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'The Supreme Court was correct to vacate the Eighth Circuit’s decision, which wrongly prevented Native voters and Tribal Nations from vindicating their rights under the Voting Rights Act,' said the Native American Rights Fund
WASHINGTON — The Supreme Court acted in a Voting Rights Act case brought by tribal nations on Monday, saying a closely watched ruling needs to be reconsidered after the high court weakened the Civil Rights-era law.
The justices ordered lower courts to take another look at the decision that went against the tribes and undercut a key enforcement mechanism: lawsuits from voters and advocacy groups.
They’ve been key to enforcement, bringing most of the lawsuits filed under the provision of the Voting Rights Act known as Section 2.
The decision conflicted with decades of case law. The Supreme Court blocked it in July, allowing the tribes’ preferred maps to temporarily stay in place.
An attorney for the Native American Rights Fund, Lenny Powell, said sending the case back was the right call, and vowed to “keep fighting to ensure that Native voters have the ability to vote and effect change in their communities.”
The appeals court’s finding has nevertheless been cited elsewhere, with Mississippi making a similar argument in another appeal over its state legislative map. The court also sent that case back for reconsideration on Monday. The decision jeopardizes three new majority-Black state legislative districts, though the effects likely won’t be felt until 2027, said Damon Hewitt, president and executive director of the Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights Under Law.
Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson dissented from both decisions.
The conservative majority, meanwhile, has already diluted enforcement power with their April decision that struck down a majority Black congressional district in Louisiana and made future cases much harder to win.
In that case, the high court’s conservative majority ruled that map relied too heavily on race with a district aimed at giving Black voters a chance to elect a candidate of their choice. The decision effectively limited Voting Rights claims to maps that are intentionally designed to discriminate, a very high standard.
Associated Press writers Gary Fields and Jack Dura in Bismarck, North Dakota, contributed to this report.
Cris Derksen, Cree and Mennonite composer and cellist, was killed in a car crash following services to honor her recently deceased father on May 15.
Derksen, 45, was returning from Slave Lake, Alberta, where funeral services were held for her father, Bernard Meenan, who had once served as chief of their community of Tall Cree First Nation.
According to early police reports, Derksen and her partner were travelling south on Highway 44 when a north bound vehicle crossed the line and crashed into them head on. Both drivers were taken to the hospital. Derksen was pronounced dead at the scene. Rebecca, Derksen’s wife, remains in critical condition.
RCMP Cpl. Matthew Howell told 660 NewsRadio that officers responded to a two-vehicle collision on Highway 44 near Township Road 684.
“The initial call stated that a northbound SUV crossed the centre line and collided with a southbound SUV,” he told the Calgary based radio station. “The passenger of the southbound SUV was declared deceased on scene.”
ICT will use she/they pronouns for Derksen as it was self-verified on IMDbPro.
Derksen arrived onto the national music scene with her groundbreaking collaborations with Inuit singer-songwriter Tanya Tagaq.
“Where do I start? We were so young. Baby musicians. You’ve been part of my life for so long. You danced so hard you broke your foot, twice,” Tagaq posted. “I miss you already. All our crazy adventures. The music. You helped me when my daughter was injured. I wish you were here still. I love you cris”
One of the defining works of a career cut way too short will be their classical meets Indigenous traditional masterpiece Orchestral Powwow.
Rob Todd aka Tribal Spirit was producer on the recording which included the powwow drum group The Chippewa Travellers.
“Cris was a bright light in any room,” Todd told ICT in an email. “She was so passionate about creating music that she effortlessly blended a cello with a powwow drum group, which is not an obvious collaboration. Cris travelled with a musical inspiration that created magic.”
Manitoba Premier Wab Kinew worked with Derksen during his former career as a television broadcaster.
“I am very sad to hear the news about Cris Derksen. They were a wonderful person and extraordinary talent,” Kinew posted. “They scored the TV series ‘8th Fire,’ which was instrumental in my broadcasting career, and I felt increasingly invested in their work ever since. Cris will be missed. My sincere condolences to their family and friends.”
Derksen had worked most recently with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra for the world premiere of their composition, “Still Here.”
“Just weeks ago, we witnessed the incredible world première of Still Here at Roy Thomson Hall,” posted the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. “Cris had a remarkable ability to listen deeply to people’s stories and transform them into something meaningful and shared. She approached this work, and everyone involved in it, with extraordinary compassion, curiosity, and care. Our hearts are broken for Cris’ family, loved ones, collaborators, and community. Her music will remain with us.”
Derksen loved creating and collaborating and will be missed by many friends and colleagues they made during their musical journey such as Dene singer and songwriter Leela Gilday.
“I love you forever my friend. Been wrapped up in my own grief and I only texted when your dad passed. I should have called. Of everyone I should have known life is short and unexpected,” posted Gilday. “At least I have these 25 years of memories of a beautiful person in my life. RIP you absolutely world class devastatingly kind and ultimately talented alien. Life is fucking unfair. Listen to her music people!!!!!!! What fire she gave to our world.”
Cree and Mennonite composer and cellist, Cris Derksen, was killed in a car accident on May 15, 2026. (Courtesy of Robert Todd of Tribal Spirit Music)
Derksen has a number of performances in the country’s capital of Ottawa at the National Arts Centre.
“Cris brought a powerful and unmistakable voice to contemporary music, weaving together classical training, Indigenous traditions, and electronic innovation. Their work resonated across the country and around the world,” the Centre posted. “Here at the NAC, we were honoured to welcome Cris as part of Matriarchs Uprising, where they performed with the Cris Derksen Quartet alongside a remarkable community of Indigenous artists. Cris was also an important part of NAC-led artistic programming for the Canadian Pavilion at World Expo in Dubai (2022), and in Japan (2025), where they served as composer.”
Renowned trans singer-songwriter Beverly Glenn Copeland offered their condolences.
“We are so very saddened to hear of Cris Derksen’s tragic passing. I hold the memories close of our collaboration with Queer Songbook Orchestra in 2017,” posted Glenn-Copeland. “Elizabeth and I are sending prayer to all those who loved Cris, especially to their family. Cris was one of a kind and will be greatly missed.”
Derksen performed with 15 different symphonies and chamber orchestras across Canada and had been commissioned by prestigious ensembles such as the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra, the Thunder Bay Symphony, and Orchestre Métropolitain. In 2022, they were composer for the Canadian Pavilion at the World Expo in Dubai and again in 2025 at the World Expo in Osaka. Derksen had their Carnegie Hall debut in 2024 performing with Orchestre Metropolitan and Yannick Nézet-Séguin with their piece Controlled Burn. She worked with the Royal Winnipeg Ballet and in 2026 wrote a 75 Minute Ballet Cikilaxwm: Controlled Burn for Ballet Kelowna with Indigenous Choreographer Cameron Fraser-Monroe.
“I feel so brilliantly blessed to have spent so much time dreaming, laughing, and playing together. And I am especially grateful that we brought Cikilaxʷm into the world, now. There are few people brave enough to push boundaries in the classical form, and even rarer are those that can bump into those jagged edges with your softness and care,” posted Fraser-Moore. “This was only the beginning, and I know your music will continue to uplift and inspire people for a long time to come.”
Annemarie Leenhouts-Petrov, president and chief executive officer of the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra, expressed the shock the news spread across the music world in Canada. “The news of Cris Derksen’s sudden death in [a] motor vehicle accident has stunned the music world,” stated Leenhouts-Petrov. “A trailblazing cellist and composer, Derksen created a unique musical sound blending classical music with traditional Indigenous music.”
Derksen was represented by AIM Booking Services who shared their grief online.
“At AIM, we are devastated by the loss of someone who was so much more than a client—she was family. We extend our deepest, most heartfelt condolences to her family, loved ones, the Indigenous arts community, and everyone moved by her incredible work,” they posted. “Thank you, Cris, for sharing your light, your fire, and your music with us. You left an indelible mark on this world, and your song will echo in our hearts forever.”
“Can plants talk? Well, now they can! All you need is your phone,” Cherokee elder Tony Harris tells children visiting the Cherokee Garden at Green Meadows Preserve, in Marietta, Georgia.
With Georgia’s inclusion of tribal history in its public-school curriculum, as many as 1,400 local schoolchildren visit the garden each year, Harris says. There they learn about its collection of more than 400 plants used traditionally by Cherokees. The garden’s signage includes plant names in Cherokee and English and QR codes, and the children have fun pointing their cellphones at them to pull up pictures and additional information. “They eat it up,” Harris says.
He began planting the garden in 2013. It is on the route of the Trail of Tears, along which, in the 1830s, President Andrew Jackson force-marched tens of thousands of Cherokees and members of other southeastern tribes from their homelands to Oklahoma, which the federal government had designated Indian Country. The tribes’ ancestral lands were then opened to settlers.
The trek to Oklahoma was deadly and disruptive. Half of the tribal members marched there died along the way. The starvation and stress of the journey were exacerbated by the massive dislocation of their lives and the inability to access the plants and food that were central to their traditional medicine and culture. “They might as well have been going to the surface of the moon,” Harris says.
In 2015, the National Park Service named the Cherokee Garden at Green Meadows Preserve an interpretative site of the Trail of Tears National Historic Trail. The garden lies within a Marietta public park that includes walking trails, organic community gardens, an historic home and more.
Annually, according to Tony Harris’s wife, Carra Harris, about 500 people from garden clubs and other civic groups take organized tours of the Cherokee garden (that’s in addition to the 1,400 schoolkids). Another 15,000 of the yearly visitors to the park as a whole drop by the garden as well; they look at plants, especially those that are blooming or fruiting, and ask questions of the garden volunteers at work.
Through its educational mission and its preservation of Cherokee plant knowledge, the garden has an active role in re-establishing Cherokees’ connection to the earth. The reconnection fills an emotional and cultural need, Carra says, calling this a healing.
In pursuit of that idea, in April 2025 the garden welcomed middle schoolers from the Cherokee Immersion School, in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, the capital of the Cherokee Nation. “We wanted to capture video and pictures of plants we don’t have here in Oklahoma but are part of our heritage,” says their teacher Victoria Bangle. She was pleased to include the students in that process. “Plants are the center of our language,” Bangle says.
According to Bangle, the middle-schoolers took lots of pictures and are now working on giving each plant its Cherokee name, presented in the Cherokee syllabary. This writing system uses symbols based on syllables rather than on phonemes, or small units of sound, as in English.
The students are also creating an app that will help other Cherokees use this information to grow and use the plants, she says. For example, the students learned that black cohosh is used for fevers and snake bites, and wild ginger is for coughs, colds and headaches. Bloodroot’s sap treats poison ivy and repels insects, and its roots produce a red dye for crafts and regalia. The tall and durable trunks of tulip poplar trees can become canoes and timbers for log cabins, while its blooms are made into a salve for skin ailments.
Tony gave the students bloodroot, wild ginger and other plants to bring back to Oklahoma and put in their school garden. Each year, the growing season starts with a planting ceremony, and the children work in the garden until harvest time, says Bangle. “We go down once a week, check on the garden, pull any weeds.”
Cherishing knowledge
“You can’t understand Cherokee history and culture unless you understand our relationship to the land and to plants,” Tony says. He learned plants’ uses, including their medicinal function, over the course of his upbringing on the Cherokee Nation’s reservation. During his childhood there, his mother dosed him with teas and other medicaments. “I gotta tell you,” he jests, “some things taste better than others.”
In his early years, he says, this understanding was an important aspect of life—something that was always present and, it seemed, always would be. In his adult years, he began to fear that this knowledge, which is passed down orally, was slipping away. Without the continual and dedicated involvement of older Cherokees teaching youngsters, he worried it was within a generation of being lost.
One driver of this problem, Carra explains, was the fact that many Cherokees had to leave the reservation for greater access to higher education and good jobs. Tony left, too. In 1978, he went to Houston to start work with an international manufacturer of household products; four years later, the company transferred him to Georgia in a prominent executive role.
In Georgia, he immediately felt at home and became determined to safeguard his tribe’s plant expertise in its original homeland. When he retired in 2004, he had time to pursue this heart-felt interest. In 2011, to bolster their knowledge as horticulturalists, both Harrises earned credentials as Master Gardeners through the University of Georgia Extension Service. When Tony told fellow Master Gardeners about the garden he hoped to set up, they were so enthusiastic, says Carra. They introduced him to people in the county government, helped him secure a site for the plot and still, to this day, help out weekly.
The Cherokee Nation also has a traditional-plants garden, the Cherokee Heritage Garden in Tahlequah. But, as Bangle notes above, some traditionally used Cherokee plants are not found naturally in Oklahoma. So Tony fills in the gaps. For over a decade, he and Carra have taken herbaceous plants, shrubs and trees from Georgia and donated them to the Nation’s garden. They thrive there, he says, pointing out that the two regions’ USDA hardiness zones are similar.
With one caveat, adds Carra: the Georgia plants can require extra watering once they’re in the ground in Oklahoma. Georgia is blessed with lots of water, whereas Oklahoma is drier, she says.
The Cherokee Nation’s garden has provided Tony with plants to bring back to Georgia. “We have a good working relationship,” he says. He also gets seeds from the tribal seedbank. Established in 2006, it collects seeds of traditional crops and other plants and disburses them free to tribal members, according to the tribe’s Natural Resources Office.
In 2019, the Cherokee Nation honored Tony for his work preserving tribal history and culture. His efforts and concerns are in line with those of tribes throughout the United States. Their loss of access to beloved plants was, and continues to be, disastrous—punching a hole in tribal culture and wellbeing. This is a consequence of the hundreds of treaties tribal nations signed with the federal government during the 18th and 19th centuries. Under these agreements, tribes typically transferred land to the government in return for education, health care and other services.
The diminished tribal homelands were then subjected to continual and often violent federal efforts to further decrease Native landholdings—by forcing them to relocate to unfamiliar areas, as the Cherokees were, or by simply breaking the treaty’s promises. Every single treaty was broken in some fashion. The gardening, gathering, hunting, fishing and other activities with which tribal members had cared for each other since time immemorial were severely restricted or entirely demolished.
The United States also purposely destroyed critical food sources, such as the huge buffalo herds that once roamed the country. During the late 19th century, military and civilian hunters shot as many as 100,000 per day. The nation’s population of tens of millions of buffalo was soon reduced to a few hundred.
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In 1916, Georgia made a well-meaning but regrettable effort to romanticize the Trail of Tears. It named as its state flower a rose that legends held had appeared wherever Cherokee tears fell along their arduous journey to Oklahoma. Dubbed the Cherokee Rose, the plant is in fact an Asian cultivar brought to the U.S. in the 1700s as a decorative landscape feature. It has become so invasive that the Georgia Invasive Species Council recently declared it a threat to the state’s native plants.
Since 2024, the Georgia Native Plant Society, of which Tony is a member, has led an effort to change the state flower to an actual native plant. The group supports honoring the sweetbay magnolia, a white-flowering tree that Cherokees use for medicinal and ceremonial purposes. In March, the Georgia Senate unanimously approved a bill that would make this change; the legislation now awaits approval by the Georgia House and, if this happens, the governor’s signature.
The sweetbay magnolia is an ecological anchor, providing a home for butterflies and food for birds, squirrels, deer, cattle and other creatures. Georgia Native Plant Society board chair Michael Cowan told the Georgia Recorder that the society’s support for the change raises awareness of the ecological and economic benefits of native plants.
Fans far and wide
Viewers from 37 countries have visited Tony’s blog, mycherokeegarden.com. When he started it, he had no idea of the internet’s reach, he confesses. One of his first posts, in 2013, was about sunchokes, also called Jerusalem artichokes, and how the Cherokees used the tubers as food. An hour later, a chef in Hanoi requested additional information about Cherokee food plants. A veterinarian in Montreal wanted to know about dosing sick animals with plant medicine. It was all “mind-boggling,” he says.
The Cherokee Garden at Green Meadows Preserve has enthusiastic local support. Tony has worked regularly with area developers, who give him permission to visit building sites before digging starts and rescue Cherokee plants he and his garden volunteers find there. Organizations including Bank of America and Kennesaw State University offer teams of employees and students, respectively, to weed, mulch, transplant and more.
Some of the thousands of annual visitors return as garden helpers. A friend invited neighborhood resident Sue Marini to work in the garden, which she has made a weekly event. When Marini learned about the Trail of Tears, she was horrified at what had been done to the Cherokees. “To preserve their history became very important to me,” she says.
Cherokee schoolchildren will continue to make the trip from Oklahoma to Georgia to visit the garden. Bangle looks forward to teaching them in their ancestral homeland about their forebears’ accomplishments. Wyman Kirk, administrator of the Cherokee Immersion School, adds, “For a lot of the kids, it was their first chance to connect with that type of knowledge—with the sites out in the east and the knowledge that we have.”
When the Cherokee children asked Tony if they could please come back, he responded, “You sure can.”
Election 2026NewsPoliticsElection DayElectionsMontanaNative VoteNative Voting RightsVoting Rights
A Montana judge has blocked the state from limiting voter registration on Election Day, concluding the move would disproportionately harm Native American and young voters.
A Montana judge has blocked the state from limiting voter registration on Election Day, concluding the move would disproportionately harm Native American and young voters.
The ruling prevents a law that was enacted last year by the Republican-controlled Legislature from being enforced that would have prevented voters from casting ballots in presidential, U.S. Senate and U.S. House races if they register after noon on Election Day. It was the second time in five years that legislators attempted to move away from Election Day registrations.
District Judge Adam Larsen’s order, issued late Friday, is to remain in effect through the trial of a lawsuit filed by the Montana Federation of Public Employees, later joined by tribal nations, including the Blackfeet and Northern Cheyenne. However, the state’s primary elections are June 2, and the trial isn’t until late August.
Larsen, sitting in the county that’s home to the state capital of Helena, noted that registering on Election Day is “wildly popular.” Montana has allowed it since 2006, and in 2014, 57 percent of voters rejected a statewide ballot initiative to end it.
“The undisputed record demonstrates that a substantial number of Montana voters rely on Election Day registration, including during afternoon hours,” Larsen wrote. “The record further establishes that some voters will be unable to register prior to noon due to work schedules, travel constraints, polling place hours or unforeseen registration issues.”
Montana Attorney General Austin Knudsen’s office expressed disappointment in the ruling.
“Unrestricted voter registration on Election Day puts a undue burden on Montana’s election administrators who have very important jobs ensuring our elections are secure and run smoothly,” spokesperson Chase Scheuer said in an email.
But Larsen rejected the state’s argument that the law would make administering elections easier, saying local election officials would handle voting in federal races differently from state and local races.
Montana polling places for at least 400 voters must remain open from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m. on Election Day, but those for fewer voters don’t have to open until noon, something Larsen noted.
The judge said Native American voters face “unique barriers” to voting, including long travel distances and limited access to transportation. Students and other young voters face obstacles to registering because of “scheduling constraints” and because they move more frequently, he wrote.
Amanda Curtis, the Montana public employees group’s president, said its lawsuit defended “the fundamental right of every voice to be heard” from “overreaching politicians.”
The group and the tribes also challenged changes in a state law specifying which IDs students can show at the polls to register and vote, but Larsen concluded that they couldn’t show that anyone had been prevented from voting because of them. Scheuer said the changes “bolster the integrity of Montana elections.”
In 2021, the Legislature enacted a law ending voter registration on noon the day before Election Day, but the Montana Supreme Court struck it down in 2024 as a violation of an “unequivocal fundamental right” protected by the state Constitution. The justices said more than 70,000 Montana voters had taken advantage of Election Day registration since its inception.
Before legislators enacted the latest law in 2025, their staff warned in a memo that the measure could conflict with the Supreme Court’s 2024 decision.
Mountain BureauNewsBlack HillsICT Must ReadSouth DakotaUranium Mining
Environmental advocates and Indigenous activists have raised concerns that the project in the Black Hills would damage historic petroglyphs and pictographs
RAPID CITY, S.D. – Less than a week after successfully stopping a drilling project at Pe’ Sla, a sacred site in the Black Hills of South Dakota, Indigenous treaty defenders are gearing up for another fight against a drilling project in South Dakota – this time 500 feet away from a significant site.
From May 18-22, the South Dakota Board of Minerals and Environment will hear arguments regarding a proposed exploratory uranium drilling project near Craven Canyon, which houses historic petroglyphs and pictographs created over 7,000 years ago.
Craven Canyon is an archaeological site in the southern Black Hills, roughly 25 miles from Hot Springs, where the hearing will take place.
On May 8, the permit for a proposed exploratory graphite drilling project just over a half mile from Pe’ Sla, a sacred site for the Lakota people, was withdrawn by Pete Lien & Sons, the natural resource mining company that had originally obtained the permit. The decision came after a week of Indigenous-led occupation at two of the project drill pads.
The one-mile study area for the Chord Project, the uranium project in Craven Canyon, includes 12 “rock art,” or petroglyph and petrograph sites, and at least one suspected burial site, according to a February 2025 letter from South Dakota Historical Preservation Officer Garry Guan addressed to the South Dakota Department of Agriculture and Natural Resources.
One drill pad, identified as Pad 33, is within the boundaries of a suspected burial site identified by the state’s Archaeological Center, Guan said in his letter.
“Given the nature of the site, this drill pad should be moved to another location or removed from the project entirely,” he wrote.
The Black Hills is a significant area for numerous tribes, including the Oceti Sakowin (Lakota, Dakota and Nakoda), Cheyenne, Arapahoe, Mandan, Hidatsa, Arikara and many more. Despite this, roughly 42 percent of the Black Hills is private property and less than one percent is tribal trust land.
If the Chord Project is approved, the Clean Nuclear Energy Corp. would build it.
Uranium drilling is becoming more common across the United States and Canada, largely as the result of a greater push to domesticate the United States’s supply of energy resources like uranium, graphite and lithium – all of which are major components in the creation of electric vehicles but also in computers and phones.
The domestic production of uranium has greatly decreased since the 1980s, and the U.S. largely gets its uranium from Canada, Kazakhstan, Russia and Australia, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration. Following several tariffs imposed by President Donald Trump affecting the supply chains from these nations, more domestic companies are looking to get uranium from the United States. To meet the demand, more mining companies are requesting permits to identify uranium across the U.S., like in the Chord Project.
The proposed project near Craven Canyon would consist of 50 holes drilled 700 feet deep into state-owned land, and the drilling process would take two weeks, according to project documents.
Despite its close proximity to several archaeological sites, the South Dakota Archaeological Society determined the proposed project is not a risk to the historical sites in Craven Canyon, Guan said in his letter to state officials.
However, several nonprofit advocacy organizations, including Dakota Rural Action and the Black Hills Clean Water Alliance, have spoken out against the proposed project. According to Dakota Rural Action, over 30 individuals, two tribal governments and two organizations have filed petitions opposing the project.
The two intervening tribes are the Oglala Sioux Tribe and Rosebud Sioux Tribe, according to a Dakota Rural Action spokesperson.
Project opponents have said it would physically harm the existing archaeological sites, cause drilling vibrations and irreparably damage the site.
In a May 14 statement, a Dakota Rural Action spokesperson said the project would require about 5,000-10,000 gallons per day to be completed, which could exacerbate ongoing drought conditions in the area. As of May 14, the southern Black Hills was experiencing extreme drought conditions, according to the National Drought Mitigation Center.
The hearing is scheduled to begin at 9 a.m. MT May 18 at the Mueller Center in Hot Springs, South Dakota.
BLACK HILLS, South Dakota — Trina Lone Hill wasn’t surprised that mining companies had found lithium in South Dakota’s Black Hills. Gold and uranium had drawn drillers to the Lakota Sioux tribe’s hallowed ground in these western highlands years ago. Now, with this new mineral powering the global green-energy transition, the tribe’s historic preservation officer had one thought: “Here we go again.”
About 1,000 miles away in southwest Nevada, Joe Kennedy, of the Timbisha Shoshone tribe, watched a sacred stream fade after a lithium-mining company began drilling in search of the mineral — all while his tribe fought to prevent a second company from boring into the aquifer beneath its reservation.
And in western Arizona, Brandon Siewiyumptewa, of the Hualapai Tribe, witnessed fissures crack open the earth and drain a spring sacred to his people after another mining company had drilled into land they warned would be too fragile to touch.
Scenes like these have played out across the country as the U.S. ramps up production of lithium — a key metal for electric vehicle batteries. By 2030, at least sixnew mining projects are projected to extract lithium from American soil and another 13 will soon follow — mostly in the dry Southwest.
That’s a huge jump from the single one currently in operation. And it’s just a fifth of the more than 100 projects to which companies have staked claims, according to a unique database compiled by Columbia Journalism Investigations, or CJI, and Inside Climate News, ICN.
Using public records and corporate filings accessed through the financial firm S&P Global, CJI and ICN identified roughly 540 proposed lithium mines worldwide, as well as operators and shareholders behind them.
The original dataset underscores how quickly the U.S. is becoming a player in the global lithium market: An analysis of the data shows U.S. lithium’s global market share rising from less than 1 percent today to as high as 8 percent in the next five years alone.
Credit: Graphic illustration courtesy of Inside Climate News
Touted as a way to strengthen U.S. energy independence, the rush for lithium gained momentum during the Biden administration. But under the banner of “Drill, Baby, Drill,” President Donald Trump has supercharged it. Records and interviews show mounting pressure on federal officials to fast-track permits and greenlight lithium projects in a fraction of the standard timeline. To push projects forward, the Trump administration has taken the unprecedented step of buying shares in lithium mines to guarantee federal loans.
