Native Americans Archives - Page 10 of 22

National Park Service Announces Grants to Help Native Americans Identify and Repatriate Human Remains, Cultural Objects

Source: Office of Public Affairs-Indian Affairs, U.S. Department of the Interior

Washington – The National Park Service today announced more than $1.5 million in grants under the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) to assist museums, Indian tribes, and Alaska native villages to document and return human remains and cultural objects to their native people.

Grants were awarded both to support the efforts of museums, Indian tribes, Alaska native villages and Native Hawaiian organizations in the documentation of NAGPRA-related objects (consultation/documentation grants), and to pay for the costs associated with the return of the remains and objects to their native people (repatriation grants). This year, 29 grants totaling $1,471,625.00 are going to 24 recipients for consultation/documentation projects, and $95,423.40 is going to eight repatriation projects.

“NAGPRA provides an opportunity to correct the mistreatment of native peoples’ ancestral dead by returning the sacred objects and cultural heritage that have been removed from their communities,” said National Park Service Director Jonathan B. Jarvis. “These grants will continue the process by which more than 10,000 Native American human remains and one million sacred objects that have been returned to tribes and Native Hawaiian organizations.

Projects funded by the grant program includes consultations to identify and affiliate individuals and cultural items, training for both museum and tribal staff on NAGPRA, digitizing collection records for consultation, consultations regarding culturally unaffiliated individuals, as well as the preparation and transport of items back to their native people.

Enacted in 1990, NAGPRA requires museums and federal agencies to inventory and identify Native American human remains and cultural items in their collections, and to consult with federally recognized Indian tribes, including Alaska Native villages, and Native Hawaiian organizations regarding the return of these objects to descendants or tribes and organizations. The Act also authorizes the Secretary of the Interior to award grants to assist in implement provisions of the Act.

For additional information regarding these awards, contact Sherry Hutt, National NAGPRA Program Manager, at 202-354-1479 or via e-mail at sherry_hutt@nps.gov.

FY2014 NAGPRA Consultation Grant Recipients
Arkansas Archaeological Society	AR	$63,946.00
Central Council Tlingit and Haida Indian Tribes of Alaska	AK	$83,180.00
University of Alaska Museum of the North	AK	$12,300.00
California State University – Sacramento, University Enterprises, Inc.	CA	$89,740.00
Elk Valley Rancheria	CA	$52,008.00
Greenville Rancheria	CA	$12,300.00
Greenville Rancheria	CA	$70,000.00
Ione Band of Miwok Indians	CA	$90,000.00
Koi Nation of California	CA	$12,300.00
Koi Nation of California	CA	$90,000.00
Marin Museum of the American Indian	CA	$12,300.00
Table Mountain Rancheria	CA	$28,480.00
Torres Martinez Desert Cahuilla Indians	CA	$12,300.00
Wiyot Tribe	CA	$90,000.00
History Colorado	CO	$53,424.00
The Field Museum – Hopi Collection	IL	$86,197.00
The Field Museum – Quinault Collection	IL	$6,000.00
Kickapoo Tribe in Kansas	KS	$12,300.00
Crow Tribe of Indians	MT	$12,300.00
Crow Tribe of Indians	MT	$40,000.00
Western New Mexico University Museum	NM	$90.000.00
Fallon Paiute Shoshone	NV	$90,000.00
Delaware Nation	OK	$87,460.00
Pawnee Nation	OK	$12,300.00
Confederated Tribes of Umatilla Indian Reservation	OR	$30,547.00
Texas Archeological Research Laboratory	TX	$90,000.00
Nooksack Indian Tribe	WA	$12,300.00
Nooksack Indian Tribe	WA	$40,000.00
Wisconsin Historical Society	WI	$89,943.00

Subtotal – consultation grants $1,471,625.00

FY2014 NAGPRA Repatriation Grant Recipients
White Mountain Apache	AZ	$15,000.00
Regents University of Colorado	CO	$14,194.00
Ball State University	IN	$5,539.00
Nottawaseppi Huron Band of the Potawatomi	MI	$15,000.00
Saginaw Chippewa Indian tribe of Michigan	MI	$8,717.00
Pyramid Lake Paiute Tribe	NV	$6,973.40
University of Wisconsin	WI	$15,000.00
Wisconsin Historical Society	WI	$15,000.00

Subtotal – repatriation grants $95,423.40

TOTAL FOR ALL GRANTS $1,567,048.40

Native Americans key to border security success

By Chuck Brooks, Contributor, The Hill

According to the most recent stats from the Pew Research Center, 11.7 million illegal aliens resided in the United States as of March 2012. To put that into perspective, there are 46 states that have a population less than 11.7 million. Fox News reported that from October 2013 to the end of May 2014, 162,000 people from countries other than Mexico have entered the U.S. across the southern border and 52,000 were unaccompanied children. This is approximately a 100 percent increase from the previous year and it is estimated that 150,000 minors might attempt to cross the border next year.

For this reason, illegal immigration, which has ties to drug smuggling and human trafficking, is continuing to get a lot of attention. In fact, according to Gallup, Americans recently cited immigration as the No. 1 issue in the U.S.; ahead of dissatisfaction with government, the general economy, unemployment/jobs and healthcare.

The cost of ignoring the problem and leaving our borders vulnerable is one that we cannot risk. The White House is unable to handle the growing issue and asked for $3.7 billion in emergency funding. Furthermore, thousands of troopers are being deployed to help protect our borders.While I believe that additional security funding is necessary, I also think there is a group that can help immensely and they should not be ignored: Native Americans.Gary Edwards, CEO of the National Native American Law Enforcement Association, states that there are 25 tribal reservations located on and/or across the U.S. borders with Canada and Mexico and 41 tribal reservations are within 100 miles of those international U.S. borders. Since Native Americans are around a large part of our borders, they are, and should continue to be, a part of our border security initiatives.

