctity of the swastika in many faiths and cultures, and there are other lesser-known religious symbols that must be similarly contextualized, Pitcavage said. One is the Celtic cross – a traditional Christian symbol used for religious purposes and to symbolize Irish pride – which is used by a number of white supremacist and neo-Nazi groups.

    Similarly, Thor’s hammer is an important symbol for those who follow neo-Norse religions such as Asatru. But white supremacists have adopted it as well, often creating racist versions of the hammer by incorporating hate symbols such as Hitler’s hakenkreuz.

    “In the case of the swastika, Hitler polluted a symbol that was used innocuously in a variety of contexts,” Pitcavage said. “Because that meaning has become so entrenched in the West, while I believe it is possible to create some awareness, I don’t think that its association with the Nazis can be completely eliminated.”

    ———

    Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.

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  • Grand Canyon park changes campground name that haunted tribe

    Grand Canyon park changes campground name that haunted tribe

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    GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK, Ariz. (AP) — For years, the Indian Garden name assigned to a popular Grand Canyon campground has been a painful reminder for a Native American tribe that was displaced by the national park.

    Now, the name will finally be changed.

    The Havasupai Tribe and Grand Canyon National Park announced Monday that Indian Garden will be renamed Havasupai Gardens.

    The U.S. Board on Geographic Names gave unanimous approval this month to the request from the National Park Service on behalf of the tribe, known internationally for the towering blue-green waterfalls on its reservation.

    The area, about 4½ miles (7.2 kilometers) down the popular Bright Angel Trail on the South Rim, originally was called Ha’a Gyoh by the tribe. But by 1928, the park service had forcibly removed the last Havasupai resident from the inner canyon where his family had farmed for generations to make way for trails and a ranger station.

    The park service later built a handful of small cabins for tribal members on the South Rim. The Havasupai reservation lies deep in a gorge off the Grand Canyon and is accessible only by mule, foot or helicopter.

    “The eviction of Havasupai residents from Ha’a Gyoh coupled with the offensive name, Indian Garden, has had detrimental and lasting impacts on the Havasupai families that lived there and their descendants,” Tribal Chair Thomas Siyuja Sr. said in a statement. “The renaming of this sacred place to Havasupai Gardens will finally right that wrong.”

    Grand Canyon Superintendent Ed Keable said he is proud of the collaboration with the Havasupai Tribal Council.

    “This renaming is long overdue,” Keable said in a statement. “It is a measure of respect for the undue hardship imposed by the park on the Havasupai people.”

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  • Bison spread as Native American tribes reclaim stewardship

    Bison spread as Native American tribes reclaim stewardship

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    BADLANDS NATIONAL PARK, S.D. — Perched atop a fence at Badlands National Park, Troy Heinert peered from beneath his wide-brimmed hat into a corral where 100 wild bison awaited transfer to the Rosebud Indian Reservation.

    Descendants of bison that once roamed North America’s Great Plains by the tens of millions, the animals would soon thunder up a chute, take a truck ride across South Dakota and join one of many burgeoning herds Heinert has helped reestablish on Native American lands.

    Heinert nodded in satisfaction to a park service employee as the animals stomped their hooves and kicked up dust in the cold wind. He took a brief call from Iowa about another herd being transferred to tribes in Minnesota and Oklahoma, then spoke with a fellow trucker about yet more bison destined for Wisconsin.

    By nightfall, the last of the American buffalo shipped from Badlands were being unloaded at the Rosebud reservation, where Heinert lives. The next day, he was on the road back to Badlands to load 200 bison for another tribe, the Cheyenne River Sioux.

    Most bison in North America are in commercial herds, treated no differently than cattle.

    “Buffalo, they walk in two worlds,” Heinert said. ”Are they commercial or are they wildlife? From the tribal perspective, we’ve always deemed them as wildlife, or to take it a step further, as a relative.”

    Some 82 tribes across the U.S. — from New York to Alaska — now have more than 20,000 bison in 65 herds — and that’s been growing in recent years along with the desire among Native Americans to reclaim stewardship of an animal their ancestors lived alongside and depended upon for millennia.

    European settlers destroyed that balance when they slaughtered the great herds. Bison almost went extinct until conservationists including Teddy Roosevelt intervened to reestablish a small number of herds largely on federal lands. Native Americans were sometimes excluded from those early efforts carried out by conservation groups.

    Such groups more recently partnered with tribes, and some are now stepping aside. The long-term dream for some Native Americans: return bison on a scale rivaling herds that roamed the continent in numbers that shaped the landscape itself.

    Heinert, 50, a South Dakota state senator and director of the InterTribal Buffalo Council, views his job in practical terms: Get bison to tribes that want them, whether two animals or 200. He helps them rekindle long-neglected cultural connections, increase food security, reclaim sovereignty and improve land management. This fall, Heinert’s group has moved 2,041 bison to 22 tribes in 10 states.

    “All of these tribes relied on them at some point, whether that was for food or shelter or ceremonies. The stories that come from those tribes are unique to those tribes,” he said. “Those tribes are trying to go back to that, reestablishing that connection that was once there and was once very strong.”

    HERDS SLAUGHTERED

    Bison for centuries set rhythms of life for the Lakota Sioux and many other nomadic tribes that followed their annual migrations. Hides for clothing and teepees, bones for tools and weapons, horns for ladles, hair for rope — a steady supply of bison was fundamental.

    At so-called “buffalo jumps,” herds would be run off cliffs, then butchered over days and weeks. Archaeologists have found immense volumes of bones buried at some sites, suggesting processing on a major scale.