On the ground, dozens of proposed mines manifest as wooden stakes marking land claims or massive drills boring into rock or brine. Yet as mining companies seek permits and lure investors, frontline communities must grapple with the fallout of the so-called “white gold.”
Socially and economically vulnerable communities are bearing the brunt of this boom, according to an analysis by CJI and ICN. The newsrooms mapped lithium mines with tribal lands and county demographic measures, such as income and race. Nearly two-thirds of all lithium projects are located in vulnerable counties — many of them places where people in poverty and people of color disproportionately live.
Indigenous communities are hard hit. Roughly one in 10 proposed mines sits within 10 miles of a tribal reservation, even though reservations comprise 2 percent of U.S. land overall. And that doesn’t take into account the millions of acres of lost tribal territory.
Trina Lone Hill, the tribal historic preservation officer for the Oglala Lakota, is concerned about the development of lithium mining in the Black Hills of South Dakota. “Here we go again,” she said. Credit: Carla Samon Ros/Columbia Journalism Investigations via Inside Climate News
Many Native Americans, like Lone Hill, fear getting caught up in yet another mineral’s development for what the extraction industry calls the “greater good,” they say. Tribes forced off ancestral territory by past mining activities say their cultural and historical sites remain at risk today. Federal regulators’ inability to protect tribal interests — coupled with an outdated mining law that lacks safeguards — has given companies near-total freedom to exploit public land, according to one 2023 government report assessing the mine-permitting process.
The combination paves the way for history to repeat itself.
“All those minerals … are right in our sacred sites,” Lone Hill said. The pattern of sidelining tribal voices and dispossession, she added, “has always been oppressive.”
The U.S. Department of the Interior did not respond to multiple requests for an interview for this story, or to a list of written questions. In a statement, the department said it “is taking urgent action to strengthen America’s supply of critical minerals and domestic energy to protect national and economic security and reduce reliance on foreign sources.”
While it has streamlined permitting, the department said it will continue to comply with the law, including for environmental review and tribal consultation.
“Honoring our trust and treaty responsibilities to tribes and engaging communities early and meaningfully remain core to our mission,” the statement said.
Kate Finn, who founded the California-based nonprofit Tallgrass Institute — formerly known as First Peoples Worldwide, which works to create equitable partnerships between Indigenous peoples and the private sector — said there’s still time for federal officials to consult tribes on new lithium projects. But with so many mines in development and officials scaling back practices meant to include tribal perspectives, she believes the U.S. government is facing a critical moment in its relationship with Indigenous nations.
“There are incredible risks that are not being viewed in total,” said Finn, noting potential legal battles and other conflicts with Indigenous peoples. “To skip over those [risks] is detrimental and really shows that the green transition may not live up to its promise.”
‘A very aggressive schedule’
The move to accelerate domestic lithium production dates to the first Trump administration. In 2017, the Interior Department ordered faster reviews of proposed projects on public land. Within three years, Interior’s Bureau of Land Management, which oversees the permitting process, reduced environmental assessments from four years to 15 months, on average, BLM told a congressional committee at the time.
“In addition to the faster review time, this reform has resulted in enhanced coordination with elected officials, tribes, other federal agencies and the public,” said William Perry Pendley, then-chief of the BLM, in written testimony.
But the sole lithium mine approved by the BLM during Trump’s first term suggests otherwise. Developed by the Canadian company Lithium Americas, Thacker Pass sits near the Oregon–Nevada border. In 1865, U.S. soldiers massacred several dozen Paiute people there. Every year, tribes gather on the land — which the Paiute call Peehee Mu’huh, or “rotten moon” — for a prayer horse ride to honor the victims.
Agency emails uncovered in a lawsuit later filed by the Reno-Sparks Indian Colony against BLM show staff scrambling to meet a one-year deadline to issue Thacker Pass a permit.
“I’m thoroughly frustrated trying to keep this process moving given the complexities of this proposal,” one employee wrote in an April 2020 email to BLM’s Nevada office, explaining a draft of the unfinished environmental study was due in a day.
Employees ended up approving the project five days before Trump left office in January 2021 — at the expense of this historic tribal site, critics say.
Tribal and local parties, as well as environmental groups, sued the BLM that year, alleging the agency hadn’t properly consulted federally recognized tribes affected by the project, among other claims. A judge ruled there was “no question BLM could have done more” to contact tribes, according to a 2021 ruling, but found the agency had made a “reasonable” decision about who it should consult.
The Biden administration fueled the lithium rush further by funneling billions of public dollars into clean-energy projects — including $2.26 billion for Thacker Pass.
In a statement provided to CJI and ICN, Tim Crowley, Lithium Americas’ senior vice president for government and external affairs, notes the company “has worked extensively with the local community and tribes,” and is proud of the community benefits agreement it has signed with the Fort McDermitt Tribe.
“The Thacker Pass project complies with all applicable state and federal laws and has undergone rigorous environmental review,” Crowley said. “Any assertion to the contrary is baseless.”
Another beneficiary of the windfall was the Australian company Ioneer, which is planning a lithium mine on Nevada’s Rhyolite Ridge, home to a rare, endangered wildflower. Environmental and tribal groups have argued the Rhyolite Ridge mine — which is expected to produce enough lithium to power 370,000 electric vehicles annually — could drive the flower to extinction and threaten a spring sacred to the Western Shoshone.
Tiehm’s buckwheat is a rare wildflower found only at the site of the proposed Rhyolite Ridge mine, thanks in part to the soil being rich in the minerals the mine seeks to extract. Credit: Wyatt Myskow/courtesy of Inside Climate News
While Biden’s Interior Department replaced his predecessor’s rule on fast-tracked reviews, internal emails show BLM employees remained under pressure to advance Ioneer’s project. In a December 2023 email to Ioneer, one BLM employee noted the company’s groundwater model would have to be approved “without any edits or comments” to meet the agency’s deadline.
“This is a very aggressive schedule that deviates from other project schedules on similar projects completed recently,” the employee said.
Ten months later, BLM greenlit the Rhyolite Ridge Lithium Boron Project — the only lithium mine authorized during Biden’s presidency. In January 2025, three days before Biden left the White House, his administration gave Ioneer a $996 million loan guarantee to break ground on the mine.
The Western Shoshone Defense Project and other groups filed a 2024 lawsuit over the mine’s approval. In March, a judge upheld the BLM’s action. The Indigenous rights and environmental groups appealed.
Bernard Rowe, Ioneer’s managing director, told CJI and ICN that the volatile lithium market and funding issues have delayed the project, but it’s only a matter of time before the mine gets built. At the site, Rowe has examined the lithium-rich clay abundant in the area.
“There isn’t another lithium deposit like that that we know of anywhere in the world,” he said.
Steve Feldgus, Interior’s deputy assistant secretary for land and minerals management from 2021 to 2024, said his team aimed to prevent permit approvals that later could be delayed by legal challenges.
“We wanted things to be done right,” he said. “But it’s totally possible that individual staff felt there was pressure to move faster than they wanted.”
Now, more than a year into Trump’s second term, the accelerated reviews proliferate. In March 2025, the president signed an executive order to speed up permits for new lithium mines and other critical-minerals projects that can be “immediately approved.” The order makes no mention of BLM’s longstanding practice of consulting Native American tribes affected by proposed mines on public land.
One month later, Interior Secretary Doug Burgum, the former North Dakota governor and an oil industry ally, introduced a radical change: Regulators will get roughly 28 days to review and comment on projects’ environmental impacts. Indigenous tribes? Seven days to respond.
Under these guidelines, BLM announced it would give the public just five days to comment on a proposed lithium drilling site on the Oregon side of the McDermitt Caldera, a volcanic depression containing one of the world’s largest known lithium deposits and home to the Thacker Pass mine on the Nevada side. A subsidiary of the Australian mining company Jindalee Lithium, HiTech Minerals Inc., plans to drill 168 exploratory holes in this biodiverse region, affecting the same tribes as Thacker Pass. Tribal members have long hunted and gathered traditional medicines in the area.
Public outrage ultimately prompted BLM to extend the public comment period to 30 days. But by then, the agency had added Jindalee’s project to a new federal effort meant to streamline development, the Fixing America’s Surface Transportation Act, known as “FAST-41.” To date, the Trump administration has flagged nine lithium mines for the program. It approved Jindalee’s drilling in December; three environmental groups have since sued.
Jindalee CEO Ian Rodger said in a statement to CJI and ICN that the company was not aware in advance of the BLM’s decision to shorten the public comment period for the proposed drilling. Jindalee supported BLM extending the deadline, he said, and the company will join the agency in its defense of the project approval.
The project is only for exploratory drilling, not yet a full-scale mine, Rodger added. He said the company is committed to continued community and tribal consultation. In April, Jindalee’s HiTech Minerals merged with Constellation Acquisition Corp. to form US Elemental Inc. and announced plans to go public.
“It’s my backyard there,” said Myron Smart, an elder in the Fort McDermitt Paiute-Shoshone tribe who has advocated for the region’s protection. “It really bothers me. But what can I do? I’m just at the bottom of the totem pole. I don’t have no say over anything. The only thing that I rely on is my prayer.”
Despite Smart’s prayers, mining developments at nearby Thacker Pass march forward. In September, the Trump administration renegotiated the Biden-era loan with Lithium Americas, giving the U.S. Department of Energy a 5 percent stake in both company and project.
In a statement on the deal, Energy Secretary Chris Wright thanked the president for his “bold leadership.”
“American lithium production is going to skyrocket,” Wright said.
‘The last checkbox’
The legal framework for BLM’s permitting process dates back more than 150 years, when, following California’s Gold Rush, Congress passed the General Mining Act of 1872. The act allows American citizens and companies to stake mining claims on public land — using literal wooden stakes. Federal officials will grant exclusive mining rights to any entity if it shows the ground beneath has minerals. Established mining claims are treated much like private property — almost impossible to revoke even for conservation purposes.
“It’s like, ‘Here, go [prospect for minerals]. If you find anything, it’s all yours,’” said Feldgus, the former Interior official.
Regulators can intervene if environmental damage exceeds what’s considered “necessary” for extraction, a subjective threshold that’s rarely met. Unlike other federal laws, the act doesn’t require the U.S. government to consult with tribes about how mining might affect their health, environment and heritage on ancestral territory outside reservation boundaries, a safeguard enshrined in international law.
The BLM has issued a patchwork of policy manuals instructing staff on how to carry out the environmental reviews and limited tribal consultations required by modern laws. These policy documents stipulate that such consultations should be “meaningful,” reflect a “government-to-government relationship” and involve a “reasonable and good-faith effort” to consider tribal concerns.
In practice, the agency rarely enforces its own policies, Indigenous leaders say. Typically, tribal consultations occur too late to make a difference, if they happen at all.
“It’s insufficient,” said Finn, of the Tallgrass Institute. Better consultation would help, she said, but even more than that, “we need consent.”
At the tribal headquarters on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota — home to the Lakota people, who are part of the Sioux Nation — Lone Hill serves as the key liaison between the tribe and the federal agencies. On a visit to her office last spring, her desk brimmed with documents. None involved the lithium activities occurring in the Black Hills, which are on private land located within the tribe’s ancestral territory.
On public land, federal agencies should notify tribes about proposed lithium projects that might affect them and give tribal members at least 30 days to comment. But official notice doesn’t always arrive. And when it does, tribes may not have the resources or expertise to respond.
When Lone Hill gets a call, she said, she’s learned to remind regulators: “This [phone call]isn’t a formal consultation.” Regulators must reach out to the tribal councils to kick off the official process.
“They just want to say, ‘We sent you the notice, so you know about it …we’re done,’” said Lone Hill, who calls tribal consultation “the last checkbox.”
“It’s just all a play,” she added.
Some foreign firms have tried to change that. Take Integra Resources, a Canadian company developing a gold and silver mine on several tribes’ ancestral homelands, including the Shoshone-Paiute in Idaho. Several years ago, Integra sought to initiate a tribal consultation much like it would have in Canada, said Mark Stockton, its vice president for external affairs and sustainability. Unable to obtain a comprehensive list of tribal contacts from the local BLM office, Integra did its own research, relying on old maps and asking tribal councils for help.
BLM employees “just don’t know, and they don’t have contacts,” Stockton said. “They don’t know who to call.”
Despite an executive order issued in 2000 and subsequent White House directives calling for more consistent tribal consultation standards and annual training, former BLM employees note that the agency’s policy standards remain vague, with little guidance on what tribal consultations should entail. As a result, interpretations can vary among district offices; often, tribal engagement falls to staff archaeologists rather than chief administrators. A universal training standard doesn’t exist, Feldgus confirmed.
In 2022, Feldgus headed an interagency working group that examined how to improve the permitting process for mines on public land. A year later, the group released a report outlining broad reforms, such as establishing training policies and providing tribes with resources to ensure they can participate. The report concluded these efforts would fall short without a fundamental overhaul of the country’s 1872 mining act.
Feldgus said the act is “so unfathomably beneficial” to the mining industries that they “fight to the death to keep it, and they have enough supporters in Congress who really care [to preserve it].”
During his tenure, he said, the BLM worked to expand informal tribal consultations before the official permitting process started and to hire additional BLM tribal liaisons. But the agency was still recovering from the hollowing out of its workforce during the first Trump administration. The COVID-19 pandemic and complex federal hiring procedures made rebuilding harder.
The second Trump administration’s push to streamline permitting threatens to undo it all. “Now the situation is going to be that much worse,” Feldgus said.
Never trading land for lithium
As lithium development accelerates, new mining claims can appear and vanish so quickly that residents struggle to keep track. In the Black Hills, longtime Custer resident Meg King monitors locations where companies drill for lithium, piecing together what information she can.
The forested mountains, central to the Sioux Nation’s ancestral territory, consist of a hodgepodge of public and private land that enables exploration to remain largely hidden. As her car crept along a gravel road near the town of Custer in the southern Black Hills, she looked for the place where she’d spotted the latest drilling site.
“Down there between the trees — you can see the delivery trucks,” King said, motioning toward a clearing where snow remnants clung to the hills.
Inching toward a tangle of trees, she found a path blocked by signs that read “Private Property,” alongside others bearing the name “IRIS Metals,” an Australian lithium mining company that has turned a Custer storage unit into its field office.
Understanding why this land matters to the Lakota Sioux requires confronting the history of land ownership in the Black Hills, King says. She’s learned about it through her work as a tribal lawyer and from spending time on the tribe’s Pine Ridge Reservation.
From 1778 to 1871, the U.S. government signed more than 350 treaties with Native American tribes to formalize relations between sovereign nations. The treaties assigned distinct borders to tribal territory in exchange for peace, but did little to protect tribal interests once settlers moved west. Many treaties were rewritten without tribal consent. Others shattered when military troops seized tribal land, killing and displacing thousands of Indigenous people.
When federal officials signed the treaty with the Sioux Nation in 1868, they promised to set aside land encompassing the Black Hills for the tribe’s “absolute and undisturbed use and occupation.” But gold seekers soon trespassed on this territory; in 1875, officials tried to purchase land to settle conflicts. Lakota Sioux’s chiefs vowed to sell the Black Hills only for a price high enough to provide for their tribe’s women and children in perpetuity.
In response, U.S. soldiers stormed the Black Hills and blocked the tribe from hunting on its land. They forced starving tribal members to sign a new agreement that would nullify the Sioux Treaty of 1868. As a result, the Sioux, including the Lakota, lost roughly two-thirds of their treaty land, including the revered Black Hills.
“Once they found that gold, they didn’t care,” said Lone Hill. “They gave us those lands, and then they said, ‘We’ll take it back now.’”
Tribes lost additional territory when federal legislators passed a law dividing all reservation land into farm plots for individual Native American families. Land deemed “surplus” became a real estate free-for-all, sold or leased to White settlers, cattle ranchers and miners. Many Indigenous people, often assigned the low-quality plots, struggled to grow crops on their farms and had to sell, tribal historians explain. By 1934, Native land holdings had shrunk from 138 million acres to 48 million.
At the Indigenous-led nonprofit organization NDN Collective’s headquarters in Rapid City, South Dakota, which borders the eastern Black Hills, then-staff organizer Taylor Gunhammer noted in an interview last year that this chapter of American history is rarely recognized in the mythology of westward expansion.
“At a certain point, operating these mines and establishing these settlements stopped being about pure capitalism, pure greed, and it started to be about harming Indians,” said Gunhammer, a Lakota Sioux member who presses for Indigenous empowerment. “The wealth accumulated from all that extraction was a self-awarded prize for harming Indians, which was at the time, and possibly still is, the most American patriotic thing.”
About 50 miles southeast of Custer — named after George Armstrong Custer, the Army general who led the first mineral expedition into Sioux territory — what remains of the tribe’s land emerges on the horizon: Pine Ridge Reservation. The 2.2 million acres stretch across open and sparsely settled grasslands, punctuated by deteriorating housing, clusters of abandoned vehicles and potholed roads. Nearly 30,000 Lakota Sioux people live there — more than half under 18, according to Lone Hill, sitting in her office flanked by portraits of her great-grandfather.
She considers her historic preservation officer job to be a sacred responsibility, guided by her ancestors’ voices to protect their land from mining. But she says it’s hard to rally community members when daily life is shaped by poverty. According to the U.S. Census, only a third of working-age adults on the reservation are employed.
“Food, general welfare, health,” said Lone Hill, ticking off issues that loom large for tribal members. The environment often comes last, she said, because people are too busy trying to survive.
Lone Hill remembers a time when the Lakota people moved with the seasons: spring brought the tribe out of the Black Hills after sheltering in its trees all winter; summer meant traveling back to sacred sites like Devils Tower in Wyoming. Families came together on summer solstices for sun dances and spiritual renewal. The Black Hills was their “little sanctuary,” she recalled — open for hunting, fishing, prayer gatherings.
Now, because of national monument and forestry designations, tribal members say federal regulations have limited those ceremonial practices. Often, they need permits to leave traditional offerings like prayer bundles full of tobacco and herbs.
Reflecting on all that past mining has taken from the tribe without giving back, she said they would never trade their land for lithium development. “This is our tribal footprint — we’re still fighting for these lands to be left untouched.”
Other Indigenous communities share this conviction. Near Wikieup, Arizona, Brandon Siewiyumptewa, the Hualapai tribesman, worked for about a month overseeing the tribe’s sacred spring and the ranch before noticing something strange: Water stopped flowing. Eventually, the spring dried up, and the earth cracked open. The only other change he could detect? An Australian mining company had begun drilling for lithium.
For years, the Hualapai Nation warned that Arizona Lithium’s Big Sandy Lithium Project could impact their cherished spring. The tribe called attention to the site’s status as a cultural property eligible for listing on the National Register of Historic Places and hired a hydrologist to study how the drilling could affect it. An expert federal panel later urged the BLM to consider “the clear potential for effects on the Ha’Kamwe’ historic property.”
The agency approved the mining project’s third-largest drilling phase in June 2024, relying on a 24-year-old study to conclude the drilling would not harm the spring.
That same year, the tribe sued the BLM over Big Sandy’s approval and won a temporary restraining order pausing the drilling. In February 2025, Arizona Lithium rescinded its plan, returning to the drawing board.
It’s a rare win for a tribe, largely due to its location and the judge’s determination that the BLM had not properly studied the project’s impacts to groundwater and a protected historical site, said Roger Flynn, director of the legal nonprofit Western Mining Action Project, who represented the Hualapai.
Arizona Lithium has since been purchased by the Navajo Transitional Energy Co., which owns the project. It did not respond to requests for comment.
The Hualapai continue to face threats from other mines. Ka-Voka Jackson, the tribe’s historic preservation officer, said keeping up with developments has taken much of her time — time she’d rather spend building the tribe’s language, arts and ethno-botany classes.
“We have a lot of responsibility to our people [and] the land,” Jackson said, but the barrage of mining projects “doesn’t seem to ever stop or slow down.”
U.S. laws ‘don’t give us any rights’
Sioux Nation members, including the Lakota people from Pine Ridge, have spent decades in court fighting to reclaim their traditional territory. As far back as 1923, the tribe sued the federal government, arguing their treaty rights were invalidated illegally — and the U.S. Supreme Court partly agreed. In a landmark 1980 decision, the court ruled the government had violated the original Sioux Treaty of 1868and essentially stolen tribal land.
Of the breach, a lower court — quoted in the Supreme Court’s decision — ruled that a “more ripe and rank case of dishonorable dealings will never, in all probability, be found in our history.”
But the justices stopped short of deeming the land’s seizure itself illegal and instead ordered Congress to pay about $105 million for it as “just compensation,” including interest accrued since the 1877 taking.
Lakota Sioux members have refused to accept the money. Left in a federal trust account, the award has since grown to about $2 billion.
“We want the land back. We don’t want money,” Gunhammer said.
Several tribes have brought similar territorial claims in federal court, often citing the Sioux case. Some ended in financial settlements; others were dismissed or stretched into protracted legal battles. Many cases never restored tribal control over land.
In Nevada, ground zero for America’s lithium rush, Western Shoshone members, much like their Sioux counterparts, have maintained that they never ceded their ancestral land. The roughly 80 million acres stretches across multiple states in the West, encompassing the contentious Rhyolite Ridge and Thacker Pass lithium projects. Today, many of the state’s 69 proposed mines are sited in or near the tribe’s traditional territory.
Credit: Graphic illustration courtesy of Inside Climate News
Like the Sioux, the Shoshone have sued the federal government over its land loss, arguing before the U.S. Supreme Court twice — first in 1984 and again in 2007. But the court dismissed the claims. The government classified money the tribe had accepted as compensation for past damages to the land as payment for the land itself, arguing the tribe had relinquished it, said Fermina Stevens, a Western Shoshone member who heads the Western Shoshone Defense Project, a nonprofit advocating for land and treaty rights.
Now, she said, tribal members fear they have little recourse to stop the adverse impacts from projects planned across their ancestral territory.
“The [American] laws don’t give us any rights,” Stevens said.
Joe Kennedy, Timbisha Shoshone tribe’s former chairman, has spent his life exploring the terrain where construction for the Rhyolite Ridge mine is scheduled to begin later this year. The 58-year-old, who has hunted and gathered pine nuts there since he was a child, has seen dramatic changes. Now, he says, much of what was once there is gone, as drought intensifies and mining companies drill in the region.
Soon after the mine installed monitoring wells in 2019, Cave Spring, a sacred site where Shoshone members gather for cultural teachings and harvest pine nuts known for their golden shells, went dry, Kennedy says.
While groundwater-monitoring wells don’t remove water, they can affect hydrologic flow. But Chad Yeftich, Ioneer’s vice president for corporate development and external affairs, said in a statement that the project is not affecting the site.
“Independently verified hydrological analysis … and the BLM’s Environmental Impact Statement conclude that the availability of water at Cave Springs is affected by the precipitation cycle in the Silver Peak Range and not by Ioneer’s past, current or future activity,” he said.
Years before the Rhyolite Ridge project was approved, international human rights bodies sided with the Western Shoshone concerning their land loss claims. In 2002, the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, which investigates and reports on human rights abuses across North and South America, found that the U.S. government hadn’t adequately compensated the tribe for its lost property, or ensured its access to spiritually and culturally significant land. And in a warning letter four years later, a United Nations committee urged the government to cease actions taken against the Western Shoshone people.
Federal officials ignored these rulings. And the U.S. government has refused to ratify international agreements meant to protect Indigenous sovereignty and rights. That includes the 2007 United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples resolution that calls on officials to obtain the “informed consent” of Indigenous communities before approving development projects that affect them directly.
“Our religion doesn’t seem to matter to the United States or these mining companies,” Kennedy said. “That’s the hurtful part: We have to witness the destruction of these areas that are important to us.”
Alysha Khambay, who researches business and human rights in energy transition projects for Amnesty International, said governments and companies alike are using the race for clean energy to sidestep due process.
“The pattern that we’re seeing,” she said, “is the creation of what we call sacrifice zones for the energy transition. And while the transition is critical in the face of the climate crisis, it can’t come at the cost of human rights.”
Fast-tracking could backfire
Studies and interviews with lawmakers and experts suggest that cutting down on environmental reviews or tribal consultations won’t significantly speed up the build-out of a domestic lithium industry, as Burgum has claimed. Delays come, for instance, from companies not following permitting rules and submitting incomplete information, or from swings in mineral prices that affect company financing. Bringing a mine into operation consequently takes 15 to 20 years on average, so shaving off a year during permitting can only marginally speed up the process.
Instead, many experts warn that fast-tracking mines could backfire.
“Failing to involve these communities early and equitably can result in project delays, litigation or complete shutdowns,” said Tom Moerenhout of Columbia University’s Center on Global Energy Policy.
Interviews and research indicate that understaffed agencies struggling to process applications are also a key source of delays. Last year, more than 100 federal lawmakers sent a letter urging the Trump administration to reverse executive orders that would slash funding, eliminate jobs essential to tribal programs and, they warned, ultimately “undermine” tribal sovereignty, violating treaty obligations and the Constitution. The White House moved forward anyway, cutting about 11,000 Interior Department jobs as part of massive layoffs and resignations across the government.
“I don’t know if the administration really understands … [who] could be critical for some permits,” Feldgus said. “I think they lost a lot of people who can do that.”