Cooperation between the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) and Native Americans has already played a significant role in our boarder security, especially in remote areas where drug smugglers and citizens try to enter the U.S. illegally. Today, more than 22,000 Native Americans serve in the Armed Forces and have the highest per capita serving in the military of any ethnic group protecting the homeland.

Additionally, the “Shadow Wolves” are Native American trackers who are part of the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Since 1972, the Shadow Wolves have been tracking aliens and drug smugglers attempting to cross the border by looking for footprints, tire tracks, items snagged on branches, bent or broken twigs or even a single fiber of cloth. Their patrol area covers 2.8 million acres and officers estimate that recently they have seized an average of 60,000 pounds of illegal drugs a year.

U.S. Customs and Border Protection and the DHS need to remember the dedication, skill set and strategic geographical intelligence that Native Americans bring to the mix. In order to create a lasting relationship that utilizes their knowledge and aptitude, tribes must have complete access to intelligence and information pertinent to border security. This is something that the government needs to ensure because uninformed tribes will not be useful when protecting the homeland.

Brooks serves as vice president/client executive for DHS at Xerox. He served in government at the DHS as the first director of legislative affairs for the science & technology directorate. He also spent six years on Capitol Hill as a senior adviser to the late Sen. Arlen Specter (R-Pa.) and was adjunct faculty member at Johns Hopkins University where he taught homeland security and Congress. Brooks has an M.A. in international relations from the University of Chicago and a B.A. in political science from DePauw University. He is widely published on the subjects of innovation, public/private partnerships, emerging technologies and issues of cybersecurity. He can be followed on Twitter @ChuckDBrooks.

Poor Oral Health Remains Major Problem Among American Indian Tribes

By Leah Martinez, Delta Dental

The Navajo Nation is the largest tribal group, and indeed, the largest reservation by land mass in the United States at 25,000 square miles. The reservation occupies the historic “Four Corners” region where the states of Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah all meet. This vast land is challenged with many obstacles and disparities. One particularly disturbing finding creates a lifelong health divide for Navajo children. They have poorer oral health. A new study from the University of Colorado shows that it remains a major problem. Preschool-age Navajo children show rates of untreated decay than are 3 to 4 times higher than their peers.

While the percentage of Navajo children with untreated tooth decay appears to have declined overall in the past decade, down from 82.9 percent in 1999, it’s still extremely high. The study is particularly concerning to Arizona, as our state has many urban and rural Native American communities. In fact, Arizona is home to 22 Federally recognized Indian tribes. Additionally, the city of Phoenix is home to more than 43,700 Tribal members, making it the U.S. city with the third highest number of Native Americans.

Published in the Journal of Public Health Dentistry, the study looked at a large and broad group of 981 children enrolled in Head Start. The study showed that 69.5 percent of Navajo children have untreated tooth decay which is extremely high when compared to the 20.48 percent to the national average among all other racial and ethnic groups.

There are multiple factors contributing to this severe rate of dental decay in young Navajo children including the physical and social environments, health behaviors and access to dental services. Access to services is difficult as the Navajo Nation only has 22 dental clinics for its 225,639 residents, making its dentist-to-patient ratio the lowest in the country. The lack of public transportation also plays a key role in many rural and isolated areas.

The study suggests that a multi-prong approach to reducing dental disease for Navajo children could include effective preventive services paired with culturally appropriate oral health instruction and easier access to dental care.

Download the full study here: RC2BaselinePaper (1)

Native Americans rally to protect the Salish Sea

10341663_532813593514925_802681978943181012_n — Supporters raise their fists in solidarity to protect our Salish Sea, our Puget Sound waters. Photo: K. Kalliber

By Kim Kalliber, Tulalip News

Crowds of peaceful supporters came together at Seattle’s Sculpture Park on Monday, August 11, standing in solidarity to protect the Salish Sea and decrease oil train traffic in the Northwest. Proposed terminals include Cherry Point, located on the Lummi Nation’s sacred grounds.

After welcoming friends that arrived from water and land, members of the Duwamish tribe led the group in a healing song for the waters.

Native Americans, environmental groups and concerned citizens joined in the opposition with singing, dancing, prayer and strong words.

Water is one of the first things to go,” said Michael Evans, Snohomish Tribe of Indians Chairman. “We’ve already noticed that some of the fish are starting to die. If the fish can’t live in the fresh water, neither can man. We really need to pay attention to what we are doing to ourselves and to the land, it all affects the Salish Sea.”

One young supporter at the event said it was “all about Indian solidarity” and stressed the importance of standing together to oppose the increase of fossil fuels in our Puget Sound waters.

Monday’s rally was organized by Idle No More Washington, 350 Seattle, Protect the Sacred and Backbone Campaign.

Power To The (Native) Peoples

Joe Pakootas wants to become the first Native American to represent Washington

By Nathan Thornburgh, ALJAZEERA AMERICA

Candidate Joe Pakootas, center, walks with his family in the Perry Street Parade in Spokane, Washington July 26, 2014. Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America

Editor’s note: This is the second in a series of profiles of people running for office in America who are unlikely to win, but who believe so strongly in their cause that they still try. The first profile, on Bruce Skarin’s efforts in Massachusetts, can be read here.

SPOKANE, Wash. — Ever since Lewis and Clark rolled down the mighty Columbia with a presidential writ, politicians and the judges they appoint have controlled the fortunes of Joe Pakootas’ people. Executive orders confined his ancestors to the Colville Reservation, acts of Congress deprived them of gold-rich foothills, and federal judges ruled from afar about their basic rights as Americans. Now, for the first time ever, a registered tribal member is making a serious bid to represent the people of Washington state’s 5th District in Congress. Running against incumbent Cathy McMorris Rodgers is none other than Joe Pakootas.

