CSQ 47-3 In the Crossfire: Being Indigenous in Areas of Conflict

Cultural

Survival IN

THE CROSSFIRE

Being Indigenous in Areas of Conflict

SEPTEMBER 2023

VOLUME 47, ISSUE 3

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

PRESIDENT

Kaimana Barcarse (Kanaka Hawai’i)

VICE PRESIDENT

John King

TREASURER

Steven Heim

CLER K

Nicole Friederichs

Valine Brown (Haida)

Kate R. Finn (Osage)

Laura Graham

Richard A. Grounds (Yuchi/Seminole)

Stephen Marks

Mrinalini Rai (Rai)

Tui Shortland (Māori)

Jannie Staffansson (Saami)

Stella Tamang (Tamang)

FOUNDERS

David & Pia Maybury-Lewis

Cultural Survival Headquarters 2067 Massachusetts Ave.

Cambridge, MA 02140

t 617.441.5400 f 617.441.5417 www.cs.org

Cultural Survival Quarterly

Managing Editor: Agnes Portalewska

Contributing Arts Editor: Phoebe Farris (Powhatan-Pamunkey)

Copy Editor: Jenn Goodman

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Copyright 2023 by Cultural Survival, Inc.

Cultural Survival Quarterly (ISSN 0740-3291) is published quarterly by Cultural Survival, Inc. at PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238. Periodical postage paid at Boston, MA 02205 and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: Send address changes to Cultural Survival, PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238. Printed on recycled paper in the U.S.A.

Please note that the views in this magazine are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of Cultural Survival.

Writers’ Guidelines

View writers’ guidelines at our website (www.cs.org) or send a self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Cultural Survival, Writer’s Guidelines, PO Box 381569, Cambridge, MA 02238.

Myra Dahgaypaw (Karen)

An account of life as an Indigenous person under the Burmese military regime.

12 Enduring Ongoing Violence, Harassment, and Surveillance on Unist’ot’en Land Nati Garcia (Maya Mam)

Interview with Gidimt’en Clan member Sleydo’ about defending her homelands from the Coastal GasLink pipeline project.

14 Indigenous Anti-War Initiatives in Russia Are Inherently Anti-Colonialist Katya Tuyaaara Yegorov-Crate (Sakha)

The war on Ukraine has prompted reflections on imperial conquests of Indigenous lands and Russification policies.

16 Maasai Face Violent Evictions for a Game Reserve Shaldon Ferris (Khoisan)

Maasai communities in Lolindo, Tanzania have been forcibly displaced since 2009.

18 Life in Crimea Under Occupation Eskender Bariiev (Crimean Tatar)

Since the Russian invasion of Crimea in 2014, the Crimean Tatar Peoples have struggled to secure their rights.

20 Guerro Grande: Two Years After an Armed Conflict

Gildardo Bautista Hernández (Mixtec) State-sponsored logging has caused conflict and strife among Mixtec communities in Oaxaca, Mexico.

22 Chaninchay: Conflict and Restoration in the Peruvian Andes

Cliver Ccahuanihancco Arque (Quechua)

Chaninchay in the Andean worldview seeks to heal and reestablish order during times of conflict.

24 The Killing Fields of Manipur

Binalakshmi Nepram (Meitei)

The imposition of martial law on Indigenous Peoples in Manipur and Northeast India has led to at least 20,000 killed in Manipur and over 50,000 in Northeast India.

Message

2 In the News

4 2SLGBTQ+ Voices

The Maricas Bolivia Movement

6 Indigenous Arts From the Streets of NYC: The Hip-hop Lens of Ernie P.

8 Indigenous Languages

Overcoming Inertia for the Future of Indigenous Languages

26 Keepers of the Earth Fund Grant Partner Spotlight

Guarani Paĩ Tavyterã Peoples

28 Staff Spotlight

Guadalupe Pastrana (Nahua)

29 Bazaar Artists

Sierra Henries (Nipmuc)

Cover: Indigenous women in Manipur demanding peace and a stop to violence (see page 24).

Photo courtesy of Binalakshmi Nepram (Meitei) and E-Pao.

Donors like you make our work around the world possible. Thanks so much for being part of Cultural Survival!

Being Indigenous in Areas of Conflict

Dear Cultural Survival Community,

Across the globe, too many Indigenous communities live in areas affected by conflict where their lives are at risk on a daily basis simply for going about their daily activities, providing for their families, and protecting the ecosystems that sustain them. These conflicts stem from colonial legacies, war, organized crime, land and resource disputes, conservation efforts, large-scale development, and extractive industries, all of which serve to undermine Indigenous self-determination.

As we have seen time and again, land is often at the core of these conflicts; Indigenous lands are sought after for their rich resources, and the Indigenous Peoples who inhabit these territories are caught in the crossfire. For Indigenous Peoples, land is not a commodity. It exists for collective benefit and must be safeguarded for future generations. In many Indigenous cultures we say, “the land does not belong to you, it’s you who belong to the land.”

Land and rights defenders regularly suffer brutal attacks and criminalization by security forces for exercising their human rights to protest and freedom of expression. Latin America is one of the most dangerous regions to be an Indigenous rights and land defender; three out of four assassinations of environmental defenders take place in Latin America. According to Global Witness, in 2021, roughly 40 percent of murdered environmental defenders were Indigenous—a disproportionately high figure given that Indigenous Peoples comprise roughly 6 percent of the global population. The Business & Human Rights Resource Centre reports that in 2010–2020 there were 495 human rights allegations made against the 115 companies involved in transition mineral extraction. In 2022, 41 percent of attacks against Indigenous Peoples were related to mining.

In this issue of the CSQ, we bring you the voices of people whose lives have been affected by conflict. As Sleydo’, Supporting

Chief in the Cas Yikh House of the Gidimt’en Clan of the Wet’suwet’en Nation, says, “all Indigenous Peoples live in conflict with the State in some way or another and have become accustomed to it.” This is what binds us together as an Indigenous rights movement in a common fight against modern colonialism in its many forms. Indigenous communities find hope and healing in their traditional teachings and source strength from their histories, ancestral connections, and reciprocal relationships. Indigenous cosmovisions can help to restore order and make sense of the turmoils and violence they have endured for centuries. Cliver Ccahuanihancco Arque (Quechua) describes this in detail as he writes about the Andean Peoples’ notion of Chaninchay: it “is the perception of justice and balance for all things . . . a universal but relational animated whole where everything has or possesses soul and feelings. This relationship is constantly nurtured by fellowship, solidarity, and reciprocity in order to seek a diverse, balanced, and just community whole.”

When asked how Indigenous people can be supported in contining to care for and protect the land, Sleydo’ replied, “Indigenous people can be supported by promoting our voices and supporting the capacity of our communities to engage in decision-making and reoccupy land. We have been fortunate to receive monetary support . . . but we’ve also had many people come and physically support us on the ground. This is an intergenerational struggle.” I agree with Sleydo’s assessment. We ask you to listen to the voices of Indigenous people and to show up physically in solidarity. And when you can’t, we ask for your monetary support. Please give generously to support Indigenous-led solutions at www.cs.org/donate. This work is only possible with your support.

With Ssolidarity,

Galina Angarova (Buryat) Executive Director

CULTURAL SURVIVAL STAFF

Galina Angarova (Buryat), Executive Director

Mark Camp, Deputy Executive Director

Avexnim Cojtí (Maya K’iche’), Director of Programs

Verónica Aguilar (Mixtec), Program Assistant, Keepers of the Earth Fund

Bryan Bixcul (Maya Tz’utujil), Executive Coordinator

Cliver Ccahuanihancco Arque (Quechua), Keepers of the Earth Program Assistant

Miguel Cuc Bixcul (Maya Kaqchikel), Accounting Associate

Jess Cherofsky, Advocacy Program Manager

Michelle de León, Executive Assistant

Roberto De La Cruz Martínez (Binnizá), Information Technology Associate

Danielle DeLuca, Senior Development Manager

Shaldon Ferris (Khoisan), Indigenous Radio Program Coordinator

Sofia Flynn, Accounting & Office Manager

Nati Garcia (Maya Mam), Capacity Building Manager

Emma Hahn, Development Associate

Natalia Jones, Advocacy Associate

Mariana Kiimi (Na Ñuu Sàvi/Mixtec), Advocacy Assistant

Dev Kumar Sunuwar (Koĩts-Sunuwar), Community Media Program Coordinator

Rosy Sul González (Kaqchikel), Indigenous Rights Radio Program Manager

Bia’ni Madsa’ Juárez López, (Mixe/Ayuuk ja’ay & Zapotec/Binnizá), Keepers of the Earth Fund Program Manager

Marco Lara, Social and Digital Media Coordinator

Kevin Alexander Larrea, Information Technology Associate

Carlos Madrigal (Mazahua/Jñatjo), Capacity Building Program Assistant

Jamie Malcolm-Brown, Communications & Information Technology Manager

Cesar Gomez Moscut (Pocomam), Community Media Program Coordinator

Edson Krenak Naknanuk (Krenak), Lead on Brazil

Diana Pastor (Maya K’iche’), Media Coordinator

Guadalupe Pastrana (Nahua), Indigenous Rights Radio Producer

Agnes Portalewska, Senior Communications Manager

Tia-Alexi Roberts (Narragansett), Editorial & Communications Associate

Candyce Testa (Pequot), Bazaar Events Manager

Sócrates Vásquez (Ayuujk), Program Manager, Community Media

Miranda Vitello, Development Coordinator

Candy Williams, Human Resources Manager

Raquel Xiloj (Maya K’iche’), Community Media Grants Coordinator

Pablo Xol (Maya Qʼeqchiʼ), Design and Marketing Associate

INTERNS

Gerald Beelt, Camila Lindschouw, Charlie Malcolm-McKay, Alyson Odar,  Candela Palacios, Avilina Reyes

Global | Vanuatu Brings Climate Change to International Court

MARCH

As a result of Vanuatu’s campaigning to bring the issue of State’s responsibility to tackle climate change at the top of the UN agenda, the International Court of Justice was formally asked to issue an advisory opinion on the matter. Pacific Islander students inspired Vanuatu’s climate minister, Ralph Regenvanu, to persuade UN member states to seek an advisory opinion on the responsibility of states to tackle climate change from the International Court of Justice, the world’s top court. The campaigning began in 2019 and, in March 2023, Vanuatu got a majority vote from fellow UN member States.

U.S. | Supreme Court Upholds the Indian Child Welfare Act

JUNE

On June 15, the Supreme Court affirmed ICWA’s constitutionality in a 7-2 decision, leaving the entirety of the Act intact. The ruling is considered a win for Tribal sovereignty.

U.S. | Inter-American Commission on Human Rights Declares Onondaga Nation’s Land Claims Admissible

JULY

On July 7, the IACHR declared the Onondaga Nation’s right to pursue claims on the unjust seizure of treaty-guaranteed land centuries ago by the federal government and State of New York.

U.S. | Department of Justice Finds Minneapolis Police Department Discriminates Against Native Americans

JUNE

In a large-scale federal investigation into racist policing in Minneapolis championed by the Department of Justice, the Minneapolis Police Department was found to discriminate against Black and Native Americans by routinely using excessive force, among other violations.

Ethiopia | Indigenous Communities to Take Ownership of Tama Wildlife Reserve

JUNE

Indigenous communities in the Lower Omo River Valley of southwestern Ethiopia have been granted ownership and stewarding responsibilities of what can now be called Ethiopia’s biggest community conservation area, Tama Community Conservation Area. Indigenous communities will manage land use to ensure the area’s preservation.

New Zealand and Germany | Remains of 95 Maori and Moriori People to Be Repatriated

JUNE

Germany has returned the remains of 95 Māori and Moriori people to New Zealand in one of the country’s first steps to return stolen or wrongfully acquired Indigenous ancestral remains and artifacts to the Indigenous Peoples to whom they belong.

U.S. | Moore v. Harper Protects Native Communities from State Legislative Overreach

JUNE

In a 6-3 decision, the Supreme Court rejected the sole authority of state legislatures to implement federal election laws without the scrutiny of state courts and constitutions. This decision is important for Native communities, who rely on state courts to overturn state legislation that disenfranchises Native communities.

Global | Mining Deemed Most Common Cause for Environmental Conflicts Involving Indigenous Peoples

JUNE

A study conducted by Spain’s Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona asserts that globally, mining incites 24.7 percent of all environmental conflicts involving Indigenous Peoples. Dispossession, pollution, and biodiversity loss were also cited as factors impeding global environmental justice.