One former BLM archaeologist and tribal liaison, who asked not to be named for fear of retaliation, said he accepted the administration’s second resignation offer after burning out from trying to cover multiple roles at once amid staffing shortages, and because he saw little chance the situation would improve under Trump. While the first offer placed no restrictions on who could leave, the second wasn’t available to employees involved in the permitting process — including archaeologists. By then, he says, he had stepped into a project manager role while backfilling as an archaeologist, and officials didn’t realize he should have been ineligible to leave.
Lone Hill has seen an immediate impact. Federal employees with whom she has worked on tribal consultations have lost their jobs, sometimes in the middle of the process. One of them handed her an envelope with a promised report, she told CJI and ICN in March 2025, then was fired a few days later.
Though the price of lithium has been down in recent years, plans to mine are still moving forward in the Black Hills area. Under U.S. mining law, companies can hold claims, get their permits and wait years until the price is right to begin extraction.
Gunhammer, the former NDN Collective organizer, isn’t waiting for that day to come. He and fellow activists are drafting state legislation to return all public lands in the Black Hills to tribal stewardship, which would prohibit any kind of mining.
“People [here] now understand that treaties are laws, not little poems, not suggestions,” Gunhammer said of support for the bill.
The proposed state legislation has sparked difficult conversations among the tribe. Some worry it could undermine the tribe’s claim to remaining ancestral lands beyond the Black Hills if it were to pass. Others wonder who would maintain the land if it were returned. Activists are also fighting a common narrative, pushed by mining companies, that presents the proposed lithium mines as the area’s only economic opportunity.
Lone Hill still holds out hope that the Black Hills might one day return to tribal stewardship — and that, for once, history will stop repeating itself. Her biggest dream “is for all of our tribes to come together” on summer solstice at Mato Tipila at Devils Tower “and have our annual sun dance.”
Too often, she said, Native children grow up hearing only about the tribe’s painful past at least in part because they have lost access to places where they might learn something different.
The cycle of mining, land loss and broken promises has stolen so much, she said. And every new lithium mine, she fears, puts that dream further out of reach.
Wyatt Myskow reported this story for Inside Climate News. Johanna Hansel and Carla Samon Ros were fellows at Columbia Journalism Investigations, the investigative-reporting unit at the Columbia Journalism School. Inside Climate News and CJI provided editing, fact checking, data analysis, photography, graphic illustration and other support.
Additional support was provided by the National Press Foundation and the National Press Club Journalism Institute.
One key focus on the report was the need for the state to recognize the inherent sovereignty of the Wabanaki Nations, calling on the state to work with Maine’s congressional delegation to make changes to federal law to achieve that recognition
A coalition of Maine environmental and community health organizations have published a five-year policy guide outlining how Maine can address environmental challenges and opportunities ahead of this year’s pivotal elections for governor and Maine Legislature.
“Maine’s future leaders will be stepping into a critical moment for our environment, our health and the future we’re leaving to our children and grandchildren,” said Maureen Drouin, executive director of Maine Conservation Alliance.
The report, titled “Meeting the Moment,” outlines specific policy actions, centered around five focus areas: land, water, and wildlife for future generations; healthy and prosperous communities; sovereign Wabanaki Nations; clean and affordable energy; and a government that works for everyone.
“As we meet this moment, our public policies can and must respond to our changing world, reflect our shared values and use our environmental resources wisely,” Drouin said.
The report calls for protecting Maine’s waterways, wildlife habitats and natural and working land. The policy recommendations include establishing a secure funding source for lake and stream protection work, developing a statewide habitat and conservation preservation plan and reestablishing a cabinet position in the governor’s office for conservation.
“Maine’s natural heritage defines us,” said Eliza Townsend, director of the Maine chapter of the Appalachian Mountain Club. “The value of Maine’s land, water and wildlife to our economy and our way of life is undeniable.”
The report cites an independent study that found 94% of Maine voters support proposals to guarantee public access to the North Woods and conserving land to protect water quality, wildlife habitat and recreational access.
“Conserving land, protecting water quality and wildlife habitat, and preserving public access to trails, waters and Maine’s North Woods has got to be a priority,” Townsend said. “We need to make sure the next generation of young Mainers has the same opportunities to make a living and enjoy their free time in Maine’s great outdoors.”
The report calls for greater protections against toxic chemicals, particularly per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS) in consumer products, and the removal of firefighting foam containing the chemicals. It also calls on lawmakers to maintain the ban on the spreading of sludge, which was a key way PFAS were spread throughout the state.
“Change is going to happen,” said Nancy Smith, CEO of GrowSmart Maine. “It’s how we prepare for and navigate change that will determine the health and prosperity of our communities.”
The report also recommends growing the state’s Green Schools Network and the Outdoor Learning Initiative.
“Maine’s next leaders have an important role to play in helping every community be healthy, prosperous and prepared,” Smith said.
Another key focus on the report was the need for the state to recognize the inherent sovereignty of the Wabanaki Nations, calling on the state to work with Maine’s congressional delegation to make changes to federal law to achieve that recognition. It also recommends the state create an Office of Indigenous Studies within the Department of Education, provide schools funding to teach Wabanaki Studies and make curriculum a requirement for high school graduation.
“The Wabanaki Nations have a more restrictive status than all other federally recognized tribes in the United States,” said Maulian Bryant, executive director of the Wabanaki Alliance. “This has resulted in lagging economic growth and missed opportunities for both tribal and non-tribal citizens, including thousands of lost jobs and millions of dollars in lost tax revenue. Restoring self-determination to the Wabanaki Nations is about doing what’s right, and it’s long overdue.”
The report cites the Harvard Project on American Indian Economic Development, which found in 2022 that restoring sovereignty to the Wabanaki Nations would add $330 million a year to Maine’s gross domestic product and $39 million a year in state and local tax revenue.
Looking at energy, the report calls for capping private power utilities’ profits, and points to a January independent study that found that 87% of voters support a cap.
“Too many people in Maine are struggling to afford their energy bills,” said Jack Shapiro, climate and clean energy director for Natural Resources Council of Maine.
It also calls for onshore and offshore wind projects, which have been delayed or halted by the Trump administration. The report recommends requiring data centers to invest in local communities, and that the Maine Department of Energy Resources secure low-cost renewable energy for the grid.
“Maine’s next leaders can make energy more affordable for everyone by building a more flexible electric grid, getting more low-cost clean energy online and holding utilities accountable for producing better results, not just more profits,” Shapiro said.
In the final section, the report calls for a formal structure for youth and young adults to advise policymakers, with a new cabinet-level Youth Advisory Council.
“When government is structured to put people and communities first, it’s good for our democracy and good for our environment,” said Amy Eshoo, director of Maine Climate Action Now.
The guide also recommends establishing a system to hold polluters accountable, and impose penalties to support environmental protections; and growing Maine’s workforce to be able to implement environmental regulations.
“The reality is, community issues are often environmental justice issues, and better outcomes will result when we work together, across generations and life experiences, to connect the dots and prioritize the meeting of everyone’s basic needs,” Eshoo said
Three New Mexico pueblos and one tribe on May 12 sued the prediction market platform Kalshi, alleging the app enables sports gambling on tribal land and, in doing so, violates gaming compacts and federal law.
In an announcement May 13, the plaintiffs — the Mescalero Apache Tribe, as well as the Pojoaque, Sandia and Isleta Pueblos — said Kalshi provides anyone over age 18 access to sports gambling in New Mexico, which deprives tribes of revenues they receive for schools and other services in accordance with hard-fought tribal compacts and state and federal law.
“The use of prediction markets for gambling purposes diverts essential revenue away from our governments, provides an end-run around regulation of gaming on our lands, and allows gaming by underage people,” Sandia Pueblo Gov. Stuart Paisano said in a statement. Only people aged 21 and over in New Mexico can gamble at tribally owned casinos under state gaming compacts and federal law.
The lawsuit, filed by a Washington-based law firm, alleges that Kalshi, which is based in New York City, could and should have created a “geofence” to prevent its app from being used within tribal boundaries. It also says that by operating on tribal land, the company is violating the federal Indian Gaming Regulatory Act and infringing on tribal rights to self-determination that the United States Supreme Court first recognized in 1987.
As one piece of evidence, the lawsuit contains a screenshot of the platform allowing New Mexico users to gamble on the University of New Mexico Lobos men’s basketball game against the New Mexico State University Aggies last November.
The lawsuit marks the latest escalation in local pueblos’ campaign against the prediction markets. Last month, U.S. Rep. Gabe Vasquez (D-N.M.) visited a school on Isleta Pueblo land that received most of its funding from tribal gaming revenues.
Isleta Gov. Eugene Jiron told Vasquez that the pueblo anticipated “a lot of impact down the road” as a result of prediction markets enabling sports gambling. Vasquez said he is working on legislation prohibiting markets like Kalshi and Polymarket from offering sports betting services.
Last July, Mescalero Apache Tribe Vice President Duane Duffy urged state lawmakers to help crack down on the markets. Duffy, in the statement May 13 announcing the lawsuit, said Mescalero and other tribes and pueblos in New Mexico “fought hard to protect their inherent sovereign right to operate and regulate casinos on tribal lands. We cannot sit by idly as the laws that enshrine this right are ignored.”
Duffy did not return Source NM’s request for additional comment May 13. Representatives for Kalshi also did not respond to an emailed request for comment May 13.
At least one other tribe has sued Kalshi for similar allegations. The Ho-Chunk Nation in Wisconsin sued Kalshi last August, alleging the company illegally provides sports betting on tribal land.
A federal judge on Monday denied the tribe’s request for an immediate prohibition on the company from operating in Wisconsin, but he did affirm that the tribe had shown a “likelihood of success” as it pursues a lawsuit against the company for potential violations under federal Indian gaming laws. The tribe hailed the ruling as a “major” win in a news release May 12.
According to the latest figures, 14 tribes and pueblos in New Mexico reported generating more than $266 million in “adjusted net win” in the last quarter of 2025, a figure that includes the revenue made from gaming machines minus the amount paid out in prizes and regulatory fees. It’s not clear from New Mexico Gaming Control Board figures how much of that money came from sports gambling specifically.
RIO RANCHO, N.M. — The global oil bottleneck in the Strait of Hormuz has generated an enviable — and politically sensitive — financial windfall on the other side of the world in New Mexico, a rare Democratic-dominated state where fossil fuels are a bedrock of progressive social services.
New Mexico produces more oil than any other state besides Texas, and the state’s revenue from taxes, royalties and lease sales helps cover the cost of college tuition, all school meals, health insurance and a new initiative for free universal child care.
Now that oil prices are surging from the conflict with Iran, money is flooding into the state treasury and creating an uncomfortable situation for Democrats who oppose the war and would rather reduce their reliance on fossil fuels.
“It’s hard for people to think about, ‘Oh great, we have this windfall,’ and children are getting killed on the other side of the world,” said Deb Haaland, the former U.S. Interior Department secretary running for governor.
Haaland is one of two Democrats running to succeed Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, who is wrapping up her second term in office. A former congresswoman and state party chair, Haaland worked to limit unfettered oil and gas exploration while serving in President Joe Biden’s Cabinet.
Now she wants to use money amid the energy boom to increase New Mexico’s child tax credit and boost the refundable working families tax credit, payouts that would most benefit people with low incomes.
“We have obligations to try to have a better world overall,” said Haaland, a member of Laguna Pueblo who could become the first female Native American governor in the U.S. “I think we can do that.”
Her rival for the Democratic nomination, Albuquerque-based District Attorney Sam Bregman, said he wants to offset inflation with one-time $500 checks from the state to residents making less than $200,000 a year. He also wants to waive personal income taxes on residents 65 and older.
“It is the resources of the people that’s generating that revenue,” he said. “We ought to give it back to the people.”
For every $1 fluctuation in the average annual price of oil, New Mexico sees a roughly $59 million swing in state government income.
That means the state is likely to see a $850 million surge in annual state government income for the budget year ending in June alone based on war-time price changes — equivalent to 12% of annual general fund spending, according to the state Legislature’s budget and accountability office.
New Mexico sends much of its relatively heavy crude oil from its patch of the Permian Basin to Texas distribution hubs and refineries along the Gulf Coast. Prices could remain high with no end in sight for the war despite a fragile ceasefire.
A nest egg that moderates dependence on oil
In New Mexico, surges in oil income automatically flow into a series of trust accounts designed to gradually reduce the state’s reliance on fossil fuels, helping the state generate investment income to underwrite Medicaid, early childhood education, infrastructure projects and an expansion of mental healthcare.
The strategy has tempered discomfort among many Democrats with dependence on oil income, in a state with entrenched swaths of extreme poverty and the nation’s highest enrollment rate in Medicaid.
“For New Mexico and New Mexicans and especially the progressive left — which sort of controls the state — it’s always something they really don’t want to admit or talk about or get angry about,” said Lonna Atkeson, a political science professor who has analyzed voting behavior in New Mexico and directs the LeRoy Collins Institute at Florida State University. “Like, ‘We should not be funding our stuff with that money.’ I’ve heard those arguments.”
The winner of this year’s governor’s race will take the helm of a state investment council overseeing a roughly $68 billion state nest egg, including investments that defray costs for K-12 public education.
New Mexico is not alone in reaping the financial benefits of the war. In Alaska, the state forecast an additional $1.05 billion for the current fiscal year and the one beginning July 1.
“It really is this small group of energy-reliant states like North Dakota, Alaska, New Mexico and Wyoming that are going be affected most directly,” said Justin Theal, who researches state fiscal trends as a senior officer for The Pew Charitable Trusts. He described the situation as “a double-edged sword.”
“It raises costs for households and businesses which can potentially dampen consumer spending and reduce sales taxes that almost every state relies on as well,” Theal said.
Wartime oil prices hold silver lining for New Mexico
Three contenders for the Republican nomination are advocating for even more aggressive tax relief while oil prices are riding high.
“Republicans are using the ‘e-word’ — eliminate income taxes,” said Albuquerque-based pollster Brian Sanderoff, president of Research and Polling Inc. A Republican last won election to statewide office in 2016.
At the same time, they’re questioning whether universal childcare will be financially sustainable.
The program is coming under direct fire in a lawsuit from cannabis entrepreneur and Republican candidate for governor Duke Rodriguez. He previously served as human service secretary under former Gov. Gary Johnson, a crusader for limited government who unsuccessfully ran for president as a Libertarian.
The lawsuit alleges the childcare program was implemented in November by Lujan Grisham without required authorization from the Legislature — though supporting legislation was passed this year. A court has ordered the administration to respond within 30 days.
Reflecting on the state’s oil income, Rodriguez says, “We don’t have a resource problem, what we have is a real results problem. We just spend and spend and spend with no accountability.”
Republican businessman Doug Turner describes wartime oil prices as an opportunity to overhaul the state tax code and wants means testing for childcare benefits. He lost the 2010 Republican primary to then-district attorney Susana Martinez, who went on to serve two terms as governor.
Gregg Hull, a former three-term mayor of Rio Rancho on the outskirts of Albuquerque, wants New Mexico to join the ranks of states with no personal income tax like Texas and Wyoming. Personal income taxes account for about $2.2 billion in annual state government income, offsetting about a fifth of annual general fund obligations.
Hull said he wants to double down on the oil economy by funneling budget surpluses to infrastructure projects in the state’s main oil-production zone.
“This morning, when I was looking at a price of a barrel of oil, I said, ‘Well, that’s not great for consumers, but it’s awesome for New Mexico,’” Hull said.
___
Associated Press writer Becky Bohrer in Juneau, Alaska, contributed to this report.
NewsDepartment of EducationFederal Funding CutsTCUsTribal Colleges And UniversitiesTrump Administration
In its fiscal year 2027 budget request, the Department of the Interior proposed cutting more than $150 million from tribal colleges and universities and tribal postsecondary programs
The Trump administration has proposed cutting all federal funding for tribal colleges and universities, the second time in two years it has sought major funding cuts for the institutions.
Congress rejected last year’s proposed cuts, and the Department of Education later announced it was redistributing additional funds to tribal colleges and universities and historically Black colleges and universities. That extra money came primarily from other institutions serving minority students.
Despite the win in Congress and the additional funding, tribal college leaders in North Dakota began looking for ways to minimize spending last year, according to previous Monitor reporting.
Even with those savings, Twyla Baker, president of Nueta Hidatsa Sahnish College in New Town, said that, if approved by Congress, the newest proposal would be “devastating.”
“I can guarantee there would be TCUs that would be shutting down within a year to two years, and that it would be … the death knell for our institutions,” Baker said.
Nueta Hidatsa Sahnish College gets more than 50 percent of its funding from the federal government. Without it, Baker said the school would be able to keep its doors open “three, four years tops, and that would be with extreme budgeting across the board.”
United Tribes Technical College in Bismarck gets around 70 percent of its funding from the federal government, according to Russ McDonald, the college’s president.
If that funding were to go away, “It’ll close us. We’ll close the doors,” McDonald said.
“I mean, there’s some reserves that we have that would just carry us to close,” he added. “We might last a year.”
In a statement opposing the cuts, the American Indian Higher Education Consortium argued that tribal colleges and universities “serve as essential education, workforce, and economic anchors in some of the most rural and underserved regions of the country.”
“Eliminating TCU funding does not represent meaningful federal savings; it removes a relatively small investment that delivers outsized economic and community impact,” the statement read.
A study from the North Dakota Tribal College System found that from 2022 to 2023, tribal colleges added $169.5 million to North Dakota’s economy, the equivalent of supporting 2,106 jobs.
In North Dakota, underfunding has forced campuses to make difficult budget decisions. As a result, competitive pay and facility maintenance have sometimes been put on the backburner, McDonald said.
“If we were fully funded at the same levels as our state counterparts here in North Dakota, or on the federal level, like historically Black colleges and universities, then I think we’d be in a better position to provide those facilities that would enhance learning and the experience of students here on our campuses,” he said.
Baker said her college and others have had to get creative about finding other revenue.
“We’re constantly chasing money to make up for the gap that’s been created by the lack of federal dollars … but it shouldn’t have to be this way,” Baker said.
Asked what full funding would mean for TCUs, Baker said she “can only dream of a day like that.”
“We are so good at generating growth, generating economic development in our smaller communities and preparing our students for other institutions or the workforce,” she said. “Everything this administration says they want, we’re doing that on our campuses. If we were to have additional dollars, I can only imagine what we would be able to do.”
Tribal colleges can sometimes support students better than other universities, said Cynthia Lindquist, former president of Cankdeska Cikana Community College and former director of Tribal Initiatives and Collaborations for the University of North Dakota.
Thanks to smaller class sizes and more direct interaction, faculty can connect students with childcare, transportation and technology resources to help them succeed, Lindquist said.
While tribal colleges don’t exclusively serve Native American students, Lindquist said “there’s a strong cultural component” to their value.
“As tribal college students and as Native people, it’s also the reinforcement of identity, the strengthening of identity, (the reminder) that we have much to be proud of,” she said. “We have been contributors all along as this country was colonized. And that education complements that confidence.”
Congress has since passed several laws to codify that commitment, including laws authorizing the creation of tribal colleges. Those laws guaranteed tribal colleges $8,000 in funding per student per year, with adjustments for inflation.
“There are agreements in place from well before this administration was ever in existence that these structures were to remain in place,” Baker said. “We prepaid with the land that this country occupies, and this is just a complete and utter reneging on that agreement.”
As budget hearings and negotiations continue on Capitol Hill, McDonald said he is “confident that Congress will once again support us in the work that we’re doing.”
While he hasn’t talked to North Dakota’s congressional delegation about this particular proposal, McDonald said they indicated their support for tribal colleges when he visited them in Washington, D.C., earlier this year.
In a statement to the Monitor, Sen. John Hoeven, R-N.D., wrote: “We provided strong funding for North Dakota’s tribal colleges and universities this year, and I expect we will continue to fund them again in the coming year.”
Rep. Julie Fedorchak, also a Republican, said the president’s budget is a starting point and she plans to review priorities that matter to North Dakota communities, including tribal colleges.
In the meantime, Lindquist said “people are ready and mobilized, including our students, who are the best advocates to speak about it and their experiences at the tribal colleges.”
The ICT Newscast for Friday, May 15, 2026, covers the award winning documentary ‘Ceremony,’ Missing Murdered Indigenous People in Wisconsin and the relationship between the French and Indigenous tribes in the 1700’s! Check out the ICT Newscast on YouTube for this episode and more.
‘Ceremony’ Documentary Traces the Eulachon Fish and What’s Lost When It Disappears
When the eulachon fish, also known as ooligan by Alaskans, vanishes from Bella Coola, British Columbia, it takes more than a species with it. A new documentary, Ceremony, follows one fish, one community and a radio signal strong enough to reconnect people to their roots. Nuxalk Radio host Qwaxw spoke with reporters about why the project held deep personal significance and what he hopes listeners take away from it.
At Wisconsin Capitol Rally, Families Demand Justice for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women
Families and advocates gathered at the Wisconsin State Capitol to read aloud the names of Missing and Murdered Indigenous People whose cases some say have gone unresolved for decades. Rachel Fernandez, an advocate and survivor, argued that breaking what she calls a “code of silence,” rooted in the generational trauma of the federal Indian boarding school era, is essential to ending cycles of violence in Indigenous communities. PBS Wisconsin and ICT reporter Erica Ayisi discusses why covering this story was important.
300 Years Later: The Native American Delegates Who Traveled to Versailles and Changed French Culture
A landmark exhibition at the Palace of Versailles is bringing new attention to a largely overlooked chapter of diplomatic history. Titled 1725: Native American Allies at the Court of Louis XV, the exhibit commemorates the tricentenary of a 10-delegate journey from Louisiana to Paris, during which tribal nations were formally recognized as sovereign equals by the French crown. Journalist Mark Trahant accessed the exhibit alongside Palace of Versailles Chief Curator Bertrand Rondot, who shared how the encounter left a lasting imprint on French culture including composer Jean-Philippe Rameau to create music that evolved into a celebrated ballet still performed and reimagined today.
Cherokee Nation Delegate to Congress Kim Teehee also weighed in, reflecting on the Cherokee Nation’s alliance with France and the significance of that relationship in terms of cultural respect and community.
The Winnebago Tribe of Nebraska is much closer to bringing Samuel Gilbert and Edward Hensley home.
The tribe filed a federal lawsuit in 2024 against the U.S. Army demanding the return of the two boys, who died at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania more than a century ago.
On Thursday, the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals reversed an earlier ruling from Claude S. Hilton, a judge for the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia. The federal court found that the federal Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, or NAGPRA, applies in the case and that the tribe is entitled to retrieve the boys’ remains and honor them according to its customs and practices.
“The Fourth Circuit’s ruling brings joy to the tribe,” said Winnebago Chairman Coly Brown in a statement. “NAGPRA is an important statute our relatives fought for.”
The suit came after the tribe received notice in December 2023 that the U.S. Office of Army Cemeteries had denied the tribe’s request for the remains to be returned under NAGPRA. The Army took over the school after it was closed in 1918 and asserted that only relatives could seek the return of students’ remains, according to the Army’s protocols. Tribes, including the Winnebago, have disagreed.
The federal court’s two-to-one ruling Thursday directed the case be returned to the lower court “for further proceedings consistent with this opinion.”
Writing for the majority, federal appellate court judge Pamela Ann Harris wrote, “At the end of the day, the U.S. government kept and buried the remains of two Native American schoolchildren, Samuel Gilbert and Edward Hensley, without their families’ or tribe’s consent after forcing them from their homes and after they died in the government’s care. Nearly a century later, Congress passed a statute that, by its terms, entitles their tribe finally to bring their remains home and to bury them according to their tribal and religious traditions.”
Harris continued, “All signs indicate that the Tribe’s repatriation request is precisely the kind of remedy of historic wrongs that NAGPRA was designed to facilitate.”
Only Judge Allison Jones Rushing dissented.
Edward Hensley, a citizen of the Winnebago Tribe of Nebraska, is shown in this photo (circa 1895) from the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, where he died in 1899. The Winnebago Tribe filed suit in January 2024 to force the U.S. Army to return his remains and those of another Winnebago student, Samuel Gilbert, who died in 1895, six weeks after he arrived at the Pennsylvania school. (Photo courtesy of the Winnebago Tribe of Nebraska)
The two boys were taken from their Nebraska homes and shipped to the notorious Carlisle Indian Industrial School, the flagship institution of the U.S. government’s failed boarding school experiment, which sought to strip Native children of their lifeways and assimilate them into the dominant society.
The boys arrived together at Carlisle on Sept. 7, 1895, and were expected to remain at the school for five years each.
Gilbert, who was 19, died about six weeks later, on Oct. 24, 1895, of what school officials said was pneumonia. Hensley, 17, stayed for almost four years, mostly working off-site for local families, known as “patrons,” before he also died of pneumonia on June 29, 1899, according to school archives.
Both boys are buried in marked graves in the school cemetery, which the Army now manages.
“Winnebago’s lawsuit demonstrates its commitment to honor its ancestors and its children. Winnebago continues to advocate for its rights under NAGPRA to bring Samuel and Edward home and provide them with the Tribal burials they were denied over 125 years ago,” said Beth Margaret Wright, Laguna Pueblo and a staff attorney for the Native American Rights Fund, which is representing the tribe in the suit. “The Fourth Circuit recognized that Congress enacted NAGPRA as a remedy for this ‘shameful injustice.’”
“This is an extraordinarily important decision not only for the Winnebago Tribe, but for tribal nations across the country seeking to ensure that federal agencies finally comply with the laws enacted to help address the profound and multigenerational trauma inflicted by the federal Indian boarding school system,” said Greg Werkheiser of Cultural Heritage Partners, co-counsel for the tribe.