It is a tough challenge. Not only is Pakootas (pronounced pah-KOH-tas) running as a Democrat in a deeply conservative district, but his main opponent is also the kind of blandly affirmative incumbent who is particularly hard to unseat. McMorris Rodgers is running for her sixth term and is the fourth-ranking House Republican. She’s a hard worker with unexceptional views and an up-by-her-bootstraps biography (first in her family to earn a college degree, worked at McDonald’s to pay her way through school) that she can wield smoothly, as she did when she gave the GOP’s response to the State of the Union address in January. She has raised a tremendous amount of money without much visible effort and won’t really begin campaigning in the district until after the Aug. 5 multiparty primary, in which the top two candidates (regardless of party) advance to the November ballot.

Pakootas speaks at the Stevens County 7th District Picnic in Chewelah, Washington, July 26, 2014. Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America

The only Democrat running (the other two candidates are a Tea Party Republican and an independent), Pakootas has still had to work very hard just to have a chance in the primary. Running as a Democrat in the 5th District is, as one organizer put it, “taking one for the party,” and the Democrats in Spokane had to convince Pakootas, the chief operating officer (CEO) of the Colville Tribal Federal Corp., which manages tribal business and brought in $86 million in gross revenue last year, that he should accept the challenge. The Native population can’t deliver many votes (there are just over 9,000 registered Colville members, the largest Native group in the district), but Democratic Party officials saw Pakootas’ potential to be a rare crossover figure.

Pakootas, 57, has an undeniably compelling story. Like his opponent, he comes from humble roots. McMorris Rodgers’ father owned an orchard in small-town Kettle Falls and had political aspirations of his own. Pakootas had a somewhat rougher road: he was born on the reservation and was a ward of the state by the time he was in the second grade. He and six of his seven siblings were sent to live with a foster family on a dairy farm off the reservation; it was three years before they were reunited with their parents. The only one of his siblings who didn’t grow up to be an alcoholic or drug addict was an older brother who died in a motorcycle accident as a teenager. Pakootas himself was a star athlete in high school, but he “went the path of drinking,” as he puts it, for a couple years. By the time he straightened out, his athletic career was derailed, and he was married, with a child on the way.

The candidate surveys damage at the Rainbow Beach Resort, one of the businesses he supervises as the CEO of the Colville Tribal Federal Corporation. Cabins at the resort, located on the Colville Indian Reservation, were destroyed by a storm with heavy winds.Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America

That he managed to become the man he is today — the Colville CEO who helped turn around tribal finances and helped lead a successful lawsuit against a Canadian mining firm that was polluting the Columbia River — is a testament to his character. For the first time in its history, the Colville Corp. is managed entirely by Native Americans, from Washington state and beyond. Pakootas has instituted a more Native-friendly culture for the employees, including things like extended leave for root-gathering season in the spring. He has also cut waste by shuttering unprofitable mills and houseboat concessions owned by the tribe, while focusing on profitable casinos and the next great hope for the tribe’s future growth: luring corporations by offering offshore-style tax concessions on the reservation. He credits his time in foster care with helping him be at ease with non-Native culture, and he worked his way up in industries — construction and later drilling and blasting — that were at times downright hostile to Native Americans. And he’s done all this while running a successful convenience store in his hometown of Inchelium. He’s been married for 38 years to his high school sweetheart; they have four children and six beautiful grandkids.

But having a great story isn’t the same as being able to tell it glibly on command. Over lunch at the gilded Davenport Hotel, in downtown Spokane, Pakootas is disarmingly thoughtful and honest. He’ll tell you about why he wears a Livestrong bracelet (for the friends and family he lost to cancer). He’ll explain that the End of the Trail pendant, based on the iconic James Earle Fraser sculpture of the plains Native American slumped in the saddle, is around his neck because it was his deceased brother’s favorite artwork: “[his death] is constantly with me,” he says. And if you ask about the aplastic anemia bracelet on his other arm, he’ll start to cry: he lost a 6-year-old niece to the disease.

That emotional honesty is not just his own personality, he says later; it is also Native culture. One of the human-resources reforms he instituted as CEO was to allow a more flexible bereavement schedule for employees. “Non-Indians can take an afternoon off for a funeral,” Pakootas says. “But we need a week, maybe two. We need time.”

Pakootas and his family prepare to walk in the Perry Street Parade. Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America

Native culture is, in some ways, at odds with the two main chores of electioneering: self-promotion and fundraising. “That’s the worst part for me,” he says. “I never could talk about myself. I never could grovel for money, and I guess that’s kind of what we’re doing,” he says, laughing. When he ran for the tribal council, he did a lot of door-to-door politicking, which was fine, but “out here it’s all about money. And I’m not very good at it.”

Susan Brudnicki, an energetic former federal employee who is managing Pakootas’ campaign, has done everything short of locking him in a room with a phone and a call list for fundraising. Like his opponent, he has gone far outside the district for money. But he hasn’t had her success. “There are 566 tribes in the United States,” he says. “And I’ve called 80 percent of them.” He knows many of their leaders from as far back as the days when he played in rez-ball high-school-basketball tournaments all over the country. The Colville and Spokane tribes have given the maximum amount, but turning that farther-flung network into money has proved difficult. “They say the same thing you hear from non-Indians,” he says. “They say it’s not a winnable race.”

Taking a phone call after the Parade in Spokane. Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America

Native groups are active in politics in the gaming era, but more as tactical donors, not as boosters for Native candidates. That could explain, in part, why there are so few Native Americans running for federal office. Pakootas says he talked briefly with a Native congressional candidate in Minnesota who later dropped out of the race. There are two Republican legislators from Oklahoma with Native roots, but through the ages, the list of Native American politicians is woefully thin.