    European settlers and firearms brought a new level of industry to the enterprise as hunters, U.S. troops and tourists shot bison and a growing commercial market used their parts in machinery, fertilizer and clothing. By 1889, few bison remained: 10 animals in central Montana, 20 each in central Colorado and southern Wyoming, 200 in Yellowstone National Park, some 550 in northern Alberta and about 250 in zoos and private herds.

    Piles of buffalo skulls seen in haunting photos from that era illustrate an ecological and cultural disaster.

    “We wanted to populate the western half of the United States because there were so many people in the East,” U.S. Interior Secretary Deb Haaland, the first Native American cabinet member, said in an interview. “They wanted all of the Indians dead so they could take their land away.”

    The thinking at the time, she added, was “‘if we kill off the buffalo, the Indians will die. They won’t have anything to eat.’”

    HARVESTING A BULL

    The day after the bison transfer from the Badlands, Heinert’s son T.J. sprawled flat on the ground, his rifle scope fixed on a large bull bison at the Wolakota Buffalo Range. The tribal enterprise in just two years has restored about 1,000 bison to 28,000 acres (11,300 hectares) of rolling, scrub-covered hills near the Nebraska-South Dakota border.

    Pausing to pull a cactus paddle from the back of his hand, Heinert looked back through the scope. The 28-year-old had been talking all morning about the need for a perfect shot and the difficulty in 40-mile (64-kilometer) an hour winds. The first bullet went into the animal’s ear, but it lumbered away a couple hundred yards to join a larger group of bison, with the hunter following in an all-terrain vehicle.

    Two more shots, then after the animal finally went down, Heinert drove up close and put the rifle behind its ear for a final shot that stopped its thrashing. “Definitely not how it’s supposed to go,” Heinert kept repeating, disappointed it wasn’t an instant kill. “But we got him down. That’s all that matters at this point.”

    BUFFALO DREAMS

    Coinciding with widespread extermination of bison, tribes such as the Lakota were robbed of land through broken treaties that by 1889 whittled down the “Great Sioux Reservation” established in 1851 to several much smaller ones across the Dakotas. Without bison, tribal members relied on government “beef stations” that distributed meat from cattle ranches.

    The program was a boon for white ranchers. Today, Cherry County, Nebraska — along Rosebud reservation’s southern border — boasts more cattle than any other U.S. county.

    Removing fences that crisscross ranches there and opening them to bison is unlikely, but Rosebud Sioux are intent on expanding the reservation’s herds as a reliable food source.

    Others have grander visions: The Blackfeet of Montana and tribes in Alberta want to establish a “transboundary herd” ranging over the Canada border near Glacier National Park. Other tribes propose a “buffalo commons” on federal lands in central Montana where the region’s tribes could harvest animals.

    “What would it look like to have 30 million buffalo in North America again?” said Cristina Mormorunni, a Métis Indian who’s worked with the Blackfeet to restore bison.

    With so many people, houses and fences now, Haaland said there’s no going back completely. But her agency has emerged as a primary bison source, transferring more than 20,000 to tribes and tribal organizations over 20 years, typically to thin government-controlled herds so they don’t outgrow their land.

    “It’s wonderful tribes are working together on something as important as bison, that were almost lost,” Haaland said.

    Transfers sometimes draw objections from cattle ranchers who worry bison carry disease and compete for grass. Such fears long inhibited efforts to transfer Yellowstone National Park bison.

    Interior officials work with state officials make sure relocated bison meet local veterinary health requirements. But they generally don’t vaccinate the animals and handle them as little as possible.

    Bison demand from the tribes is growing, and Haaland said transfers will continue. That includes up to 1,000 being trucked this year from Badlands, Grand Canyon National Park and several national wildlife refuges. Others come from conservation groups and tribes that share surplus bison.

    “WAY OF LIFE”

    Back at Wolakota range, Daniel Eagle Road approached the bison shot by T.J. Heinert. Eagle Road rested a hand on the animal’s head. Heinert got out some chewing tobacco, tucked some behind his lip and passed the tin to Eagle Road who did the same. Heinert sprinkled tobacco along the bison’s back and prayed.

    Chains fastened around the front and hind legs, the half-ton animal was hoisted onto a flatbed truck for the bouncy ride to ranch headquarters. About 20 adults and children gathered as the bison was lowered onto a tarp, then listened solemnly to tribal elder Duane Hollow Horn Bear.

    “This relative gave of itself to us, for our livelihood, our way or life,” Horn Bear said.

    Soon the tarp was covered with bloody footprints from people butchering the animal. They quartered it, sawing through bone, then sliced meat from the legs, rump, and the animal’s huge hump. Children, some only 6, were given knives to cut away skin and fat.

    The adults took turns dipping pieces of kidney in the animal’s gall bladder bile. “Like salsa,” someone called out as others laughed.

    The stomach was washed out for use in soup. The pelt was scraped and spread on a railing to dry. The skull was cleaned and the tongue, a delicacy, cut out.

    Then came an assembly line of slicing, grinding and packaging of meat distributed to families through a food program run by the tribal agency that operates the ranch. The work lasted into the night.

    A first for many, the harvest illustrates a challenge for the Rosebud Sioux and other tribes: few people have butchering skills and cultural knowledge to establish a personal connection with bison.

    Katrina Fuller, who helped guide the butchering, dreams of training others so the reservation’s 20 communities can come to Wolakota for their own harvest. “Maybe not now, but in my lifetime,” she said. “That’s what I want for everyone.”