U.S. | Wampanoag Chef Wins the James Beard Foundation Award

JUNE

Sherry Pocknett (Mashpee Wampanoag) received the culinary world’s highest honor for her Wampanoag-inspired cuisine, which she serves at her restaurant, Sly Fox Den Too.

Peru | Uncontacted and Voluntarily Isolated Indigenous Peoples to Keep Their Lands and Protections

JUNE

A bill seeking to dispossess and strip away protections from uncontacted or voluntarily isolated Indigenous Peoples in the Peruvian Amazon was permanently deferred before reaching Congress.

U.S. | Wabanaki Tribes Closer to Their Pursuit of Self-Determination

JUNE

In a landmark victory for the Wabanaki Tribes’ pursuit for self-determination, the Maine state house and senate overrode Governor Janet Mills’ veto of a proposal seeking to give greater sovereignty to Wabanaki Tribes by allowing most federal laws to apply to them. Tribes in Maine are treated differently than the other 570 federally recognized Tribes because of the Maine Indian Claims Settlement Act, which treats Tribal reservations like municipalities.

Congratulations to long time Cultural Survival Bazaar vendor, Chef Sherry Pocknett (Mashpee Wampanoag), for winning the James Beard Award for Best Chef: Northeast. Photo by Jamie Malcolm-Brown.

ADVOCACY UPDATES

Argentina: Indigenous Peoples in Argentina More Vulnerable Due to Mining Threats and Developmental Interests (JUNE)

Cultural Survival’s Advocacy Program launches international campaigns in support of grassroots Indigenous movements as they put pressure on governments and corporations to respect, protect, and fulfill the rights of their communities.

European Union: Indigenous Rights at the Forefront of EU’s Corporate Due Diligence Directive (JUNE)



The Constitutional Convention of the Jujuy province in northern Argentina approved a constitutional reform on June 15 modifying the right to private property. The reform enables expedited evictions and criminalizes the right to protest. In a move designed to advance mining interests in the area, the reform was approved without the Free, Prior and Informed Consent from the seven Indigenous Peoples of the area. It leaves Indigenous communities with less authority over their land, increasing the threat to their traditional livelihoods and biodiversity. Indigenous communities immediately took to the streets to protest, but were struck down with violent repression authorized by the Jujuy government. Though the reform was adopted on June 20, Indigenous communities continue to resist.

U.S.: Report Reveals General Motors’ Lack of Commitment to Indigenous and Human Rights

(JUNE ) 

On June 15, Mighty Earth, a global advocacy organization working “to defend a living planet,” released a report revealing how General Motors’ investment in Lithium America’s Thacker Pass lithium mine in Nevada is facilitating the violation of Indigenous Peoples’ right to selfdetermination. The report highlights the disconnect between GM’s human rights and climate commitments communicated to consumers and investors and the actions being taken to ensure that these goals and commitments are achieved. The most pressing issues revealed in the report include the investment in the Thacker Pass lithium mine, which is located on Indigenous land and was developed without the Free, Prior and Informed Consent of Indigenous communities in the area; the use of forced labor of undocumented children with their suppliers in the U.S. and the forced labor of the Uyghurs in China; and GM’s use of “dirty” or unethically sourced steel and aluminum, which are leading causes in the world’s annual greenhouse gas emissions.

On June 1, the European Parliament adopted amendments to the Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence Directive (CSDDD), taking a position that supports full respect for the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. The Securing Indigenous Peoples’ Rights in the Green Economy (SIRGE) Coalition welcomes this position. Because of the increase in demand for transition minerals, including nickel, lithium, cobalt, and copper, alongside the transition to a green economy, mining initiatives are expanding worldwide, and most often developing on Indigenous Peoples’ land. It is more important than ever to secure the full respect of the rights of Indigenous Peoples, including their Free, Prior and Informed Consent, in both value and supply chains. Such a regionally binding directive is a step in the right direction to secure Indigenous Peoples’ rights in the green energy transition. The SIRGE Coalition now calls on European member states to follow the position reflected in the Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence Directive and adopt national measures ensuring its fulfillment.

Guatemala: Guatemala Accepts Recommendations to Legalize Indigenous Community Radio (JULY)



Following years of direct advocacy and lobbying, Guatemala has accepted two recommendations put forward by Cultural Survival and our partner organization, Sobrevivencia Cultural, during the 53rd Human Rights Council session held on July 7. Both recommendations relate to Indigenous community radio and urge Guatemala to adopt effective measures to promote spaces in the radio spectrum for Indigenous-led radio channels. Indigenous community radio has remained criminalized for more than 26 years despite this right being guaranteed in the 1996 Guatemalan Peace Accords. By accepting recommendations brought forward in Universal Periodic Review processes and Guatemala’s subsequent Human Rights Council session, Guatemala is bound by international law to implement the recommendations. Despite Guatemala’s previous reluctance to implement measures to enhance Indigenous Peoples’ freedom of expression, accepting these recommendations is a positive development in the ongoing fight for their rights to community media and freedom of expression.

NAMING ONESELF AS “INDIA” IS A POLITICAL AND DECOLONIZING ACTION THE MARICAS BOLIVIA MOVEMENT

“Chola

The Maricas Bolivia Movement seeks to promote respect and provide support for Indigenous Transgender women in major cities through radio productions. They also aim to empower their fellow sisters in their identity and foster more inclusive and comprehensive spaces for their personal development.

The Maricas Bolivia Movement began 10 years ago in support of cultural and sexual diversity, starting with the radio program formerly called, “I’m a Marica, So What!” which was composed of people who were proudly and defiantly reclaiming the word Marica—a derogatory term for non-heterosexual, gender diverse folx. At the time,

they were using community radio as a space to initiate reflection on the sexual and gender diversity in their communities through the project “The Voice of My Desire,” produced by the Women Creating Collective, an allied organization in La Paz. Today, the program is called MBM.

For the next five years, the Maricas Bolivia Movement broadcast on Radio Deseo, and subsequently they worked at other radio stations and in other public spaces. In addition to raising awareness, the Movement has also become active in defending and promoting the rights and freedoms of self-identifying Maricas in Bolivia.

“We, in contemplating and reflecting on who we are and what place we occupy in this world, have also reflected on our bodies. In doing so we have found that ‘Marica’ was not only an insult that we have been called throughout our

Carlos Madrigal (MAZAHUA/JÑATJO, CS STAFF)

Street Intervention,” 2019 performance at La Llama Clandestine Cemetery in La Paz. Produced by Maricas Bolivia Movement.

Photo by Hanna Fitche.

lives and needed to be redefined, but also to our Indigenous soul,” said Roberto Condori (Aymara), a member of the Maricas Bolivia Movement.

The Maricas Bolivia Movement aims to respond to local needs while creating their own meaning as both a movement and an organization. Edgar Soliz (Quechua), another member of the Maricas Bolivia Movement, clarified that the Movement does not represent the 2SLGBTQ+ community and is not affiliated with 2SLGBTQ+ collectives in La Paz or elsewhere in Bolivia. “Our movement is an independent movement, a grassroots community organization that primarily works in media,” Soliz said.

In 2022, the Maricas Bolivia Movement implemented the Street Intervention Project, which aims to take the program of the same name out of the studio and onto the streets, bringing it into the public sphere. The goal is to have public discourse about gender and sexuality that does not conform to cis hetero norms. “For us, it’s a political exercise of challenging those positions of power within traditional media,” Soliz said.

“In addition to being ‘maricas,’ ‘machorras,’ and ‘trabas,’ we recognize ourselves as ‘Indias’ (Indigenous women). Calling ourselves ‘India’ in a country where there is a strong emergence of conservative movements that tend to be fascist, racist, and classist is a political act. It is an act of decolonizing,” Soliz said.

The Maricas Bolivia Movement is both fighting against and attempting to overcome Western colonial ideas that have been imposed on modern society. Soliz and Condori agree that an important part of the work of dismantling prejudices requires reconsidering how Indigenous identity and sexual identity can coexist in each individual. They also reject the stereotypes or concepts imposed by the West about Transgender women, and instead are constructing and redefining their own concepts based on their Indigenous community’s perspectives. “There is another

reflection from another place, from another political subject, of who can be a ‘marica,’ who can be an ‘India’ with ethnic consciousness, with class consciousness. And that, for us, is valuable,” Soliz said.

The members of the Maricas Bolivia Movement highlight how Indigenous people and people with diverse sexual identities in the Andean region have organized and taken action to claim their rights, and how they have found allies in other spaces and countries doing the same type of work. “For us, building community meant being able to proclaim and name ourselves as Aymara and Quechua Indigenous people,” Soliz said.

Over the last 10 years, the Maricas Bolivia Movement has motivated and encouraged local, public conversations and collective reflections on homosexuality and other identities in social spaces. The Movement’s work has expanded to producing reports that are broadcast online and posted on social media. Particularly notable is the piece “Our Revenge Is to Be Happy,” which narrates the experiences of several gay men embarking on their own processes to fully embrace their sexual identity.

While Soliz and Condori are the pioneers of the Maricas Bolivia Movement, they do not consider themselves its leaders, striving instead for community building. The Movement intentionally does not have a formal mission or vision, and does not aspire to be a legally recognized institution or a non-governmental organization. Their aim as a grassroots organization is solely to support Transgender women who identify as Indigenous in living with respect, integration, and solidarity.

“We prefer to operate informally as a day-to-day resistance movement, because it allows us an independent voice and enables us to question the actions of other NGOs,” Soliz and Condori said. For the Maricas Bolivia Movement, it is crucial to promote participation and influence through community cooperation and reflection.

L–R: “Chola Street Intervention” (2019); “Sonqollay/ Corazón Street Intervention” (2018); “Retracing the City Street Intervention” (2017).

Public performances by Maricas Bolivia Movement.

From the Streets of NYC THE HIP-HOP LENS OF ERNIE P.

Hip-hop is celebrating its 50th anniversary this year, having emerged from Bronx streets in (more or less) 1973. As a social, cultural, and at times political movement, it has brought together the artforms of emceeing, deejaying, street dancing, and a distinct style of art as graffiti; a unique and revolutionary remix of sounds, styles, and voices indigenous to New York City, and yet actual Indigenous New Yorkers aren’t typically included in its origin stories—with one notable exception. A certain Cree has always been, per hip-hop vernacular, “in the place to be.”

Ernie Paniccioli has been as much part of the movement as a documenter of its history, among the first of its dedicated photographers from print magazine pages to album covers of some of its most significant performers. A 2014 Hip Hop Hall of Fame inductee, these days he lectures often about this legacy. His work features in galleries and museums internationally, and the Ernie Paniccioli Archive resides within Cornell University’s digital collections. At age 76, Brother Ernie (as he’s fondly known) has earned a true

place of honor as a beloved community Elder. Cristina Verán spoke with him about this legacy.

CV: What was it like for you, growing up Native in New York City?

Ernie Paniccioli: I grew up in Brooklyn, a stereotypical melting pot of Italians, Black folks, Puerto Ricans . . . you name it. My Cree roots are from both sides of the U.S./ Canada border, but those links were broken when my single-parent mother went through the pain and hurt of the foster care system as a child. Like hers, my experience was removed from our Cree language and culture for the most part. While I had friends of every color, my biggest influences were from Brooklyn’s Mohawk community. They recognized me as being Native like them. When they first saw me on their block, without even asking my name, they just shouted, “Come play ball with us!”

I had this Italian surname, but didn’t have the face that was supposed to go with it. White kids used to call me Geronimo, and either be scared of me or want to fight me.

Cristina Verán

Left: Ernie Paniccioli holding his two books.

Photo by Robert Adam Mayer/ PHOTOROBNYC.

Right top: Hiphop artist Drezus (Anishinaabe and Plains Cree).

Photo by Ernie Paniccioli.

Bottom: Ernie Paniccioli with LL COOL J and his Rock The Bells team after they rang the Nasdaq opening bell on August 3, marking Hip-hop's 50th anniversary.

Photo by Rodney Morris.

One day five or six [kids] jumped me. Two brothers, Black kids, came to my rescue, and as I was lying there on the street, blood all over, they beat the crap out of my attackers. I looked up and asked, “Why’d you do that?” And they told me, “Cause you’re us!”

I didn’t understand at the time, but came to see that they just knew I wasn’t their enemy. They asked me to join their gang, The Bishops, and for a time I did. We were like a tribe. This bond we shared was a tribal thing—much like what I would eventually find in hip-hop. To me, hip-hop has an Indigenous vibe, with roots going back to African Indigenous Peoples.

CV: Describe some of your first encounters with hip-hop.