At least 177 other children died and were buried at Carlisle before the U.S. government shut down the school, which was plagued by reports of children’s deaths, physical and emotional abuse, and rampant financial corruption.
U.S. Army Office of Cemeteries officials did not immediately return ICT’s calls and emails.
Summer Wildbill is tackling financial literacy, starting with an app she is developing with the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation’s Nixyáawii Community Financial Services. She hopes other Native youth can use it to feel empowered when it comes to their own finances.
After living in the same house in Pendleton, Oregon for the first 18 years of her life, Summer Wildbill took a big leap post high school graduation in 2023, by moving across the country to study international relations at New York University (NYU).
“My senior year self went in really confident that it was not going to phase me at all, and I could just do a really smooth transition from reservation to the city, which was not true,” said Wildbill, a citizen of the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation.
She quickly noticed a gap in her education when it came to financial literacy and how to manage money. As she dove into research for herself, she found that this was a bigger need that she could help meet for other young Native people back home. She wanted to create a platform to help others learn about finances in an accessible way. Now, Wildbill is developing a financial literacy app in collaboration with her tribe via Nixyáawii Community Financial Services.
Summer Wildbill, a citizen of the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation, poses for a photo on April 18, 2026. (Photo by Carrie Johnson)
Wildbill is heading into senior year this fall. Post graduation, she dreams of attending law school. She hopes to focus on Indigenous economic development on an international level.
“I’m really interested in working first with my community in economic development, and then moving more towards a federal level, and learning community specific needs, and then how that’s translated at a federal level and into policy,” Wildbill said. “And then my ultimate goal would be taking all the perspectives and being able to look at policy on an international level, especially modern, Indigenous economic development.”
Recognition in her academic career
Though still in undergrad, her career thus far has focused on economic development — through a study abroad program in Argentina, an internship with the United Nations and as a 2026 Champion for Change through the Center for Native American Youth, focusing her project on financial literacy. She was also a 2024 Remembering our Sisters Fellow.
In part because of those accomplishments, Wildbill was recently announced as a recipient for two prestigious scholarships.
In mid-April, Wildbill learned that she was selected as a 2026 Truman Scholarship recipient. One of 55 selected applicants, students had to be nominated by their institutions for demonstrating leadership, public service and academic achievement.
A few days after learning about the Truman Scholarship, Wildbill also learned that she was selected for a 2026 Udall Scholarship. The scholarship aims to highlight “future leaders in environmental, Tribal public policy and health care fields.”
“I can get so caught up in doing all the work,” Wildbill said. “[Applying for scholarships] gives me a moment to reflect on everything I’ve done and like how it’s kind of compounded over time. So that’s been really rewarding in those processes. I’m very grateful for it.”
Her work continues to inspire others in her family, like her younger sister, Claire Wildbill, who is currently a sophomore at the University of Southern California.
Claire remembers dreaming with her sister about attending school in a big city one day.
“I didn’t believe that it could actually be possible until Summer was accepted to NYU,” Claire Wildbill said. “Her going out there and being the first one in our family to do that and get accepted, get scholarships, definitely inspired me to also pursue that for myself, because her doing it showed me that I could do it as well.”
A passion for financial literacy
Being surrounded by people in a big city at school in New York, some with access to huge amounts of money, Wildbill began to think about her own financial situation. Through podcasts, books and articles, she dove into learning about financial literacy through topics like savings and investment.
This personal research quickly evolved as she realized that this information could become helpful to other young Native people.
Wildbill is part of the university’s Martin Luther King Jr. Scholars Program that focuses on social justice and advocacy work. As part of the program, scholars are awarded a stipend each summer to conduct research on a topic related to social justice.
Noticing the gap between herself and other students at NYU who had more money, Wildbill formulated a series of research questions for herself: Why, specifically on reservations, is financial literacy so low? With all the different financial apps and curriculum already out there, what is failing minority groups, specifically reservations, when it comes to financial literacy?
Summer Wildbill, a citizen of the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation, works on the financial literacy app she is creating with her tribe outside the NYU law building on April 18, 2026. (Photo by Carrie Johnson)
The summer between her freshman and sophomore year, Wildbill began working with Nixyáawii Community Financial Services, the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation’s CDFI, to tackle this research.
“The main gap was it wasn’t actually targeting any of the emotional aspects of money, which I think is the most crucial point, especially as Native Americans, who have very strong not only historical traumas with money, but also they’re very cyclical patterns,” Wildbill said.
Using her research, Wildbill is now in the process of helping to develop a financial literacy app called NativeCents with Nixyáawii Community Financial Services and Cayuse Native Solutions.
Dave Tovey, citizen of the Umatilla Indian Reservation and executive director of Nixyáawii Community Financial Services, remembers when Wildbill first approached him and his team about creating a financial literacy app. The timing felt right to Tovey, as the Community Development Financial Institution (CDFI) had recently completed a strategic plan and wanted to find a way to provide more youth financial education.
He was particularly impressed with how in her research, Wildbill remarked that everything was so numbers driven, and found a need to start with a self assessment to help people determine their own personal relationship with money.
The four categories she broke it down into are: security and growth, anxious and scarcity, instant gratification, and debtor mindset.
“I used that research to write a goal based pedagogy,” Wildbill said. “The goals are about the kind of the person you want to become with building and sustaining long term wealth based on your money mindset.”
Tovey has also been grateful to the efforts Wildbill continues to put into the app development, even though she has been busy with school.
“She’s just lining up all these scholarships and out there on this high profile college experience, and like, wowee,” Tovey said. “But she carves off time for our project, happily and eagerly participating and generating some of the content and feedback we’re looking for.”
Wildbill is a contractor on the app, helping with the planning and content creation.
Her goal is to help youth feel empowered when it comes to financial decisions, and provide a resource for Umatilla youth to understand how to manage their “18 money,” the money from gaming dividends that Umatilla tribal members receive once they become adults.
As a kid, Wildbill wanted to be a teacher when she grew up so the process of building lessons, and weaving them with Indigenous stories, has been particularly rewarding, she says.
She hopes that the app will be released by the end of the summer.
“I really hope that youth in my community genuinely use it,” Wildbill said. “The whole point of it is we want it to be interactive, and we want it to be something that’s easy to access and something that’s made for [Umatilla youth] so it feels like they’re within the financial education conversation, they’re a part of it.”
This story is co-published by Underscore Native News and ICT, a news partnership that covers Indigenous communities in the Pacific Northwest.
The Okla Falaya Band of Choctaw Freedmen is seeking federal recognition, having submitted the request on April 26 to the U.S. Senate Committee on Indian Affairs, arguing that constitutional law and the 1866 Treaty between the U.S. and the Choctaw and Chickasaw tribes make them tribal citizens.
“The Okla Falaya Band of Choctaw Freedmen is not asking for special treatment. We are asking for what the United States government promised us in 1866 and has never delivered: recognition, citizenship rights, and the enforcement of federal trust obligations,” El Haq Malak Bey, principal representative of the Okla Falaya Band of Choctaw Freedmen, told ICT.
The petition submitted by the Okla Falaya Band of Choctaw Freedmen includes a request for four parcels of land held in trust by the Montgomery Family Irrevocable Trust to be considered Native lands.
Unlike traditional recognition models that require tribes to surrender land into Bureau of Indian Affairs trust, the band petitioned congress to retain full ownership and control of its lands under the Supreme court rulings of United States v. Sandoval and United States v. McGowan.
United States v. Sandoval determined that Congress can regulate distinct Indigenous communities as long as the designation isn’t arbitrary. In McGowan, the Supreme Court determined that Congress has the power to define what are Native lands.
Under this model, instead of the BIA holding the legal title to property, the land would be held in trust by the band while receiving all protections and benefits of Native land status, which allows for federal funding and access to programs like Indian Health Services.
The 1866 Treaty between the U.S. and Choctaw and Chickasaw tribes abolished slavery and granted the Freedmen and their descendants citizenship in those tribes.
“The Choctaw Nation amended its constitution to require blood quantum for membership — a standard specifically designed to exclude Freedmen descendants, many of whom have both African and Choctaw ancestry but were classified as ‘Freedmen’ by the Dawes Commission regardless of their actual lineage. Overnight, an entire community was erased from the rolls of a nation they had been part of for nearly a century,” Bey told ICT.
The Dawes Rolls were compiled between 1898 and 1914 to dismantle communal tribal landholdings and allotted individual land parcels among the Five Civilized Tribes.
The rolls designated individuals with varying degrees of Indigenous ancestry from full Native to non-Native.
The amended Choctaw Constitution of 1983 uses the final rolls to trace lineal descent. Any person labeled as a Freedman would not qualify for membership under the 1983 Choctaw Constitution.
ICT reached out to the Choctaw Nation inquiring about its support for federal recognition for the Okla Falaya Nation. A Choctaw spokesman said, “We are currently evaluating this issue and our legal team will review this matter further.”
The petition asks for Congress to use its unrestricted powers to recognize the band as opposed to the BIA 83 process, which is an administrative process used by the Department of the Interior to officially acknowledge a group as a federally recognized tribe.
Part of the BIA 83 process includes a blood quantum requirement that the band says is “structurally inaccessible to Freedmen communities.”
Congress has recognized Native communities before with the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina being the most recent federally recognized tribe recognized in this manner.
“This is our Trail of Tears. Not a march across stolen land, though our ancestors endured that too, but a march through courthouses where the doors keep closing before anyone reads what we have to say,” Bey told ICT. “We are still marching.”
UncategorizedICT Must ReadMissing And Murdered Indigenous PeopleMMIPWisconsin
Advocates and family gathered at an annual rally to honor missing and murdered Indigenous women — the murder of Linda Dickenson is one among many tragedies the movement hopes to prevent in the future.
“She was just so cool, down to earth, kind, loving,” said Rachel Fernandez while holding a picture of her late sister-in-law Linda Amy Dickenson, a day care teacher who gave nicknames to her preschoolers.
“She would help anybody and she loved the children,” Fernandez remembered, who remembers Dickenson as a patient listener committed to family.
Dickenson and Fernandez — both of the Menominee Indian Tribe of Wisconsin — spent time together as friends and family on the rural reservation north of Green Bay.
“She always had me cracking up. She always had a joke. She’s very witty,” Fernandez recalled.
Dickenson eventually relocated from the reservation to Green Bay with her new partner. Fernandez says Dickenson’s life with him was private, but the impact of their 10 year relationship was public.
“She would show up to work with black eyes,” Fernandez shared.
Where did she say she got these black eyes?
“From him.” Fernandez said. “And she wouldn’t really talk about it.”
According to Fernandez, when Dickenson didn’t show up for work at the day care on the morning of February 24, 2014, her colleagues requested a police welfare check to her home. The officers found the unthinkable by the door.
“She was shot through her left cheek,” Fernandez said, “and the coroner told them that she died in seconds.
Her partner was found dead in the bedroom.
“He shot himself — so it was a murder-suicide,” Fernandez said.
The murder left Dickenson’s three children — Vanessa, Kenny and Warren — motherless.
‘It’s tragic all around because he has kids too,” Fernandez added.
She said news of double tragedy spread quickly throughout the tight knit Menominee community.
“They were both from the reservation,” Fernandez said. “They’re both tribal members.”
Fernandez said many Indigenous people follow a code of silence in violence and abuse, stemming from historical trauma during the federal Indian boarding school era.
“Because our children were taken from their homes,” she said, “and they were taught in these boarding schools not to talk about what happened to them.”
Fernandez said she’s also a victim of abuse and trafficking, but has been able to work through her challenges and support other Indigenous people through intergenerational suffering.
“I’m OK to accept forgiveness of myself, and so that really birthed the activist and the advocate in me,” she said.
An empty lot in Neopit marks where Linda Amy Dickenson lived on the Menominee reservation with her children before moving to Green Bay. She lived in a trailer that’s gone now, but Fernandez said her memory is alive forever.
Fernandez shared Dickenson’s name at a May 5 rally in Madison held to remember missing and murdered Indigenous women and relatives.
“Linda Amy Dickinson,” she said into a microphone in front of the Wisconsin State Capitol.
Fernandez explained the Wrap The Capitol Red rally is about breaking the code of silence within Indigenous communities.
“You know who was involved in someone being missing — you know. Why aren’t you saying anything?” she asked.
Relatives of victims of homicide shared their loved ones’ names.
“I want to speak today on behalf of my cousin,” said one speaker, “who succumbed to domestic violence.”
“Bad River Ojibwe, Wisconsin — Angeline Whitebird-Sweet, murdered February 1989,” said another speaker, reading from a resolution that was proposed in the Wisconsin Legislature in 2019.
“Susan Poupart, Lac du Flambeau, murder, 1990 — two children, unsolved,” the same speaker read, referencing the victim in a long-standing cold case.
The speakers mentioned family members who never came home.
“Charlene Couture, Bad River missing — 2009,” the speaker continued. “LaVonne Frank, Lac du Flambeau, 1997.”.
This list included Indigenous men.
“Braxton Lee Phillips, say his name,” said Tracy Phillips about her nephew at the rally.
Rally-goers made pleas for more justice.
“My lawmakers here — are you listening?” Phillips asked.
“That unfortunately was not included in the last state budget, but hopefully we’ll see some progress on these ideas once the report is out,” he said in an interview at the rally.
Kaul said the state is investing in violence prevention and collaborative efforts between tribal, state and federal law enforcement to effectively respond to incidents.
At the rally, more than 100 advocates, survivors and families held hands to wrap the Capitol red — in solidarity, so that their testimonies will be heard.
“No more stolen sisters, no more stolen brothers, no violence,” said Fernandez to the group. “We demand justice for our relatives, for those that cannot speak.
As the Trump administration continues its push to secure critical minerals like lithium, the U.S. government and private corporations have ignored Indigenous peoples’ rights in Nevada. That’s according to a report released May 12 by Amnesty International, which is calling for the suspension of federal permits for all lithium mines in the state.
The Silver State has emerged as a key source of lithium, the main component in electric vehicle and other batteries. About 85 percent of the country’s known reserves are in Nevada, and several Indigenous nations and organizations, alongside environmentalists, have been fighting for years against its extraction and the environmental risks that creates, including water contamination and biodiversity loss. “This is our land,” said Fermina Stevens, a member of the Te-Moak Tribe of Western Shoshone and the executive director of the Western Shoshone Defense Project. “We should have a say in what happens. But I know that they don’t want us there because Nevada is so rich in all of these minerals.”
The three projects Amnesty International highlights in its report are Thacker Pass Lithium Mine, Nevada North Lithium Project, and Rhyolite Ridge Lithium-Boron Project. Each is located primarily on public land that the Western Shoshone and Paiute people consider unceded territory. Thacker Pass is under construction and Rhyolite Ridge is slated to begin construction this year, while Nevada North is in the exploratory phase.
Amnesty International’s report says all three are violating Indigenous peoples’ right to free, prior, and informed consent. That principle, known as FPIC, is an international standard that affirms Indigenous peoples’ right to approve or deny projects that impact their land and communities. Although the projects were approved by federal agencies, Amnesty International argues the review processes fell short of FPIC and the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, or UNDRIP.
“They’ve got to come down on the right side,” Mark Dummett, the organization’s head of business and human rights, said of the mining companies. “They’ve got to come down on the side of human rights, rather than getting the minerals at all costs.” He added that, regardless of domestic laws in the countries in which they operate, these firms must follow international human rights standards. The report also highlights the impact of the Trump administration’s push for deregulation, including fast-tracked permits and limited environmental review, which reduces the ability of Indigenous peoples to offer full consent.
In a statement, a spokesperson from the U.S. Department of Interior said, “The climate crazed activists behind this report are notorious for making baseless claims, repeatedly rejected by courts, as part of their pathetic rage against energy production that is not only bipartisan, but proven to benefit the American people.” They also said that a review of lithium projects in Nevada by the federal Bureau of Land Management included extensive environmental review and opportunity for tribal engagement.
Nevada is experiencing a lithium boom that has seen more than 20,000 claims filed. The report also comes amid global resistance by Indigenous peoples to “green transition” mining that they say comes at the expense of their land and rights. Given the increasing demand for minerals like lithium, cobalt, and copper, Dummett said that mining companies around the world are taking advantage of gaps in regulation and human rights enforcement. “The way that this mining has always taken place has been incredibly damaging to the environment and people,” Dummett said. “We don’t want to see the mistakes of the past repeated.”
Stevens said that although her people have experienced a long history of land theft and abuse by the U.S. government and corporations, consultation has grown even more perfunctory amid the worldwide drive for lithium, which has surged since the war in Iran. “War and the military complex is all that they can see,” she said. “And so they’re blinded to the things that are sacred, that are more important for human survival. And I just don’t think that they care about those things.”
Lithium Americas, the owner of the Thacker Pass mine, disputed many of the report’s claims in a response submitted to Amnesty International, including inadequate consultation, environmental risks, and violation of Indigenous rights. Its reply also noted that UNDRIP is not binding in the United States, but argued that the project complies with it anyway. “The Thacker Pass Project has the potential to significantly advance America’s electrification efforts, reduce carbon emissions, and strengthen domestic supply chains for critical minerals — strengthening America’s energy future. LAC has made stakeholder engagement, including with Tribes, an important part of the development of the Project,” its response reads.
A spokesperson for Ioneer, the owner of the Rhyolite Ridge project, said the company “respectfully but firmly disagrees with the findings released by Amnesty International,” and highlighted the company’s engagement with tribes. “We take great pride in our compliance with all U.S. legal requirements and remain committed to a transparent process that respects tribal sovereignty while delivering a reliable and secure domestic supply of critical minerals,” the spokesperson said.
Surge and Evolution, the owners of the Nevada North Lithium Project, did not respond to a request for comment, but in a response to Amnesty International, Evolution said, “We take all reasonable efforts to conduct proactive and ongoing engagement with Indigenous peoples.”
Indigenous leaders said they do not expect the mining companies to change, but will continue the fight to protect their land. “We can survive without technology, but we can’t survive without water,” Stevens said. “We can’t save the Earth through the energy transition while we’re simultaneously destroying biodiversity.”
SANTA FE, New Mexico — Indigenous designers were at the top of their game with enormous feathers, intricate beading and painted leather at the Southwestern Association for Indian Arts Native Fashion Week Gala.
The annual event offered a more refined experience this year in a new location, focused on traditional craft as imagined by contemporary designers. The week also included a Native Creatives Market for two bustling days on May 8-9 at the Eldorado Hotel in downtown Santa Fe.
“We are immensely proud of this year’s Native Fashion Week, and of our ability to present a bold new format to a sold-out audience,” said SWAIA Executive Director Jamie Schulze, Northern Cheyenne/Sisseton Wahpeton Oyate.
“Events like this affirm why SWAIA Native Fashion Week matters, for our designers, for Indigenous communities, and for the future of fashion.”
Runway models show off designer Jontay Kahm’s River Lily Collection on lighted platforms rather than a traditional runway at the Taste of Native Fashion Gala at the Southwestern Association for Indian Arts Native Fashion Week on May 9, 2026, in Santa Fe. Credit: Sandra Hale Schulman/Special to ICT
Moving from the cavernous Convention Center to the elegant Eldorado Hotel, the market started Friday, May 8, with 20 booths from vendors, including Lauren Good Day’s ready to wear, accessories from Sage Mountainflower, jewelers Kenneth Johnson and Cody Sanderson, teeth necklaces from Cole Forrest Jewelry, and upcycled punk designs from Son of Picasso.
A designer kickoff party for the media on Friday night at the Cava Lounge in the Eldorado was attended by dressed-up guests including designer Rebekah Jarvey and her model son Royce, who are both featured in an Emmy-nominated film; actor Gene Brave Rock; “Dark Winds” director Chris Eyre; writer/model Kate Nelson; and Jimmy Dean Horn of Running Horse Studio, who threw an artsy dance after-party at his design studio.
Oscar-winning actor Wes Studi, Cherokee, and Crystal Echo Hawk, Pawnee, director of new media initiative Indigenous House, attend the Taste of Native Fashion Gala at the Southwestern Association for Indian Arts Native Fashion Week on May 9, 2026, in Santa Fe. Credit: Sandra Hale Schulman/Special to ICT
Also attending were media executive Crystal Echo Hawk of Indigenous House; Oscar-winning actor Wes Studi, who wore a “Reservation Dogs” T-shirt under his Navajo wool jacket; and Naiomi and Tyler Glasses, Navajo, who are Ralph Lauren designers, greeting media from Vogue Magazine, Cowboys & Indians, Hamiinat Magazine, and of course ICT.
The party was so hot the hotel’s fire alarm went off about 15 minutes before it was scheduled to end, sending the dressed-up crowd scurrying for the exit. There was no actual fire, but by the time that was determined the bar —- and the doors —- had closed.
The sold-out gala on Saturday found the spacious ballroom decked out with white table cloths and bouquets of white roses. The three-course dinner was by “Chopped” Chef Ray Naranjo from Santa Clara Pueblo who was featured on the ‘Indigenous Inspirations’ episode that ran April 21 on the Food Network.
The first course was a delicious and unexpected salad of roasted plums with goat cheese and piñon nuts. Next was a plate of hearty bison short ribs and maple glazed rings of acorn squash. The dessert was a sweet cream brulee.
The chef sat with his family and was greeted by applause from the guests.
In a change from a traditional runway, the fashion show produced by designer Peshawn Bread, Comanche, took place on five different, lighted platforms as models took strolls around the ballroom onto each, then all gathered at the center for the final turn.
Each Native designer showed five original looks.
Fashion designer Jamie Okuma’s collection at the SWAIA Taste of Native Fashion Gala on May 9, 2026, included these five different designs.
Credit: Photo by Emily Selier, courtesy of SWAIA
Patricia Michaels, Taos Pueblo, burst out with a botanical theme with florals on airy garments that seemed to float in the breeze.
Himikalas Pamela Baker, Squamish/Kwakiutl/Tlingit/Haida, showed her Northwest designs on black silk gowns and cape tops, and war paint on the models’ faces.
Jamie Okuma, Luiseño/Wailaki/Okinawan/Shoshone-Bannock, brought out a cross-section of her collections with a plaid dress, a metallic-and-satin gown, and a showstopper made of painted parfleche, a stiff leather, with rawhide stitching.
Jontay Kahm, Plains Cree, did things up with feathers in a collection he calls River Lily. His column organza dresses had long, colored plumes bursting out of the waist and neckline. One top was of black roses that snaked around the models chest, neck and back.
Lauren Good Day, Mandan/Hidatsa/Arikara, closed out the designer showings with a rainbow of ribbon skirts with matching tops, beaded cradle boards and moccasins. The models rocked the boards and had them strapped to their backs —babies not included. At the final turn, they powwow dance dipped in unison, a powerful ode to solidarity and motherhood.
ICT spotted Good Day in the Santa Fe airport on Monday morning with one of the cradle boards as her carry-on. People stopped to admire it as she sat in the lounge, beaming at the compliments as she read Vogue Magazine’s online story on the show that ran that day by Indigenous writer Christian Allaire. The article featured a beautiful group shot of Good Day with the collection.
The Southwestern Association for Indian Arts Native Fashion Week’s designer reception included, from left, Kate Nelson, CeCe Meadows, Naiomi Glasses and Lauren Good Day on May 8, 2026, at the Eldorado Hotel in Santa Fe. Credit: Sandra Hale Schulman/Special to ICT
“The mission of this weekend? To spotlight artists who are infusing traditional craftwork — from leatherwork to beadwork and beyond — with fresh, contemporary twists,” wrote Allaire, who was fresh from covering the Met gala in New York.
The show featured star models, including actress Kahara Hodges, who walked for Okuma, and CeCe Meadows of Prados Beauty, walked for Good Day.
Native musical performances were interwoven throughout the evening event, with an unexpected opera turn from tenor Bo Shimmin, Pueblo of Acoma, who charmed the room and sang Italian.
Aspyn Kaskalla, Navajo, played solo violin, while Tiana Spotted Thunder sang and DJ Breakawaay, Picuris Pueblo, kept the crowd going.
SWAIA will present its annual Fashion Show during Indian Market August 16.
Election 2026NewsPolitics2026 MidtermsElectionsGovernorsgubernatorialICT Must ReadJanet MillsKevin StittMaineNative VoteNative Vote 26Oklahoma
Maine and Oklahoma haven't had the easiest relationship with tribal nations largely due to their respective governors. Now, gubernatorial candidates vie for the Native vote in the 2026 midterm elections
Two of the 39 states with gubernatorial races have tribal sovereignty at the top of their policy agendas: Oklahoma and Maine. The two states where tribal nations have had friction with their state governments. Now Native voters in both states will be electing a new governor, and the results will impact the relationship between tribal governments and the state for the next four years.
Wabanaki Nations in Maine had a challenging time getting state legislation signed into law by Gov. Janet Mills, Democrat, that would strengthen tribal sovereignty. The 38 tribes in Oklahoma had a tumultuous relationship with Republican Gov. Kevin Stitt.
Eighteen of the 39 governor races in 2026 will have incumbent candidates, according to the National Governors Association. Stitt is the 2025-2026 chair of the association.
What’s happening in Oklahoma?
Over the past seven years, tribal nations and the state of Oklahoma had a contentious relationship — especially after the McGirt decision. Current governor, Stitt, who is a Cherokee Nation citizen, has been outspoken against the McGirt decision, tribal compacts for tobacco and car tags, and tribal gaming compacts.
