CULTURE
sunrise on
ALCATRAZ GIVING THANKS THE
INDIGENOUS WAY By Elliot Owen · Photographs by Alex Chousa A sign reading “Indians Welcome” and “Indian Land” greets visitors to Alcatraz Island.
W
hile most American families are asleep at 4 a.m. this Thanksgiving morning, 3,500 people line up at Pier 33 in the rain, waiting for one of six ferries to shuttle them to Alcatraz Island. They are celebrating the 42nd Indigenous Peoples Sunrise Gathering, an annual event that commemorates the occupation of Alcatraz by six-dozen Native Americans between 1969 and 1971. The 19-month protest serves as an inspiration and model for today’s Occupy movement. The original occupiers of Alcatraz, many of whom were students, demanded the return of the island to indigenous people, and funding for a cultural center and university. Although the island’s legal deed was never changed, a cultural center was built
40 years later. In November, a permanent multimedia exhibit showcasing the island’s Native American history was opened in the basement of a prison cellblock. Jose B. Cuellar, Ph.D., a City College Latin American Studies professor, has been attending this event for more than 20 years. “The event is especially important this year with the new exhibit, to commemorate those strong, brave students who took a stand. It’s a place of education and the exhibit is going to give it new impact,” he says. One-by-one, the ferries dock at Alcatraz Island and the passengers disembark. Organizers, participants and supporters of the event walk up a concrete pathway to a large, paved platform. Among them is Cuellar, who holds a bundle of burning sage that laces the air and casts an amber glow on his face.
Jose Cuellar, a City College Latin American Studies professor, engages his students in a History of the Mexican-American Chicano class on the Ocean Campus.
“Folks from all over are here. People from South America … the islands … China. All the colors are here. People who are not from here come to show respect to the indigenous people, and leave with new perspectives,” he says. Once on the platform, the crowd forms a circle around a fire pit. As darkness slowly gives way to dawn, Pomo Indians begin their traditional dances around the fire, bare feet to cold stone. Whistles erupt between drum beats. Andrea Carmen, executive director of the International Indian Treaty Council, addresses the crowd. “We used to call it ‘Unthanksgiving Day’ as a protest to the lies of history. In 1637, the Governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony declared the first Thanksgiving — not as thanks to the indigenous nations who showed them how to eat when they arrived starved and lost on the shores — but as thanks for the return of colonist soldiers after they massacred 700 Pequot men, women and children. “Instead of saying ‘Unthanksgiving,’ this is ‘Indigenous Thanksgiving Day,’” Carmen says. “We give thanks to those who went before us, those who made the ultimate sacrifice, so we could be here today.” As the sun rises, the Oceana Coalition of Northern California performs their traditional Maori and Hawaiian dances. spring | 21