The end result is this: even with the money raised from Native American groups and tribes, Pakootas has raised less than $100,000. McMorris Rodgers has raised more than $2 million. That leaves retail politics. Brudnicki got Pakootas to start seeing a speech coach, to help him take the “ain’ts” and “innits” out of his sentences. But the nerves are harder to conquer; he carries around a moisturizing mouth spray — “my go-get-’em juice,” he jokes — for dry mouth, which plagues him when he speaks in public.

Outside of Pakootas' office in Spokane. Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America — Outside of Pakootas’ office in Spokane. Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America

At a candidate forum hosted by the advocacy group in the Business and Professional Women’s Foundation in a school cafeteria in Republic, Washington, more than two hours northwest of Spokane, Pakootas is impeccably turned out in a blue suit with blue tie. Most of the other candidates and the hundred or so attendees are dressed in jeans and T-shirts and the like. Everyone in the room except Pakootas is Caucasian, from the two policemen wearing military-grade body armor to the nervous guy who asks the candidates who’s going to put a check on the environmentalists.

Pakootas certainly looks like a politician: smooth skin, strong jaw, and good hair. (One political consultant who normally advises against using candidate pictures on billboards had a change of heart upon meeting Pakootas face to face.) But his delivery still needs work. He starts answers strong enough, citing statistics about rising poverty in the district and defending the role of government in creating jobs. But he tends to flee at the end of his answers, to talk quickly and then sit quickly.

Pakootas jokes with his son-in-law, left and daughter. Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America

McMorris Rodgers isn’t there, but the other two opponents are, and they fare no better. Dave Wilson, a successful Spokane businessman running as an independent, promises to “end the gridlock” without coming close to articulating how. Tom Horne, a conservative Republican, follows that by huffing that gridlock in Washington is the whole point: “It keeps things from getting worse faster.” When the break comes, Pakootas retreats to the back of the room, near the table where the lemonade and brownies are being served, and makes small talk with Brudnicki and a few of his volunteers until it’s time to go.

The crowd is much smaller the next evening in Colville, the seat of Stevens County, an area that one resident calls a “biker-gang retirement community.” Colville is also ranching and logging country, and there’s a deeply Western conservatism here. Fewer than two dozen people have shown up for the Pakootas “town hall” at the pavilion in Yep Kanum Park, and the crowd looks somehow even smaller under the tall trees. But the Democrats who are here are true believers, both in progressivism and in this candidate. The owner of the local window shop thanks Pakootas for running. Walt Kloefkorn, the Washington state coordinator for Progressive Democrats of America, rattles off a list of Democratic candidates from prior elections, all unserious or underqualified in some way. “I think Joe’s one of the best Democratic candidates in years,” he says.

And it’s true: in the smaller crowd, much more receptive to his set menu of pro-choice, pro-environment policies, Pakootas is at ease. Speaking into a small mic attached to a portable amp Brudnicki brought, he tells jokes and gets laughs. He tells his own story with a bit more polish than the night before.

After the speech, the Rev. Jim CastroLang of the local United Church of Christ comes over and shakes Pakootas’ hand. He congratulates the candidate on staying upbeat, despite the odds. “You know how it goes,” he says. “You can’t win — until you do.”

A Pakootas supporter wears the candidate's buttons. Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America — A Pakootas supporter wears the candidate’s buttons. Ian C. Bates for Al Jazeera America

This series is produced in partnership with Roads & Kingdoms.

Want to support clean energy? Fight for voting rights

By Brentin Mock and Jacqueline Patterson, Grist

As Jelani Cobb wrote recently in The New Yorker: “The past year has offered an odd object lesson in historical redundancy. The 50th anniversaries of major points in the civil-rights movement tick by at the same time that Supreme Court decisions and political maneuvering in state legislatures offer reminders of what, exactly, the movement fought against.”

The most recognizable example of what Cobb is referring to is the U.S. Supreme Court’s 2013 Shelby v. Holder decision, which severely weakened the heralded Voting Rights Act just weeks before we recognized the 50th anniversary of the historic March on Washington that made the civil rights law possible. Earlier this month, we recognized the 50th of the Civil Rights Act, and next year will mark the half-century mark of the Voting Rights Act itself. And yet equal protection for people of color seems to be moving backwards.

Why should this matter to the average white (green) American? Well, for many reasons. But one of them is this: In our ever-browning America, empowering black and brown voters is absolutely necessary to make the transition to clean energy.

Consider that only 51 percent of American voters “strongly” prefer clean energy investments, according to a recent Sierra Club survey, but preference is significantly higher among African-American voters (77 percent) and Latino voters (71 percent). A Yale study found that African Americans and Latinos are more likely than whites to require electric utilities to produce at least 20 percent — a modest sum — of energy load from wind or solar, even if that would increase electric bills.

And yet it’s white men who exercise most of the power over the current coal-based economy – via their places on corporate boards, their positions in politics, and, on the local and state level, where they make up the bulk of public utility and service commissioners. The utility commissioners (who are usually elected or appointed) regulate the corporate-owned utility industries, determine electricity costs and, in some cases, decide where power plants can be built.

These utility commissioners will play a critical role in hammering out the details of the Environmental Protection Agency’s recently announced regulations for coal-fired power plants. Yet, many of them do not look like the residents that the utilities serve. According to a study from the Minority and Media Telecom Council, 33 state public utility commissions (64.7 percent) do not have a single minority member — that includes Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, and South Carolina, the states with the highest concentration of black residents.

We also see this whiteout at the federal level, where the number of people of color serving in the U.S. House and Senate energy committees are but a handful.

You can chalk this lack of diversity up to the kind of patronage and cronyism that has preserved these powerful roles for white men — a function of white supremacy. You can also credit voter suppression and intimidation, which happen even in local utility district elections. In fact, such shenanigans are harder to detect in these smaller races that don’t draw the same kind of media spotlight as a gubernatorial or presidential race. In the 1980s and 1990s, when African Americans built multiracial coalitions to diversify local utility boards and electricity co-ops throughout the South, white officials secretly changed election rules to disqualify their votes (read more on this here).