EP: I was in Jamaica back in 1967 and got to see up close the Jamaican DJ scene with its massive sound systems— what Kool Herc (widely credited as the Father of Hop-Hop) would begin to showcase at his parties in the Bronx during the early ‘70s, thus setting the stage for the culture’s birth. Eventually, here in New York City, what caught my attention was graffiti. The art was on the subways, in the streets, everywhere.

My (now ex-)wife got me a camera, and I would go out taking pictures of graffiti, documenting it. I tried to approach kids I’d see doing it, wanting to learn more about it, but they’d just run away from me. Then one day, this 5’3” Irish kid came up to me, looked me right in the eye, and said, “I ain’t scared of you!” They all thought I was a cop looking to bust them, so I had to explain who I was and what I was doing. Finally, he understood and invited me to go with them to an abandoned subway station at Worth Street, using a set of stolen keys to get in. What really blew me away when we got there was seeing a mural underground by the artist LEE.

After that, I started meeting others in the scene, deep thinkers who could see that hip-hop was a complex cultural thing bringing a rainbow of different communities together. I connected with members of the Zulu Nation (the pioneering collective with which most significant hip-hop artists at the time were affiliated), and I’d get invited to all these events where I just kept taking pictures. Among some of the more memorable figures for me was the graffiti artist VULCAN. His work was really visionary. I’d meet and shoot dance crews, too, like the New York City Breakers.

CV: Do you recall your first official hip-hop related photo assignment?

EP: The first rap group I was hired to shoot was Salt ‘N’ Pepa. I started out with the publications Right On and Black Beat, then joined Word Up Magazine and Rap Masters.

CV: You’re often referenced in regard to the album covers you’ve done for Public Enemy. How did that relationship come about?

EP: I used to get my slides processed at this lab in Manhattan, and the guy who did the work for me would play their music really loud. I liked it, and so I made a bunch of calls, trying to meet them. Finally, I got a number, and Chuck D answered the phone. The rest is history. It’s been 30 years or so since then, and I’ve probably shot Public Enemy more than any other group. We became family. I’ve still got Chuck on speed dial.

CV: How did you eventually link with specifically Indigenous hip-hop artists, who still often remain marginalized from the movement’s mainstream?

EP: I do want to point out that one of hip-hop’s pioneers, Melle Mel (of the Furious Five, with Grandmaster Flash) is actually Native—which most people don’t know—as his mom is Cherokee and his father is Black. There have also been [Indigenous identifying] Chicano artists like Kid Frost. But as far as those whose primary identity as performers intertwines with being Native, I had first met the rapper Shadowyze (Muscogee Creek) and then connected with Litefoot (Cherokee), who I featured in my book, “Who Shot Ya?” I was proud to introduce Litefoot on stage for a concert at Nassau Coliseum in New York back in 2004, for which he brought together Cherokee dancers, some Aztec dancers from Mexico, and Pop Master Fabel from the legendary Rock Steady Crew to perform on stage with him. Their performance was great but the overall experience was surreal, unfortunately not in a good way. Though some of the audience cheered, maybe half the crowd started booing, shouting anti-Native epithets at us before the performance even started. Litefoot represented to the max though, regardless; a brilliant man and beautiful brother.

CV: You’ve been spending a lot of time in Canada these days. How did that come about?

EP: I get invited to speak at hip-hop festivals, Indigenous events, museums, and such. And I’ve spent time in places like Six Nations, over in Edmonton, all across the country. I’ve worked with First Nations artists like Corey Bullpit, Creeasian, Dreezus. . . . I love Dreezus, he’s like a brother.

CV: What’s next for you?

EP: I’m working on a series of 250 portraits for a book to be called “Stark, Kiss the Ring.” It will have a very limited print run; 100 copies at $1,000 each. My best work yet!

The Ernie Paniccioli Photo Archive: tinyurl.com/erniep

Cristina Verán is an international Indigenous Peoplesfocused specialist researcher, strategist, curator, and mediamaker. As adjunct faculty at New York University's Clive Davis Institute of Recorded Music, she brings particular focus to Indigenous popular music and culture.

OVERCOMING INERTIA FOR THE FUTURE

OF INDIGENOUS

LANGUAGES

had developed written materials or toys for oral learning. Although their particular situations varied, the participants agreed on several key points: “The policies that protect Indigenous languages only work on paper;” “We are running out of public spaces for our languages;” and “If we do not organize ourselves, the government is not going to do it.” So, they decided to begin at home, in their communities. The dream is a future where babies grow up naturally learning their languages, and that these will be heard in all aspects of life in the community.

L: Participants of the Grassroots Indigenous Language Exchange and Convening enjoy visiting Monte Albán in Oaxaca, a Mixtec and Zapotec archeological site dating back to 500 BCE.

R: Kuttybai Kuttybal (Kumandin) from the Kumandin Language Project presenting his work to revitalize the Kumandin language.

Veronica Aguilar (MIXTEC, CS STAFF)

While governments continue their linguicidal practices, Indigenous communities around the world are taking charge of their linguistic future with projects designed according to their own values and the level of endangerment of their native languages.

In an encouraging speech, Dr. Richard A. Grounds (Yuchi/Seminole), Executive Director of the Yuchi Language Project based in Sapulpa, Oklahoma, urged Indigenous communities to stop being mere witnesses to the loss of speakers of our languages. Instead, he told us, “We must take action, take charge, and overcome inertia.” The speech took place at the Grassroots Indigenous Language Exchange and Convening organized by Cultural Survival in Oaxaca, Mexico, in May 2023. Representatives from several language revitalization projects from communities in Colombia, Russia, Mexico, the United States, and Ecuador took part.

The working groups at the conference were as diverse as the languages they represented. They included everyone from children to Elders, family initiatives to large intercommunity programs; those with small and large budgets; ones with few fluent speakers remaining to those whose entire communities spoke the language; and those who

Everyone shared the desire and effort to perpetuate their languages and create new speakers despite the difficulties, to overcome inertia and not just be witnesses to their disappearance—but it was also agreed that it is not so easy to overcome inertia. People who want to learn or relearn their Indigenous languages face multiple challenges just to stay motivated in the learning process. In addition, it is not always possible to involve other members of the community, especially if a long-term project is proposed or is one that requires many people. Certain projects have chosen to pay a stipend to language masters and apprentices so they can spend dedicated time strengthening their fluency.

Language learners spoke about the pains and frustrations suffered by their families as one of the emotional barriers to overcome before getting down to work.

Kichwa members of the Quilloac community recounted having to hide their accents and cut their hair to go to university (Kichwa men traditionally wear very long hair). Nemuk’s team, from the Mixe Peoples, contributed that it is necessary to overcome the feelings of blame and shame that are frequent between parents and children, either for not having transmitted the language, or for not speaking it.

Most of the projects began with a diagnosis of their situation, assessing how many current speakers there are, how many apprentices will be trained, what resources are available, and what can be accomplished given the demands of daily life. By identifying the level of a language’s endangerment and the situation of the community, they were able to design an appropriate strategy. These took many forms, from the creation of language nests in Salish to teaching Ayöök as a second language, establishing an

immersion school in Spokane, to documenting a language (Kumandin) with the last remaining fluent speaker. With the diagnosis as a starting point, the community projects got to work according to their particular values and needs. For some, such as the Colmix (Mixe) collective, which draws on 40 years of community planning, their previous work allowed them to diversify their teaching strategies and design written materials. Others are working to spark interest among their people, such as the Itelmen Language Project team, which is making a puppet film in the Itelmen language to reinforce a sense of identity and attract more people who want to learn the language.

Most of the projects agreed that the fundamental approach is to teach children to create new speakers. Written materials, such as dictionaries and grammars, are important but not essential for teaching the language. The Yuchi Language Project, Spokane Language House, and the Salish School of Spokane have achieved excellent results teaching their languages with methods that emphasize orality, such as songs, games, and language immersion in daily tasks. Other teams came forward and spoke in their native language, which would not have been possible for them previously.

Each linguistic community has its own unique set of needs, since not all learners are the same. They can be children, youth, or adults; they may know something, a lot, or nothing about the language. Those who already speak the language can focus more on writing and analyzing their language, while new learners may have other objectives, such as seeking safe environments in which to practice their language without the shame of making mistakes, as the Nemuk Collective pointed out.

The path to language learning is not a straight line. There will always be stops and starts, changes, and course corrections; it is a process of trial and error. Indigenous communities are trying out methods to strengthen their languages, they are building their own systems for teaching and learning language according to their culture and values. There is no one-size-fits-all method, even if the end goal is the same.

When community initiatives are anchored to larger community projects, they are more likely to succeed or

progress faster. The Salish School of Spokane has engaged a large community of children and parents studying the language, as well as regular donors. The Vicente Guerrero Rural Development Project goes beyond linguistics; it is an organization of Indigenous campesinos who fight to preserve the land, the environment, and native seeds. In the Inga San Miguel de la Castellana Reserve, the work for the Inga language complements the teaching in the community schools.

Being part of larger projects that address other aspects of one’s own culture gives greater strength to linguistic efforts because the learners get closer to the culture, doing daily tasks such as weaving baskets or cooking traditional food while practicing their language. “Children learn at the foot of the Elders,” said Kaimana Barcase (Kanaka Hawaiiʻi), Cultural Survival Board Chair. “Language acquires full meaning in the daily tasks of the common life of our people,” added another participant.

Grounds has mentioned that language is a measure of the health of a culture. Perhaps so are these projects: if a community can come together for the future of their language, it means that they still have those values that have kept them in resistance for centuries. Although they face many obstacles, these Indigenous communities derive strength from their capacity to organize and work as a collective in a way that reflects their own spirituality, love, and respect for their Elders.

These projects focus on different languages and cultures with differing degrees of endangerment. However, during the Language Exchange and Convening, they were able to share their experiences and identify with each other, find common ground, and learn from one another about the different strategies for that shared goal.

While government programs (such as bilingual schools) continue to fail to redress the damages they have done to Indigenous languages and cultures, Indigenous communities are resisting by way of their own resources and knowledge. The structural discrimination of modern States has caused a lot of pain in Indigenous families. From that pain, a future is being built where our languages will continue to be heard and spoken.

More than 50 language activists participated in the Grassroots Indigenous Language Exchange and Convening in Oaxaca, Mexico.

STRUGGLE FOR SURVIVAL

Life as an Indigenous Person Under Burmese Military Regime

Myra Dahgaypaw (KAREN)

Iam proud to be Karen, an Indigenous Peoples in eastern Burma. Karen have been persecuted in periodic waves by the military junta that has ruled Burma for most of the last seven decades. Hundreds of thousands of Karen have been forced to flee from the junta’s violent attacks, resulting in the deaths of thousands. One wave of persecution came when I was a child that profoundly influenced my worldview, and another wave is taking place now, after the attempted coup in February 2021. Older and younger generations of Karen continue to suffer the brutality of the Burmese military as they try to wipe us out physically, culturally, and linguistically from this earth. My heart aches every time I think about the Indigenous people of Burma being destroyed.

Memories as a Child: Sights, Smell, Sounds

Born as an Internally Displaced Person in resource-rich Karen State, I recall only bits and pieces of an unsettled existence. There were times when my family and I lived in constant fear of the Burmese troops, but there were also cherished, yet fleeting, moments in which I experienced my beloved Karen culture and heritage. I can still vividly visualize my little village surrounded by clear and fresh streams and orchards full of organic fruit trees. I can still hear the irrigation system, bubbling along as it flowed to the orchard center to nourish the trees to give their best fruits. It was the most peaceful place on Earth—the green trees that seemed to speak as they rustled in the wind, wildflowers in every color imaginable dancing in the breeze, the priceless fragrance emanating from the orchards. Birds singing, the flowing of the stream and rainfall in the rainy season was relaxing bedtime music. However, that peaceful life did not last long. Our peaceful life was interrupted by the greedy, bloodthirsty monsters who directed the Burmese military troops to carry out a scorched earth campaign, burning my beautiful village to the ground, forcing us to flee for our lives with only the clothes on our backs, and planting landmines in and around the village

to prevent us from coming back. The Burmese military persecutes us for many reasons. They want to steal our land that is rich in natural resources and wipe us out physically and culturally. The military leadership directs soldiers and other militia to attack and kill us, brutally driving us out of our own homeland with complete impunity.

Fight for Survival

Living through these attacks, my family and I had no time to think of our culture and heritage; being Indigenous is not a top priority when you are homeless and hungry. To be able to sleep and get up to see the next day was already a luxurious life back then. I remember a few brutal episodes that still haunt me. I wasn’t allowed to cry, because if I cried I could give away our hiding location and the Burmese troops could find and kill us all. While hiding in the jungle, toddlers like myself were grouped along with older people. There was little to no food, so if there was any leftover rice, usually it was kept for the youngest ones in the family. I would get a feast of white rice some days, but other days, we had to eat boiled bamboo shoots and other vegetables we scavenged around our hiding place. The rainy and winter seasons were the hardest because there was no proper shelter that could protect us from rain, mist, and cold wind. I had a small plastic tarp that wasn’t able to cover my little body, so I had to sleep with parts of my feet in the rain.