    Horn Bear, 73, said when he was very young his grandparents told him creation stories revolving around bison. But then he was forcibly enrolled in an Indian boarding school — government-backed institutions where tribal traditions were stamped out with beatings and other cruelties. The bison were already gone, and the schools sought to erase the stories of them too.

    Standing on the blood-spattered tarp, Horn Bear said the harvest brings back what was almost totally taken away — his people’s culture, economy, social fabric.

    “It’s like coming home to a way of life,” he said.

    ———

    Follow Matthew Brown on Twitter: @MatthewBrownAP

    ———

    Video journalist Emma H. Tobin contributed to this report.

    ———

    The Associated Press Health and Science Department receives support from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute’s Department of Science Education. The AP is solely responsible for all content.

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  • New York public schools must halt use of Native American mascots, state says

    New York public schools must halt use of Native American mascots, state says

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    The New York State Department of Education (NYSDE) Thursday ordered all public schools in the state to stop using Native American references in team names, logos and mascots by the end of the 2022-23 school year, or face penalties. 

    The order, which was announced in a memo to districts statewide, characterized the use of Native American-themed imagery in schools as discriminatory.

    “School districts that continue to utilize Native American team names, logos, and/or imagery without current approval from a recognized tribe must immediately come into compliance,” NYSDE Senior Deputy Commissioner James Baldwin wrote in the memo. 

    Schools which fail to comply will be considered in willful violation of New York’s Dignity for all Students Act, Baldwin wrote. Consequences for violating the Dignity Act include “the removal of school officers and the withholding of state aid,” the memo read. 

    The Dignity Act, signed into law in 2010, was established to provide students with a supportive school environment, free of discrimination, harassment, intimidation, taunting and bullying.  

    The concept of prohibiting Native American mascots is not new in New York. In 2001, the former commissioner of education issued a statement that such mascots could become “a barrier to building a safe and nurturing” learning environment. At the time, many school districts complied with the commissioner’s memorandum, but several others did not.

    Thursday’s order referenced a decision in a 2021 case which established that “public school districts are prohibited from utilizing Native American mascots.” In that case, the commissioner of education brought up several studies that supported the ban of Native American mascots and team names.

    A 2020 literature review cited by Baldwin’s memo found that the use of these names negatively impacted Native communities by reinforcing stereotypes. Similarly, the New York Association of School Psychologists determined that the use of Indigenous imagery caused harm to both Native and non-Native students.

    Currently, the only case in which schools can use Native imagery is if they get permission from the tribe they took the name from, the memo outlined.

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  • Washington bans fish-farming net pens, citing salmon threat

    Washington bans fish-farming net pens, citing salmon threat

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    SEATTLE — Washington banned fish-farming with net pens in state waters on Friday, citing danger to struggling native salmon.

    Public Lands Commissioner Hilary Franz issued an executive order banning the aquaculture method, which involves raising fish in large floating pens anchored in the water and has been practiced in Puget Sound for more than three decades.

    California, Oregon and Alaska have already outlawed net-pen aquaculture, and Canada is working on a plan to phase it out of British Columbia’s coastal waters by 2025. Supporters say fish-farming is an environmentally safe way to feed the world’s growing population; critics argue that it can spread disease to native stocks and degrade the environment.

    “As we’ve seen too clearly here in Washington, there is no way to safely farm fish in open sea net pens without jeopardizing our struggling native salmon,” Franz said. “I’m proud to stand with the rest of the West Coast today by saying our waters are far too important to risk for fish farming profits.”

    Salmon aquaculture is among the fastest-growing food production systems in the world, according to the World Wildlife Foundation. It accounts for about 70% of the market. In 2018 the World Resources Institute released a report that said the industry needs to more than double by 2050 to meet the seafood demands of 10 billion people.

    Since 2016, all of the net pens in Washington’s marine waters have been owned by the same company — New Brunswick, Canada-based seafood giant Cooke Aquaculture. In a statement earlier this week, after the state said it would terminate the company’s remaining leases in Puget Sound, the company said it was disappointed.

    “Environmental organizations and Commissioner Franz are choosing to ignore the fact that farm-raised fish is one of the healthiest and most efficient ways to feed the global population with a minimal environmental impact and the lowest carbon footprint of any animal protein,” Cooke said. “Farmers work closely with world-renowned scientists from academia, government, and the private sector to develop rigorous standards and implement best practices for fish health and environmental protection.”

    In 2017, a net pen operated by Cooke off Cypress Island, near the San Juan archipelago, collapsed and released 260,000 nonnative Atlantic salmon in Puget Sound. The escape prompted a frantic response by the Lummi Indian tribe, which mobilized its fishing crews to capture tens of thousands of the Atlantic salmon before they could intermingle or breed with native salmon.

    The company argued that the fish were sterile and would simply die without threatening native salmon stocks, but the Legislature responded in 2018 and banned raising nonnative fish in the pens.

    Cooke transitioned to raising native steelhead, but many Native American tribes and environmental groups, including Wild Fish Conservancy, still objected, saying that the unnaturally large clusters of farmed fish spread disease to wild populations and that their bulk feeding and excretions degrade the marine environment.

    Several studies have found that young sockeye salmon from British Columbia’s Fraser watershed were infected with higher levels of sea lice after swimming past fish pens, The Seattle Times reported. And in March, an audit revealed sea lice counts at about five times the legal limit at a farm in Clayoquot Sound on the west coast of Vancouver Island. The lice can affect salmon growth, and in severe cases, cause death.