Other examples:

● In 2000, the Department of Justice filed a voting rights complaint against the Upper San Gabriel Valley Municipal Water District in Los Angeles County, Calif., for redrawing district lines so that the Latino voting populations would be diluted across the district.

● In 2008, Texas proposed to change its qualification requirements for candidates running for water supply district supervisor so that only landowners would be eligible, which ruled out a number of Latino Americans seeking candidacy and some who were already supervisors.

● Also in 2008, the North Austin Municipal Utility District v. Holder case, which the U.S. Supreme Court almost used to dismantle the Voting Rights Act, involved elections for positions that control utility, land, and water resources.

These cases show how racial disenfranchisement drains power, energy, and resources from people of color, which is why Voting Rights Act protections are so essential.

People are taking action despite these problems. Latino Americans are campaigning to defeat a proposal from the Public Service Company of New Mexico, which wants to build more coal and nuclear energy stations. In Arizona, Latinos are campaigning to encourage the Salt River Project public utility board to increase solar and wind energy generation. In South Carolina, Rev. Leo Woodberry is leading an environmental justice effort to work on the state’s implementation plans for the new power plant regulations, with an emphasis on making sure electricity rates remain affordable and accessible for low-income customers.

Understand, it’s not only that we need more black and brown utility commissioners. But voters need to ensure that commissioners of any race represent their clean energy values. Last year in Georgia, a multi-racial band of clean energy advocates teamed with the not-so-colorful Tea Party to force Georgia Power Company to increase solar-based energy production. The coalition did this by appealing to the Georgia Public Service Commission. There has been only one African American and one woman who’ve served on Georgia’s Public Service Commission in its 133 years, both of them elected in the 21st century.

These are laudable campaigns, but ultimately it will require African-American, Native-American, and Latino American voters being able to vote fairly and freely — and also to be able to serve on these boards — to ensure that those paying the highest costs for our fossil fuel addiction have a voice in securing a clean energy future. For all Americans who want the same for their future, the way to act is to support strengthening voting rights protections across the nation.

Brentin Mock is Grist’s justice editor. Follow him on Twitter at @brentinmock.

Colleges aim to attract more Native American students

Colleges are introducing new programs targeting prospective Native American students, hoping to show that higher education and their cultural identities can complement each other.

Few Native Americans go to college and most of those who do never graduate. To improve those statistics, more colleges are offering camps where teens from different tribes are exposed to college life. In this image, Native American, Brandon Duran plays during a drum circle before workshop sessions at University of California, Riverside on Thursday, June 26. Photo/ Chris Carlson, AP — Few Native Americans go to college and most of those who do never graduate. To improve those statistics, more colleges are offering camps where teens from different tribes are exposed to college life. In this image, Native American, Brandon Duran plays during a drum circle before workshop sessions at University of California, Riverside on Thursday, June 26.
Photo/ Chris Carlson, AP

By Krysta Fauria, Associated Press

Elijah Watson knows he wants to go to college. He also knows that it will be difficult to leave home on the Navajo reservation if he does.

The 17-year-old was reminded of the tough decision he’ll face next year when he participated in a weeklong celebration in March of his cousin’s Kinaalda, a hallowed Navajo ceremony marking a girl’s transition into womanhood.

“I’m afraid because it’s really hard to leave my family,” he said, noting that college would mean he’d be away from taking part in the same rite for his little sister and participating in other important tribal ceremonies.

To reach students like Watson with higher education aspirations, a growing number of universities are offering programs to recruit and prepare Native American students for a transition to college life that can bring on a wrenching emotional conflict as they straddle two worlds.

Many young Native Americans find themselves divided by their desire for a higher education and the drive to stay close to home to hold onto a critical part of their identity. Sometimes, families discourage children from pursuing college, fearing once they leave the reservation they won’t come back.

That was the case with Watson’s mother — his grandmother encouraged her to stay home and carry on the family tradition of pottery-making.

“These students could be in a classroom with hundreds of kids and no one will be like them so it’s really good for these programs to pull all of these kids together,” said Ahniwake Rose, the director of the National Indian Education Association.

“Moving to college for these kids is taking them so far away from their homes. On top of that, we still have so many first generation students and their parents can’t give them any idea of what college is like,” Ms. Rose said.

Dozens have implemented mini-college boot camps, including the University of California, Los Angeles, Yale, and Duke. Last week, Watson found himself at the University of California, Riverside, where he was joined by other students, including some as young as 12.

The programs challenge the idea that tribal customs and higher education don’t mix, said Joshua Gonzalez, the director of Native American Student Programs at the university 60 miles east of Los Angeles and hundreds of miles from Watson’s home on the Navajo Nation.

Throughout their week at Riverside, students got a taste of the college experience by attending classroom lectures, eating in the cafeteria and sleeping in the dorms. The 30 students also participated in cultural activities like prayer circles and beading workshops.

“We encourage having your culture and traditions as well as academics,” said Mr. Gonzalez, whose program has a roughly 90 percent success rate in getting Native Americans to go to college.

“To be able to know your language, to be able to sing the songs, to know the creation stories — those are things that are really important,” he said.

Upon completion of Riverside’s program, students are given access to the university’s resources and staff to assist with the application process.

Pamela Agoyo, the director of American Indian Student Services at the University of New Mexico, said many programs are introducing kids to the idea of college as early as middle school to give them the time to embrace the possibility and plan for it.

“Institutions are realizing that you don’t start planning for college your freshman year of college,” Ms. Agoyo said, noting that students need to plan and prepare for their experience beforehand.

Rose said the boot camps are critical to college success because they help identify peers and mentors who can guide students through rough patches.

Few go on to college and when they do, most drop out.

