he paused and blinked when he finally turned all the way around. “I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t realize there was a woman behind me.” “Oh, it’s no problem —“ “Shit, Miss, I really do apologize. I just never see any women up around here.” “Really, it’s alright,” “I mean maybe once or twice at the watering hole, but — Oh I’m sorry, I just — It’s usually only men up at this hour. And they’re all damn ugly too — well that’s pretty much a job requirement. Shit, ma’am. I’m sorry.” He mumbled apologies all the way to the register. A brass bell rung as he walked out the door. I took it there weren’t many women working the rigs. At the register, another man hung around the front desk, hassling the cashier behind the register. She was the only other woman at the station. “Joan, baby, when are you gonna to marry me?” the man teased. “When you get a green card,” Joan replied. The following morning, I met with Elgin Crowsbreast and Kalvin Grinnell, the Historic Preservation Officers of the Three Affiliated 20
Tribes. “Historically we considered ourselves the keepers, or the users of the land,” Elgin said, his voice low. The Fort Laramie Treatie of 1851 was first to introduce the notion of ownership to the tribes, pushing them into a specific territory, or reservation. Thirty six years later, the Dawes Act divided the reservation into either privatelyowned allotments, or community lands within the Tribal Trust. The legislation separated and shuffled a native population that had once settled as a large community around Lake Sakakawea. Establishing schools, health systems, business, and rural water networks was like trying to restart a chess game after the pawns had been pushed off the board. Just as the pieces began finding their place back on each square, the oil industry’s development returned to slice up the chessboard. “It took a long time for the tribes to understand the concept of ownership — of something being theirs — because before that, ownership never was.” “Most of the people working in this industry have a disregard for the land,” Kelvin
added, “they’re not from here. They’re after the oil, and whatever they need to do to bust up the earth and break it open is what they’re going to do.” The industry has encroached on sacred praying sights, medicinal plant fields, and teepee grounds. Scoria roads and wire gates are cutting up what was once an infinite grassland. Well sites are popping up over sacred cemeteries and erasing the traces of an already disintegrating tradition. The traditional spiritual practices began to dissolve with the flooding from the Garrison dam. Now, with the industrial invasion of a sacred landscape, a return to the former kinship seems unlikely. “It’s not their homeland. It’s not their land. All this development is for the almighty dollar. They’re going to stay here as long as they can suck the oil from the earth, and we have to live with what’s left over when they leave,” Elgin said. It’s easy to villainize the oil industry— but there are additional culprits at play here. The state is issuing drilling permits too quickly, and in doing so, it’s pulling the rug out from its own local towns and communities—Putting
them at risk for a loss of autonomy, broken social structures, and an increased dependence on external organizations. And then there’s the national demand for oil. Consuming 18.8 million barrels of oil a day, the US is the largest consumer of petroleum in the world. 55% of that oil comes from domestic sources. North Dakota’s private landowners, native populations, and local communities suffer the burdens from pressure exerted at the larger scales. We live in a society where the site of production, for most of us, is spatially disconnected from the place of consumption. As a result, the federal government, the state, and even we as consumers, turn a blind eye to those living in the places that fuel our cars, make our plastics, and insulate our homes. With global supplies dwindling, scientists predict that by 2041, oil will be incapable of meeting even 33.6% of the world’s energy needs. Within the next two decades, the oil industry will pack its bags and head out of North Dakota—probably more quickly than it came in. In the meantime, our growing demand for energy cannot justify an irresponsible extaction of supplies. 21