    “It’s about the disease vectors and how that can escape into wild populations,” said Todd Woodard, natural resources director for the Samish Indian Nation. “When you say, ‘We’re raising native fish,’ native fish are not raised and reared in those kinds of concentrated environments.”

    After the 2017 collapse, Washington’s Department of Natural Resources ramped up its inspections of net pens. In Port Angeles, on the Olympic Peninsula, the department terminated a net-pen lease for failing to maintain the facility in a safe condition and operating in an unauthorized area. Cooke challenged the decision unsuccessfully in court.

    And earlier this week, the state terminated Cooke Aquaculture’s remaining net-pen leases, in Rich Passage near Bainbridge Island and near Hope Island in Skagit Bay. The company has until Dec. 14 to finish steelhead farming and to start deconstructing its equipment.

    The decision will force Cooke to kill 332,000 juvenile steelhead that were planned to be stocked at its two remaining net pens next year, the company said.

    “This is a big victory for everyone who values the Puget Sound ecosystem,” Suquamish Tribe Chairman Leonard Forsman said, according to The Seattle Times. “This action eliminates a harmful impact in our ancestral waters. The Rich Passage net pens have … blocked and polluted our fishing grounds for too long, and we are relieved to know they will be removed, restoring our waters back to a more natural state.”

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  • NY schools told to stop using Native American mascots

    NY schools told to stop using Native American mascots

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    ALBANY, N.Y. — Schools in New York state must stop using Native American references in mascots, team names and logos by the end of the current school year or face penalties including a loss of state aid, the state Department of Education said.

    “Arguments that community members support the use of such imagery or that it is ‘respectful’ to Native Americans are no longer tenable,” the department said in the memo, issued Thursday.

    “Students learn as much through observation of their surroundings as they do from direct instruction,” the memo added. “Boards of education that continue to utilize Native American mascots must reflect upon the message their choices convey to students, parents, and their communities.”

    The memo pointed to a state court’s June ruling in favor of the department over the Cambridge Central School District north of Albany, New York, which decided to stop using a Native American reference in its team name last year only to reverse itself weeks later.

    The state education department, which had issued a directive in 2001 for schools to stop using Native American imagery as soon as was practical, ordered the district to abide by its initial decision. The memo said districts that don’t have approval from a recognized tribe to continue using the imagery “must immediately come into compliance.”

    Cambridge Central filed a lawsuit over the order, which a court dismissed. The school district has said it intends to appeal.

    Native American activists have been vocal about the issue at all levels of sports from schools to professional leagues for years, and have seen some teams makes changes while others have proved resistant.

    The National Congress of American Indians considers the mascots to be harmful stereotypes. It maintains a database of K-12 schools that it says have Native American-themed mascots, puts the number at just over 1,900 schools across the country in 970 school districts, including more than 100 schools in New York.

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  • US regulators to vote on largest dam demolition in history

    US regulators to vote on largest dam demolition in history

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    PORTLAND, Ore. — The largest dam demolition and river restoration plan in the world could be close to reality Thursday as U.S. regulators vote on a plan to remove four aging hydro-electric structures, reopening hundreds of miles of California river habitat to imperiled salmon.

    The vote by the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission on the lower Klamath River dams is the last major regulatory hurdle and the biggest milestone facing a $500 million demolition proposal championed by Native American tribes and environmentalists for years.

    Approval of the application to surrender the dams’ operating license is the bedrock of the most ambitious salmon restoration plan in history, and if approved the parties overseeing the project will accept license transfer and could begin dam removal as early as this summer. More than 300 miles (482.80 kilometers) of salmon habitat in the Klamath River and its tributaries would benefit, said Amy Souers Kober, spokeswoman for American Rivers, which monitors dam removals and advocates for river restoration.

    “This is an incredibly important milestone,” she said. “This project really carries important lessons for rivers and the conservation movement, and the most important lesson is the leadership of the tribes. It’s because of the tribes that these dams will come out and the river be will restored.”

    The vote comes at a critical moment when human-caused climate change is hammering the Western United States with prolonged drought, said Tom Kiernan, president of American Rivers. He said allowing California’s second-largest river to flow naturally, and its flood plains and wetlands to function normally, would mitigate those impacts.

    “The best way of managing increasing floods and droughts is to allow the river system to be healthy and do its thing,” he said.

    “Instead of having reservoirs where a significant amount of that water evaporates, it’s better to have that river flow and allow the flood plains and wetlands filter the water and bring it down to groundwater where it doesn’t evaporate.”

    The Klamath Basin watershed covers more than 14,500 square miles (37,500 square kilometers) and the Klamath itself was once the third-largest salmon producing river on the West Coast. But the dams, constructed between 1918 and 1962, essentially cut the river in half and prevent salmon from reaching spawning grounds upstream. Consequently, salmon runs have been dwindling for years.

    Native tribes that rely on the Klamath River and its salmon for their way of life have been a driving force behind bringing the dams down. Members of the Yurok, Karuk and Hoopa tribes plan to light a bonfire and watch the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission meeting Thursday on a remote Klamath River sandbar via a satellite uplink to symbolize their hopes for the river’s renewal.

    Frankie Myers, Yurok vice chairman, told The Associated Press before the meeting that he was excited, but also anxious, about the outcome of the vote.

    “We’ve been doing this a long time and we’ve been let down so much over the last two decades,” he said. “If there’s still salmon in the water, they have a chance and we have a chance. …They will come down. They have to come down. Our existence depends on it.”

    But plans to remove the dams have been controversial.