Only 12 percent of Native Americans between 25 and 34 have four-year degrees, compared to 37 percent of whites, according to a 2012 report by the National Center for Education Statistics. Of the students who do go to college, less than 40 percent graduate, compared to 60 percent of whites.

Jordan Thomas, a member of the Lummi Tribe, attended Riverside’s program and will be a freshman there this fall. She was born on a reservation in Washington state and at age 2 moved with her family to Southern California because there were more educational opportunities.

Lummi cultural traditions are important to her family — she once missed eight weeks of middle school to attend her grandfather’s burial ceremony — and the Riverside program gave her confidence that she can attend school and not lose her Native American identity.

“I learned that it’s all about balance,” she said. “This program has truly helped me.”

Native American health insurance enrollment surges in South Dakota, but some remain skeptical

In this July 10, 2014 photo, Denise Mesteth poses outside the powwow grounds in Pine Ridge, S.D. Mesteth is a member of the Oglala Sioux Tribe, born and raised on the Pine Ridge reservation. She has signed up for health insurance through the federal marketplace. (AP Photo/Nora Hertel)

By NORA HERTEL Associated Press

PINE RIDGE, South Dakota — Denise Mesteth signed up for new health insurance through the federal Affordable Care Act, despite concerns that it may not be worth the money for her and other Native Americans who otherwise rely on free government coverage.

Mesteth, who has a heart murmur and requires medication and regular blood work, said she’s cautiously optimistic that the federal insurance will be superior to what she has now. Many other American Indians have been more reluctant to enroll, choosing instead to continue relying on the Indian Health Service for their coverage and taking advantage of a clause in the federal health reform law that allows them to be exempt from the insurance mandate if they meet certain requirements.

“If it’s better services, then I’m OK,” Masteth said of ACA. “But it better be better.”

Mesteth and other American Indians in South Dakota account for 2.5 percent of the people in the state who have signed up for insurance under the federal health care law, according to the latest signup numbers. The state, with nearly 9 percent of its overall population Native American, ranks third for the percentage of enrollees who are American Indian among U.S. states using the federal marketplace.

The Great Plains Tribal Chairmen’s Health Board, which provides support and health care advocacy to tribes, received $264,000 to help Native Americans in South Dakota navigate the new insurance marketplace.

Tinka Duran, program coordinator for the board, said people are primarily concerned about the costs of enrolling. Insurance is a new concept to most because health care has always been free, she said.

“There’s a learning curve for figuring out co-pays and deductibles,” she said.

During a U.S. Senate Indian Affairs Committee hearing in May, tribal leaders chastised IHS as a bloated bureaucracy unable to fulfill its core duty of providing health care for more than 2 million Native Americans and Alaska Natives. IHS acting director Yvette Roubideaux said changes were underway but that more money will be needed than the $4.4 billion the agency receives each year.

She noted that federal health care spending on Native Americans lags far behind spending on other groups such as federal employees, who receive almost twice as much on a per-capita basis. Meanwhile, American Indians suffer from higher rates of substance abuse, assault, diabetes and a slew of other ailments compared to most of the population.

Native Americans and Alaska Natives are exempt from the health insurance mandate if they meet certain requirements. ACA also permanently reauthorized the Indian Health Care Improvement Act and authorized new programs for IHS, which also is starting to get funds from the Veterans Affairs Department to help native veterans.

When American Indians do obtain insurance, it means fewer people are tapping the IHS budget, said Raho Ortiz, director of the IHS Division of Business Office Enhancement.

“If more of our patients have health insurance or are enrolled in Medicaid, this means that more resources are available locally for all of our patients,” Ortiz said in an emailed statement. “This, in turn, allows scarce resources to be stretched further.”

Those who sign up for federal health care can still use IHS facilities but have the option of seeking health care elsewhere, Ortiz said.

State Democratic Sen. Jim Bradford is among the skeptics. The Oglala Sioux member lives on the Pine Ridge reservation, home to two of the poorest counties in the nation.

The U.S. government provides health care to Native Americans as part of its trust responsibility to tribes that gave up their land when the country was being formed. Bradford and others object to the shift in health care providers on the principle that IHS is obligated by treaty to supply that care.

Harriett Jennesse, a member of the Lower Brule Sioux Tribe who lives in Rapid City, said she already has seen the benefits of the new health insurance and doesn’t mind paying a little out of pocket.

Jennesse said she put off treatment for a painful bone chip in her elbow after IHS denied a doctor’s referral to a specialist on grounds that it wasn’t an urgent enough need. She’s now seeing a specialist for dislocation in her other elbow and will also try to get the bone chip fixed when the other arm heals.

Abuse and Neglect: The Toxic Lives of Drug Endangered Children

Lorraine Jessepe, Indian Country Today

An 8-month-old baby drowns in the bathtub while his father gets high smoking marijuana with friends. A baby girl is barricaded inside her playpen, ignored while her parents party with friends. A grade school boy wanders the early morning streets alone in his Halloween costume, not knowing how to get to his school party because his mother is at home, passed out on drugs.

In her 20 years of experience in law enforcement, Lori Moriarty has seen heartrending stories of children like these caught in the cycle of substance abuse—the root cause of child abuse and neglect.

Moriarty spoke to a gathering of about 150 tribal officials, law enforcement officers, educators, attorneys and victims’ advocates on developing a successful collaborative response to drug endangered children at the 2014 Indian Country Conference, July 16-17 at Prairie Band Casino and Resort in Mayetta, Kansas. “I’m going to tell you today,” Moriarty said, “children plus drugs equals risk.”

Today, Moriarty serves as vice-president of the National Alliance for Drug Endangered Children in Westminster, Colorado, an organization working to break the cycle of child abuse and neglect by empowering practitioners to identify and respond to children living in dangerous drug environments.

The NADEC defines drug endangered children as children who are at risk of suffering physical or emotional harm as a result of illegal drug use, possession, manufacturing, cultivation or distribution. They may also be children whose caretaker’s substance misuse interferes with the caretaker’s ability to parent and provide a safe and nurturing environment.