Tribal-state compacts are legal agreements between federally recognized tribes and state governments. It is most commonly used for class III gaming — slot machines and table games.
“There was a time and a day when we used to compact with the tribes. That is not a unique thing across the nation. It wasn’t a unique thing in Oklahoma,” Chip Keating said during an April 6 candidates forum. “We absolutely have to hit the full reset button with the tribes — work together, treat them with the respect that they should have been treated with, and we’ve got to get back to compacting.”
Tribal leaders are looking forward to new state leadership, said Michael Stopp, president and chief executive officer of SevenStar Holdings.
“It’s good for the tribes and the tribal leaders are happy about it,” said Stopp, a citizen of the Cherokee Nation. “It has very much been a sticking point with tribal leaders that Governor Stitt has a very different perspective on sovereignty and what role the tribes play in this state. Obviously, we’ve had some big changes with the reservation status here because of the McGirt decision in 2020, but Governor Stitt, who is a member of the Cherokee Nation, has been more of an antagonist when it comes to that, than trying to help with the transition. I can definitely say the tribal leaders are looking for leadership change.”
Cherokee Nation Principal Chief Chuck Hoskin called Stitt the most anti-Indian governor in the state’s history. Oklahoma Attorney General Gentner Drummond described Stitt as having a “penchant of racism against tribes,” during an April candidates forum. He added that it was unacceptable.
Oklahoma Gov. Kevin Stitt is pictured during an interview in his office Wednesday, Aug. 3, 2022, in Oklahoma City. The Oklahoma Board of Pardon and Parole has recommended clemency for death row inmate James Coddington. Stitt said that he hasn’t been formally briefed on Coddington’s case, but that with any clemency recommendation, he meets with prosecutors, defense attorneys and the victim’s family before making a decision. (AP Photo, Sue Ogrocki) Credit: Oklahoma Gov. Kevin Stitt is pictured during an interview in his office Wednesday, Aug. 3, 2022, in Oklahoma City. The Oklahoma Board of Pardon and Parole has recommended clemency for death row inmate James Coddington. Stitt said that he hasn't been formally briefed on Coddington's case, but that with any clemency recommendation, he meets with prosecutors, defense attorneys and the victim's family before making a decision. (AP Photo, Sue Ogrocki)
Tribal nations and state governments have to work together often. As seen in Oklahoma, Stitt vetoed several tribal compacts, despite overwhelming support by the state’s legislature, and this slowed the process for establishing the tobacco, car tag and gaming compacts between Oklahoma and tribal nations.
“Governor Stitt came in thinking that he could renegotiate this contract, and quite frankly, it just doesn’t work that way. Instead of listening and coming to the negotiating table, (Stitt) tried to come in with a really strong stance and ended up losing, honestly,” Stopp said. “I think that was unfortunate for him and for the tribes. Again, missing out on the chance of negotiating and I think the tribal leaders are definitely looking forward to having someone on the other side of the table to negotiate with.”
Oklahoma governor candidates
There are nine Republican candidates on the ballot for Oklahoma’s primary election set for June 16:
Gentner Drummond: 20th Attorney General for Oklahoma
Chip Keating: Former highway trooper and former Oklahoma Secretary of Public Safety
Mike Mazzei: Former Oklahoma state Senator and former Secretary of Budget
Charles McCall: Longest-serving Speaker of the House in Oklahoma history
Jake Merrick: Local radio host and former Oklahoma state Senator
Kenneth Sturgell: Local, small business owner
Leisa Mitchell Haynes: Former marketing director and former city manager
Calup Anthony Taylor
Jennifer Domenico-Tillett
Three Democratic gubernatorial candidates are also running for the primary election:
Cyndi Munson: Oklahoma House Minority leader
Connie Johnson: Former Oklahoma state Senator
Arya
Candidates will have to get more than 50 percent of the votes to avoid a runoff. If there is no outright winner, the top two candidates for each political party will head to a primary runoff election on August 25.
An additional three Independent candidates will automatically head to the general election this November.
Two important issues this election in Oklahoma are tribal sovereignty and a commitment to working with tribes.
During an April 6 Republican candidates forum, Gentner Drummond, Charles McCall, Chip Keating and Mike Mazzei, were asked to raise their hand if they shared Stitt’s perspective on the McGirt decision. Stitt was quoted as saying that the McGirt decision has torn Oklahoma apart and has created two justice systems based on race. None of the four candidates raised their hand.
“For three and a half years I’ve been working with every tribal leader in the state of Oklahoma, and I recognize them as unique among themselves, just like France is different from Germany,” Oklahoma Attorney General Gentner Drummond said during a candidates forum. “We have to honor and respect the culture of diversity that they bring to the table and the needs that they have. We have been working with tribal law enforcement each of the last three years to take the fight to organize crime in our rural communities. They are a great partner.”
All four candidates promised their administration would work with tribal nations and negotiate tribal compacts.
Mazzei said at two different candidate forums that he would be a strong negotiator with tribal nations.
In a recent interview with KOCO 5 News, local small business owner Kenneth Sturgell said tribal nations are their neighbors and should be treated as such. He also said that the state and tribal nations have to work together.
Jake Merrick, local radio host and former Oklahoma state Senator, was pleased that the state Supreme Court affirmed tribal nations’ right to hunt on their own lands, during a March 30 candidates forum.
Democratic candidate Cyndi Munson, Oklahoma House Minority leader, said in a recent press release that her caucus supports tribes.
“The Oklahoma House Democratic Caucus supports tribal sovereignty and acknowledges that our tribes fill important gaps in our education and healthcare systems, as well as other areas throughout our state,” Munson said. “I am extremely grateful for the work our tribes have done and continue to do despite vicious attacks on them by the Governor.”
A respectful working relationship between tribal nations and the state has shifted significantly since the last gubernatorial race in 2022.
“I think every one of them [Oklahoma governor candidates] has said something about it,” Stopp said. “[It’s] different than four years ago. It was an issue in the governor’s race, but it wasn’t a good issue. Here everyone’s saying yes, we want to change the tone and start the conversation differently. So I think as far as Indian voters go, that conversation is going to change regardless of who wins.”
Dawnland
In Maine, Gov. Mills repeatedly refused to sign a law that would strengthen tribal jurisdiction and recognize Wabanaki Nations right to access federal Indian laws. She vetoed the bill twice despite overwhelming support from state legislators.
“We’ve had multiple opportunities to send [legislation] to the governor’s desk and not just party line votes,” said Maulian Bryant, executive director of the Wabanaki Alliance and former Penobscot ambassador. “We generally have Democratic support, but we have gotten Republicans voting on these issues too. So, the governor has seen some great bipartisan work reach her desk and has still decided to veto some of these efforts.”
FILE – Democratic Gov. Janet Mills delivers her State of the State address, Jan. 30, 2024, at the State House in Augusta, Maine. (AP Photo/Robert F. Bukaty, File)
In order for tribes to access federal Indian laws, the state has to approve it. The Wabanaki Alliance, created to educate the people of Maine about tribal sovereignty, has been working diligently to amend the Maine Indian Claims Settlement Act of 1980.
Through the settlement, tribal nations ceded land in exchange for $81.5 million. However, it also drastically limited tribal sovereignty, and brought tribes under the jurisdiction of the state. Tribal nations that predate the state, are subjected to state jurisdiction and treated more like municipalities. The act was meant to be a living document but the state resisted changes for decades.
The Wabanaki Alliance has been able to increase tribal sovereignty and self-governance one legislation or amendment at a time. Throughout her two-terms, Mills has resisted a complete overhaul of the 1980 act and this created tension between the governor and tribal nations.
“If we had a governor that came in and fully embraced the inherent rights and inherent sovereignty of our people, and fully recognized that, it would strengthen our communities and it would also uplift the entire state of Maine,” said Bryant, who is Penobscot. “Our tribal communities are near rural places that could really use economic opportunities and could really use tribal businesses that are able to grow without all of these bureaucratic restrictions. We really are coming from a place of friendliness and we want to be good neighbors and we want to uplift the communities around us.”
The Wabanaki Alliance held a gubernatorial candidates forum in March where nine governor candidates participated:
Shenna Bellows, Democrat
Rick Bennett, Independent
John Glowa, Independent
Troy Jackson, Democrat
Derek Levasseur, Independent
Hannah Pingree, Democrat
Nirav Shah, Democrat
Angus King III, Democrat
None of the eight Republican candidates participated.
Most of the gubernatorial candidates generally supported increasing tribal sovereignty, recognizing inherent rights and working with tribal nations. Angus King III said he wasn’t educated on the topic enough to make any commitments and would have to look into it. This sentiment was shared by John Glowa and Derek Levasseur.
Hannah Pingree, Rick Bennett, Shenna Bellows and Troy Jackson firmly supported tribal sovereignty for Wabanaki Nations.
“If a governor comes in, and isn’t afraid of recognizing tribal sovereignty and sees it as an opportunity, I think we could see some real progress for everyone,” Bryant said.
Interim U.S. Attorney for Wyoming Darin Smith handed out business cards to grand jurors and invited them to contact him, the U.S. Attorney’s Office disclosed in new court filings after several defendants accused Smith of polluting the grand jury.
Smith also asked for a list of grand jurors and described the concerned cases as “slam dunks,” according to the documents.
Last month, federal public defenders asked judges to dismiss six felony grand-jury indictments because Smith allegedly prejudiced jurors by calling the defendants “murderers,” among other things. Two more defendants have since filed motions claiming misconduct by Smith.
The U.S. Attorney’s Office’s responses to these requests, filed May 8, describe Smith’s comments as “ill advised.” Nevertheless, they assert that dismissing the indictments isn’t warranted. The documents also state that the U.S. will seek to seat a new grand jury and re-present the defendants’ cases to the new panel “that will have never heard” Smith’s remarks.
A spokesperson for Smith said his office would not discuss details amid the proceedings.
Smith is the top federal law enforcement officer in Wyoming and served briefly as a state senator. Former U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi appointed Smith to serve as an interim U.S. attorney.
The U.S. Senate is set to have a preliminary vote today on Smith’s nomination to be Wyoming’s U.S. attorney for the next four years.
In response to the allegations and in accordance with duties outlined in the Wyoming Rules of Professional Conduct for Attorneys, the U.S. Attorney’s Office investigated the March grand jury proceedings. The review resulted in further disclosures about Smith’s conduct, including that he had passed out business cards to grand jury members and had asked for the list of grand jurors. According to court documents, Smith reported that none of the grand jurors had reached out to him and that he hadn’t done anything with the list of grand jurors.
The U.S. Attorney’s Office responses also state that Smith had stood at one point and said something to the effect of, “like I told you guys before, we’re only giving you ‘slam dunks.’”
The U.S. Attorney’s Office investigation, the responses state, “revealed that USA Smith was perhaps overly informal and friendly with the grand jury.” But the office argued that the grand jury’s role is “not to determine guilt or innocence, but to assess whether there is adequate basis for bringing a criminal charge.” Hearing only the prosecutor’s side to make that assessment “has always been thought sufficient,” the office said. Moreover, the responses argue, Smith’s remarks “are simply not the kind of comments that would overbear the will of the grand jury.”
“Because the process is accusatory and the prosecutor presents indictments, grand jurors are necessarily aware that the prosecutor believes that an indictment is warranted,” the documents state. The “extensive selection process, the grand jury’s oath, and the court’s instructions emphasized the need for the grand jury to independently consider the evidence before it,” the U.S. Attorney’s Office argues. “There is no reason to believe that the grand jury did not follow the court’s instructions.”
The office acknowledges that prosecutors shouldn’t take steps that “could be seen as an attempt to curry favor with the grand jury.” But it asserts that handing out business cards didn’t pollute the grand jury. “While handing out business cards and engaging in casual banter might be characterized as overly friendly or inadvertently currying favor, it is certainly not the kind of thing that would overbear the grand jury’s will and cause them to abandon their role as a body,” court documents state.
Questions over qualifications
The U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee endorsed Smith to be Wyoming’s federal attorney on a party-line vote last year. During that meeting, two U.S. senators called him unqualified and alleged he made false claims about the Jan. 6 insurrection, which he had attended.
A small group organized by tribal advocacy groups protested Smith’s nomination at Riverton’s City Park on the afternoon of May 8. Nicole Wagon, an MMIR 307 activist and enrolled member of the Northern Arapaho Tribe, said Smith “is not qualified for the position” and urged people to call Wyoming’s congressional Sens. Cynthia Lummis and Barrasso.
“He failed, and tainted the grand jury in seven-plus … seven-plus felony cases,” she said. “We need to make it safe again for all our people. It’s not just an Indigenous thing, it’s for every Wyoming citizen. We need better, we deserve better, and accountability.”
Lennie Poitras, who heads the Fremont County Action Committee, also described Smith as unqualified. “I just feel that we need to have better representation for our attorney for Wyoming,” Poitras said. “This guy is not qualified, and he is endangering justice for, not just for Native Americans, but for everybody.”
“We’re asking them to make life and death decisions, depending on them for justice. They should, at the bare minimum, be competent at what they do. They should have experience at what they do,” Matt Hartman of Riverton said.
“It’s the job of the United States Senate to, you know, check what they do. Is this somebody that is really acceptable for this job? I personally haven’t seen anything to suggest that this person is. So I would expect my senators to do their due diligence. To do their job, frankly. I expect them to do what’s right for the people of Wyoming. All of the people of Wyoming.”
Wyoming’s congressional delegations are supporting Smith’s nomination. Barrasso has called him “well qualified.”
Sarah Squires from WyoToday contributed to this report.
NewsPoliticsBen Ray LujánCitizenshipCongressDon BaconICT Must ReadImmigrationMarkwayne MullinRespect Tribal IDs ActSharice DavidsTeresa Leger FernándezTrump AdministrationU.S. Department of Homeland SecurityU.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement
Bipartisan push to increase training for immigration agents
A bill calling for federal Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers to respect and accept tribal identification as proof of United States citizenship was introduced in Congress Tuesday.
Reps. Sharice Davids, D-Kansas, Don Bacon, R-Nebraska, and Teresa Leger Fernández, D-New Mexico, and Sen. Ben Ray Luján, D-New Mexico, co-sponsored the bipartisan Respect Tribal IDs Act to improve how Department of Homeland Security personnel recognize and interact with tribal identification documents during immigration enforcement.
The legislation comes amid growing reports of Native Americans being questioned, delayed, or detained after federal officers failed to recognize valid tribal IDs and documentation as proof of citizenship.
“Tribal sovereignty is a legal and constitutional recognition of Tribal Nations and their citizens, and the federal government has a responsibility to respect that,” said Davids, a citizen of the Ho-Chunk Nation of Wisconsin, in a statement. “But lately, we’ve seen troubling reports of Native Americans being questioned or detained because federal officers lacked the training needed to recognize tribal documentation or understand Tribal Nation citizenship. This bipartisan bill is about preventing those failures, improving training and accountability, and making sure all people are treated with the dignity and respect they deserve.”
The Respect Tribal IDs Act would require DHS, in coordination with the Bureau of Indian Affairs and tribal nations, to develop standardized training for officers and employees involved in immigration enforcement. The training would include how to identify tribal documents, when tribal IDs qualify as proof of U.S. citizenship, proper protocols for interacting with enrolled tribal members, and the federal government’s trust responsibility to tribal nations.
The bill also requires DHS to create region-specific guidance and reference materials for officers, including examples of tribal IDs used by federally recognized tribes in areas where agents operate. Officers would be required to complete the training annually and whenever they are reassigned to a new region.
Secretary of the Department Homeland Security Markwayne Mullin is a citizen of the Cherokee Nation. He was confirmed as the first Native American to lead the department in March and the second Native American to lead a federal cabinet-level agency.
ICT reached out to DHS and did not hear back immediately.
“The Respect Tribal IDs Act is a commonsense bill to ensure DHS personnel are properly trained to recognize Tribal IDs and work respectfully with Tribal communities,” said Rep. Bacon in a statement. “Federal agencies have a responsibility to protect and support Tribal citizens, and this legislation helps ensure they do that.”
Rep. Fernandez agreed.
“We’ve seen Trump’s Department of Homeland Security violate the rights of the first Americans countless times. Indigenous people in New Mexico and across the country have been unfairly questioned, harassed, and detained. This bill will require that DHS officers be trained to recognize Tribal IDs and prevent wrongful detentions,” she said. Fernández is the ranking member of the Subcommittee on Indian and Insular Affairs. “All law enforcement officials must respect tribal governments and the documents they provide their citizens. ICE and CBP agents must follow the law and respect tribal sovereignty.”
The bill also has support in the Senate.
“In New Mexico and across the country, our Tribal brothers and sisters deserve to be treated with dignity and respect,” said Sen. Luján, a member of the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs. “Under the Trump Administration, we’ve seen disturbing incidents where Tribal members were stopped, questioned, and harassed by ICE officers simply because of their appearance or because officers failed to recognize their Tribal IDs. That is unacceptable and deeply wrong. To address these failures, my legislation would establish clear standards and ensure DHS officers are properly trained to recognize and accept Tribal IDs. No one should have to fear being harassed because of a failure in training or accountability.”
The legislation follows multiple high-profile incidents and reports involving Native Americans whose tribal documentation was reportedly rejected or questioned during federal enforcement encounters.
Tribal leaders and advocates have raised concerns that inconsistent training and lack of familiarity with tribal IDs have contributed to wrongful stops and confusion involving U.S. citizens, particularly in border states and regions with large Native populations.
The legislation seeks to establish clearer standards and prevent future incidents by ensuring federal personnel are properly trained before conducting enforcement activities.
“The National Congress of American Indians supports this legislation to ensure that federal agents within the U.S. Department of Homeland Security are properly trained to recognize and respect Tribal identification documents,” said Larry Wright, who is executive director of the organization. “Too often, the lack of consistent training has led to confusion, delays, and the improper treatment of Tribal citizens. By requiring comprehensive training on Tribal IDs, this bill affirms the validity of Tribal governments and strengthens the federal trust responsibility. NCAI urges its passage to promote respectful interactions, enhance security, and uphold the rights of Tribal citizens.”
John E. Echohawk, executive director of the Native American Rights Fund, said this legislation is much needed.
“We’ve seen federal immigration agents reject valid Tribal IDs and question the citizenship of Native people — something that should never happen,” he said. “Tribal IDs are official documents issued by sovereign Tribal Nations and must be recognized as such. The Respect Tribal IDs Act provides a common-sense, bipartisan fix by ensuring agents are properly trained to identify and accept these documents and understand the federal trust responsibility. We strongly support Sharice Davids’ leadership on this issue, alongside the National Congress of American Indians. This bill will help prevent unlawful detentions and protect Native citizens.”
This is the latest story from Indigenously Positive, a collaborative series by New Mexico In Depth and NMPBS. Both newsrooms are participants in the Indigenous Climate Solutions Cohort, part of the Indigenous Journalists Association and Solutions Journalism Network’s Climate Beacon Newsroom Initiative.
When the floodwaters came surging over an old burn scar in South Tularosa Canyon last July, John Salazar knew there was nothing he could do for the thousands of rainbow trout he’d raised from eggs.
He and the rest of the Mescalero Apache Tribe’s fish hatchery staff had about half an hour to evacuate after they got the warning. Minutes later, the flood hit, sweeping scores of fish down the road. Others perished as mud and debris built up in the tanks and the pipes, leaving them without the dissolved oxygen they needed to survive.
All told, half a million trout died — 95 percent of the fish the hatchery was raising.
“Being here for 11 years, it’s nothing that I’ve quite seen before,” said Salazar, a tribal member and the hatchery’s supervisor. Because it takes about 18 months to raise the trout before they’re released around the Southwest for recreation, recovery has been slow. “It took a toll on us, because all our progress was just completely lost in a couple hours.”
That’s just one of the ways in which the area has been affected by wildfires and subsequent flooding in recent years. Future projections are grim. Research has shown human-caused climate change is leading to increasingly frequent and intense wildfire activity.
New Mexico’s risk is higher than 82 percent of states, according to the U.S. Forest Service, and Mescalero has been identified as one of the most vulnerable places.
“I know that for me, it’s kind of devastating to see, especially knowing that it might get worse,” said Cody Rice, a high schooler in his junior year.
A school project got him thinking about how he might be able to help. He’s part of a four-student team developing wildfire and flood warning sensors they hope will one day be used to protect their southern New Mexico community.
For Rice, it’s about doing “something now before it gets a little too late.”
A week before the hatchery was hit, another flood in nearby Ruidoso killed two children and a 64-year-old man.
Wildfires in prior years — two of which, in 2024, were deadly — set the stage for the flooding. By burning away vegetation, fires leave soil loose and unable to absorb extra moisture.
“So when you get any amount of rain, even a half inch of rain we’ve seen this past couple years, it runs down the slopes and accelerates really fast,” said East Padilla, a tribal member who works for the tribe’s Division of Resource Management and Protection.
Part of what’s led to his community being threatened by wildfires, he said, is the federal government’s former policy, instituted nationwide in the early 1900s, of suppressing wildfires. Cultural burning — long practiced by Indigenous peoples globally for a variety of reasons — was also banned.
“This is kind of a fire regime area,” Padilla said. “The fires would happen every four to 10 years consistently. And now that humans kind of impacted that, our fire regime is not what it used to be, so it’s at greater risk that the forest does get unhealthy.”
Preventing small, natural fires results in fuel like dead branches building up and trees growing too closely together. In competing for resources, the trees are weakened and become more susceptible to wildfires. To try to manage that, the tribe employs thinning — strategically cutting down certain trees to increase the overall health of the forest.
As they got started on their project, the students wanted to know: How are wildfires on their reservation currently detected? Audrina Reynolds, a sophomore on the team, interviewed another staff member in the resource management division to get an answer: satellites, which are meant to locate hotspots.
They’re useful tools, Padilla said, but they sometimes issue false alarms. And they tend to be slow, sending alerts up to an hour after a fire starts.
In February, the students made the three-and-a-half-hour journey from Mescalero to Las Vegas to showcase their fire sensor at the New Mexico Governor’s STEM Challenge. It’s a statewide, annual competition for high schoolers that’s meant, in part, to connect them with potential future employers.
“It’s about getting out there and learning how to compete with people that don’t look like you,” said Nate Raynor, Mescalero Apache School’s STEM director. “And we’ve had some bad situations in some places when we went and being the only Indigenous school, and you can see it sometimes. But we overcame it.”
Raynor “really incentivizes us to do our best and really get into the STEM spirit because it’s important we show everyone else that we’re still here as Indigenous people,” Hendrick Aldava, a junior, said. Native people are underrepresented in the science, technology, engineering, and math workforce, although there’s been some improvement over the past decade, according to a 2023 report by the National Science Foundation.
This year, the competition asked students to think about how innovations can help their communities prevent natural disasters, mitigate harm, or recover.
With judges gathered around them, Rice gave a demonstration.
“Take something potent like a Sharpie, you know it has that smell?” he said, holding the marker near the sensor, causing it to start beeping. “The sensor will pick up those readings from the detection and it will give off an indication that there’s hazardous particles in the air.”
The sensor is designed to detect certain chemical compounds, like carbon dioxide. A small processor it’s hooked up to compares the readings to normal conditions to determine if a fire is likely burning. If it is, the system can send alerts to emergency services.
Research has found these kinds of sensors are promising for combating wildfires.
The Science and Technology Directorate, the research arm of the Department of Homeland Security, says it began that work in 2019, writing in a post on its website: “Available fire sensors at the time were optical cameras or thermal imaging — they would ‘see’ the fires. But have you ever known there was a fire nearby, whether a campfire or a grill or brush, because you could smell the smoke before you saw flames? That’s what our sensors program is aiming to do — ‘sniff’ out the fires as soon as they start, providing 24-hour sensing and alerting capabilities.”
A sensor installed in a Colorado forest in 2023 identified a flare-up at a controlled burn site and alerted the fire department, giving them a 37-minute head start before the first 911 call came in, according to the research division.
While they didn’t win an award at the challenge, the students say they plan to stick with their idea.
“This is just a prototype year,” Raynor said. “When he graduates, what I want to do is, Cody will be a senior, so his job next year is to find the underclassmen to take that project over.”
One improvement the students are working on is the fire sensor’s code, Rice said. He’s tinkering with it to narrow down which chemical compounds it responds to.
When they started developing the fire sensor, Rice said, they researched what was already on the market and found some sensors that likely would’ve been easier to program for their purposes. But they were several hundred dollars more expensive than what they ended up buying. Because they hope the warning system will actually be used one day, they’re trying to keep the costs down, Rice said.
The students are also trying to develop a flood sensor, which would be placed in a river and programmed to send out a warning if the water reached an abnormal height.
As with the fire sensor, coding — writing instructions that tell the processor how to read data from the sensor and interpret what it means — has emerged as the biggest challenge. The program flags that something is wrong but doesn’t point to what exactly the mistake is or how to fix it, said Anavay Wheeler, a junior.
“There’s so many limitations and then also just being a child and a girl, people underestimate you and maybe don’t listen to you and it’s really frustrating because I think this could have a huge impact,” Reynolds, the sophomore, said. But the possibility of helping her community “was so much more important than all of that,” she said, and has kept her going.
After more testing, they hope to present both sensors to the tribal council and potentially get funding, she said.
“I know some students, they probably think that they can’t do anything or it’s out of their reach, especially with new technology,” Rice said. “But I think learning to adapt to that change and having that motivation that it’s your tribe, it’s your land, you know, that you should do something about it.”