    A group of homeowners who live around Copco Lake, one of the large reservoirs, have fought the dam removal plans for years and say the values of their lakefront homes have plummeted. A coalition formed to oppose the demolition plan argues that the money set aside to cover the demolition isn’t adequate, and that cost overruns and liability concerns would fall on the shoulders of taxpayers.

    They also question whether removing the dams will work to restore salmon because of changes in the Pacific Ocean that are also affecting the fish, said Richard Marshall, head of the Siskiyou County Water Users Association.

    “The whole question is, will this add to the increased production of salmon? It has everything to do with what’s going on in the ocean (and) we think this will turn out to be a futile effort,” he said. “Nobody’s ever tried to take care of the problem by taking care of the existing situation without just removing the dams.”

    Rate payers in the rural counties around the dams are also angered by the project, which is funded by $200 million from PacifiCorp and $250 million from a voter-approved water bond in California.

    U.S. regulators raised flags about the potential for cost overruns and liability issues in 2020, nearly killing the proposal, but Oregon, California and PacifiCorp, which operates the hydroelectric dams and is owned by billionaire Warren Buffett’s company Berkshire Hathaway, teamed up to add another $50 million in contingency funds.

    The utility would face steep costs to add fish ladders and other environmental mitigations to the outdated dams in order to renew their hydroelectric license and in recent years has diversified their energy portfolio enough to absorb the loss of the dams, the company has said.

    If regulators approve on Thursday, Oregon, California and the Klamath River Renewal Corporation — the entity formed to oversee the demolition and environmental mitigation — must sign off on the license surrender and then work can begin. Regulators could also approve it, but add further specifications, or reject it altogether.

    If approved, Copco 2, the smallest dam, could come down as early as the coming summer, said Craig Tucker, natural resources policy consultant for the Karuk Tribe. In early 2024, the reservoirs behind the dams would be slowly drawn down, with the hope of putting the river fully back in its channel by late 2024, he said.

    The scope of the project exceeds the other largest U.S. dam demolition to date, when two century-old dams were breached on the Eolwha River on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula in 2012, said Kober, of American Rivers. Environmental experts are unaware of any other river restoration project in the world with a bigger scope than the one planned for the lower Klamath, she added.

    Across the U.S., 1,951 dams have been demolished as of February, including 57 in 2021, the organization said. Most of those have come down in the past 25 years as facilities age and come up for relicensing.

    ———

    Follow Gillian Flaccus here.

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  • US House panel eyes prospect of seating Cherokee delegate

    US House panel eyes prospect of seating Cherokee delegate

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    The Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma moved a step closer on Wednesday to having a promise fulfilled from nearly 200 years ago that a delegate from the tribe be seated in Congress.

    Cherokee Nation Principal Chief Chuck Hoskin was among those who testified before the U.S. House Rules Committee, which is the first to examine the prospect of seating a Cherokee delegate in the U.S. House. Hoskin, the elected leader of the 440,000-member tribe, put the effort in motion in 2019 when he nominated Kimberly Teehee, a former adviser to President Barack Obama, to the position. The tribe’s governing council then unanimously approved her.

    The tribe’s right to a delegate is detailed in the Treaty of New Echota signed in 1835, which provided the legal basis for the forced removal of the Cherokee Nation from its ancestral homelands east of the Mississippi River and led to the Trail of Tears, but it has never been exercised. A separate treaty in 1866 affirmed this right, Hoskin said.

    “The Cherokee Nation has in fact adhered to our obligations under these treaties. I’m here to ask the United States to do the same,” Hoskin told the panel.

    Hoskin suggested to the committee that Teehee could be seated as early as this year by way of either a resolution or change in statute, and the committee’s chairman, Massachusetts Democratic Rep. James McGovern, and other members supported the idea that it could be accomplished quickly.

    “This can and should be done as quickly as possible,” McGovern said. “The history of this country is a history of broken promise after broken promise to Native American communities. This cannot be another broken promise.”

    But McGovern and other committee members, including ranking member Rep. Tom Cole of Oklahoma, a citizen of the Chickasaw Nation, acknowledged there are some questions that need to be resolved, including whether other Native American tribes are afforded similar rights and whether the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma is the proper successor to the tribe that entered into the treaty with the U.S. government.

    McGovern said he has been contacted by officials with the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma and the Delaware Nation, both of which have separate treaties with the U.S. government that call for some form of representation in Congress. McGovern also noted there also are two other federally recognized bands of Cherokee Indians that argue they should be considered successors to the 1835 treaty: the United Keetoowah Band of Cherokee Indians in Oklahoma and the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians based in North Carolina, both of which reached out to his office.

    The UKB selected its own congressional delegate, Oklahoma attorney Victoria Holland, in 2021. Holland said in an interview with The Associated Press that her tribe is a successor to the Cherokee Nation that signed the 1835 treaty, just like the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma.

    “As such, we have equal rights under all the treaties with the Cherokee people and we should be treated as siblings,” Holland said.

    Only a few Native Americans serve in Congress, including Cole and U.S. Rep. Markwayne Mullin, a citizen of the Cherokee Nation who was elected earlier this month to the U.S. Senate, where he will become the first Native American in that body in nearly 20 years.

    “As a member of the Cherokee Nation, I firmly believe the federal government must honor its trust and treaty responsibilities to Indian Nations,” Mullin said in a statement. “We are only as good as our word.”

    Members of the committee seemed to be in agreement that any delegate from the Cherokee Nation would be similar to five other delegates from the District of Columbia, Guam, the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands, American Samoa and the Virgin Islands. These delegates are assigned to committees and can submit amendments to bills, but cannot vote on the floor for final passage of bills. Puerto Rico is represented by a non-voting resident commissioner who is elected every four years.