In Indian country, American Indian/Alaskan Native children experience child abuse and neglect at much higher rates than their non-Native peers, according to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

“Why are we not looking for the kids?”

Moriarty said one of the biggest challenges of substance abuse and drug endangered children has been competing goals between law enforcement and child welfare advocates. While the goal for child welfare advocates may be family reunification, law enforcement’s primary focus has been arrests and seizures. “Why are we not looking for the kids?”

After a parent is arrested, children are placed in foster care, which can also prove traumatic for the child. “I want us to have a common vision,” Moriarty said. “Where do we come together?”

Moriarty pointed to FBI statistics that indicated an illegal drug arrest is made in the U.S. every 21 seconds. In 2011 alone, 1.5 million drug arrests were made. For Moriarty, the big question is this: How many children were associated with the arrestees?

In 2005, for example, Moriarty said the North Metro Drug Task Force in Adams County, Colorado made 88 arrests. Of those 88 arrests, 137 kids were associated with the arrestees.

According to a 2005 study by the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse, 9.2 million children live in homes where parents or other adults in the home engage in substance abuse. Substance abuse in the home is a huge stressor in a child’s life, Moriarty said. “It’s called toxic stress.”

The Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University defines toxic stress in kids as frequent, prolonged adversity, such as exposure to violence and substance abuse, without adequate adult support. This can have long-term negative consequences in children’s lives.

Drug endangered children are at risk to develop emotional, behavioral and cognitive issues such as problems with language development, poor memory and the inability to learn from mistakes. They also have a higher risk of becoming substance abusers themselves.

Moriarty said children who suffer child abuse and neglect are 59 percent more likely to be arrested as juveniles, 28 percent more likely to be arrested as adults, and 30 percent more likely to commit violent crimes.

A Collaborative Mindset

Early intervention and developing a collaborative mindset increases the likelihood of breaking the cycle of abuse and neglect. Moriarty told conference attendees that a collaborative mindset involves the exchange of information between law enforcement, child protective services, judicial, emergency and medical providers to make each other stronger. “Let’s not have that next generation wanting to use,” she said. “We have to start sharing information,”

On that note, Daniel Goombi (Kiowa-Apache), Tribal Victim Services advocate for the Prairie Band Potawatomi, said good communication and knowing the cultural dynamics of small, Native communities is crucial. “Everything we do is about relationships,” Goombi said. “You have to know the people you’re working with.”

Although social change may take decades, Moriarty said the goal in Indian country should be 100 percent healthy, happy and safe children. “These kids are resilient. Don’t ever forget that. We can make a difference in their lives.”

Native American basketball players show who’s got game

The Rez Runners’ Hunter Osceola dribbles against Cheyenne Arapaho’s Kiahree Kerns in an early round of the Native American Basketball Invitational.Mark Henle for Al Jazeera America

By Tristan Ahtone, ALJAZEERA America

PHOENIX — Coach Andrew Bowers was exhorting his players on the court at the US Airways Stadium, his voice cutting through the din of cheering spectators, the squeaks of basketball shoes, the shrill blasts of the referee’s whistle.

“Defense!’’ he roared. “Lock it up! Lock it up! Lock it up!’’

The 18,422-seat stadium is the home of the Phoenix Mercury, a Women’s National Basketball Association franchise. But that wasn’t the team on the court. Bowers is the coach for the Rez Runners, a team of young men from the Seminole, Miccosukee and Winnebago tribes from Hollywood, Florida, where their home court has an audience capacity of just about 200.

By halftime on Saturday, they were tied 31-31 against the Cheyenne Arapaho team in the final game for the gold championship at the Native American Basketball Invitational (NABI).

The Cheyenne Arapaho, representing the tribe of the same name from Oklahoma, have been NABI champions five times. The Rez Runners had made it to the quarterfinals before but never this close to the big prize.

The two teams knew each other. Well.

“It’s a rivalry. It’s not friendly at all,” said Trewston Pierce, an 18-year-old Seminole tribal member and a Rez Runner. “We’re looking to smash ’em.”

At halftime, a victory for Pierce and the Rez Runners was fragile but within grasp.

For five days every July, 128 high school teams from the United States, Canada and New Zealand compete in the nation’s largest Native basketball tournament. The prizes: a trophy, T-shirts, hats and — most important — bragging rights.

For many in Indian Country, basketball is the game of the gods, just as hockey is to many Canadians or soccer to many Brazilians. It’s not clear how it gained such a foothold or why — it just is — but it does have a style and name among those who have been initiated: Rez Ball.

“We’ve been playing this way for decades,” said Tahnee Robinson. “It’s in our blood.”

Robinson was the first Native American drafted into the WNBA, after a fruitful career playing college ball in Nevada, and has been playing professionally overseas the last few years — Israel, Bulgaria, Ukraine, China and now Poland.

“Depending on where you go overseas, they play a fast pace, and some other places they like to really play with more finesse and set the ball up and things like that,” she said. “Rez Ball is a fast-paced game where anybody on the court can bring up the ball at any time.”

Guards, shooting guards, posts, forwards — it doesn’t matter what your position is; in Rez Ball, anyone can take the ball up, and everyone is on the hook to pass, break and rebound.

“It’s just good court sense,” said Robinson. “Just knowing that that person is going to be there without you even having to look.”

In other words, Rez Ball is more democratic — or more chaotic, depending on how you want to look at it.

Coach “Big John” Andreas, center, celebrates with his team, Apache Nation, after it defeated Brotherhood, representing the Winnebago tribe, 43-42, in the first round of play.Mark Henle for Al Jazeera America

The air conditioning roared in the modest Phoenix College gymnasium. Outside, the temperature hovered in the triple digits, but inside, brown faces and black hair filled the stands as Northern Thunder squared off against NN Lady Magic for the title of Girls Silver Champion.