Every time I see pictures of children being carried in baskets or bags while fleeing, it brings back memories of my mother carrying me—and many other things—in a bag on her back as we fled. My mother had to carry me

Karen internally displaced people from Ei Htu Hta Camp on the banks of the Salween River. Photo by KWO. Inset: Two Elders performing a ritual calling on ther myng khae (female guardian spirits). The Karen religion is animistic and follows an ancestral matrilineage.

Photo by KESAN.

because I was just a toddler with short legs, and so that I would not step on a landmine. This is the life I lived in my first decade, fleeing from one location to another in the jungle of Karen State, the one place we called home. Every time we rebuilt our lives, villages, homes, schools, and community, we knew we might have to run on a moment’s notice.

Only now that I live a peaceful and productive life can I slow down and pay attention to my Indigenous self. The first part of my life was so chaotic from constantly fleeing for our lives as Internally Displaced Persons. I then became a refugee at the Thailand-Burma border, where, once again, there was no certainty and no future. However, no matter where I am, there will always be an effort, conscious or unconscious, to show or express myself as a Karen, whether through language, culture, costume, or manner. The Karen people never lose sight of being Karen and preserving our culture and heritage. Wherever the Karen People are, there will always be cultural events and expressions of community.

Countrywide Persecution Continues

The Burmese military regime drove us out of our native land, forcing us to seek refuge in refugee camps in Thailand, and then resettlement in a third country. Resettlement can be considered cultural genocide; we lose consistency and connections to our roots without access to Elders that can help us with cultural practices and history. When refugees like myself resettled to a third country, it wasn’t a choice. It was done to escape persecution by the junta and for survival, safety, and security. However, when we resettle, we must assimilate to the new culture and take on a fluid identity that is in between the two cultures.

Hundreds of thousands of Indigenous Peoples across Burma have lived through terrible assaults and horrific persecution by the Burmese military regime. The persecution that I faced, which cost the lives of my immediate family members and loved ones, is still going on across Burma today. The junta’s attempted coup on February 1, 2021, was not successful, and they currently retain approximately

17 percent control of the country. To maintain its power and save face in front of the international community, the junta now uses indiscriminate airstrikes and bombings, which the Indigenous civilians do not have the means to resist. They have no safe place to live in their own land.

The number of refugees fleeing Karenni States to Burma’s nearby borders has reached over 5,000 in the first weeks of July. Internally Displaced Persons survive in Burma’s jungles by sleeping in trees and are in desperate need of food, mosquito nets, and basic medicine. As acts of arson, murder, and arbitrary arrest occur almost daily in Burma, the Karen IDP population has increased by 180,000 since 2022. An estimated 76,800 people have been displaced in Shan State, and over 120,000 in Chin State since 2021. According to March 2023 estimates from the UN, there exist over 1.7 million IDPs across Burma, 1,376,000 of whom have been displaced since the start of the attempted coup on February 1, 2021.

The Burmese military regime has never recognized the Karen or other Indigenous Peoples, although our ancestors have been in the country for generations. They identify us as an “ethnic minority” and have sought to marginalize and extinguish us, forcing us to fight for our basic human rights to self-identification and self-determination. We have no rights, and continue to suffer at the hands of the junta. So long as we struggle for our freedom, security, and safety, we will need the help of world leaders. The Indigenous people of Burma have been fighting for our rights for more than seven decades, and we have lost hundreds of thousands of lives. However, we are still fighting. The international community, including the United States, must support our struggles and help alleviate our suffering by holding the junta responsible for the crimes they have committed against Indigenous people in Burma. If the world continues to look the other way, I don’t know how many more lives we will lose.

Myra Dahgaypaw (Karen) is a human rights activist from Karen State, eastern Burma and Senior Partnership Office for International Justice and Accountability at Unitarian Universalist Service Committee.

L-R: Indiscriminate airstrikes have destroyed homes and displaced thousands of Karen.

Photo by KWO. Internally displaced people hide in caves while medics treat the wounded.

Photo by FBR. Karen way of life–sowing seeds in for the next crop of rice.

Photo by KESAN.

ENDURING ONGOING VIOLENCE, HARASSMENT, AND SURVEILLANCE ON UNIST’OT’EN LAND

Nati Garcia (MAYA MAM, CS STAFF)

In December 2019, the British Columbia Supreme Court issued an injunction allowing construction of a 669-kilometer-long Coastal GasLink pipeline that will cut through 22,000 square kilometers of unceded Wet´suwet´en land. The injunction gave the Coastal GasLink pipeline unlimited access to the ancestral lands of the Wet´suwet´en, and was firmly rejected by the Wet´suwet´en people. On January 7, 2020, the Wet´suwet´en Hereditary Chiefs served Coastal GasLink with an eviction notice, effective immediately. Despite the Hereditary Chiefs’ opposition to the pipeline, the Wet´suwet´en elected band council—a form of Indigenous governance established by the Canadian government—signed an agreement to allow the pipeline to go forward.

In an effort to protect ancestral lands and prevent the construction of the pipeline, community members have established encampments like the Unist’ot’en Camp, which was founded to re-establish traditional Indigenous governance systems and enact a Free, Prior and Informed Consent protocol for all activities on Unist’ot’en land. These encampments have consistently been targets of violence and intimidation by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) and Community-Industry Response Group (C-IRG).

Gidimt’en Clan member Sleydo’ has been arrested at gunpoint twice while defending her homelands and the Wedzin Kwa River from the Coastal GasLink pipeline project. She is a wife and mother of three young children. Cultural Survival recently spoke with Sleydo’, who is the Supporting Chief in the Cas Yikh House of the Gidimt’en clan of the Wet´suwet´en Nation.

Cultural Survival: The RCMP raids have been ongoing since 2018. Can you please give an overview of this conflict and your decision to put your lives on the line for this many years?

Sleydo’: We have experienced three full-scale militarized raids on our territory in as many years, and the harassment and intimidation by Community-Industry Response Group and private security has been ongoing and increasing in intensity again. Wet’suwet’en have our own body of laws that govern our people and yintah (lands), and we continue to uphold those laws so that our future generations have access to healthy lands and a healthy governance system despite the repression we face. Our ancestors have faced worse so that we would have what we have.

Photo by Brandi Morin.

CS: How are things looking on the ground right now? When was the last time there was a clash with the RCMP?

Sleydo’: Gidimt’en checkpoint continues to be occupied and infrastructure continues to be built despite ongoing and intense harassment and intimidation by police and private industry. We are nearing completion of the first feast hall built on our territories in generations. There continue to be arbitrary arrests made by C-IRG officers, many of those pending crown approval and initial court dates. In March 2023 there was a small-scale raid at the checkpoint where five people were arrested for alleged obstruction and have yet to have a first court appearance. Coastal GasLink continues work under constant police protection.

CS: What is it like to constantly live in conflict with the Canadian State?

Sleydo’: I think all Indigenous Peoples live in conflict with the State in some way or another and have become accustomed to it. Our experiences on the ground are very direct and blatantly racist. As Indigenous people we experience this repression on a very visceral level because of our history of genocide by the state. To endure the ongoing harassment and surveillance on a daily basis is a lot for our nervous systems. It’s part of their plan to remove us from our territories. However, what they didn’t plan for was the deeply rooted spirit of resistance that we also inherited from our ancestors. We will always remain on our lands, and the future generations will learn from our experiences and grow stronger.

CS: Has this conflict exacerbated other safety and Tribal sovereignty issues or concerns?

Sleydo’: This conflict highlights the inherent repression of Indigenous title to our lands and our ability to exercise our inherent rights and responsibilities to our people and lands. We are simply existing according to our laws and we will always be criminalized and harassed for it until the land issue is resolved. The violence to our lands goes hand in hand with the violence against our women. If this issue was important to so-called Canada, nobody would be standing by while Indigenous women are stalked and harassed by police and ex-police in remote areas on our own lands.

CS: Indigenous land defenders face criminalization on a regular basis. What are some recent examples of this in your community?

Sleydo’: Our chiefs, matriarchs, and youth are currently facing jail time for allegedly breaching a racist injunction and have been living with bail conditions severely impacting our ability to access our territories since 2021. We have yet to resolve these charges and continually experience arbitrary arrests on the yintah on a regular basis. The most

recent raid was in March of 2023, and Indigenous women and youth are still waiting for charges to be approved by the crown. Every day we are on our lands we face criminalization by the State.

CS: What elements of your land and territory hold the most meaning and value to you and your community? What gives you the most joy?

Sleydo’: The wedzinkwa, our sacred headwaters, is sacred to us because we know she gives life to the whole territory. We are salmon people and our salmon rely on the health and wellness of our waters and their habitat. We also know that we have a responsibility to ensure the future for all our neighbors downstream in our watershed that rely on those salmon spawning.

The thing that brings me the most joy is harvesting with my children and family on the yintah. This is what brings us together as people and connects us to our yintah. We understand it better, we understand ourselves and our place in it better.

CS: When you think about protecting and caretaking your land, what kind of strategies have you found to be the most effective?

Sleydo’: I believe that occupying our lands both with infrastructure and people are what we need to do to protect them and thrive as Indigenous people. We are the strongest when we are living our way of life and connected to the natural world. It helps heal the traumas of colonization and creates a stronger relationship with the land and our ancestors.

CS: What are your hopes on resolving this conflict?

Sleydo’: I don’t believe that this conflict will be resolved by the State or Coastal GasLink. This conflict will flow into other relationships with industry and government unless our ‘No’ is respected.

CS: Going forward, how can Indigenous Peoples be supported to care for, protect, and steward their lands and local ecosystems?

Sleydo’: Indigenous people can be supported by promoting our voices and supporting the capacity of our communities to engage in decision-making and reoccupy land. We have been fortunate to receive monetary support to build on our territories, but we’ve also had many people come and physically support us on the ground. This is an intergenerational struggle, and we need support even when—especially when—there’s not a big conflict or raid happening. Right now we are fundraising for legal defense funds to cover the upcoming trials of Indigenous land defenders facing jail time from arrests over the last three years on our yintah.

INDIGENOUS ANTI-WAR INITIATIVES IN RUSSIA ARE

INHERENTLY ANTI-COLONIALIST

Katya Tuyaara Yegorov-Crate (SAKHA)

In February 2022, Russia escalated its invasion of Ukraine, an effort that began with the unlawful annexation of Crimea in 2014. The war on Ukraine is not new or covert; it is the next step in a long history of Russian imperialism. The ongoing invasion is inflicting a humanitarian crisis upon the Ukrainian people, further revealing the depth of the Russian State’s imperialist ideology and its economic and geopolitical objectives. For many non-Russian ethnic groups in Russia, including Indigenous Peoples, this war has prompted reflections on imperial conquests of homelands and detrimental Russification policies. Given this climate of anti-imperialist sentiment, calls for decolonization and discussions of Indigenous sovereignty by non-Russians have been largely intertwined with opposition to the war.

The Kremlin and regional governments continue to obscure the war on Ukraine by limiting or altering official statistics. Shortly after the invasion, accounts of large mobilization numbers and death tolls impacting various non-Russian ethnic regions, often homelands of Indigenous Peoples like Buryatia and Dagestan, began circulating. Many activists, experts, and community members emphasized causality between mobilization of so-called poor regions and outsized fatalities among Indigenous populations. While the term “poor regions” does not necessarily denote an area with Indigenous populations, Russian imperial politics have continued to foster poorer socio-

economic circumstances in areas where the majority of Russia’s Indigenous Peoples reside.

Independent news sites such as Vazhnie istorii (IStories) and MediaZona have conducted in-depth investigations into the statistics of Russia’s losses, which reveal the number of soldier fatalities to be significantly higher than reported by the Russian government. MediaZona concluded that “most of the dead soldiers are very young people from poor regions.” Data collection and fact checking is a colossal effort—one that Indigenous-led initiatives have taken on. Motivated by the lack of official information and an abundance of anecdotal evidence, these groups compile data that determine ethnicity of soldiers based on a range of factors, including name, place of birth, obituary, appearance, and relatives. Maria Vyushkova, a Buryat activist, says discrimination on the basis of ethnicity within the Russian army exists. “I think there are prejudices about nationalities in the army . . . denying this fact is wrong. People believe that if there was no direct decree from Putin to send all the Buryats and Tuvans to death, then there was no discrimination.” Such investigative work is a crucial part of the combined anti-war and decolonial efforts started by Indigenous and other minority groups in Russia and the diaspora following the onset of the war.