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  • Former tribal leader gets 3 years in casino bribery case

    Former tribal leader gets 3 years in casino bribery case

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    BOSTON — The former leader of a Massachusetts Native American tribe convicted of accepting bribes including exercise equipment and a weekend stay at a luxury hotel from an architectural firm working with the tribe to build a casino has been sentenced to three years in prison.

    Cedric Cromwell, former chair of the Mashpee Wampanoags, was also sentenced in U.S. District Court in Boston on Tuesday to a year of probation and was fined $25,000, according to prosecutors.

    David DeQuattro, 56, the owner of the Rhode Island architecture and design firm, was sentenced to a year of probation under home confinement and fined $50,000.

    The Cape Cod-based tribe, which currently has about 2,600 enrolled citizens, in an impact statement signed by current Chair Brian Weeden said it has been “irreparably harmed” by Cromwell’s conduct.

    “For over 400 years, the Tribe has fought to preserve its culture, lands and protect its people from constant exploitation and oppression,” Weeden wrote. “And yet, we are now facing the ultimate betrayal by one elected and entrusted to lead and act in the best interests of our Tribal Nation and future seven generations.”

    He noted that while Cromwell was enriching himself, tribal members “struggled under the pressures of increased homelessness, unemployment, alcohol and opioid addiction, and other traumas.”

    Cromwell, 57, apologized in court.

    “I will spend the rest of my life seeking redemption,” he said, The Boston Globe reported.

    DeQuatto’s attorney called his client’s actions an “aberration.”

    Cromwell, who also was the president of the tribe’s five-member gaming authority, received $10,000 from DeQuattro in November 2015 that was deposited into an account for a company called One Nation Development LLC, which Cromwell founded to help Native tribes with economic development, prosecutors said.

    But One Nation Development had no employees and Cromwell spent the money on personal expenses, prosecutors said.

    He asked for, and received from DeQuattro and his business partner, a $1,700 home gym in August 2016, prosecutors said.

    Cromwell also asked DeQuattro to pay for a three-night stay at a luxury Boston hotel in May 2017 so he could celebrate his birthday with someone he described as a “special guest.” The stay cost $1,800, prosecutors said.

    Cromwell was convicted in May of bribery and extortion charges. DeQuattro was convicted of a bribery charge. Cromwell still faces multiple counts of filing a false tax return.

    Meanhwile, plans for the proposed $1 billion casino in Taunton remain on hold.

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  • Kevin Costner: Returning ‘Yellowstone’ is a hit on own terms

    Kevin Costner: Returning ‘Yellowstone’ is a hit on own terms

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    LOS ANGELES — While a healthy slice of America awaited Sunday’s return of the hit series “Yellowstone,” star Kevin Costner was in Moab, Utah, scouting locations for yet another Western epic, “Horizon.”

    Costner’s 60-some film credits, among them “Field of Dreams,” “The Bodyguard,” “JFK” and “Bull Durham,” are an eclectic mix of dramas, baseball-centric tales and the occasional comedy. But the West’s history and land have proven his creative bedrock.

    His breakout role came in 1985’s “Silverado,” followed by starring roles in “Dances with Wolves,” his Oscar-winning directorial debut; “Wyatt Earp,” and “Open Range,” which he also directed. He’s donning the actor-director Stetson again for “Horizon,” planned as a four-film saga about pre- and post-Civil War western migration.

    The Paramount Network’s contemporary “Yellowstone,” created by Taylor Sheridan (“Hell or High Water”), already has generated a successful prequel, “1883.” A second, “1923” (formerly titled “1932”), with Harrison Ford and Helen Mirren as its headliners, is set for a Dec. 18 release.

    In its fifth season, “Yellowstone” opens with Costner’s Montana rancher John Dutton awaiting the outcome of his reluctant run for governor — a big-swing effort to shield his family’s vast land and business against challenges from developers and empowered Native Americans.

    Dutton’s populist-style campaign promised to safeguard Montana values, or likely those that dovetail with the interests he’s gone to extremes to protect. Would Costner himself consider seeking office? “No, I don’t think so,” he said.

    In an interview with The Associated Press, he discussed why “Yellowstone” has gained a following, the series’ portrayal of Native Americans, and his long-held regard for the Western genre done right. Remarks have been edited for brevity and clarity.

    ———

    AP: When you joined Taylor Sheridan on the drama series, what made you think it could work?

    KEVIN COSTNER: I thought it had a chance to be relevant, in that this work is still going on in America and most people kind of take it for granted how stuff ends up at their dinner table. We intuitively know, and we don’t really know. The show is able to highlight at times the beauty of ranching, and it certainly talks about how difficult it is. We’re set in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and I think the idea of mountains and rivers captured people’s imagination. But it’s a working ranch. It’s how it’s still done. I think it spoke well of that, with its kind of heightened sense of drama.

    AP: While John Dutton says he’s no politician, he’s seeking power and there’s more than a suggestion he intends to use it for his own ends. How do you see the character?

    KEVIN COSTNER: He’s not naive. He’s no politician in the sense that he wants to collaborate. I think he’s capable of hearing the best idea, but he’s not looking for middle ground. It’s not how he’s conducted his life. What’s maybe good for his ranch might be good for all the rest of the ranches in Montana as well — the preservation of a way of life, less expansion. His ranch is highlighted, he says it out loud. But I think he sees this working for other ranchers.

