Gratitude for native peoples in word and deed

by Stacie Charbonneau Hess

Robin Wall Kimmerer, the author of Braiding Sweetgrass, declares in her essay “Council of Pecans,” that “All Flourishing is Mutual.”

Livia Neubert, Stacie Hess, Marvin Martinez, Alexandria Dasheno, Carlos Almeida (top row), pose with Hannah Martinez, Nathaniel Martinez, and Autumn Martinez. The children are wearing traditional clothing from San Ildefonso Pueblo.

When I discuss the story with my students, I challenge them to think about what that sentence means. They recognize that All Flourishing is Mutual is about interdependence. It’s about the idea that if one of us is oppressed, or silenced, or somehow compromised, we are all a little less because of it.

I came to social justice work many years ago when I learned—in my thirties—about the Indian Residential Schools, which existed for an entire century in North America. Learning this shifted something in me. The goal of the schools was Assimilation: to “Kill the Indian, Save the Man.” I met survivors of these schools, where Native languages were forbidden and where countless children suffered and died. There was no mention of these schools in the stories I read growing up, or the books given to me in school. My education seemed a betrayal.

Yet before me, in college classes, were teachers such as Acoma poet Simon Ortiz, and Navajo Poet Luci Tapahonso, who spoke and sang in their Native tongues, testimony in itself of a strength most of us can’t even fathom. Strength that their ancestors had to muster to survive the schools, to embrace the language somewhere deep inside so it would not be forgotten.

I’ve been on a journey ever since my college days to learn the truth of my country from the source: Native peoples themselves. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want a white-washed history. As individuals and as a nation, not only can we handle the truth, without it we are living in a delusion. The shame and grief of a shared history of oppression of Native peoples is something we need to experience as a community. Without this reconciling, we will always be fractured, and we will never flourish.

Another quote I love from Robin Wall Kimmerer is from her story “Mother’s Work,” about restoring a pond so her daughters can swim in it. In the story, she discovers that not until she is willing to step into the muck at the bottom of the pond and walk deeply into it, is she able to make any real progress. She puts it this way, “Transformation is not accomplished by tentative wading at the edge.” The Truth and Reconciliation process speaks to that difficult journey through the muck in order to clean it up: to achieve a clear, swimmable pond. While the United States has not officially engaged in this process, an Investigative Report from the Federal Boarding School Initiative was released in May 2022. Luckily, what we do locally can have an impact on how future generations see our relationship with Native peoples.

This year Bristol Community College officially celebrated its first Indigenous Peoples’ Day, joining many other Institutions, towns, and ten states that have already adopted the holiday. Hawaii, South Dakota, and Berkeley, California began recognizing Indigenous Peoples’ Day in the 80s and 90s; there are decades of precedent and countless examples we had to draw from when shifting our attention away from Colonization and toward a much longer and accurate view of history—one that stretches back not hundreds of years—but thousands.

Strength that their ancestors had to muster to survive the schools, to embrace the language somewhere deep inside so it would not be forgotten.

At Bristol, the Equity & Inclusion Council that I belong to spent many months researching, writing and drafting a Land Acknowledgement, which the College has adopted. Our Acknowledgement was written in consultation with the Wampanoag peoples, who are the original inhabitants of the land upon which the campus sits. In our research we discovered many neighboring tribes, and it is important to name them: The Nipmuc, The Narragansett, The Pequot, The Mohegan, and so on. As a group we agreed that while writing the Acknowledgement is important, it felt like a first step, the very beginning of the work that is required to begin to shift the narrative away from conquest and genocide and toward a truthful story of the United States.

To honor the change in name and focus, we invited Native artists to campus, from as far away as San Ildefonso, a Pueblo (reservation) in northern New Mexico. For three days, we had the opportunity to connect and learn. On Day One, our “Native Poets Speak” event featured Lucille Lang Day and Ron Welburn. Lucille’s poem “I Always Knew It” talks about her childhood where relatives called her a “Wild Indian” but where she was not told about her Wampanoag grandmother until she was in her twenties. Ron (African American, Assateague, Gingaskin Cherokee, Lenape) read from his books of poetry and later gave a presentation on Native Americans and Jazz on the Attleboro campus.

If poetry is a way to connect with one’s heritage, traditional pottery is another. MarvinLee Martinez presented in both Fall River and New Bedford to several classes of students, faculty, and local artists. MarvinLee’s family is well-known in the pottery world: his great-great grandmother Maria Poveka Martinez’s pottery is housed in museums all over the world. MarvinLee learned to make pottery in the style of his ancestors, using only locally sourced earth, mixed with volcanic ash. The pots are made by hand, burnished by hand with river stones (passed down from his relatives), and fired not in a kiln but in the ground. He explained the process of how the pots become black: smoke from the fire (tamped down with cow patties and horse manure) is trapped in the firepit and attaches itself to the red iron oxide—turns the pottery black. The process was fascinating to watch, and Marvin’s fiancée and three children joined him in the campus gatherings. After Marvin’s demonstrations, the Sint Sink Singers elevated the vibration of the entire Fall River campus with a sampling of songs they sing at PowWows. Each song was preceded by a short explanation, and students and staff were invited to sit in the sacred circle around the drum and play for a song or two. The Sint Sink Singers appeared the next night in New Bedford for October’s AHA!

While each of these performances and demonstrations were wonderful, the point of the activities was to expose students to the very fact that Native peoples are here, living vibrantly and keeping their cultural traditions alive. Continuing programming and education centering Native peoples will ensure we all flourish, for the mutual benefit of generations to come.