Indigenous Peoples of Russia who are small in numbers (korennye malochislennye narody in Russian, or KMN) are constitutionally protected from military draft. However, this protection is not consistently applied, and accounts of KMN and non-KMN Indigenous men being summoned

Indigenous women in Chukotka, Russia, gathering berries in the autumn forest tundra.

Photo by Andrei Stepanov.

in the middle of the night or subpoenaed at work, on the street, or during traffic stops have circulated across Russia. To avoid summons, individuals are encouraged to disappear into the woods and engage in traditional activities such as hunting and fishing.

For KMN, whose legal categorization depends on small population size, the loss of any kin and community is detrimental to their futures. According to Indigenous Russia, an Indigenous activist and researcher-led online platform, one Indigenous village in Siberia with a population of about 200 had 5 Indigenous soldiers drafted. While some conscripts fled Russia or refused to report to the military office and were subsequently fined or imprisoned, other Indigenous people from KMN and non-KMN groups have voluntarily gone to war, motivated by economic reasons or genuine belief in the Russian State’s official narrative.

The work of preexisting feminist organizations and platforms such as Eighth Initiative Group, Eve’s Rib, Agasshin, Feminist Translocalities, along with others led by Indigenous and ethnic groups, have increasingly turned their focus to the war. Journalist Todar Baktemir explains that the recent invigoration of invocation of national identity is not simply a form of virtue signaling, but a means to distance oneself from Kremlin politics.

The struggle for non-Russian language protections against the backdrop of generations of colonial language policies is inextricably tied to State-sanctioned xenophobia, and Indigenous and minoritized languages are tools that can amplify anti-war sentiment. Their use is not only symbolic of the resistance against the State, but also serves as a rallying call, as exemplified by the artists Alisa Gorshenina, Yumzhana Sui, Polina Osipova, and Bali Shabarinova, who all used Indigenous languages in their anti-war pieces. Identity and heritage has also been a major unifier in protests, such as the women’s ohyokhai (sacred Sakha dance) protest in Yakutsk.

New “ethnic” branded anti-war initiatives have been founded with tenets and objectives combining anti-war action with decolonial work of organizations like Sakha Pacifist Association, New Tuva Movement, Voices of Nations, and pushes for sovereignty by the League of Free Nations. Free Buryatia Foundation, the first anti-war initiative started in response to the war on behalf of an ethnic group, focuses on the paradox of the State’s official narrative for the war and advocates for a reckoning with historic racism and imperialism within Russia’s own borders. It was founded due to the disproportionate number of Buryat soldiers dying in the war, their overrepresentation in media as the main perpetrators of violence, and the latent systemic factors that usher Buryats into military service. Several of these organizations that collect and disseminate information about other ethnic groups are part of collaborative anti-war and Indigenous efforts. Many of their members reside outside of Russia, as diaspora members are, to a certain extent, shielded from Russia’s

“fake news” laws, which criminalize the dissemination of false information about the Russian army and are used by the State to censor, detain, and imprison objectors. Indigenous people engaged in anti-war activism are targeted by the Russian Federal Security Service, making it increasingly difficult to maintain large-scale, Indigenousled anti-war organizations based in Russia. Because of this, networks with diasporic or exiled individuals and groups are vital lifelines for individuals at risk in Russia. These networks track statistics, provide legal advice for contract termination, offer routes to asylum seeking, share credible information to combat propaganda and misinformation, and strive to prevent servicemen from fighting in Ukraine.

Activists who have fled Russia, including Rafis Kashapov (Tatar), co-founder of the Free Idel-Ural movement, Pavel Sulyandziga (Udege), founder of the International Development Fund of Indigenous Peoples in Russia (BATANI), and Ruslan Gabbasov (Bashkir), a politician, were among those gathered at the Free Nations of Russia Forum in May 2022 to discuss the impact of the war and options for Indigenous futures. There are several groups working in and across diasporas, including Free Buryatia, Indigenous of Russia, Free Kalmykia, Free Yakutia Foundation, and Yurt Community.

The founder of Yurt Community (formerly Indigenous Peoples of Russia Against War) told Waging Nonviolence that the racism and discrimination she faced studying in Moscow greatly influenced her decision to move abroad. She became involved in anti-war protests abroad and eventually created Yurt Community alongside fellow diasporic non-Russian Indigenous people. In March 2023, a collective of Indigenous and decolonial activists from Russia penned a collaborative letter seeking solidarity and demanding inclusion in conversations about their futures. The letter’s authors and signatories are active in anti-war initiatives, which further underscores the deep connections between these movements.

Indigenous Peoples and minoritized non-Russian ethnic groups are far from united in their anti-war stances. While the Russian government has successfully shut down Indigenous-led organizations and persecuted anti-war activists, several Indigenous representatives in government bodies and State-sanctioned organizations have publicly expressed their support for the war. The war has split Indigenous communities, making attitudes about the war complicated and varied across and within regions. The importance of networks across the globe and spanning ethnic identities cannot be emphasized enough. Collaborative efforts among specialists, activists, and anti-war initiatives are crucial to sustaining the resistance.

Katya Tuyaara Yegorov-Crate (Sakha) is an independent researcher specializing in contemporary Sakha identity formation, cultural and linguistic revitalization, and (de)coloniality in northeastern Siberia.

MAASAI FACE VIOLENT EVICTIONS FOR A GAME RESERVE IN LOLIONDO

Cultural Survival recently spoke with Nailejileji Tipap (Maasai), who works with the Pastoralist Indigenous NGO Forum, an organization focused on Indigenous pastoralist and hunter gatherer communities in Tanzania.

CS: Tell us about the violence that has occurred in your region.

In 2017, the Tanzanian government ordered the Massai communities of Ololosokwan, Oloirien, Kirtalo, and Arash to move from their traditional territories.

The land, which comprises 580 square miles adjoining the Serengeti National Park, has been a target of dispute between the communities who hold land ownership titles and the government. According to Human Rights Watch, the Tanzanian government has forcibly evicted thousands of Maasai in the Loliondo area since 2009. The government claims that the purpose of annexing the disputed lands into the wildlife reserve is to optimize its conservation efforts. However, it has been revealed that the government intends to lease this Maasai ancestral land to a UAE-based company to create a wildlife game reserve for trophy hunting and elite tourism.

The Maasai community filed a lawsuit against the government, claiming that the forceful evictions were unlawful and violent. The communities argue that they farm, graze, and steward their animals on legally registered land, including the disputed 580 square miles, and not on land belonging to the Serengeti National Park, as contended by the government. The East African Court of Justice granted an injunction in 2018 halting the eviction of the Maasai communities on the disputed land while the final judgment is pending. In October 2022, the court ruled in favor of the Tanzanian government on grounds of lack of sufficient evidence provided by the plaintiffs. An appeal was logged shortly after with the Appellate Division.

Nailejileji Tipap: Indigenous people have been facing a number of violent attacks caused by the encroachment of their lands due to the expansion of conservation projects such as national parks, game reserves, game control areas, and wildlife management areas. One of the causatives is that Indigenous pastoralists have their own Indigenous land use plan for managing the land. During the wet season we have a method of conserving rangeland so it can be used during the dry season. You can be traveling to their areas and come across big landmasses where no one is living. This land may be bare in the eyes of a person who does not know of Indigenous conservation methods, but mostly this land is grazing land that has been left bare so it can be used during the dry season in accordance with the Indigenous land use plan.

Due to the expansion of new game reserves, the government has been encroaching into this seemingly bare land, sometimes going beyond into village land. A number of human rights violations have followed. In 2022, the government demarcated an area in Loliondo with the purpose of creating the new game control area known as Pololet. This is one of the dry season grazing lands. But now the community is subjected to poverty because they lack access to grazing land and their livestock is confiscated by game rangers.

CS: Please tell us about the court case between the Maasai and the government.

NT: Masaai communities of Tanzania have filed cases in court. Some of them are still pending, and in some we didn’t get the justice that we hoped for. There have been issues that make us as a community doubt some of the court decisions. Some of the statements that our leaders could see and hear suggested that powerful people are allowed to dictate the judiciary proceedings and to sideline justice for Maasai communities. There are cases that are being adjudicated outside of the courts of our country, including the East African Community Court of Justice.

Violence in Loliondo has affected Maasai communities since 2009. Photo courtesy of the Oakland Institute.

A delay of justice is equivalent to denial of justice, and a number of our cases have been delayed, postponed, and so on. If one looks closely, one can see a trend of how our testimonies have been deemed improper by the court. There has been a trend of the courts not giving the justice we seek in our lawsuits against the Tanzanian government, but I believe that is not enough to stop us as communities from launching lawsuits in pursuit of justice. We will keep fighting inside and outside of the court until we get the justice we as a community deserve, including preparations of evidence of the forceful evictions and letting the truth come out about what is going on in Indigenous Maasai communities in Tanzania.

This injustice goes beyond what is currently happening in Loliondo. There are other places, other Maasai pastoralist land, that are encroaching into and there are many communities that are forceful and unlawful. So this is a very big problem that the Maasai communities are facing across Tanzania.

CS: Has the situation improved? What is the latest?

NT: The situation is getting worse. If you go to a different part of where the Masaai communities or other pastoral communities reside, everywhere there is an outcry. There have been trends of encroachment of the land, of confiscation and of auctioning their livestock, trends of [establishing] game reserves. Game rangers are causing a lot of harm to these communities, weakening their livelihood and economy that the community depends on. It is even weakening the well-being of the communities; if you go to Loliondo, to Simanjiro, Kiteto, Monduli, Longido . . . everybody’s crying. Their land has been encroached in all those parts. I don’t know if the government truly understands how these actions are subjecting people into poverty. If all of this land is conserved under the conditions of protecting them as stated by the government—then we doubt that the conservation efforts are being done in the manner officially not clearly stated—how can we call that conservation if it means killing the livelihood and income of Tanzanian people, of women and children, of Elders who are friendly to the environment and depend on a certain livelihood that does and, in fact, coexist with the environment? They don’t take time to listen to the community, to have conversations with the community.

Government officials just show up, demarcate the land, and simply states; to the people residing there must move out immediately, telling the people that either the land is being included in a conservation or game reserve areas. There is no consultation with the residing communities, and the communities do not understand what is happening to them and their homeland. It has been chaos.

If you are introducing conservation efforts onto land already characterized by coexisting modes of living and environmental systems, why use force? Why use threats? Why the need to forcefully evict people? No solution has been brought, only evictions. It has been hard for us as a community.

CS: What is your message to the world regarding this situation?

NT: My key message is that we, Indigenous Peoples, Massai, are not against conservation. We have always encouraged conservation and have dedicated our lives to conservation. In Tanzania, most of the national parks like Serengeti, Gorongoro, Tarangire, Manyara, and others were once open land where Indigenous people have historically passed through. It’s misleading what is being stated to people, that we Indigenous people are destroyers of the environment. That is totally false. Most of our traditional practices, customs, norms and taboos are attached to the environment beyond what we know and what we see. Our ceremonies and other important practices as communities all stem from the environment. This mutual relationship between our communities and nature should not be destroyed because of misleading statements about the Indigenous people living on this land.

The second thing I want to say to the world is this: If we keep encroaching our land and funding the government and its entities to continue doing what they are doing, it will continue to create chaos in our communities and subject more of us to a life in poverty. We will have to start finding solutions for these communities to earn an income for their survival. There is huge pressure to end the livelihood system that also provides an income. We have been custodians of nature for ages. The world should not be misled by the government of who the Maasai people are, or why we as a community are attached to this land.

Community meeting in Loliondo, Tanzania.

Photo courtesy of Pastoralist Indigenous NGO Forum.

LIFE IN CRIMEA UNDER OCCUPATION

Crimean Tatars are the Indigenous Peoples of the Crimean peninsula. In the 15th century they formed the Crimean Khanate, which was dismantled by the Russian Empire in 1783. The dispossession of Indigenous Peoples in Crimea from their land, followed by systematic policies of repression and assimilation, led the Crimean Tatars to become a minority in their homeland.

In 1944, 200,000 Crimean Tatars were forcibly resettled in Central Asia, the Urals, and Siberia; 30,000 died in the first 6 months. The information about the dead was hidden, so the Crimean Tatars were forced to conduct an independent census of survivors. According to the Crimean Tatar National Movement, nearly half of the total number of deportees died as a result of forced deportation.