    AP: ‘Yellowstone’ prominently includes Native Americans, as did ‘Dances with Wolves.’ How do you view the series approach to the characters?

    KEVIN COSTNER: I think they show it’s all complicated. For them, everything has been stripped away, and they’ve had this little niche called gambling and even that’s being nibbled at, being pawed over. Anytime there’s money, there’s going to be disputes no matter what culture you’re dealing with. So you see power plays inside the Native American community. You see ambition, you see selfishness. It’s really normal behavior. We might flinch at it, we might be embarrassed by it, but it exists on all levels. The political machinations of what happens on the rez (reservation) are equal to what happens on our national stage. There’s bitterness, there’s resentment. There’s good ideas, there’s bad ideas. So who gets left in the lurch? Generally speaking, it’s the people.

    AP: The series received a Screen Actors Guild nomination for best ensemble drama but has been largely overlooked by the Emmys. Could that reflect a bias against Westerns?

    KEVIN COSTNER: I’m not sure, because we’re a very verbal show. We’re not reduced to ‘yep’ and ‘nope.’ It’s very literate in its expression. You can be minimalized, you can be marginalized, you can be ignored. But we’ve been able to create a show that didn’t start out being popular but did it on its own terms.

    AP: You’ve said that watching the 1962 movie ‘How the West Was Won’ as a youngster made you a fan of the Western. What chord did it strike and why does the genre continue to resonate with you?

    KEVIN COSTNER: When it’s done well, you realize how vulnerable (people) were. We see freeways and cities now, but if you roll back about 120 years, you were out here by yourself. How you made it or didn’t would depend sometimes on your decisions and most of the time on just luck. There was no law, there was no army, we were taking away land from people that have lived there for thousands of years. I think to myself, ‘My God, what made people keep coming West?’ They sometimes didn’t share the same language, they were from different countries in Europe. When I see it in its rawest form, I’m inspired by it, I’m in awe of it. I realize that what made people cross the country was nothing but hope of something better than where they came from.

    ———

    This story corrects that the series is on the Paramount Network, not Paramount+.

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  • Game time: California to decide dual sports betting measures

    Game time: California to decide dual sports betting measures

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    LOS ANGELES — The gaming industry and Native American tribes bet big on dueling propositions to legalize sports gambling in California, pumping hundreds of millions of dollars into the most expensive ballot question campaigns in U.S. history.

    But voters casting ballots in the midterm elections that conclude Tuesday may not want a piece of that action.

    Californians have been inundated with a blast of advertisements as backers seek to legalize sports gambling by allowing it at tribal casinos and racetracks or through mobile and online wagering.

    With a multibillion-dollar market at stake, proponents raised nearly $600 million — more than 250% higher than the record amount spent in 2020 by Uber, Lyft and other app-based ride-hailing and delivery services to prevent drivers from becoming employees eligible for benefits and job protection.

    Still, preelection polls showed both ballot measures faced an uphill fight to win a majority. Should both be approved, a provision in the California Constitution calls for the one with the most votes to prevail.

    More than 30 other states allow sports betting, but gambling in California is currently limited to Native American casinos, horse tracks, card rooms and the state lottery.

    Proponents of the two initiatives propose different ways to offer sports gambling and each touts other benefits they say that will come to the state if their measure is approved.

    Proposition 26 would allow casinos and the state’s four horse tracks to offer sports betting in person. The initiative bankrolled by a coalition of tribes would also allow roulette and dice games at casinos.

    A 10% tax would help pay for enforcement of gambling laws and programs to help gambling addicts.

    Proposition 27 would would allow online and mobile sports betting for adults. Large gaming companies would have to partner with a tribe involved in gambling or tribes could enter the market on their own.

    That measure is backed by DraftKings, BetMGM, FanDuel — the latter is the official odds provider for The Associated Press — as well as other national sports betting operators and a few tribes.

    The initiative is being promoted for the funding it promises to funnel through tax revenues to help the homeless, the mentally ill and and poorer tribes that haven’t been enriched by casinos.

    The nonpartisan Legislative Analyst’s Office found that both initiatives would increase state revenues but it’s unclear by how much. Proposition 26 could bring in tens of millions of dollars while Proposition 27 could bring in hundreds of millions, the office said.

    However, that revenue could be offset if people spend their money on sports gambling instead of shopping or buying lottery tickets.

    Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom hasn’t taken a position on either proposal but has said Proposition 27 “is not a homeless initiative.”

    The California Republican Party opposes both proposals. State Democrats oppose Proposition 27, but are neutral on Proposition 26. Major League Baseball is backing Proposition 27.

    The No on Prop 26 campaign, funded largely by card rooms that stand to lose out, says the measure would give a handful of wealthy and powerful tribes “a virtual monopoly on all gaming in California.”

    The No on 27 committee says the proposal is based on deceptive promises and says the gaming companies behind it “didn’t write it for the homeless, they wrote it for themselves.”

    ———

    Follow AP’s coverage of the elections at: https://apnews.com/hub/2022-midterm-elections

    Check out https://apnews.com/hub/explaining-the-elections to learn more about the issues and factors at play in the 2022 midterm elections.

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  • Massachusetts museum returns sacred items to Sioux tribes

    Massachusetts museum returns sacred items to Sioux tribes

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    BARRE, Mass. — About 150 artifacts considered sacred by the Lakota Sioux peoples are being returned to them after being stored at a small Massachusetts museum for more than a century.

    Members of the Oglala Sioux and Cheyenne River Sioux Tribes traveled from South Dakota to take custody of the weapons, pipes, moccasins and clothing, including several items thought to have a direct link to the 1890 Wounded Knee Massacre in South Dakota.