The ICT Newscast for Friday, May 8, 2026, covers National MMIP Remembrance Day, renewed efforts to protect sacred sites and a new Indigenous media platform. Check out the ICT Newscast on YouTube for this episode and more.
Honoring MMIP victims and families
Across Turtle Island, Indigenous communities marked the National Day of Remembrance for Missing and Murdered Indigenous People. ICT visited events in Wisconsin and South Dakota, where families and advocates continue to call for justice, healing and accountability.
Kamisha’s Law: One family’s fight for change
The family of Kamisha Nyvold is working to change federal law after waiting more than 30 years for answers in her death. Learn how proposed legislation could impact cold cases on federal land and help families across Indian Country pursue justice.
Apache Stronghold continues the fight for Oak Flat
Apache Stronghold founder Wendsler Nosie Sr. discusses the ongoing effort to protect Oak Flat from a planned copper mining project. The sacred Apache site remains at the center of legal battles, religious freedom concerns and environmental questions.
Protecting Pe’ Sla in the Black Hills
A temporary restraining order issued May 4 paused drilling near Pe’ Sla, a sacred site connected to the Lakota creation story. ICT explains why Oceti Sakowin tribes, treaty defenders and environmental groups are challenging the project.
Indigenous House launches a new media vision
Crystal Echo Hawk joins ICT to discuss Indigenous House, the evolution of IllumiNative. The new digital platform and creative studio is focused on Indigenous storytelling, digital-first content and expanding Native visibility across media.
Multiple nominees for the Navajo Nation president are former vice presidents, worked in the Navajo Nation government and ran previously for the position
History could be made this November for the Navajo Nation as the tribe holds its presidential election in November.
Current Navajo Nation President Buu Nygren, is running for reelection along with 14 other nominees. Three women, current Speaker Crystalyne Curley, Emily Ellison and Debbie Nez-Manuel, could become the first female president of the Navajo Nation if elected.
Peterson Zah was the first president elected in 1991.
Here are the nominees for president of the Navajo Nation:
Crystalyne Curley
Curley became the first woman to be speaker of the Navajo Nation Council in 2023. She was previously the senior public information office for the former Navajo Nation President Jonathan Nez. She was also Miss Navajo Nation from 2011 to 2012.
Debbie Nez-Manuel
Nez-Manuel previously ran for election to the Arizona House of Representatives in 2020 and for Arizona State Senate in 2018. She lost both Democratic primaries. She served on the Arizona Missing and Murdered Indigenous People Task Force.
Emily Ellison
Ellison previously ran for president in 2018 and 2022. Ellison was honored by the Peace Corps in 2014 for her work as an education volunteer in China.
Myron Lizer
Lizer was the former vice president of the Navajo Nation from 2019 and 2023 under President Jonathan Nez. He was president of Navajo Westerners Ace Hardware Stores and Lumber Yards and an accountant for the Southern Ute Growth Fund.
Frank Dayish Jr.
Dayish Jr. was the former vice president of the Navajo Nation from 2003 and 2007 under President Joe Shirley. He was the chief executive officer of the Navajo Nation Housing Authority and the director of division of acquisitions management and contracts for the Navajo Area Indian Health Service. He previously ran for president in 2022. He is also a Marine veteran.
Arvin Trujillo
Trujillo is the Navajo Nation executive administrator, heading the executive branch’s strategic planning and implementation efforts. He was the manager for government relations at the Four Corners Power Plant. He was the executive director of the Navajo Division of Natural Resources for Navajo Nation President Kelsey Begaye’s administration. He also served an interim position as the chief of staff for Begaye. He was head of the division of natural resources for Navajo Nation President Joe Shirley’s administration.
Justin Jones
Jones has his own private law practice and is a Marine veteran. Jones served in several leadership roles in schools and was a chief judge for the Courts of the Jicarilla Apache Nation. In 2025, Jones, according to the Navajo Times, represented two Navajo-owned entities who were seeking information on how Navajo Nation officials used housing and mortgage-assistance funds.
Alexander Chambers
Chambers is currently pursuing a law degree at Purdue Global to specialize in tribal and corporate law. He previously ran for mayor of Farmington, New Mexico in 2023 but was disqualified due to an address issue. He is a U.S. Small Business Administration advisor, former U.S. Federal Correctional Officer and restaurant owner.
Andrew Curley
Curley is an assistant professor in the School of Geography, Development, and Environment at the University of Arizona. He worked previously at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Department of Geography as an assistant professor.
Kevin L. Cody
Cody previously ran for president in 2018 and 2022.
Jordan Begay
Begay has leadership experience in healthcare and was a social worker for the Navajo Nation Division for Children and Family Services.
Other candidates for the president are Johnny Russell Jr., Larry Noble, Tom T. Chee and Donovan Begay.
The leading challenger to Republican incumbent U.S. Sen. Dan Sullivan is proposing to eliminate income taxes for Alaskans earning less than $92,000 per year, the state’s median household income.
Democratic candidate Mary Peltola, Yup’ik, introduced the idea May 11 as part of a newly expanded platform of campaign ideas.
Among some of the other ideas: a federally subsidized “Essential Freight Service” for air cargo to small communities, a renewal of the federal Expanded Child Tax Credit, tax credits for renters and child care facilities, and price controls and limits on corporate mergers.
There are relatively few seats in the U.S. Senate that could be won by either a Republican or a Democrat this year. In a recent analysis, NPR dubbed Alaska’s seat the “majority maker.” National Democrats are hoping that Peltola can beat Sullivan and help them take control of the Senate, which currently has a 54-46 Republican edge.
Meanwhile, Sullivan has continued to strengthen a network of connections within the state. He’s already received endorsements from the United Fishermen of Alaska — the state’s largest commercial fishing organization — and last week was endorsed by the ANCSA Regional Association, a group representing the state’s largest Alaska Native corporations.
Both groups represent constituencies that have previously favored Peltola.
Statewide opinion polls have found economic issues are at the top of Alaskans’ minds, and many Alaskans have an extraordinarily pessimistic view of the state’s financial health and their own financial situation.
Many residents believe that any economic improvements won’t trickle down to them, said Matt Larkin, a leading pollster, in a recent interview.
That’s the environment in which Peltola is launching her new economic campaign.
“Affordability — it’s on everyone’s mind,” she said in an interview ahead of the launch.
Peltola, who lives part of the year in rural Alaska, said she believes the high cost of heating fuel and stove fuel has created a crisis.
“I feel like we’re in a dire situation that I have never experienced,” she said, explaining that her monthly fuel bill now exceeds her mortgage.
During a recent visit to St. Mary’s, on the Yukon River in southwest Alaska, she talked to people who are currently paying $10 per gallon for fuel. They’re expecting prices to go up by 40-50 percent, she said.
If they can’t afford fuel, “that means there’s no electricity, there’s no heat, there’s no gas for hunting and fishing. This is dire. And I, you know, I just think we’ve got to get really serious about how to bring down prices for everyday Alaskans, for everyday households.”
Peltola drew a direct line between the American war on Iran and those high prices. Sullivan has been a staunch supporter of the war. Peltola believes Congress needs to intervene, though she stopped short of outright opposing it.
“There is a need for the War Powers Act. I do not believe that any President should be making these kinds of substantive decisions unilaterally,” she said.
Peltola’s call for an “Essential Freight Service” mirrors her support for Bypass Mail and the Essential Air Service, two existing subsidy programs that support flights to rural Alaska and other parts of rural America.
She said the exact scope of the freight program still needs to be worked out. Alaska is essentially “six states within a state,” and “and every single region is so unique, and I think it would have to be unique approaches in every region and every community.”
The announcement is the second significant policy launch by Peltola since she announced in January that she would challenge Sullivan for Senate.
In late March, she announced her support for Congressional term limits, a ban on stock trading by members of Congress and her support for a Constitutional amendment to overturn the U.S. Supreme Court case known as Citizens United.
That case allows third-party groups to spend unlimited amounts of money on political campaigns as long as they do not coordinate with candidates.
Speaking May 8, Peltola said anti-corruption and affordability are complementary issues.
“I think we’re all going to be looking at where the price gouging is and where we can halt corporate greed and inflation,” she said.
The four justices in the majority opinion agreed with Energy Transfer’s claim that Greenpeace International’s case in the Netherlands threatened to undermine the Morton County jury’s verdict
The North Dakota Supreme Court has instructed a district court judge to stop an overseas free speech lawsuit against the developer of the Dakota Access Pipeline.
The Amsterdam-based organization Greenpeace International filed suit against Energy Transfer in the Netherlands in response to the lawsuit the environmental group faces in North Dakota. Energy Transfer accuses Greenpeace of International and two other Greenpeace affiliate organizations of engaging in conspiracy, defamation and other crimes to stop the Dakota Access Pipeline pipeline from being built. A Morton County jury last spring sided with most of Energy Transfer’s claims.
Greenpeace International in early 2025 counter-sued Energy Transfer under a relatively new European Union law that protects those sued in retaliation for protest speech. The environmental group claims Energy Transfer has weaponized the legal system against it to punish Greenpeace for supporting the Dakota Access Pipeline protests.
Energy Transfer, meanwhile, alleges that Greenpeace International is only bringing the Dutch case to overturn the unfavorable verdict it received in North Dakota.
Gion denied the request, finding that Greenpeace International was not attempting to relitigate the North Dakota case because different matters are at issue in the Dutch suit. Gion also noted that the North Dakota case will likely wrap up before the Netherlands suit gets far enough along to interfere with it.
Energy Transfer appealed the decision to the North Dakota Supreme Court in September.
The high court on May 7 ruled 4-1 to overturn Gion’s decision, with Chief Justice Lisa Fair McEvers being the lone dissenting justice. District court judges Stephanie Hayden and James Shockman sat in on the case in place of justices Mark Friese and Douglas Bahr, who recused.
The four justices in the majority opinion agreed with Energy Transfer’s claim that Greenpeace International’s case in the Netherlands threatened to undermine the Morton County jury’s verdict. They directed Gion to enter an order halting the Dutch suit.
Greenpeace International wants the Amsterdam court to find that Energy Transfer’s suit is “manifestly unfounded and abusive,” Justice Jerod Tufte wrote in the majority opinion. He said this would require the court to find that Greenpeace International “did not engage in unlawful conduct, did not cause Energy Transfer’s losses, and did not act with malice.”
This goes against the Morton County jury’s decision, Tufte wrote.
He called the Dutch lawsuit “an attack on a fundamental policy of this state.”
He pointed to the fact that Greenpeace filed the Dutch suit about two weeks before its trial in Gion’s court started, he noted. This could have been a deliberate attempt to circumvent the North Dakota case, Tufte said.
“The only apparent purpose of filing a duplicative foreign action on the eve of trial is to create a vehicle for collaterally attacking the anticipated verdict,” he wrote.
Greenpeace International Senior Legal Counsel Daniel Simons in a statement said the organization is still digesting the North Dakota Supreme Court’s decision. Simons noted the order doesn’t prevent Greenpeace International from pursuing other legal action in the Netherlands related to the North Dakota case.
“This ruling does not enable Energy Transfer to escape accountability under Dutch and EU law for their back-to-back abusive court proceedings in the U.S.,” he said in the statement.
Trey Cox, the lead attorney representing Energy Transfer in its lawsuit against Greenpeace, applauded the ruling. In a Thursday statement, he said the high court’s decision “protects the authority of the North Dakota judicial system and the jury’s unanimous verdict from an improper end-run abroad.”
Fair McEvers in her dissent stated that she would deny Energy Transfer’s request, writing that there wasn’t enough evidence Gion acted in error.
She agreed with Gion that the Dutch case does not appear to be rehashing the same issues heard in his court.
“While there are some similarities, the types of actions differ,” she wrote.
Fair McEvers was also skeptical that the overseas suit threatened the integrity of the North Dakota case.
She noted that Greenpeace International submitted testimony from a Dutch law expert who indicated that even if Greenpeace International receives a favorable ruling in Amsterdam, it wouldn’t necessarily undermine the jury’s verdict.
Fair McEvers pushed back against the majority’s assertion that the timing of Greenpeace International’s Dutch suit was dubious.
While she agreed that the North Dakota judiciary has an interest in protecting its courts, she did not think the circumstances surrounding the Dutch case justified overruling Gion’s decision.
Both the majority opinion and Fair McEvers’ dissent acknowledge that the issues presented by Energy Transfer’s appeal are new to the North Dakota Supreme Court.
They also noted that there aren’t straightforward rules for how judges ought to decide when it’s appropriate to issue orders stopping another lawsuit.
In addition to Greenpeace International, Energy Transfer’s North Dakota lawsuit is also against two other Greenpeace organizations: Greenpeace USA and Greenpeace Fund. Those two aren’t part of the Dutch lawsuit.
Greenpeace International’s suit is still in its early stages. An Amsterdam court in mid-April held a hearing on claims brought by Energy Transfer asking for the case to be dismissed.
The more than three-week trial in Gion’s court last year featured dozens of witnesses, including current and former Greenpeace employees, Indigenous activists, Energy Transfer representatives and law enforcement.
The Morton County jury ultimately directed Greenpeace to pay Energy Transfer $667 million. Gion later reduced that amount, and in March finalized an order for a $345 million judgment against Greenpeace. The three Greenpeace defendants have since filed a motion requesting a new trial.
NewsBureau Of Land ManagementConservationDevelopmentPublic LandsTrump Administration
The Biden-era rule provided guidance for ensuring conservation received due consideration along with mining, timber, grazing, recreation or other uses on public lands
The United States Bureau of Land Management on Monday formally cancelled the so-called “Public Land Rule,” which required the agency to consider conservation and development equally in land-use decisions for millions of acres across the West.
The BLM, which manages 13.5 million acres of land in New Mexico, published a notice Monday, May 11, in the Federal Register finalizing its elimination of the 2024 rule, officially known as the Conservation and Landscape Health Rule. The agency first announced it was considering eliminating the rule in September.
The Biden-era rule provided guidance for ensuring conservation received due consideration along with mining, timber, grazing, recreation or other uses on public lands. It also allowed the BLM to issue leases specifically for conservation, though the agency never issued any.
The BLM’s notice Monday said officials had received and responded to nearly 140,000 public comments in response to the proposal. Ultimately, officials said eliminating the 2024 rule was necessary because it “threatened to restrict productive use of the public lands and introduced uncertainty and unnecessary burdens in planning and permitting.” The rule’s elimination comes alongside executive orders and other actions by the Trump administration to expand drilling, mineral production and other commercial uses of public lands.
Michael Carroll, a campaign director for environmentalist group The Wilderness Society, told Source NM on Monday that the rule’s rescission, which officially goes into effect in 30 days, will leave millions of acres across the West newly vulnerable to oil and gas extraction and mining.
“They’re effectively saying, ‘We’re just going to prioritize extraction across BLM lands,’ Carroll said. “They’re going to be prioritizing industrial-scale development on those public lands. I think we’ll see that right away.”
He also noted that the BLM determined it did not need to consult with Indigenous tribes in its decision to rescind the rule, which he called “shocking in terms of its disrespect to tribal nations,” many of which sit adjacent to federal lands.
The Wilderness Society was among many environmental groups that denounced the end of the “Public Lands Rule” on Wednesday. Several public statements from the groups mentioned the pending U.S. Senate confirmation of Steve Pearce, a former New Mexico Republican congressman, as BLM director.
If the Senate confirms him, Pearce, who has deep ties to the oil and gas industry, will oversee an agency that is no longer required to consider conservation as an acceptable use of public land, Carroll said.
“Today is a bad day for those people who care about public lands and care about the Bureau of Land Management,” he said. “But we’ll keep fighting and keep pushing back.”
NewsAmazonExtractive IndustriesGlobal IndigenousMiningUnited NationsUnited Nations Permanent Forum On Indigenous IssuesUNPFII
The appeal comes as Indigenous communities across the Amazon increasingly find themselves caught between expanding criminal networks and state security operations
BOGOTA, Colombia — Indigenous organizations from across the Amazon and Latin America will send a letter Monday to the United Nations warning that organized crime — including illegal mining, drug trafficking and logging — is driving violence and accelerating environmental destruction in rainforest communities. However, they urged governments to avoid heavily militarized responses in Indigenous territories.
The letter, addressed to U.N. member states and agencies including the U.N. Office on Drugs and Crime and the U.N. Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, says criminal networks are expanding, threatening communities, ecosystems and local governance.
Signatories say the expansion of organized crime is undermining Indigenous governance systems and threatening communities that have long acted as stewards of some of the world’s most biodiverse ecosystems.
The document was signed by major Indigenous organizations including the Coordinator of Indigenous Organizations of the Amazon River Basin and dozens of regional Indigenous federations and international advocacy groups.
Indigenous groups warn of expanding threat
The appeal comes as Indigenous communities across the Amazon increasingly find themselves caught between expanding criminal networks and state security operations. In recent years, illegal gold mining, logging and drug trafficking have spread deeper into remote rainforest regions in countries including Brazil, Peru, Colombia and Ecuador, bringing violence, mercury contamination and deforestation.
International rights groups and U.N. experts have raised concerns about rising attacks on Indigenous leaders and environmental defenders linked to disputes over land, natural resources and illicit economies across the Amazon.
Global Witness says at least 2,253 land and environmental defenders have been killed or disappeared globally between 2012 and 2024, with Latin America accounting for the vast majority of cases.
In Peru, five men are on trial over the 2023 killing of Indigenous defender Quinto Inuma Alvarado, who had repeatedly denounced illegal logging and drug trafficking in his territory. Rights groups say most similar killings in the region go unpunished.
Raphael Hoetmer, Western Amazon Program Director at Amazon Watch, an environmental and Indigenous rights advocacy group, said the letter reflects a growing sense of urgency among Indigenous organizations as these threats expand.
“Even four years ago this was not a central topic for most of our partners, but now it is one of the central topics for the wide majority,” he told The Associated Press in a written response.
Criminal networks expanding across the region
The letter warns that organized crime is not only driving environmental destruction but also weakening Indigenous governance and territorial control.
Illegal gold mining in particular has become a major driver of deforestation and mercury contamination across parts of the Amazon, while armed groups and trafficking networks have sought control over strategic river routes and Indigenous lands.
“Pushing back requires territorial protection, prioritizing environmental crimes, and cooperation against transnational organized crime networks active across the Amazon,” said United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime Deputy Director of Operations Jeremy Douglas in written comments to AP.
At the time of sending the comments, the U.N. agency said it had not yet seen the Indigenous organizations’ letter and that the response should not be interpreted as an endorsement. UNODC said its offices in Latin America are working with Indigenous communities and national authorities to strengthen territorial protection and combat environmental crimes tied to organized criminal networks.
The AP also contacted the U.N. Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues for comment, but did not receive a reply by the time of publication.
Voices from affected Amazon regions
Ercilia Castañeda, vice president of the Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador, Ecuador’s largest Indigenous organization, said governments have increasingly responded to organized crime and illegal mining with militarization that has failed to resolve the crisis in many Indigenous territories.
She said some communities have faced displacement, fear and psychological harm.
“It has affected their relationship with the land, with the water, with sacred sites, with their spiritual life,” she said. “We are talking about a deterioration of the identity and life of Indigenous peoples.”
Herlín Odicio, vice president of Organización Regional AIDESEP Ucayali, or ORAU, an Indigenous organization representing communities in Peru’s Amazon region of Ucayali, said organized crime groups have increasingly adapted how they operate in Indigenous territories.
“They no longer make direct threats. Now they use other strategies,” he said in a call with AP.
Odicio said criminal groups are increasingly embedding themselves in local political structures and campaigns to maintain influence and continue operating in Indigenous territories.
He said the expansion of organized crime has deeply affected Indigenous communities, where poverty and the absence of state services leave many vulnerable to recruitment into illegal activities.
“They recruit young people to work as ‘mochileros,’” he said, referring to people used to transport drugs or supplies through remote areas. “Then, in the end, when they no longer want them or do not want to pay them, they kill them.”
Odicio also warned of growing sexual exploitation of Indigenous girls in communities and border areas affected by criminal groups, some as young as 13 or 14, he said.
Concerns over militarized responses
In the letter, organizations say government responses focused primarily on military force risk worsening conditions if they fail to recognize Indigenous territorial rights and systems of self-governance.
“In light of this situation, it is essential that responses to organized crime and illicit economies do not translate into new processes of militarization, criminalization, or the subordination of Indigenous governance systems,” the letter says.
The letter calls on the U.N. Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues to conduct a dedicated study on organized crime and illicit economies in Indigenous territories and urged U.N. agencies to include Indigenous perspectives in anti-crime and anti-corruption policies.
“We are talking about a deterioration of the identity and life of Indigenous peoples,” Castañeda said.
U.S. Rep. Sharice Davids has officially filed for reelection to Kansas’ 3rd Congressional District, she said in a May 11 campaign press release. Davids, Ho-Chunk, is the longest-serving Indigenous woman in the U.S. Congress.
President Donald J. Trump urged states ahead of the midterm elections to change congressional maps to favor Republican candidates. This was brought up in Kansas and specifically targeting Davids’ seat, as the lone Democratic House member.
Davids said that if Kansas Republicans manipulated the congressional maps for her district she would seriously consider a run for the U.S. Senate, according to the Kansas Reflector.
The Kansas State Legislature has, so far, been unsuccessful in calling a special session to make changes to the congressional maps. Davids has already been able to maintain her house seat after the 2020 redistricting that made the 3rd Congressional District more conservative.
If reelected, this would be her fifth term.
Davids said she is going to continue fighting for Kansas families and affordability is her top issue.
“I hear from Kansans all the time who feel like they are doing everything right and still getting hit from every direction because the system is tilted toward special interests that know how to bend the rules,” said Davids. “People want leaders who listen, tell the truth, and actually fix issues instead of making them worse. So, as I run for reelection, my focus remains on working with both parties to lower costs and ensure Washington delivers for hardworking Kansans — not billionaires or powerful corporations.”
The high costs of living expenses has become a major election issue during this year’s midterm election.
The top three issues she will focus on are “lowering everyday costs and support good-paying jobs, protect access to healthcare and reproductive freedom, and push back against special interests and extreme politics in Washington that are driving up costs and making life harder for Kansas families,” according to a press release.
The Kansas primary election will be held on Aug. 4.
As of May 11, there is only one challenger to Davids in the primary. Sarah Preu is running as a progressive Democratic candidate and has critiqued Davids for not being liberal enough.
All but one Cal State campus have Native American remains and cultural items that federal and state laws require them to return to tribes. In many cases, the process has been slow.
Though the size of their collections varies, campuses like Cal Poly Humboldt and San Francisco State have made progress in returning human remains and cultural items, with Sacramento State having returned most of its Native collections. But others, like Cal Poly Pomona, have yet to see much progress and Cal State Bakersfield has not made any returns.
The Cal State system holds the remains of more than 2,000 Native Americans and more than 1.57 million artifacts, according to the most recent list of the system’s collections. Another 500,000 collections of items are still in storage awaiting proper tribal review to be cataloged.
Campus officials say they are working diligently to follow legal mandates to return items to tribes, but the road can be long and arduous.
Last February, members of the Konkow Valley Band of Maidu tribe reburied three ancestors whose remains had been held at Sacramento State since 1963. The Lake Concow Campground donated 10.7 acres of land to the tribe within their traditional territory in Northern California, where they were able to perform the reburials.
“During the process it’s a very, very heavy feeling,” said Matthew Williford Sr., the tribal chairperson and cultural resource director. “But when you receive the remains back, you feel lighter. It doesn’t feel like so much weight.”
If collections stay in storage, for Williford, it’s as if “nobody knows that we were ever around.”
“It’s important for us to get that back, because we believe that those items still have spirit,” he said. “They need to come back to the people.”
Federal and state Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation laws require agencies and institutions with Native American remains and cultural items, such as the ancestors’ remains from Williford’s tribe, be returned to tribes. While there was not a deadline for when collections had to be returned, federal law required campuses to complete an inventory of their collections by 1995.
As of February 2025, Sacramento State had repatriated 89 percent of the human remains and 68 percent of the cultural items on their campus. That means control of the collections has been legally transferred to a culturally affiliated tribe, but collections may remain physically held by the campus if requested by the tribe. The figure also does not include what the campus holds for other state or federal agencies.
“Some tribes want us to hold on to collections, in which case we might do a held trust agreement, where we just are saying, ‘We’re holding this for you until you’re ready to take it for repatriation,’” said Sarah Eckhardt, Sacramento State’s repatriation coordinator.
Eckhardt has been the repatriation coordinator for more than six years, overseeing the university’s compliance with repatriation laws and policies. Eckhardt shared that the campus has a good relationship with local tribes, to whom the majority of their collections belong, allowing them to repatriate the collections effectively.
The amount of cultural items at Sacramento State decreased significantly from about 30,000 in 2024 to about 6,000 in 2025.
Why it’s hard to return Native artifacts
To move forward with repatriation, universities have to contact potential culturally affiliated tribes, based on geographic location or historical evidence, for consultation. Then, tribes can submit a request for repatriation.
While the process can be slow, multiple tribal leaders said that the campuses are supportive and are up against federal and state rules that complicate returns for non-federally recognized tribes. There are also times of confusion over who exactly has authority to make those returns.
Sacramento State reported an increase in their collection of human remains from 171 in 2024 to 223 in 2025, which Eckhardt said was due to some confusion over who manages them.