After their deportation, everything connected with the Crimean Tatars was destroyed. Soviet forces resettled residents from Russia and Ukraine en masse, renamed authentic Crimean Tatar place names, falsified history, destroyed Crimean Tatar literature, and struck them from the ethnographic list of Peoples in the Soviet Union. Following a persistent, non-violent, 45-year struggle for their rights, the Crimean Tatars began to return to their historical homeland. However, upon returning, the authorities did not allow them to enter their traditional territories.

In 2014, the Russian Federation invaded Crimea, violating the UN Charter and Article 3 of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. The occupiers began persecuting the Crimean Tatars with hate speech and violating their fundamental human rights and collective rights as Indigenous Peoples. To this day, the occupying administration regularly uses illegal detentions, arrests, and searches, fabricated administrative and criminal charges, threats, beatings, torture, abductions, murders, and illegal alienation of private property.

Ukrainian law enforcement has ceased to function. As a result, a gang calling themselves Self-Defense of Crimea, controlled by the Federal Security Service (FSB)

of the Russian Federation, has brutally suppressed any dissent. Since 2014, 60 people have died, 28 of them Indigenous. Additionally, 21 people have been subjected to enforced disappearance, 15 of them representatives of the Crimean Tatars, including Ervin Ibragimov, a member of the Coordinating Council of the World Congress of Crimean Tatars. The occupiers are trying to discredit Indigenous people before the international community, presenting them as “terrorists” and “extremists.”

Interrogations of relatives of political prisoners and activists of the Crimean Tatar national movement are also common. In the newly occupied regions of Kherson and Zaporozhye, invaders have created more than 20 interrogation and torture sites. We know of such facilities in Genichesk, Nova Kakhovka, Kherson, and Melitopol, along with Basement 17 of the Genichesk school, where hundreds of people are kept for “re-education.” As of July 20, 2023, there were 175 political prisoners in Russian places of detention, 117 of whom are representatives of the Indigenous Crimean Tatars. Nariman Dzhelal, Deputy Chairman of the Mejlis of the Crimean Tatar people, has been imprisoned since 2021. In February 2023, political prisoner Dzhemil Gafarov died in prison.

The occupiers have banned the only independent Crimean Tatar TV channel, ATR. Radio stations Meydan and Lider were searched, and the founder of the QHA news agency, Ismet Yuksel, was banned from entering Crimea, forcing these media outlets to leave Crimea. The websites of the Mejlis of the Crimean Tatar people and the Crimean Tatar Resource Center are also blocked. Prior to the occupation, Crimean Tatars systematically held mass public actions observing the victims of the Crimean Tatar Genocide and celebrating the Day of the Crimean Tatar Flag, World Indigenous Peoples Day, and Human Rights. Day Since then, public events are forbidden.

Traditional Governance

The Kurultai and the Mejlis are the Tatar democratic bodies. Kurultai is the highest representative body, elected in direct democratic elections. The Kurultai elects the Mejlis, a representative and executive body. In 1995, the Mejlis was

Eskender Bariiev (CRIMEAN TATAR)

All photos by Zarema Bariieva.

Eskender Bariiev speaking at a rally for Crimean Tatars’ rights.

recognized as an organization of Indigenous people and admitted to the work of the UN. By Decree of the President of Ukraine, dated May 18, 1999, the Mejlis was given the status of the Council of Representatives of the Crimean Tatar Peoples and is recognized as a representative institution of the Crimean Tatars in Ukraine’s legal code.

From the beginning of Russian occupation, the Mejlis has been persecuted consistently for its non-violent upholding of the collective rights of the Crimean Tatars. In 2016, the Russian Supreme Court banned the Mejlis, declaring it an extremist organization. On April 19, 2017, the International Court of Justice issued a judgment regarding a complaint about a violation of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination, ordering Russia to resume the activities of the Mejlis. However, the Russian Federation has not yet implemented this order, and the Mejlis remains limited in the implementation of its representative functions due to the threat of criminal liability. Criminal proceedings have been opened against a number of members of the Mejlis.

Language, Education, and Culture

The occupying administration has destroyed Tatar cultural heritage sites, including the world’s only example of Crimean Tatar palace architecture, the Khan’s Palace. Under the guise of restorations, excavations were carried out without the consent of Ukrainian or Mejlis authorities, and the artifacts were taken to Russia.

Despite Crimean Tatar being one of the official State languages, there are no Crimean Tatar official pages of the websites of the occupying government, office work is carried out only in Russian, and people are forbidden to testify in their native language in courts. Cases of threats of dismissal of workers for communicating in their native language have also been recorded.

Prior to occupation, there were 15 schools and 384 classes instructed in the Crimean Tatar language. According to the data of the occupying government, there are seven schools remaining that teach in Crimean Tatar, and three with bilingual instruction in Russian and Crimean Tatar. Instruction in Crimean Tatar is allowed only at the request of parents via application, but school administrations routinely create obstacles in filing these applications or do not accept them. Attempts have been made to close schools that were teaching in Crimean Tatar in the village of Annovka and in the city of Stary Krym.

In the 2020-2021 academic year, out of 73,900 children studying in 554 schools, only 1,200 (1.6 percent) received instruction in Crimean Tatar. School administrators reprimand children for communicating in their native language, and raids are carried out to search for prohibited literature. FSB officers conduct “preventive” conversations with Crimean Tatar children and subject them to questioning to ascertain the attitudes of their families—specifically their likelihood of dissent.

Land Rights

On January 15, 2015, the Law of the Republic of Crimea on the Provision of Land Plots in State or Municipal Ownership and Some Issues of Land Relations was adopted. Issues remain unresolved with the registration of land for representatives of Indigenous people in the Simferopol region, Evpatoria, and Sudak, located on the southern coast of Crimea. Meanwhile, their land is being auctioned off. As part of the ongoing policy of replacing the population on the peninsula, Russian citizens are assisted in acquiring land and provided with preferential employment opportunities. Since the start of a full-scale aggression against Ukraine, the occupying administration has been distributing land plots to the Russian military.

In addition to depriving the Crimean Tatar people of the right to land, their inalienable right to resources and minerals in their territories is also being ignored. On November 17, 2019, the Mejlis adopted the Statement, “On Observance of the Inalienable Rights of the Indigenous Crimean Tatar People in the Conditions of the Temporary Occupation of Crimea by the Russian Federation.” However, the practice of using the resources and minerals of the Crimean peninsula without the Free, Prior and Informed Consent of the Mejlis continues. Tens of thousands of Crimean Tatars have been forced to leave their native land, and according to the Crimean Tatar Resource Center, about 1 million Russians were brought into the territory. In spite of these hardships, Crimean Tatars continue to fight, and never give up hope.

Eskender Bariiev (Crimean Tatar) is Head of the Board of the Crimean Tatar Resource Center.

Solidarity march with the Crimean Tatar people in Kyiv, Ukraine, in February 2017.

GUERRERO GRANDE

Two Years After an Armed Conflict

Gildardo Bautista Hernández (MIXTEC)

In Kava Jee Kua’a (Guerrero Grande), a community located in the high mountains of the Mixteca in Oaxaca, Mexico, we can see the stars with astonishing clarity. But the night they came in to burn our houses, we did not see stars—just flashes of fire and strange sounds we had never heard before.

We know exactly when it started, because grandmothers always tell us those things, especially when the rain and cold come together. But we never imagined that we would have to see how people, who, years ago, sat with us at the same table to eat, would cloud their hearts. What we experienced in those days of October 2021 was the result of a dispute over land and resources. The dispute was between residents of the communities of Kava Jee Kua’a, Mier y Terán, and Ndoyonuyiji and the authorities of San Esteban Atatlahuca.

A timeline of this conflict can be found in the Precautionary Measures (No. 1050-21) issued by the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. There, two versions of the truth are presented, although the truth is always a great absence in times of war. These precautionary measures were the result of an armed attack perpetrated on the communities of Kava Jee Kua’a, Mier y Terán, and Ndoyonuyuji.

The main reason for the armed attack was as a result of a claim initiated by the three communities that an agreement with San Esteban Atatlahuca, signed in 1949 and ratified in 1972, be recognized. Our lands are hectares of forest, lands full of vegetation; the lungs of the Mixtec Peoples. They are a place of fresh and icy air and of giant

pines, of mushrooms and flowers. This struggle is an internal problem that stems from an agrarian conflict between the communities and the municipality. The communities only asked for the agreement to be respected and for protection of their forest, since this land has a large amount of trees and is being profited from—profits that have not been shared, then or now.

The first clashes began in 2019. At that time the three communities were united in asking that the logging of trees by the municipal government be stopped. The State, municipal governments, and the communities held various roundtables to avoid confrontation, but none of the agreements that were reached were honored. On the contrary, divisive tactics were put into action. First they divided the Ndoyonuyuji community, and then Kava Jee Kua’a, by giving money to a few and sowing hatred and division among the people to undermine their relationships. These tactics sought to make the communities give up their legitimate claims, but quite the opposite happened.

The conflict was unique in the use of fake profiles on Facebook to divide people in the communities, and although what was published was false, people believed the disinformation. The most notorious profile used the name Chucky (in reference to the doll from “Child’s Play”), and in essence that was his role—dedicated in anonymity to inventing stories that deeply hurt and undermined the social fabric of our communities, breaking the thin thread that sustains and separates the rational from the irrational. These cases show how social media can be misused to spread false information, hate, and violence instead of informing and connecting the population.

From 2019 to October 2021 there were injuries and

imprisonment, but what happened in October 2021 to Kava Jee Kua’a, Mier y Terán, and Ndoyonuyuji will not be forgotten for generations. The fallout in this conflict was severe, and almost all of us lost something in those days. We lost those who should not have died. Children should not have had to run for their lives. Women should not have had to silence their children for fear of being discovered from their cries.

The confrontation of those days left serious scars on the community. There were murders, disappearances, burning of houses and vehicles, attacks on the town council, churches, and schools, and the internal displacement of more than 300 people. Anyone who arrives in Kava Jee Kua’a can see the remnants from the ravages of those days: the bullet marks on the walls, the ashes and brown sheets left by the fire, the two burned trucks that are still there as a symbol of what should never have happened.

But the violence also left behind things that almost no one noticed. Children in the community stopped going to school, left without books and without hope, robbed of their development and education.

The attack was so brutal that the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights granted precautionary measures in favor of these communities and the five disappeared persons. From then on, the State police, the army, and the national guard have maintained a presence. But the threats have not stopped—especially on social media, which from time to time is used to attack people in the community.

The Oaxaca State Attorney General’s Office reported that it has opened investigations into four of the disappearances and gave assurance that it is also investigating one as a death. In July 2022, we learned that the State Investigation Agency arrested Rogelio Bautista Barrios and Carlos Reaño Sandoval, authorities in San Esteban Atatlahuca at the time. We later found out that they had been released, and since then there have been no advances in the pursuit of justice. Federal money that was officially allocated for the communities as compensation has been held by the municipality since 2019 and has not yet reached the people.

It is important to highlight that the increasing deforestation and felling of trees in the Mixteca region has had a significant impact on Kava Jee Kua’a and other nearby communities. Natural resources are essential for the survival of these communities and it is essential to protect them. The dispute over land and resources in Kava Jee Kua’a is an example of how the exploitation of natural resources can trigger situations of conflict and tension that affect entire communities.

Almost two years after that armed confrontation in October 2021, Kava Jee Kua’a remains united in strength despite the blockades that continue to exist in the community. Their demands remain the same, that the agreement between San Esteban Atatlahuca and the three communities, signed in 1949 and ratified in 1972, be recognized,

and that the damage be repaired, although there are damages that can never be repaired.

This year, a woman has been placed in charge as municipal agent, something not seen before in the community. Children are returning to school, and we all ask that Kava Jee Kua’a once again be a safe place, the place of peace, the place where the stars look beautiful. “From scratch but let’s move forward,” says the slogan on her Facebook page.

No one can deny that the defense of the environment is crucial for the survival of communities and the protection of natural resources. It is essential to reflect on the importance of protecting natural resources in this region and the need to work together to build a fair and equitable future for all.

As I write this, I think of the children who have had to experience this conflict, and paraphrasing the late Mexican poet José Emilio Pacheco, I say, “how to ask them not to inherit the hatred, how to tell them that after what has just happened, the Guerrero Grande of tomorrow, the Guerrero where they will be men must be the place that always was, a place of peace, a place without crime and without infamy.” Perhaps it takes us nights and days to consider and reconsider what we yearn for, something we do in a place like the Mixteca, where dying for land seems to be a destiny.

Gildardo Bautista Hernández (Mixtec) was born in Kava Jee Kua’a (Guerrero Grande), Oaxaca, and is a professor at the Intercultural University of the State of Puebla.

