There is something insidiously ironic about being American Indian during the fall of the 21st century.
The negative representations of American Indians have recently caught national attention in the news and on the Internet.
The battle is over, and pundits now stroll to the battlefield and shoot the survivors. I have used this bully pulpit to urge that Indians bloc vote only when threatened as Indians. My own vote turned on threats I perceived to my family. Your mileage may vary.
Did you get a chance to see No Doubt’s new music video for their song “Lookin’ Hot”? It was only out for a couple of days before they took it down and issued an apology to the American Indian community. I finally got a chance to hunt it down myself and take a look at it.
My perspective on cultural appropriation will always be different than most of the outspoken folks in Indian country. I did not grow up on a reservation, nor experience the “classic” urban native experience. I am a Native woman who was adopted out when I was a baby.
He was a hero. Make no mistake about it. And, his death in late October, is a great loss to America, not just American Indians, he challenged us a to be better people.
In an attempt to expose a character flaw in Elizabeth Warren, Scott Brown revealed his own.
Pursuant to two congressional resolutions, President Barack Obama proclaimed Monday October 8, 2012 as Columbus Day. “I call upon the people of the United States to observe this day with appropriate ceremonies and activities,” he stated.
For a short time, soon after the first railroad tracks were laid down on the rich agricultural basin of central Washington State around the early 1900s, federal policy allowed government agents to break up the Indian reservations into allotments to be owned by individual Indians in an effort to e
Many of us remember learning and singing the bubbly little pre-school nursery rhyme "Ten Little Indians" as we sat in a circle with our legs crossed, Indian style.
I am trying to write this day without mentioning the lost European’s name. There are store sales in his honor. That’s a distinctly American thing; if you are a dead white man that did something spectacular, you would know because they create sales offers in your name.
I was first introduced to Tex Willer while attending a pow wow in Italy; yes Italy— where Indians are served cheese lasagna and vino as opposed to frybread and lemonade for their participation after a days-worth of dancing and drumming.
As the wind breathes out of Wind Cave in my face, I am reminded of the creation of humans and my own small place in this magnificent world. Wind Cave National Park is named for the cave itself, called Washun Niya, or the Breathing Hole of Mother Earth by the Lakota People.