“There were several collections that we thought were the responsibility of another agency, that they denied responsibility for and so we accepted responsibility for that,” said Eckhardt.
Near the end of 2024, 32 boxes containing three human remains and cultural items previously held at Sacramento State were returned to Williford’s state-recognized tribe. But since they are not federally-recognized, federal law meant they’d have to partner with a federal tribe to claim the collections on their behalf, and also have local tribes sign off on the handover, said Williford. That process took about six months after a notice was published to the federal registrar, which informs other tribes in case any want to rebut the claim. To him, that was a quick timeframe.
“At least they’re trying… I think they need to up their game on helping nonfederal tribes with federal repatriation,” said Williford.
San Jose State has run into a similar situation. The university has returned all the remains belonging to federally recognized tribes, but still possesses remains affiliated with non-federally recognized tribes, posing the biggest challenge, according to Alisha Marie Ragland, the campus’ repatriation coordinator. As of December 2025, San Jose State reported having 514 human remains and more than 5,000 collections of stored items waiting to be reviewed.
“SJSU will continue to work with tribes to find appropriate and respectful means of sending the Ancestors home,” said Ragland via email.
So, why do some campuses struggle to make returns under their care?
“Repatriation can take years. Just for what we consider one artifact potentially could take up to a couple years,” said David Silva, the repatriation coordinator at Cal State Bakersfield.
Cal State Bakersfield is still in the process of consulting with tribes to determine what the boxes under their care contain, he said.
“There’s no direct timeline for our tribal partners to have to conduct consultation,” said Silva. “The only timeline is really when we start to submit notices or when we complete that inventory verification.”
Curtis Alcantar is a member of the Tejon Indian tribe and a tribal representative for the NAGPRA committee at the Bakersfield campus, working with Silva. Alcantar said he has had a good experience working with the university and other Cal State campuses and that he believes the system is moving in a positive direction.
Before, Bakersfield housed items in five different rooms spread throughout campus, creating a hassle for tribal members. They recently moved to a new building on campus, allowing tribes easier access to review collections.
When he first started helping with tribal consultations, Alcantar was troubled by how many Native American remains and cultural items were still in possession of museums and universities. Universities acquired Native remains and items through excavations and research often from anthropology and archeology disciplines. Some collections were acquired through donations.
At the time, it was difficult for him to understand how much Native American collections museums and universities still held and were refusing to give back, said Alcantar. But now, he says that people are more open minded and willing to repatriate.
The process does take a lot of research and time, he added. For him, the most helpful tool Cal State has provided is the campus collections map, making it easier to find which campuses have collections from Kern County, his home base. According to the map, eight different Cal State campuses have collections from Kern County and Cal State Bakersfield has collections from 18 California counties.
“The fulfilling part for me is seeing the objects go back home, watching the ancestors just finally get their journey back home,” said Alcantar.
Cal Poly Humboldt has repatriated about 39 percent of the 23,889 cultural items initially in its possession, according to figures provided by Megan Watson, the campus’ NAGPRA coordinator. San Francisco State has repatriated roughly 36 percent of its original 44,000 collections of stored items, according to Robert King, the campus’ director of communications. The campus has about 250 remains, a number that hasn’t budged much in recent years. Since November, it has returned two remains with about 260 collections of items, the official said.
Cal State updates list of Native collections
Cal State’s updated list was released in December after, for the first time, all Cal State campuses completed an inventory review.
Sonoma State has more than 1.52 million cultural items, by far the highest count in the system. Meanwhile, Cal State Fullerton holds the most remains with 534 individuals counted, and San Diego State has the highest collections of stored items awaiting tribal review, totaling more than 426,000.
One reason for Sonoma State’s high count is that it has a large facility to house those collections under proper care, said Samantha Cypret, a member of the Mountain Maidu tribe and executive director of the office of tribal relations for the Cal State Chancellor’s Office, which oversees NAGPRA compliance. Campuses with large anthropology or archeology departments also tend to have larger collections, she added.
Multiple members of Sonoma State’s NAGPRA team were contacted for comment. Some declined an interview while others did not respond.
Cal State revamps how it returns remains — with some delays
In November 2025, Cal State launched a systemwide NAGPRA policy providing campuses with a consistent approach for repatriations. The move came in response to Assembly Bill 389 – a 2023 amendment to the 2001 state NAGPRA Act – and a critical Cal State audit. The assembly bill required the Chancellor’s Office to adopt a systemwide policy and committee, and that committees form at each campus.
Cypret said that the policy took time to enact after the audit was issued and the Assembly Bill passed because they wanted to make sure they were letting tribal voices take the lead, learning about what tribes wanted to see included in the policy.
“We also really wanted to make sure that we were centering tribal voices in the development, in the implementation of this policy, so we held over 30 tribal outreach sessions in about the year and a half that this policy took to create,” said Cypret.
The new system policy outlines responsibilities of each campus, such as employing a full-time repatriation coordinator, conducting ongoing surveys of holdings and forbidding the use of collections for teaching and research. Cal State allocated $3.7 million for campuses with Native American collections for the fiscal year 2025-2026 to support the costs of staffing repatriation coordinators, reburial costs, reimbursing tribes for travel costs, and other expenses related to repatriation.
The University of California system and community colleges also have Native American collections on their campuses. An audit of the University of California published in April 2025 determined that the system lacked urgency and accountability.
Williford said that his tribe has made formal requests to receive two woven baskets from UC Berkeley that are part of his tribe’s dogwood collection. For him, helping return collections for his tribe has helped him feel connected to his dad who passed away in 2015. He said his dad was part of a “lost generation” that knew who they were but didn’t have a lot of cultural information. But today, the tribe’s elders find meaning when returns are made.
“To see an elder’s eyes light up like a child’s, it’s something special,” said Williford.
Cal State will review its systemwide policy again in November 2026 after tribal consultations.
Brittany Oceguera is a contributor with the College Journalism Network, a collaboration between CalMatters and student journalists from across California. CalMatters higher education coverage is supported by a grant from the College Futures Foundation.
Tribal police recruits in South Dakota will soon have an option for basic training through the Bureau of Indian Affairs that’s closer to home, but it won’t be as close as state officials had hoped.
Camp Grafton, a North Dakota National Guard base near Devils Lake, is currently the site of advanced law enforcement training for the BIA. It’s now set to host basic law enforcement training for BIA recruits, as well as for recruits from local tribal police departments, law enforcement communications and correctional agencies.
The news was tucked into a wider-reaching executive order from U.S. Interior Secretary and former North Dakota Gov. Doug Burgum to create an Indian Country Violent Crime Task Force. A news release announced the creation of the task force May 5, which was the National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Indigenous People.
The task force “builds on the first Trump administration’s work to bring national attention and resources to the Missing and Murdered Indigenous People crisis,” the release says, and “expands that work with a broader focus on violent crime prevention, investigations and public safety across Indian Country.”
Among other things, the task force will focus on opioid trafficking, create a “Predatory Crimes Unit” to focus on child victims of exploitation and “refocus” efforts to solve missing persons and homicide cases.
Three of South Dakota’s nine tribes rely on the BIA for local law enforcement. Six others have their own tribal police departments. Misdemeanor-level crimes on tribal land are handled in tribal courts; felony crimes that occur there are prosecuted in federal court, and are often investigated by agents with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
The task force, the release says, will “lead a coordinated effort with federal, tribal and state partners” to address public safety in tribal areas nationwide.
Earlier efforts from Burgum to bring BIA to Camp Grafton
Burgum advocated to bring BIA basic training to Camp Grafton while serving as North Dakota governor.
Tribal recruits nationwide, for local departments or the BIA, have traditionally attended basic training at a federal facility in Artesia, New Mexico.
He said tribal communities face the dual difficulties of high crime rates and a dearth of law enforcement, and that the distance between the training facility and their homes makes recruiting difficult.
“We believe that we can create a premier BIA tribal police officer training facility in North Dakota at Camp Grafton, in conjunction with the Lake Region Law Enforcement Academy in Devils Lake,” Burgum told the committee. “This is very close to Spirit Lake Nation, and not only could this help solve the problem in North Dakota, but for South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Minnesota, Wisconsin.”
The U.S. Indian Police Academy Advanced Training Center at Camp Grafton opened the following year. The facility offers higher-level training for officers who’ve already completed the 14-week basic law enforcement certification course in New Mexico.
The timeline on the “implementation of basic training” at Camp Grafton is unclear. Burgum’s Tuesday executive order directs the Office of the Assistant Secretary for Indian Affairs to “develop basic training curriculum” for police, corrections and communications courses at the site “beginning in the second quarter of fiscal year 2026.”
The second quarter of federal fiscal year 2026 began in January.
No contact information beyond a general email address for the Interior Department is listed on the agency’s press release about Burgum’s order.
The Interior Department did not respond to an email from South Dakota Searchlight with questions about the start of the Camp Grafton basic training program, the number of recruits it could train, and other questions.
Calls to a spokesman for Camp Grafton were not immediately returned.
Basic training for the Great Plains
Like Burgum, South Dakota’s congressional delegation and its state-level leaders have also pushed for the establishment of a BIA training academy for the Great Plains for several years, but had hoped to see it in their state.
South Dakota’s State Tribal Relations Committee twice endorsed a resolution urging the federal government to establish a BIA basic training academy in South Dakota. Lawmakers voted to support those resolutions.
While the executive order places the basic BIA training site in North Dakota, the discussion in South Dakota spurred state-level changes meant to ease the training burden for tribes in its borders
South Dakota’s basic law enforcement certification course for state and local officers is taught in Pierre, and the state recently began offering the course at a satellite site in Sioux Falls.
The academy has always been open to tribal recruits. The availability of the Artesia program for tribal officers, however, has typically meant that local and state officers are given priority for the limited number of slots in each course.
Former Gov. Kristi Noem and Attorney General Marty Jackley partnered in April 2024 to open an additional basic training cohort that would prioritize tribal recruits. Tribal police need to complete additional coursework on Indian Country law that other state-certified officers do not, but state officials worked with their federal counterparts to include that information in an add-on unit during basic training.
The state began a second tribal-priority basic training class last year.
By the time that second course had begun, 13 tribal officers had graduated and earned certification. At least 25 tribal recruits have completed the 13-week training since 2024, Jackley spokesman Tony Mangan said, including 12 in the second tribal-priority class last year.
Johnson, who’s running for governor in South Dakota, told South Dakota Searchlight in a statement that the choice of a North Dakota site isn’t ideal, but is welcome.
“Bringing tribal law enforcement training to North Dakota is certainly better than New Mexico, but I’d like to see more of South Dakota’s tribal law enforcement officers trained even closer to home at the state academy in Pierre,” Johnson said.
Rounds had no such qualification in his statement praising Burgum’s executive order.
“I’ve long called for a tribal law enforcement training curriculum closer to home that gives more South Dakotans the opportunity to serve,” Rounds said. “I’m grateful for Secretary Burgum’s leadership on this issue.”
NewsDakota AccessDakota Access PipelineICT Must ReadNoDAPLStanding RockStanding Rock At 10Standing Rock Sioux Tribe
Famed Indigenous activists like Leonard Peltier and Madonna Thunder Hawk and younger activists shared their thoughts with ICT about the evolution of Indigenous activism from the rise of the American Indian Movement in the 1960s to Standing Rock and beyond.
CANNON BALL, N.D. – The field is serene. The blades of brown grass, not yet awakened by spring rains, sway gently. In the distance, the Missouri River cuts a blue streak across the unbroken plains. The silence is punctuated only by the sound of passing cars and the low hum of rushing water in nearby Cannonball River.
But if you listen carefully, you can hear defiant voices shouting and then screaming.
Ten years ago, this land exploded.
For nearly a year, from April 2016 to February 2017, thousands of people stood strong against militarized police, federal troops and private security forces hired to protect the 1,176-mile Dakota Access Pipeline. They gathered to resist a private corporation’s efforts to build a pipeline less than a mile from the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation near the North Dakota-South Dakota border.
In the end, they were forced to evacuate their camps as authorities quieted, but never fully extinguished, the uprising. Some would say the fire that ignited at Standing Rock was lit decades earlier by Native activists who fought oppression and violence in the 1960s and 1970s.
While Native people have resisted colonization and its impacts since 1492, the rise of the American Indian Movement in the 1960s marked a turning point in the efforts of Native people to join together and speak in one voice. That torch of resistance was carried all the way from places like Alcatraz Island and Wounded Knee to a field near the Missouri River in 2016.
The #NoDAPL movement reached its height on Nov. 20, 2016, when hundreds of water protectors gathered on a bridge to clear two burned-out trucks that impeded a public roadway that provided access to the pipeline drill site and to the camp. The confrontation was the most violent clash between water protectors and authorities during the protest and led to nearly 200 people being injured, some seriously.
Tonya Marie Heart-Olsen, Ihanktonwan Dakota, stands at the top of Black Elk Peak on March 21, 2026.
Sitting in her car atop what was known as “Facebook Hill” that night, Tonya Marie Heart-Olsen heard a camp leader, Myron Dewey, Walker River Paiute Tribe and founder of Digital Smoke Signals, shout: “All the warriors to the front lines!” The water protectors had gathered at Backwater Bridge. They faced militarized police, National Guard troops and private security forces who attacked the water protectors after they succeeded in removing one of the burned-out trucks with a semi-tractor. For several hours, police rained tear gas, rubber bullets, percussion grenades, and high-pressure water from fire hoses in temperatures that dipped well below freezing. Water protectors stood their ground, shouting “Mni wiconi!” Water is life.
As the night wore on, many water protectors had to be moved from the frontlines to medical facilities back at camp. Many suffered from hypothermia and cuts and bruises from non-lethal weapons used against them. One woman, Sophia Wilansky, nearly lost her arm after being hit by a concussion grenade, and another, Vanessa “Sioux Z” Dundon, lost eyesight in her right eye after being struck by a tear gas canister.
“There were just people screaming because you could hear those bullets. You could hear the beanbag bullets,” Heart-Olsen recalled for ICT. “The minute they hit somebody you knew because … they’d start cussing.”
The water protectors slowly lost ground to authorities, and as the crowd retreated the 44-year-old Ihanktonwan Dakota woman got struck in the back of the leg by a beanbag.
“I just screamed as loud as I could because it hurt,” Heart-Olsen said.
She jumped into a truck taking people to a yurt that was being used by medics to treat the wounded. Inside, she saw dozens of injured people.
“It was almost like a war … but not as bad because, you know, we weren’t getting shot and killed, but we were getting hurt,” she said.
‘Right on. Get down’
The decade that has passed since Standing Rock has offered those who took part in it and those who watched from afar, including an aging and recently imprisoned Native activist, plenty of time to consider its impact and its place on the long timeline of Indigenous activism.
Turtle Mountain Chippewa activist Leonard Peltier sits in his living room in his Belcourt, North Dakota, home on March 19, 2026. (Kevin Abourezk / ICT)
Sitting in his home in Belcourt, North Dakota, more than 200 miles north of Standing Rock, Turtle Mountain Chippewa activist Leonard Peltier recently offered his thoughts to ICT about the Standing Rock movement. The 81-year-old was imprisoned in the Coleman Federal Penitentiary in Florida when Standing Rock began. When he learned about the uprising, he said, he felt elated.
“‘Well, right on. Get down.’ Those were the statements I read,” he said. “Cool. That was my thoughts on it, to be blunt. I like to see stuff like that. I like to see us fighting back. I like to see us stopping them from doing stuff like that. We got to do something.”
Peltier was granted clemency by former President Joe Biden in January 2025 after 49 years in prison, having been convicted of aiding and abetting in the deaths of two FBI agents during the infamous Jumping Bull Ranch 1975 shootout in Oglala, South Dakota. The incident capped a nearly seven-year movement by Native activists to garner support for Indigenous rights.
Ojibwe activists Dennis Banks and Clyde Bellecourt founded AIM in 1968 in Minneapolis to fight police brutality and racial profiling. It expanded quickly as its members joined with other Native activists to occupy Alcatraz Island in 1969, which Peltier joined.
On Thanksgiving Day in 1970, AIM members seized a replica of the Mayflower in Boston Harbor, declaring a national day of mourning. A year later, AIM occupied Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills of South Dakota for two months to demand federal recognition of the Fort Laramie Treaty – which had granted the area to the “Great Sioux Nation,” which refers to the Lakota, Dakota and Nakoda people – but was broken as soon as gold was discovered nearby.
In 1972, AIM occupied the Department of the Interior headquarters in Washington, D.C., demanding the federal government end its termination policy. The policy deprived tribes of federal recognition in order to force Native people to assimilate.
Leonard Peltier (Kevin Abourezk / ICT)
“Back in my days, we didn’t put in any request to get land back or anything else like that,” Peltier said. “We just went and took it back.”
AIM’s efforts culminated in the 1973 siege of Wounded Knee, where activists occupied the site of the 1890 massacre for 71 days. Federal marshals, FBI agents,Bureau of Indian Affairs and tribal police exchanged gunfire with Native activists, leading to the deaths of two Native men.
Peltier said AIM’s efforts gave Native people a voice, which they’ve used to resist ongoing oppression and environmental injustice. He said AIM also fought the efforts of corporations and the federal government to seize Native lands for mineral extraction and power generation.
Since being released, he said it’s been overwhelming to see with his own eyes the myriad efforts Native people have undertaken to revitalize their cultures, languages and communities.
“They would tell me what’s going on in Indian Country and how some of our goals of teaching, passing on the history to a new generation, is taking place,” he said. “It was a good feeling, of course, but it was even a better feeling after I got out here and found out how much has really happened in that area.”
He said in his day Native people controlled little more than a handful of newspapers and radio stations. He said Native people have found their voice – through films, by establishing their own news media organizations, and engaging in politics.
“We’re doing pretty good, I would think, but I’d like to see it better,” he said.
And he said it’s been good to see so many Native people practicing their traditional spiritual practices.
“Everybody’s practicing inipi (sweat lodge),” he said. “Powwows are getting very, very big. Of course, they went pretty commercial with them. Well, when you use it to continue saving our people, I don’t see nothing wrong with it.”
Peltier said he would like to see at least one more milestone before he dies: America electing its first Native American president.
Leonard Peltier’s hands can be seen in this March 19, 2026, photo. (Kevin Abourezk / ICT)
“I was looking for a candidate while I was in prison,” he said. “We need a good, clean candidate. We need one that’s good looking, looks Indian. We need one well educated, speaks real good. If not, we’ll teach him how to be a good speaker. Got a good family, wife and kids, and I’ll bet you we can get him in the White House, or her, could be female.”
He said AIM’s efforts paved a direct path to Standing Rock, and if he and the countless others who took part in that movement hadn’t taken a stand, life for Indigenous people today would look much different.
“We would have been terminated, for sure. There’s no doubt about it,” he said. “We would not have been recognized as Indigenous people today.”
A challenge to future Native activists
Another famed Native activist who stood alongside Peltier and others in occupations and other Indigenous rights movements also shared her thoughts on the evolution of Native activism.
Madonna Thunder Hawk can be seen in this March 18, 2026, photo in her home on the Cheyenne River Reservation in South Dakota. (Kevin Abourezk / ICT)
Sitting in her home on the Cheyenne River Reservation south of the Standing Rock Reservation in South Dakota recently, Madonna Thunder Hawk, 85, Cheyenne River Lakota, shared her story with ICT. She said she was raised by her mother, a boarding school survivor, and didn’t learn much about her Native culture as a child, but she did learn how to take care of herself.
“We also learned to stand up, stand up and stand strong because when you’re young, you just have that courage and that feeling that you could do anything,” she said.
After the federal government dammed the Missouri River, leading to the flooding of her Cheyenne River Reservation community and other Native communities, her family was relocated to San Francisco. On the West Coast, she began learning about Indigenous history and connected to budding Indigenous activist movements.
Eventually, she joined the occupations of Alcatraz Island, Wounded Knee and Mount Rushmore and later joined the Standing Rock uprising. She co-founded Women of All Red Nations.
She said it was the women of the American Indian Movement who ensured its members had what they needed to fight, though it was the men who became the most notorious, in large part because of the media’s obsession with them.
Madonna Thunder Hawk (Kevin Abourezk / ICT)
“It became male dominated, not because of us, but because of the press and because the society was male dominated, and that’s all they wanted,” she said. “But we were effective because that was okay, you know, go chase the men over there with the cameras and leave us alone so we can do the work.”
She said young Native activists realized their issues were different from those of Black and other minority people who were involved in the Civil Rights Movement. Tribes’ treaty status as sovereign nations separated them from other populations, a fact that Native activists based much of their arguments on, but first they had to educate themselves.
“We had treaty rights,” she said. “That means they’re ratified by Congress, which makes them the law of the land. We didn’t know that, but we found out and we came home and we shook this whole system because we knew what we were talking about.”
Next, they had to educate their own people, but they found the tribal councils that now governed tribes were reluctant to fight the federal government, Thunder Hawk said. But they were able to gain an audience with international audiences, who seemed to be more willing to recognize the sovereign rights of tribes.
Thunder Hawk said activist organizing among women at that time was different than among men. Women didn’t choose leaders. Rather, they just did the work.
“If you’re a leader, you don’t need to say it,” she said. “You’re with your people, and if the people are with you, they decide if you can be a spokesperson. You don’t decide that.”
Thunder Hawk also took issue with calling Standing Rock a protest.
“It wasn’t a protest,” she said. “I just get disgusted with that. It’s resistance. We’re not protesting, you know, we’re not protesting. We want a better life to live like the next White man down the road. We’re land-based resisters.”
She said she hopes young Indigenous people will continue to stand up and fight when Indigenous rights are being threatened.
Madonna Thunder Hawk’s hands can be seen in this March 18, 2026, photo. (Kevin Abourezk / ICT)
“Each generation has an obligation to pick up that resistance and pick up that protection,” she said. “And if they don’t, if we get too colonized, we’ll just cease to exist. We’ll just be among the rest of the poor people in this country. Regardless, we won’t have an identity because once the land goes, we go. Simple as that.”
She said Standing Rock took Indigenous activism to a new level as tribal governments got involved in the struggle, unlike most earlier Native rights movements. She recalled seeing semi-tractors carrying massive logs donated by Northwest Pacific tribes and bags of wild rice donated by Great Lakes tribes.
“Standing Rock happened on the scale it did because the tribal governments got involved,” she said. “It wasn’t just movement-type people. It wasn’t just a handful of people that were concerned. It was tribal governments.”
However, she also encouraged people to focus on local issues when considering taking social justice-minded actions, rather than focus on trying to get involved in national movements.
“You don’t need a big nationwide issue or a big regional issue,” she said. “You don’t need some issue to jump on. Check around your own community. … As far as an issue goes, you always take your lead from the community.”
Madonna Thunder Hawk, Cheyenne River Lakota, leaves her home on the Cheyenne River Reservation in South Dakota on March 18, 2026. (Kevin Abourezk / ICT)
While she has no plans to step away from activism, Thunder Hawk expressed satisfaction in having spent much of her life fighting for her people in the best way she knew how to do so. And she issued a challenge to Indigenous youth.
“We have to fight for it, but I don’t know if the next generation’s doing that,” she said. “That’s okay too because I’m done. I did my duty, my responsibility. So when I go with the Great Spirit, when I cross over to the spirit world, hopefully they’re going to welcome me and say, ‘You know, good job. You did good.’”
‘The right to to live on our own terms’
On the Standing Rock Reservation, tribal leaders have continued the fight to stop the Dakota Access Pipeline, despite seeing the tipis, horses and relatives from near and far that once filled their prairies now gone.
The pipeline today carries nearly 750,000 gallons of crude oil per day, and its owner, Energy Transfer, formerly Energy Transfer Partners, plans to double that rate.
During an interview with ICT in his office in the tribe’s administrative building recently, Doug Crow Ghost, water resources director for the tribe, talked about the tribe’s continuing efforts to protect itself from the pipeline and any potential spill that could occur.
He said he first learned about the pipeline in 2014 when he received a letter from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers informing the tribe about a potential high-capacity pipeline north of Bismarck. Around that time, the late LaDonna Brave Bull Allard, a matriarch of the water protector movement, began informing people about the pipeline and working to organize resistance.
In 2015, the Army Corps of Engineers rejected a route for the pipeline about 10 miles north of Bismarck as it was considered too close to the city’s water systems and rerouted the project downstream to just north of the Standing Rock Reservation on unceded Oceti Sakowin territory, sparking claims of environmental racism.
Doug Crow Ghost, water resources director for the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe (Kevin Abourezk / ICT)
“Then we knew this is environmental injustice to a community of Native people, the first inhabitants that are protectors of this soil and the water and the environment prior to this government, prior to 1492, prior to colonialism,” Crow Ghost said.
In April 2016, Brave Bull Allard helped establish the first resistance camp, the Sacred Stone Camp, on her family’s land at the confluence of the Cannonball and Missouri rivers. Once established, Brave Bull Allard and others began calling people to come and take part in the resistance. As others arrived, protectors established the Oceti Sakowin Camp, the largest of the camps, and other camps.
The tribe has continued its legal battle against the federal government, a fight that began in July 2016 when it sued the Army Corps, claiming the pipeline threatens the tribe’s environmental and economic well-being. Those legal efforts have focused on potential violations of the Environmental Protection Agency’s Clean Water Act and Rivers and Harbors Act; and the potential for construction to threaten sacred historic sites, namely burial grounds.