CHANINCHAY CONFLICT AND RESTORATION IN THE PERUVIAN ANDES

L: Women marching to bring attention to the murders carried out by the State against their young children.

R: “The Taking of Lima” massive mobilization by Indigenous Peoples from the interior of Peru marching towards the capital.

Cliver Ccahuanihancco Arque (QUECHUA, CS

STAFF)

Iremember reading somewhere that culture is constantly under construction. This passage began by recalling an anthropological conference where one eager student’s question became a key to understanding humanity: “Anthropologist Margaret Mead, what do you consider to be the oldest sign of civilization in a culture?” All of the attendees, rooted in their disciplinary structures, expected the answer to be about material vestiges such as spears, clay pots, or grinding stones. But to the contrary, Mead replied that the first sign of civilization in an ancient culture was a femur that had been broken and then healed.

Mead explained that in the animal kingdom, if you break a leg, you die, because you can’t run from danger, go to the river to drink, or look for food. You are easy prey for predators and plunderers. No animal survives long enough for a broken leg bone to heal. A broken and healed femur is evidence that someone took the time to care for their fellow animal, dress the wound, carry them to safety, and help them recover. Mead said that helping someone in need is where the civilization of our species begins; it is where humanity begins.

To understand the Andean restoration process through the situation of Indigenous Peoples in the Peruvian Andes, it is essential to contextualize the recent events that have caused the current political crisis in the country. The social upheaval in Peru began with a political siege by the Fujimori opposition (1990–2000) and other political parties, which never accepted the democratic election process and

created obstacles for then-elected Indigenous President Pedro Castillo to govern. Violence worsened with the political suicide of Castillo, who, on December 7, 2022, dissolved the Congress of the Republic and consequently paved the way for the succession of Dina Boluarte as the new President of the Republic of Peru.

Given these events, widespread indignation began in southern Peru. The persecution and harassment of the former president was not limited to the contempt of a political figure of a State, but encompassed the direct disgust, racism, and classism of an alienated class of Mistis (white colonizers) toward a population that in historical times was 80 percent Indigenous, but today is just under 26 percent Indigenous. Almost immediately, campesinos with huaracas (handmade weapons) took to the streets against the National Police and Army. The social costs were high, with more than 60 deaths in less than a month of governance. The social upheaval persisted in southern Peru as Indigenous groups, campesino communities, and grassroots movements remained strong for more than two months until the State suppressed commerce impacting Indigenous groups, who were now seen as terrorists against the State and opposed to national development.

Since then, there have been marches to the capital called “the Taking of Lima,” which have involved the mobilization of groups from the interior of the country to the capital as a way of counteracting the invisibility of the protests in mainstream national media. Now, as a third wave of national mobilization is underway, the wear on Indigenous Peoples is visible, but the results are blossoming. Today there are more national movements marching together for All photos by

a national agenda that demands the resignation of the current president, new presidential elections, and justice for unpunished deaths caused by the State. Today, Peru is a panorama of popular consciousness that has awakened and intends to fight against the groups in power, which would not have been possible had the people not maintained the resistance.

Things are not and cannot always be the same; everything flows, changes, and transforms, as my Andean brothers say. Life follows a dialectic of contradiction rather than opposition. It is not that the day is opposed to the night or that the male is opposed to the female, but that they are complementary. Opposition denies the existence of the other, while contradiction allows the amalgamation and coexistence of both for something better. Andean cosmovision holds a philosophy based on the whole being and happening, which is best explained in its principles of reciprocity and complementarity that materializes the sumaq kawsay (living well), or qhapak ñam (right way of life). These principles govern ethical life in community and make collective life possible. There may be, as in any reality, something that unbalances this archetype, but there will also be an antidote that neutralizes and produces an immediate cultural response to cure it.

In the Andean world there is a device of epistemic selfcorrection to heal or reestablish the existing order called Chaninchay. Chaninchay is the perception of justice and balance for all things, where reality is a subjective community construction not linked to the individual, nor to the theocratic divine of morality, but rather, as a universal but relational animated whole where everything has or possesses soul and feelings. This relationship is constantly nurtured by fellowship, solidarity, and reciprocity in order to seek a diverse, balanced, and just community whole.

So, how does the Andean society heal and restore its balance after the recent political crisis in Peru? How do they rebuild their individual and collective existence after events such as those experienced on January 9, when 17 protesters were killed and 68 injured in a deadly clash with police in Juliaca? For the Andean society, these events are not random or casual phenomena. They understand that

the origin lies in the historical process, which, obeying its law of cycles, arises and sprouts every so often. Time is for them an update of the past, but with particularities of the present that make the future possible. The Andean world knows that what is uncertain in Western philosophy— the future—is, in reality, what is known and lived in the qhipnayra (past); the future is the lived past in the Andean world. From this perspective, the Quechua and Aymara communities are activating diverse mechanisms invisible to the eyes of the socially alienated. The myth of the inkarri, that “some will die but we will return as millions,’’ is an element of ethnohistoric memory that is activated in each process of resistance and restoration of harmony.

The restoration of the Quechua and Aymara communities of Peru has begun with their rituals around cycles of Pachamama and Pachakamaq, the Earth and the sun. Festivals and ceremonies play an important role in this healing process. In the Andean world, individuals cannot be healed if their social environment is not healed first. That is why there is no better moment than at group meetings. Celebrations cease to be a simple presence of music, food, and dance, as they are often interpreted by outsiders, and become a process that collectivizes and shares pain. After the State violence, people accompany the bodies of those lost with chants and funeral dances that free the relatives from individual suffering and help keep the memory of the fallen people alive.

Today, the State’s process of making amends for its crimes and injustices with monetary payments and psychotherapy for relatives of the victims is being questioned, as if the violence perpetrated could be solved with materialism. The State has even tried to buy the communities’ forgiveness through regional economic bonds, but they have not succeeded. The social and historical fissure has already been made, and the resistance will perpetuate. The Andean world is being continually restructured. The people who were there before cannot be separated from the people who intend to stay today. Jallam wayqipanaykuna! Nuqanchik kachkaykuraqmi! Long live our brothers and sisters! We will continue and will continue to exist!

R: Request to the Holy Virgin Maria de la Candelaria (embodiment of Pachamama) of Puno for protection and to stop the violence against the Indigenous defenders.

L: Mothers saying farewell to their children on their way to the “Lima Takeover.”

THE KILLINGS FIELDS OF MANIPUR

Indigenous Territories as War Sites in Northeast India

We live in a world where freedom, dignity, and equality are cherished but little realized. The British left India after 200 years of colonial rule, yet immediately after their departure, on September 11, 1958, the newly independent Union of India imposed the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) on 45 million Indigenous people in Northeast India. The first use of AFSPA was on August 15, 1942, employed by the British to thwart Mahatma Gandhi’s Quit India Movement, which demanded an end to British colonial rule. The aim of AFSPA at that time was “to confer special powers upon certain officers of the Armed Forces;” chiefly, a license to kill.

The imposition of martial law on Indigenous Peoples in Manipur and Northeast India has led to at least 20,000 killed in Manipur and over 50,000 in Northeast India, in addition to numerous incidents of rape, arrests, torture, and extra-judicial executions, according to Human Rights Watch. Under the Act, any crime committed by armed forces are given complete impunity.

The state of Manipur borders Myanmar and is home to 33 recognized Scheduled Tribes belonging either to the Nagas or the Kukis/Zo, the two major conglomerates of Manipur Tribal Peoples, as well as the Meitei Peoples, who are Indigenous but not classified as a Scheduled Tribe. Meitei Peoples represent around 53 percent of the population of Manipur, followed by various Naga Peoples

at 24 percent, and various Kuki/Zo Tribes (also known as Chin-Kuki-Mizo Peoples) at 16 percent.

On May 3, 2023, violence erupted in Manipur that took the lives of over 200+ people. More than 8,000 homes were burned, resulting in over 70,000 internally displaced people. The violence that started on that day continues in “buffer zones” created by the Indian military between the Meiteis and the Kukis to stop the two warring communities from crossing over into each other’s territories. The initial conflict arose when the Meitei Indigenous community sought affirmative action for being members of Scheduled Tribes, a demand that was opposed by the Kuki community. The rhetoric has led to entrenched rifts between the two communities, with elements of both communities arming themselves with sophisticated weaponry. These days, Manipur resembles battlefields akin to Ukraine, Darfur, or Afghanistan. Women, children, and the elderly have suffered immensely. Representatives of both sides have appealed for help from the government of India as well as the United Nations.

Tragically, this is not the first time such massacres have happened. Mass killings have been ongoing since 1958. Many of our homes are near many massacre sites, and many of us have grown up witnessing and surviving this trauma. I grew up near the Heirangoithong Massacre site in Imphal, Manipur, where, in 1984, 14 civilians belonging to the Meitei community were gunned down by Central Reserve Police Force while watching a volleyball match. Northeast India is dotted with such massacre sites, which are known by locals as “killing fields.” Other massacres that

Binalakshmi Nepram (MEITEI)

Binalakshmi Nepram attending a candlelight vigil in New Delhi calling for an end to racial discrimination of Indigenous Peoples in Northeast India.

I remember are the gunning down of 10 civilians belonging to the Meitei community in the Malom Massacre in Manipur, and the Regional Institute of Medical Sciences Massacre of 1995, where nine civilians, including a medical student, were killed.

India is the only country in the world where there is no war, and yet an emergency martial law remains imposed. AFSPA was an emergency act that was meant to be in place for only three to six months when first passed in 1958, but has now been in place for 64 years. All major political parties of India, including the government, have failed to listen to and protect the Indigenous Peoples of Manipur and the Northeast region. The government has called for a Peace Committee and a judicial committee consisting of retired judges has been constituted, yet no one has been held accountable to date. Manipur and Northeast India is an area of immense geo-strategic importance, as it shares boundaries with five countries, including Myanmar and China. It is critical that the situation of violence is brought under control. The defense of a nation cannot be left only to men with guns and by turning Indigenous territories into war sites.

Like all previous massacres of Indigenous Peoples in Northeast India, we hope that the May 2023 killings will not end simply by awarding monetary payment and government jobs to survivors, with no justice. Many security forces who have been operating with impunity in Northeast India have gone on to be a part of United Nations Peacekeeping Forces. To the present day, no security forces personnel involved in criminal offenses such as rape, torture, death, and disappearances of civilians in Northeast India have ever been charged or put behind bars for wrongdoings. No one is above the law, and democracies must protect the rights of all.

Repeal of martial law, rebuilding trust in state and central security forces, and communal harmony between warring communities would be the greatest confidence building measure that the government of India can do for the Indigenous people of the Northeast, who have been wrongfully subjected to martial law for 64 years.

Militarization of Indigenous Peoples’ lands and territories violates the Constitution of India, the Universal Declaration

of Human Rights, and the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. India must have the moral courage to repeal a former British Colonial Law, which has no place in a democracy. No license to kill shall be granted to any community. Work should be about protecting Indigenous rights, deepening democracy, demilitarization, and ensuring rule of law. The rampant killings and genocide of Indigenous Peoples of Northeast India must stop. In August 2023, an International Tribunal for Peace in Manipur was formed that includes Nobel Peace Prize laureates Shirin Ibadi and Jodi Williams and the International Peace Bureau.

In spite of the violence, Indigenous Peoples of Northeast India have been resilient in the face of oppressive systems and people, epitomized by the rise of an Indigenous women’s resurgence throughout Northeast India. Indigenous women in Manipur have a history of non-violent resistance against former British colonial rule known as Nupi-Lan, or the Women’s Wars, of 1904 and 1939. This legacy still lives on, in spite of the killings. And herein lies the truth: where there’s power, there’s resistance.

Binalakshmi Nepram (Meitei) is a scholar, Founder of Manipur Women Gun Survivors Network and Northeast India Women’s Initiative for Peace, and Convener of the Global Alliance of Indigenous Peoples, Gender Justice and Peace.

Indigenous women in Manipur demanding peace and a stop to violence.

AFFECTED BY AN EXTERNAL CONFLICT IN PARAGUAY Guarani Paì Tavyterã Peoples Threatened

In October 2022, Cultural Survival published an article denouncing the murders of Guarani Paĩ Tavyterã leaders Alcides Morilla Romero and Rodrigo Gómez González following a confrontation between the security forces of the Paraguayan State and the People’s Army of Paraguay (EPP). Several other members of the community were injured, including Leonardo Gómez Riquelme, who was hospitalized.