“A lot of people in Indian Country love basketball,” said John Andreas, a coach from White Mountain Apache, Arizona. “It’s a part of life. Navajos, they herd sheep. Cowboys they get the cows together. Natives, they love to play basketball. That’s just the way it is.”

In many ways, the NABI is like Gathering of Nations or even Indian National Finals Rodeo: Teams, spectators and families get together to mingle, catch up and support.

“It’s very important to remember that this is all about the youth,” said Andreas. “This is our way of life.”

There are myriad Native basketball tournaments across the country during the year. The NABI is the largest and is focused entirely on high school students, with the purpose of attracting scouts. By allowing only 128 teams per year to compete — 64 each for boys and girls — organizers hope to keep the quality of games high and to match NCAA brackets.

Roughly 1,600 student athletes attend annually, and teams must apply to play and follow guidelines. All players must be tribally enrolled and in high school and must attend educational seminars while participating.

“You can teach so much through the game of basketball,” said Yvonne DeCory, manager of the South Dakota Many Feathers team. “You can build character. You can build self-esteem. You can teach math.”

Because of NCAA rules, the big division schools don’t recruit at the NABI — only community and tribal colleges. However, the very prospect of a college career is enough for many coaches to push their kids.

“A lot of these kids are onsika. That means kind of poor, a little bit,” said Many Feathers coach William Good Eagle Jr. “Most of these kids don’t get a chance, or they’re too scared. We just want them to get out and try it.”

Overwhelmingly, coaches said basketball was also a way to keep kids off the street and out of trouble. With so many depressing statistics available to describe day-to-day Native life, a basketball game can be a huge breath of fresh air as well as an unassuming nod to a brighter future for the next generation.

“We may be seeing future councilmen or tribal chairmen on these courts,” said Martha Tommie, a Seminole tribal member and spectator. “Why wouldn’t we want our kids to blend together and our tribes become friends as youth? Then when they’re older and wiser — ‘Hey, remember us? Let’s help each other out.’”

Rez Runners Matthew Winsett, left, and Ryland Moore get ready for their championship game at the US Airways Center.Mark Henle for Al Jazeera America

It was quiet in the locker room, save for the sound of a few basketballs bouncing. The boys stretched as the sounds of music and the muffled voice of an announcer filtered down the halls and through the concrete walls of the stadium.

Ryland Moore had A$AP Ferg on his headphones, Mathew Wingett listened to J. Cole, and Trewston Pierce listened to a mix of 50 Cent and traditional Seminole hymns.

Coach Bowers had something to say to the Rez Runners.

“Intensity — let’s start it out from the beginning,” he intoned. “Punch ’em in the mouth, like we always say. Make ’em not want to play anymore. Intensity. That means on offense and on defense.”

The boys nodded. They knew what they had to do.

“We said ‘one game at a time’ the whole way here,” said Bowers. “We’re at that last game. Go get what’s yours. Go get what’s yours. Let’s go! ‘Win’ on three.”

The boys huddled up and in unison yelled, “One, two, three, WIN!”

Hori Poto, center, girls’ coach for New Zealand’s Nga Hau E Wha, with his team during pool play against Fort Yuma, an intertribal squad.Mark Henle for Al Jazeera America

Basketball is important not just to Native communities in North America; it has made its way to tribes in other parts of the world.

“Our major sport in New Zealand is rugby,” said Ramari Leonard, the delegation head and a coach for Nga Hau E Wha. “Our Maori youth grow up dreaming of becoming an All Black, so usually, basketball becomes secondary.”

Nga Hau E Wha, or “four corners,” is named that because team members represent Maori tribes from across the island nation. Essentially, it’s a Maori all-star team.

“For Maoris, when we come to do our tournaments, we have a cultural night, and it’s an expectation that each tribe will perform,” said Leonard. “That is a highlight of the tournament, and that’s what we expected, so we’re a little bit intrigued that it doesn’t happen [at the NABI].”

At the NABI, Native culture isn’t front and center like at other events, at least not what one might easily identify as Native culture. Instead, basketball is the culture, and despite the difference in basketball customs, tribes from both sides of the Pacific are finding more similarities than differences.

“I’d like to think our interactions with the Native Americans would be positive so they think well of Maori people,” said Leonard. “It’s more about the social context. The game is just a reason why we come together.”

Rez Runners basketball coach Andrew Bowers.Mark Henle for Al Jazeera America

Three minutes left on the clock, and the Rez Runners were ahead, 60 to 47.

Timeout.

“Try and run the clock if you can,” said Bowers as the boys gathered around him. “If they give it to you and it’s there, take it. If not, pull a Steve Nash. Go in, dribble it back out. All right?”

The 30-second timeout buzzer blared, and players from Cheyenne Arapaho began trickling back out onto the court. The crowd screamed.

“Three minutes,” yelled Bowers. “Three minutes until you get what you deserve. Challenge all shots. Let’s go, guys.”

Fans called out to the team, “Goooooooo, Rez Runners!’’ Top 40 hits blared over the stadium’s sound system, and the Rez Runners did exactly what they were supposed to: They ran down the clock and took shots when they could.

With about 10 second left on the clock, Cheyenne Arapaho suddenly lost energy, like runners who had crossed the finish line and had no reason left to run. The buzzer rang, and then a cheer rose from the crowd.

The final score: 66 to 51. The Rez Runners had their first NABI title.

The boys claimed their shirts, hats and trophy, then moved on for photos. The next day, some of the Rez Runners would fly back home, while the rest would drive — a two-day journey back to the tip of Florida, the homeland of the Seminole tribe.

“Our young people are just like the whites, the blacks, the Mexicans, whatever,” said Yvonne DeCory. “They put their sneakers on just like them, one at a time, and lace ’em up. But Natives? We got game.”