    They had been held by the Founders Museum in Barre, Massachusetts, about 74 miles west of Boston. A public ceremony was held Saturday inside the gym at a nearby elementary school that included prayers by the Lakota representatives. The artifacts will be officially handed over during a private ceremony.

    “Ever since that Wounded Knee massacre happened, genocides have been instilled in our blood,” said Surrounded Bear, 20, who traveled to Barre from the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, according to The Boston Globe. “And for us to bring back these artifacts, that’s a step towards healing. That’s a step in the right direction.”

    The ceremony marked the culmination of repatriation efforts that had been decades in the making.

    “It was always important to me to give them back,” said Ann Meilus, president of the board at the Founders Museum. “I think the museum will be remembered for being on the right side of history for returning these items.”

    The items being returned are just a tiny fraction of an estimated 870,000 Native American artifacts — including nearly 110,000 human remains — in the possession of the nation’s most prestigious colleges, museums and even the federal government. They’re supposed to be returned to the tribes under the 1990 Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act.

    Museum officials have said that as a private institution that does not receive federal funding, the institution is not subject to NAGPRA, but returning items in its collection that belong to Indigenous tribes is the right thing to do.

    More than 200 men, women, children and elderly people were killed in the 1890 Wounded Knee Massacre on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Congress issued a formal apology to the Sioux Nation a century later for one of the nation’s worst massacres of Native Americans.

    The Barre museum acquired its Indigenous collection from Frank Root, a traveling shoe salesman who collected the items on his journeys during the 19th century, and once had a road show that rivaled P.T. Barnum’s extravaganzas, according to museum officials.

    Wendell Yellow Bull, a descendant of Wounded Knee victim Joseph Horn Cloud, has said the items will be stored at Oglala Lakota College until tribal leaders decide what to do with them.

    The items being returned to the Sioux people have all been authenticated by multiple experts, including tribal experts. The museum also has other Indigenous items not believed to have originated with the Sioux.

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  • Hoopa Valley tribe sues over water contracts in California

    Hoopa Valley tribe sues over water contracts in California

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    SACRAMENTO, Calif. — The Hoopa Valley Tribe alleged in a lawsuit Monday that the federal government is violating its sovereignty and failing to collect money from California farms that rely on federally supplied water to pay for damages to tribal fisheries.

    The tribe, which has a reservation in northwest California, says in its lawsuit against the Biden administration that the Trinity River that it relies on for food and cultural purposes has been decimated by decades of the federal government diverting water.

    The suit alleges the U.S. Department of the Interior has failed to follow laws that require the contractors who use that water to pay money for habitat restoration projects. It says those contractors owe $340 million for environmental restoration work along the Trinity River and other places that have been damaged by water diversions.

    “The river has become a place that is no longer a healing place, but a place that is a sick place,” said Jill Sherman-Warne, a member of the Hoopa tribal council.

    The suit also alleges that the federal government has failed to appropriately consult with the tribe on matters related to the river.

    The Interior Department declined to comment through spokesman Tyler Cherry.

    Since the 1950s, the Trinity River has been a major source of water for the Central Valley Project, a system of dams, reservoirs and canals that sends water south to farmers who harvest fruits, nuts and other crops. Fish that swim through the river include the coho salmon, which is listed as an endangered species. Twelve miles of the river flow through the tribe’s reservation.

    Congress updated laws governing the water project’s operation in 1992. It gave the tribe some power to concur over changes to river flows, added requirements for protecting fish in the Trinity River, and stated any renewals of long-term water contracts had to follow existing laws.

    At the end of the Obama administration, Congress passed a law saying that any temporary federal contracts for water could be turned into permanent ones. Previously, the contracts had to be reapproved on a regular basis.

    Westlands Water District, the nation’s largest agricultural water district, was one of the contractors that converted its water contract to a permanent one. The new agreement doesn’t grant Westlands any additional water or promise that it will get everything in dry years, but it effectively gives the district a right to water in perpetuity.

    The deal was controversial because David Bernhardt, a former Westlands lobbyist, was interior secretary when the contract was approved and a judge later declined to validate it. But Westlands and the federal government are still moving forward with it, Westlands spokeswoman Shelley Cartwright said.

    The suit alleges the contract fails to include requirements for habitat restoration payments. As Bernhardt left office, he wrote a memo agreeing with staff recommendations that most environmental mitigation work related to the Central Valley Project was complete.

    Daniel Cordalis, deputy solicitor for water resources in Biden’s Interior Department, later rescinded that decision. But the tribes allege the money has still not been paid. Cherry, the interior spokesman, didn’t respond to an email asking for the department’s current position on whether the work is done.

    Tribal leaders, though, say restoration work is far from complete and that the river is in dire need of help.

    “An integral part of the life here is the Trinity River. That changed dramatically in the 1950s when Congress chose to dam up the river,” said Mike Orcutt, fisheries director for the Hoopa Valley Tribe. “We’ve been fighting for decades to right that wrong.”

    Cartwright, the Westlands’ spokeswoman, said the district pays a set fee to a restoration fund based on how much water it receives. She said the district was reviewing the lawsuit and didn’t have further comment.

    The tribe initially sued during the Trump administration but withdrew the lawsuit and hoped to settle with the Biden administration. The current interior secretary is Deb Haaland, a member of the Pueblo of Laguna Tribe and the first Native American to hold a cabinet position. Tribal officials chose to refile the lawsuit because the Biden administration has not changed course, leaders said.

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