To fully understand the seriousness of the situation, it is necessary to look at how the Guarani Paĩ Tavyterã Peoples have been in the middle of a confrontation where their rights have been systematically violated by the army, the EPP, and other illegal actors. Though parts of their territory have been militarized, the Paĩ Tavyterã Peoples maintain their resistance through care, respect, and dialogue. The members of the community we spoke to clarified that they do not use violence, and described themselves as a peaceful People.

The militarization of northern Paraguay began about 10 years ago, but it was only 3 years ago, in 2020, that it reached the territory of the Paĩ Tavyterã. Located in the

northwest of Paraguay near the border with Brazil, their territory encompasses the Paraná River Atlantic Forest, a 7,000hectare stretch of tall forest and the source of many important resources. Areas like this that are rich in natural resources have been the most recent targets of militarization.

Before the conflict, the community used the forest only to harvest medicinal plants. After the Paraguayan Indigenous Institute purchased the land for the Paĩ Tavyterã, and thanks to the expropriation law that secured the Paĩ Tavyterãs’ legitimacy of ownership, the community carried out a demarcation of the area, installing gates and boundaries to separate it from neighboring territories and fighting the increasing number of forest fires that have resulted from climate change.

Jasuka Venda is considered by the Paĩ Tavyterã Peoples their place of origin, “the most important and most immense place.” Guardians and guardian families live here, protecting the place that belongs to all the communities that make up this territory. The area has always been difficult to access due to its remoteness, and even today, people from the community mainly arrive on foot or by motorcycle.

Diana Pastor (MAYA KI’CHE’, CS STAFF)

Recently, a Paĩ Tavyterã community near Jasuka Venda in the village of Tekoha Guasu Yvy Pyte was attacked for the

Paĩ Tavyterã means "the inhabitants of the center of the Earth."

Photo by Fotografías Nuevas.

second time since last October. Armed men in four trucks entered the community, ordering the people to relocate under the guise of falsified titles and property documents. The community could not take photos or videos of the attackers due to the risk of exposure. Now, nearly one year after the murders of Romero and González, the community continues to receive anonymous threatening phone calls warning them to vacate their lands.

The Public Ministry (prosecutor’s office) so far has failed to address the invasions that seek to dispossess the community of their lands, and the families and community of Romero and González continue to wait for justice. The press reported that their murders were committed by the EPP; however, it is unclear whether this is the truth. Meanwhile, the house where Romero and González were murdered was burned “accidentally and mysteriously.” The guardian families who lived nearby abandoned their homes and belongings, and since then, travel to Jasuka Venda has become even more complicated and dangerous.

Jasuka Venda is significant to the Paĩ Tavyterã Peoples not only because of its resources, but also because it has been considered a sacred site since ancient times. In a bitter irony, it has become a place where environmental crises and social conflicts are unfolding. In addition to the invasions, there are some outside the community who want to enter Jasuka Venda to plant marijuana. Livestock introduced by ranchers is yet another threat to the biodiversity of the area. The EPP justifies the continued presence of the Internal Defense Operations Command of the Joint Task Force, an armed military group, but there are no influential people in the area to kidnap; there are no ranchers living nearby, only the workers.

All of these events are unfathomable to the Indigenous communities, who are innocent bystanders—and, all too frequently, collateral damage—in the conflict between the EPP and the Paraguayan army. This conflict has disrupted the Paĩ Tavyterã peoples’ ability to travel as frequently and as freely to Jasuka Venda as they used to, and, consequently, to take care of the sacred site and keep the community safe; they regret that they were unable to warn the guardians of the area about the confrontation that led to the death of Romero and González. Even in the face of danger, the Paĩ Tavyterã people are committed to protecting their territory and will not abandon it.

Despite the ongoing conflict the Paĩ Tavyterã will continue to protect their lands, because in Paraguay, the protection and defense of territory are fundamental for Indigenous Peoples. The Paĩ Tavyterã people are calling to other communities and organizations for solidarity in continuing to make this conflict visible and for logistical support so they can continue defending their territory. The community is organized at the local level, but they haven’t been able to gain a national audience. They have held two meetings with the Paraguayan Indigenous Institute to find a solution to the problems they are facing, but no

specific plan was reached, no roadmap drawn up. And so for now, they continue without a plan of action.

In the meantime, the community is working to make the value of their territory known. They have repaired a vehicle that transports caretakers to Jasuka Venda, but there is still much to do. Previously, leaders would roam the area as part of their protection system, but the conditions there now have made this difficult. Still, the community is determined not to abandon it. A community leader told us,

“As Guarani Paĩ Tavyterã Peoples, we need to continue strengthening ourselves to strengthen our capacities to respond in the face of these adversities. We will not stand down. Even if it is difficult, we are resolute that we are the guardians of this place, and that we have guarded it for thousands of years. There has been life here since time immemorial. Despite the adversities, we will continue fighting.”

The Keepers of the Earth Fund is an Indigenous-led fund within Cultural Survival, which is designed to support Indigenous Peoples’ community advocacy and development projects. Since 2017, KOEF has funded 311 projects in 41 countries, through small grants totaling $1,607,859, as well as technical assistance, which have benefited 328 Indigenous Peoples in total. The KOEF awards grants of up to $10,000, which go directly to traditional Indigenous communities, collectives, organizations, and governments, to support their self-designed development projects based on Indigenous values. KOEF funds projects implemented by grassroots and emerging groups, with or without official registration from their State government, and is the first source of funding that some organizations and communities have ever received.

A Guarani boy with an hu'y  (arrow) in  Paraguay.

Photo by FrankOWeaver.

Guadalupe Pastrana (Nahua) was born in the community of Malacachtepec Momoxco, now known as Milpa Alta, breathing the pure air of the oyamel and oak forests in the 10,000 hectares of its territory. Protected by the Nahua Peoples, Malacachtepec Momoxco is one of the only remaining Indigenous communities to survive in the vicinity. It is also considered one of the last lungs of Mexico City, supplying clean water and oxygen to the smog-choked urban area. Guadalupe has been an Indigenous Rights Radio Producer at Cultural Survival since 2021.

As a child, Guadalupe grew up guided by the teachings of her maternal grandmother, a forest defender, and the ideals of her father, an agrarian lawyer from a Nahua community in the state of Guerrero. Guadalupe says, “I keep memories of what formed me as a Nahua or Momoxca woman, such as an oath to defend the territory that men and women of the community made every year on February 5: ‘We will defend the land first with guile, then with the law, and, if that is not enough, with force.’”

Malacachtepec Momoxco has maintained a strong awareness of the importance of conserving and defending their territory, not allowing the entry of shopping malls, convenience stores, or privately run movie theaters. The community has led several important movements for the defense of its forests, one of them in the 1970s, when several real estate projects were planned. More recent struggles have been against the Arco Sur highway project that would cut through their forests, and against the installation of marine barracks.

“Our community has historically participated in the struggle for the rights of Indigenous Peoples and campesinos in Mexico,” Guadalupe says, adding that she has always been passionate about the issue of territorial defense. “Despite centuries of plundering and continuous attempts at dispossession, many Indigenous Peoples have managed to preserve our territory and maintain a close emotional and spiritual relationship with it,” she says.

Since joining Cultural Survival, Guadalupe has found satisfaction in connecting with colleagues at different community radio stations around the world. “[I am] passionate to learn

about and work together with others in different parts of the globe, and to contribute to building their capabilities through workshops and exchanges,” she says.

In the face of historical exclusion by the State and its attempts to assimilate and oppress Indigenous Peoples, Guadalupe says they have always built resistance movements. “The creation of our own community media is part of this resistance, so that languages are not forgotten, knowledge is not lost, to inform and denounce when there are threats to our territories, as well as to continue building and sustaining them collectively,” she says. In order to continue advancing in the defense of rights, it is necessary to strengthen communication projects that already exist in Indigenous communities, as well as to undertake new projects and experiment in other areas such as the installation of cellular networks and community internet.

As a producer for Indigenous Rights Radio, Guadalupe works to support Indigenous Peoples in building or consolidating their autonomy and living self-determined lives. She says she would like to see Indigenous Peoples become strong enough to stop the new onslaughts on their territories, especially those occurring due to the so-called green energy transition, which requires minerals that are being extracted from Indigenous lands.

Guadalupe says that one of the most pleasurable experiences she has had as a producer has been to record the poetry of Indigenous writers Humberto Ak’abal, Irma Pineda, and Huber Matiúwàa, among others. This has been a collective work as part of her collaboration in the series “Voces y Cantos de la Tierra Viva” of Radio Educación, a Mexican public radio station for which she is also a producer, scriptwriter, and announcer in a series dedicated to the struggles, demands, music, and literature of Indigenous Peoples in Mexico.

Guadalupe hopes to publish a book of poetry and eventually realize her dream of creating a professional recording studio where she can produce Indigenous musicians and bands. As she says, “I must contribute to the safeguarding and dissemination of musical creations born in our territories.”

“We will defend the land first with guile, then with the law, and, if that is not enough, with force.”

GUADALUPE PASTRANA

BEAUTY OUT OF BARK

Sullivan, Maine-based artist Sierra Henries (Chaubunagungamaug Band of Nipmuc) credits her talented mother, Lisa, and father, flutist Hawk Henries, for inspiring her to dabble in all types of art styles and mediums from a young age. Now, she specializes in birch bark pyrography. “The pyrography or woodburning tool is something I started using very early on, working with materials such as wood and gourds for some time. One day, through an idea offered by my mom, I tried burning on birch bark. This bark is a material that has been, and continues to be, used by Indigenous people in the Northern regions around the world. Here in the Northeast, you will see it beautifully decorated through an etching technique, or stitched together into a basket, or painstakingly fashioned into a canoe. Needless to say, I’ve continued to create pyrography artworks on birch bark for over 16 years now,” Henries says.

Henries describes her process for creating her artwork: “I begin by sketching my design in pencil on the bark. Then, I utilize an x-acto knife for any cutting work involved. Lastly, I burn the design with the pyrography tool. All the work is done freehand; no rulers or stencils are used.” She adds, “There are other steps to the process that are important to acknowledge, like how sometimes friends and other birch bark artists will gift me bark and tell me stories of the trees it came from, or the projects they were working on with it, and those stories help nourish my art. It’s important to gather the bark in a certain way so that the tree is not harmed.”

Though she derives inspiration from many sources, Henries says, “I often find myself just sitting with the piece of bark and letting the lines of what will become show themselves. The bark oftentimes has stories of its own that I could not have thought of or predicted. I try my best to allow space for that offering and then see where it takes me.”

Henries has worked with a variety of universities, museums, and art events from New England to Louisiana, including Yale Peabody Museum, Roger Williams University, and the Cultural Survival Bazaars. She is currently participating in an exhibit called “Boundless,” hosted by the Mead Museum in Amherst, which opens September 14 and runs through July 7, 2024.

Henries sees her artwork as a way to counteract the persistent misinformation about Indigenous Peoples. “There is a genuine lack

of knowledge that persists in our society, and it often manifests in misrepresentation and appropriation of Indigenous cultures and artforms,” she says. “The privatization of lands and laws surrounding places like national parks has meant that there is a direct cutoff from the materials I use in my work. Individuals such as Suzanne Greenlaw (Maliseet) have been doing amazing work to regain cultural access to spaces like national parks and allow for the gathering of traditional medicines and materials. Similarly, Hawk utilizes his flute music and passion for dialogue to create welcoming and engaging spaces for people to ask questions and learn. Bridge building opportunities such as these feel vitally important to me as a way to mend the impacts of ignorance.”

On participating in the Cultural Survival Bazaars, Henries says, “the Bazaars have been some of my favorite events to attend. My family and I have participated for over 15 years. Fellow vendors have become more like family than friends. The Bazaars offer the opportunity for Indigenous art to be recognized as deeply valuable to both the local and broader communities, and for attendees to better educate themselves on the importance of Indigenous people maintaining their cultural practices. They also create the space for the public to support artists directly through sales, which helps our businesses to thrive.”

She continues, “What nourishes me, what fills my well of inspiration, it’s the moments where a dear friend wants to get one of the designs I’ve created as a tattoo, when an Indigenous community organization uses my work as their logo . . . the moments when my art and the people I love connect are my greatest accomplishments.”

Learn more about Sierra Henries’ work at www.sierrahenries.com

The Cultural Survival Bazaars Are Back!

December 14-17, 2023

The Prudential Center, Boston, MA bazaar.cs.org

Sierra Henries stands in a field of sweetgrass.

Photo by Ta Moko Ormsby.

Top: Birch bark art by Sierra Henries. Photo courtesy of Sierra Henries.

Bottom: Digital mirroring of double curve design. Photo by Sierra Henries.

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