In September 2016, the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia ruled in favor of the Army Corps of Engineers and the pipeline, ruling that no environmental impact statement was necessary.
In December 2016, the Army Corps denied the easement required for the pipeline’s crossing under Lake Oahe, citing concerns over potential violations of treaty and tribal trust rights. Just a month later, newly inaugurated President Donald J. Trump reversed this order and the pipeline’s construction continued.
Despite this loss, the tribe has continued to take to the courts to fight against the pipeline.
In 2020, the courts revoked the Lake Oahe easement issued in 2017. However, the pipeline was already constructed and in operation. Revoking the easement meant that the pipeline is now illegally operating on federal property, but that hasn’t stopped it from operating.
The tribe has continued to file numerous lawsuits to stop the pipeline since then, the most recent being on Oct. 14, 2024, when it sued the Army Corps of Engineers seeking an immediate shutdown of the pipeline.
“We are living in a state of trauma here on Standing Rock, of not knowing if the pipeline is leaking because we don’t have the resources or the capacity to to identify it, and so we live in that trauma every day and we still live in it,” Crow Ghost said.
But he offered his gratitude to the thousands of supporters who stood beside his tribe on the frontlines during the Standing Rock uprising.
“I do want to say wopilatanka, thank you very much to all the people that came to Standing Rock, to all the people that came to the camp for those 18 months, that prayed with us, that cried with us, that sang with us,” he said.
He said Standing Rock was more than a protest. It was a ceremony, and it demonstrated just how powerful Indigenous people can be when they stand together.
“There were 20 people there when it first started. Then it grew to 100 people, and then it grew to 1,000,” he said. “Pretty soon, we had our own zip code where mail was coming down there. We were actually getting mail. And then it was a school that was started, an accredited school, elementary school, where they were teaching kids in this camp. At one point, the Oceti Sakowin Camp was the third largest town right in North Dakota.”
But he said Standing Rock still needs help. The fight isn’t over.
“We’re not over. DAPL isn’t over,” he said. “We’re still here, and the pipeline is still moving, and we don’t know if the oil has been leaking or not because we’re trying to do the best we can in my department with our tribe to sample the water, but we can only sample so much because it’s really expensive.”
The tribe needs help with funding its legal efforts to stop the pipeline, he said.
Standing Rock Tribal Councilman Charles Walker (Kevin Abourezk / ICT)
Standing Rock Tribal Councilman Charles Walker said while the tribe hasn’t been able to stop the pipeline, the uprising showed him that when one tribe is forced to face the full might of the federal government and corporate greed alone, other tribes will step up.
He told the story of the day the Crow Nation came to camp.
In August 2016, Crow tribal leaders visited the camp, bringing hundreds of pounds of buffalo meat, camping supplies and money to support the water protectors. Their visit was especially meaningful considering the historical animosity between the Lakota and the Crow – nations that often stood on opposite sides of the battlefield, including at the 1876 Battle of the Little Bighorn, known by tribal nations as the Battle of the Greasy Grass.
Growing up, Walker’s parents had always told him that the Crow “were not good,” he said.
But that day in camp, he saw something entirely different as Crow leaders, including a very tall man wearing a large vest and gloves that had long fringe, stepped from a bus and asked for permission from the Standing Rock tribal leaders present for permission to step onto their lands and join the encampment.
“To witness that myself, it was literally a feeling of disbelief because my whole life I’d been told that these people are bad. They’re your enemies,” Walker said. “That showed me that we can get past anything. It showed me that people can change. Nations can change. We can come together to fight everything that we deal with here today.”
He said people have joked about what they might want to see on a winter count related to the Standing Rock uprising. A winter count is a record of significant events that have occurred in a community that would typically be painted in symbols on a buffalo hide. Because the hide was only big enough to record one or two events each year, anything painted on the hide signified something truly meaningful.
Some have suggested that a #NoDAPL sign would be appropriate to include on a winter count, but for Walker, the Crow leader stepping off the bus would be the most important event of the Standing Rock uprising.
He thanked those who came to support Standing Rock, including the Crow.
“I’m forever grateful for them coming here because standing together, we were able to open the world’s eyes to who we are, that we do have the right to say no, the right to consultation, the right to to live on our own terms,” he said.
Standing Rock frontlines: ‘The cavalry’s coming!’
For some who stood on the frontline, however, Standing Rock’s legacy carries with it pain, and trauma.
Trenton Casillas-Bakeberg (Courtesy photo)
Trenton Casillas-Bakeberg, a 30-year-old Cheyenne River Lakota citizen, was among the first Indigenous youth to join the Standing Rock movement. Co-founder of the One Mind Youth Movement – a Cheyenne River Lakota youth group focused on addressing mental health, suicide and social justice issues that became a key organizing force behind the Standing Rock uprising – Casillas-Bakeberg was arrested on a particularly tumultuous day during the encampment.
Early on the morning of Oct. 27, 2016, Casillas-Bakeberg awoke to someone yelling, “The cavalry’s coming! The cavalry’s coming!”
Those in the camp arose to face whatever or whoever was coming, but no one came … at least not immediately. But later that morning, police, soldiers and security forces took up position on the hillside. They stood by Humvees, and several snipers also took positions, Casillas-Bakeberg said. They began making their way down the hill as water protectors rallied to face them.
Casillas-Bakeberg joined a circle of about 40 people locking arms and praying. But then a man tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to join him in a ceremony. He followed the man to a makeshift sweat lodge that some people had constructed in the path of the route that authorities were traveling toward the camp.
The man called Casillas-Bakeberg into the lodge and asked him to run the ceremony.
“I was kind of shocked because the protocol in our way of life is you don’t pour the water until you sundance for four years, and at that time I’d only sundanced like three,” he said. “So it didn’t feel right to me.”
But he also knew that someone needed to lead the prayer, so I ran the ceremony. Shortly after beginning their prayers, Casillas-Bakeberg began to hear people screaming outside the lodge. He feared the worst, and he prayed harder. He would learn later people were reacting to getting struck by rubber bullets and concussion grenades.
“I thought people were dying,” he said. “It was really, really scary.”
He prayed not only for the water protectors gathered around him, but also for the men who were attacking them.
“I was praying for the police officers, too, that had been deceived by the system that we live in that places money and profits over the lives of people,” he said. “I was praying for everybody there. I didn’t want anybody to get hurt or to die.”
During the ceremony’s fourth round, Casillas-Bakeberg began hearing police surrounding the lodge and demanding that those inside step outside. They continued the ceremony and eventually an officer shined a flashlight inside the lodge and officers began pulling people from the ceremony.
“I saw a hand come in. It had like a black leather glove on it,” he said. “He grabbed me by my arm and pulled me out aggressively.”
Trenton Casillas-Bakeberg (upper middle with only shorts on) sits on the side of a road after being pulled from a sweat lodge by police officers during the Standing Rock uprising on Oct. 27, 2016, near Cannon Ball, North Dakota. (Courtesy photo)
Outside the lodge, officers zip-tied his hands behind his back and forced him to sit for more than two hours in a ditch in frigid temperatures wearing only swimming trunks. Around him, dozens of water protectors sat beside him, also bound. While his eyes struggled to readjust to the light, the image felt like a vision, or a dream, he said.
“I was half in the spirit world, half in the real world,” Casillas-Bakeberg said. “I felt panicked, but I felt like everything’s going to be okay.”
Some of the officers taunted the water protectors. One said, “This is oil land now.” Eventually, the pipeline workers began bulldozing land in front of the water protectors, likely to frustrate them, Casillas-Bakeberg said.
“That was like a psychological warfare tactic, like trying to make sure that we knew that we were defeated,” he said.
Eventually, an officer gave him a pair of corduroy pants to wear and helped him get dressed before loading him and nearly 170 other water protectors in buses, vans and police vehicles. Casillas-Bakeberg remembers hearing “The Sound of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel playing on the radio on the way to a Bismarck jail.
When he got to the jail, he was placed in a dog cage as officers struggled to find space for all of the water protectors. An officer wrote the number 162 on his arm. Eventually, he was moved to a jail in Stanton, North Dakota, where he remained for more than four days before his mother was able to find him and pay his bond to get him released.
He was charged with misdemeanor charges of engaging in a riot and causing a public nuisance and a felony charge of conspiracy to endanger an officer with fire or explosion based on the decision of some of the water protectors to light tires on fire during the incident.
When he got out, his mom was waiting for him along with the Cheyenne River Lakota Tribal Chairman Harold Frazier, who thanked him for his sacrifice.
After nearly 10 years, he’s had a lot of time to think about Standing Rock.
While he’s grateful to have been able to take part in the uprising, he also warns people about the need to address the lingering effects of psychological trauma caused by activist events.
“As long as you let it, your mind will relive those memories,” he said. “That’s what I’ve been struggling with, with my addictions for the past 10 years. You know, because I wasn’t an alcoholic before that.”
He said he began using alcohol to dullen the trauma of his experiences at Standing Rock, including crippling anxiety that he feels when he’s around police officers or any law enforcement. He also has endured nightmares in which he is still in the sweat lodge and hearing people screaming, but in his dreams the people outside the lodge are being killed.
“I would have bad dreams where people did die that day, like when I got out of the sweat lodge … I looked around and there’s people on the ground, dead all around me,” he said.
He also has struggled with feelings of impending doom stoked by fears of the pipeline rupturing and contaminating his peoples’ drinking water, thoughts that sometimes make him feel like he’s suffocating.
“It was like an underlying feeling of despair, you know, just the desolate feeling, like there’s nothing we can do,” he said. “Our water was going to be poisoned at some time, and then I’d have dreams about turning on the faucet in my home and the water would run out black, you know?”
When he was drunk, those fears would dissipate, he said, so he began drinking heavily. He said he’s currently undergoing alcohol treatment, including therapy for post-traumatic stress disorder.
“It’s been like 10 years. So yeah, I figured it’s time to put that down and stick to a healthy way of living,” he said. “I’m not the only one that’s kind of gone down this path of self-medicating and not healing the trauma, just running from it. I know several people that either drank themselves to death or took their own life because they couldn’t handle that trauma.
The health disparity between Native American and white South Dakotans is among the largest racial or ethnic health gaps in the nation, according to a new report from a foundation that advocates for equitable healthcare.
Native Americans in South Dakota die prematurely from avoidable causes at a rate of 1,089 deaths per 100,000 people, which is the highest rate of any racial or ethnic group in the nation, according to the 2026 State Health Disparities Report from the Commonwealth Fund.
That’s five times the rate of white South Dakotans. Preventable causes include infectious diseases, treatable conditions and accidents such as vehicle crashes and drug overdoses.
State data shows half of Native Americans in South Dakota die before age 58. The median age of death for white South Dakotans is 80.
Health disparities in SD are ‘completely addressable,’ organization leader says
The report analyzes 2023–2024 data on health care access, quality, use of services and outcomes across racial and ethnic groups in all 50 states and Washington D.C. South Dakota ranked last for Native American health among 21 states with sufficient Native American population data.
Even when income, insurance and access are similar, disparities persist, said Commonwealth Fund President Joseph Betancourt.
“As a primary care physician, I know what happens when care is out of reach: Conditions that are manageable become crises, and people have poor health outcomes and ultimately live shorter lives. This is unacceptable and completely addressable,” Betancourt said.
Native American health system performance in South Dakota ranked in the lowest percentile nationally. White South Dakotans experienced the best care in the state, scoring in the 79th percentile among all population groups nationally.
The report found states with stronger health systems also have smaller disparities and said targeted policy changes could help, including:
Funding housing, early childhood education and food access programs.
Ensuring affordable, accessible coverage.
Strengthening primary care in underserved communities.
Protecting preventative services.
Ensuring equitable use of digital health tools and artificial intelligence.
Tribal-managed Medicaid model and targeted programs could be ‘quite effective’
About 38 percent of Native Americans in South Dakota are uninsured — a key driver of disparities.
“Coverage is not the only thing that matters, but it is really the first thing that matters,” said Commonwealth Fund Senior Scholar Sara Collins, adding that states that expanded Medicaid have improved access. South Dakota voters approved expansion in 2022. Tribal members are exempt from federal Medicaid work requirements.
South Dakota officials, lawmakers and tribal leaders will launch an Indian Medicaid Managed Care Task Force later this year, which tribal officials hope will improve outcomes and efficiencies for tribal members.
In a managed care model, tribes could contract with the state of South Dakota to direct federal Medicaid dollars into a pool of funds for healthcare. An entity of the tribes’ choosing could negotiate costs with off-reservation providers and coordinate care — including preventative care or incentives for healthy habits — for tribal members who seek care on or off tribal land.
“Focused actions like that can really improve disparities we see across the country,” Collins said.
David Radley, senior scientist on the report, said efforts to address health outcomes and access among Native Americans in Oklahoma have “made a difference.” Tribal governments there have invested heavily in clinics, hospitals and medical education.
Betancourt said progress in South Dakota will require high quality care and coverage to be “woven together.”
Radley added that health systems in rural states must be “built around rural places” to address coverage gaps and workforce shortages, including expanding telemedicine, improving licensing, and training more community health workers.
This Mother’s Day, we honor Lumbee Indian women, of the 575th federally recognized tribe, who have climbed through glass ceilings to lift up their families, communities, and nation. Their stories echo across the tribe and remind us that Indigenous women have long served in every branch of the U.S. Armed Forces at higher rates than any other ethnic group. Lumbee Indian women warriors of the sky, land, and sea exemplify leadership, service, and healing with dignity and grace.
Here are two Lumbee generations who stood tall in the U.S. Air Force: retired Lt. Col. René Locklear White and her daughter Staff Sgt. Kara Frances Stockwell.
A life of leadership, service, and healing for Indigenous communities René Locklear White, a Lumbee from Saddletree, earned the rank of Lieutenant Colonel before retiring after 25 years of military/civil service to the now Department of War. A 1983 Magnolia High School, University of North Carolina of Pembroke, and Hawaii Pacific University graduate, René now pursues a path that blends military discipline with Indigenous health and cultural preservation through ceremony and food.
Service at the highest levels, with dignity and grace, René’s daughter, Kara Frances Stockwell has forged an extraordinary path in the Air Force. Kara is a Flight Aircrew Member with 665 flight hours in C-32A, C-37A/B, and VC-25 aircraft. Her top secret assignments include attending Air Traffic Control School’s Radar Approach Control (RAPCON) and tower managing air traffic for the 20th Fighter Wing’s F-16s and surrounding airspace at Shaw AFB, SC; then serving as a Special Missions Flight Attendant with the 99th Airlift Squadron and as a C-37 Flight Attendant and Special Operations Center Assistant for a private military C-37 Gulfstream, transporting worldwide executive government officials and leaders around the globe from Joint Base Andrews, Maryland.
René’s military service was in senior management at the Unit, Squadron, Wing, Major Command, Joint Task Force, Numbered Air Force, Headquarters Air Force and Department of War levels during 13 assignments and numerous overseas operations and activities supporting all military branches. René has extensive skills in leading top secret missions in 14 countries (South Korea, Korean DMZ, England, South Africa, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Germany, Italy, Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, Croatia, Sarajevo, and Turkey) and multiple states including Hawai’i. She worked with people of influence fostering critical interagency partnerships including the White House, State Department, Secretary of War, national and international news reporters and embassies. She has served at the Pentagon in cyber operations and public affairs, contributed to U.S. Pacific Command, and supported operations around Korea, Europe, and the Middle East.
Since enlisting in 2016 and with her extra college credits, Kara entered immediately with two stripes to rank of Airman First Class. Today, as Staff Sgt. Kara’s most recent role is Presidential Flight Attendant assigned to the Presidential Airlift Group Joint Base Andrews MD on Air Force One, a military version of a Boeing 747 airliner valued at $5.5 billion dollars. She managed in-flight safety, comfort, and protocol for two presidents, First Lady and First Gentleman, and dignitaries aboard Air Force One stationed at Joint Base Andrews.
As flight attendant she prepared tens of thousands of meals for more than 200 sorties (missions) enabling President Joe Biden, now President Donald J. Trump to travel to multiple states, countries, and global summits. She supported President Biden during visits to France and Italy for the 80th D-Day Anniversary and the G7 Summit. She directly led 27 members to prepare 360 meals enabling President Biden’s trip to Milwaukee where he signed a historic $2.6 billion bipartisan infrastructure regulation solidifying her team receiving best of the quarter. She delivered services to President Trump’s U.S. tech summit for a $2 trillion U.S. investment and updated AF1 travel for the Russia/Ukraine ceasefire. When President Trump and AF1 flew over Super Bowl 2026, the president presented Kara with a rare 24-Karet gold military challenge coin for her exceptional work.
One of Kara’s mother’s most memorable assignments was investigating, recovering and repatriating U.S. remains from the Vietnam War; another was serving as the Air Force Intellectual Properties manager for the new Air Force symbol. In René’s GS-14 civil service capacity she managed the Department of War’s joint service recruiting websites (TodaysMilitary.com and MyFuture.com) for the Joint Advertising, Market Research & Studies office.
Today, René lives in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountain, near the Shenandoah River, where she and her husband Chris are turning a shared vision into a way to strengthen leaders and recognize Indigenous contributions to reduce suffering and uplift wellness. Their Indigenous non-profit is called Sanctuary on the Trail.
René’s work centers on leadership, health, and cultural preservation. She serves as an Indigenous advisor and is a founding partner of The Shenandoah a new nature resort set to open in 2027 in Star Tannery, VA. The 640-acre, 120-room nature and hospitality destination will award 10,000 impact grants across initiatives in venue development, wellness, and internships. René also maps America’s Native Food Trail, believing that our “First Foods” are medicine and a key to closing health gaps by reconnecting people with traditional Indigenous foods.
Beyond in-flight duties, Kara safeguards significant assets as Finance Office NCO protecting more than $1 million in White House and State Department accounts. She supported FEMA disaster-relief efforts, and coordinated logistics that kept the President’s travel on track. Kara’s leadership also extends to training, records management, and mission package updates, reflecting a poised, precision-driven approach to national service. Her work involves hundreds of specialized training tasks and checklists, including attending culinary schools in Miami and Fort Lauderdale FL and underwater egress training in Washington State and Miami where she learned to manage emergencies over and under water.
Soon, together René and Kara will be competing in a Forest, Food and Fire Indigenous Chef Challenge at the REED Center for Ecosystem Reintegration in Maryland on June 13. Being a chef runs in both René and Kara’s DNA; René’s paternal Lumbee grandfather Army Private Frank Locklear (1894-1977) served in World War I as a chef. René is one of the featured three chefs along with Oneida Chef Juan De La Cruz and Diné Chef Justin Pioche who recently won “Chopped” during the special episode “Indigenous Inspiration,” which aired April 21 on the Food Network.
For the competition, René is the chef and Kara is her sous chef to help forage and plate the food. René is a private Lumbee chef at her family’s Virginia-based non-profit Sanctuary on the Trail and The Shenandoah nature resort leadership, shaping menus for those attending Native ceremonies and for the founding leaders of Virginia’s new Shenandoah Nature Resort. Her meals honor Indigenous communities and advance her nonprofit’s vision to help leaders first and elevate Indigenous global contributions to reduce suffering. She works hard to be present with every ingredient, listening to the land and the stories foods carry so each dish expresses Indigenous wisdom. Her meals nourish body and spirit, highlighting health benefits and restorative flavors. Through careful technique and reverence for tradition, she empowers guests and partners to see the value of Indigenous knowledge in everyday nourishment.
René’s career includes distinguished honors such as the Defense Meritorious Service Medal, Joint Service Commendation Medal, and Air Force Meritorious and Commendation Medals, as well as Robeson Community College Phenomenal Women award, Distinguished Women American Indian Women of Proud Nations award, and President Barack Obama’s Call to Service Award for volunteerism at the White House.
Kara’s decorations including two aerial achievement medals, multiple Air and Space commendations and achievements, several Meritorious and Outstanding Unit Awards, speak to her 10 years of dedication, teamwork, and mission-focused excellence. Kara’s role embodies the dignity, care, and resilience that Lumbee women bring to some of the world’s most demanding professions.
A tireless advocate for Indigenous health, René remains active with the national Native American Women Warriors Association and the Lumbee Warriors Association as a lifetime member. She is a mother to three grown children — Kara (veteran), Emily (nurse), and Jacob (fireman) —and a grandmother to five: Maddy (nurse), Valley Dawn, Isaac, Avery, and Ellie.
A legacy of service, a community lifted – René and Kara remind us that Indigenous women have long stood at the forefront of service. Their stories show how mothers and daughters can rise together to lift their people and their nation. This Mother’s Day, we celebrate René Locklear White and Kara Frances Stockwell — Lumbee women warriors of the sky — whose courage, leadership, and healing continue to inspire our communities.
NewsNorth DakotaRedistrictingSCOTUSSpirit Lake NationSupreme CourtTurtle Mountain Band of ChippewaVotingVoting Rights Act
The Supreme Court decision makes it much harder to challenge district maps over allegations that they dilute the voting power of minority groups — which is key to the tribes’ ongoing lawsuit against North Dakota
The U.S. Supreme Court’s Voting Rights Act ruling doesn’t immediately impact North Dakota’s redistricting case involving the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa and Spirit Lake Nation, according to the North Dakota Attorney General’s Office.
The decision, issued April 29, makes it much harder to challenge district maps over allegations that they dilute the voting power of minority groups — which is key to the tribes’ ongoing lawsuit against North Dakota.
For the time being, however, the redistricting case hinges on a separate procedural question: whether private citizens and groups are allowed to bring lawsuits under Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act. Section 2 outlaws racially discriminatory voting practices.
The tribes and two tribal citizens used that law to sue North Dakota over a district map approved by the Legislature in 2021. The tribes say the map shifted district lines in a way that made it harder for their communities to elect legislative candidates of their choice.
A federal judge sided with the tribes and imposed a different voting map, but the 8th Circuit Court of Appeals court last year overturned the ruling on the basis that only the U.S. Department of Justice can file lawsuits alleging violations of Section 2.
The 8th Circuit is the only appellate circuit in the country to rule this way.
The tribes appealed the decision to the U.S. Supreme Court last year, and asked the high court to settle whether the law can only be enforced by the federal government. It has yet to make a decision in the case.
The justices’ decision in Louisiana v. Callais on April 29 did not speak to how the court will ultimately come down on that question, said Kareem Crayton, a vice president at the Brennan Center for Justice.
“It doesn’t really give us a real clue as to whether those claims can only be brought by the Justice Department,” he said of the ruling.
For now, North Dakota U.S. District Court Judge Peter Welte’s district map, which he directed the state to adopt in early 2024, remains in effect. U.S. Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh last year placed a temporary hold on the 8th Circuit’s decision overturning Welte’s ruling, which has not been lifted.
Even if the court does something to change that, it would not change legislative district lines for the 2026 election in North Dakota. The state must finalize its maps by December before an election year, the state said in a brief submitted to the U.S. Supreme Court.
The U.S. Supreme Court has not agreed to hear the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa and Spirit Lake Nation’s lawsuit. It’s extremely rare for the high court to agree to review a case.
Crayton said there are multiple ways the Supreme Court could handle the lawsuit.
It could reject the appeal outright, agree to hear arguments on the case or send the suit back down to Welte for further proceedings, for example, he said.
“They may direct the court to consider the decision on the merits in light of the new standards that have been set in Callais,” Crayton said. “When you announce a new sort of standard of law, things that are in the pipeline that have not reached final resolution get sent back.”
The decision, authored by Justice Samuel Alito and joined by the court’s other five conservative justices, significantly limits states’ ability to consider race when drawing legislative maps. Previously, courts had interpreted Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act to forbid states from adopting any maps that reduce minority groups’ voting power, whether deliberate or accidental. The Supreme Court found that in order to be found in violation of Section 2, there must be sufficient evidence that a state chose the map with the intent to discriminate based on race.
The decision will make cases like the North Dakota redistricting lawsuit “fundamentally harder to prove,” Crayton said.
“It generally, even under existing law, is tough to find evidence of intentional discrimination,” he said.
North Dakota Attorney General Drew Wrigley in a April 29 statement applauded the Supreme Court’s ruling, saying it “strengthens North Dakota’s position that the Constitution is colorblind.”
North Dakota Native Vote Field Organizer Dakota Walking Hawk called the decision a major setback for voting rights.
“The Voting Rights Act — that helped Native Americans get our rights to vote,” Walking Hawk said. “That is a big part of the voter history of Native Americans.”
Two legal groups representing the tribes in the North Dakota case, the Native American Rights Fund and the Campaign Legal Center, said they could not yet comment on how the Supreme Court’s decision will impact the lawsuit.
Both condemned the court’s ruling generally, saying the decision stripped the Voting Rights Act of its power to enforce racial equality in voting.
“Taking away voting protections, like what happened with today’s decision, makes it harder and at times impossible for Native voters to elect representatives who will respond to their needs,” the Native American Rights Fund said in a joint statement with the National Congress of American Indians.
Background
The North Dakota lawsuit concerns two state legislative districts in northern North Dakota — District 9 and District 15.
The Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa and Spirit Lake Nation argue that North Dakota’s 2021 district map diluted the power of Native voters by changing the District 9 and District 15 lines.
In 2021, the Turtle Mountain Reservation was placed in a new subdistrict of District 9 and the Spirit Lake Nation was placed in District 15. In 2022, District 9 only elected one candidate preferred by Native voters, and District 15 elected none, the plaintiffs have argued in court records.
Welte sought to correct this in his 2024 map by placing both reservations into District 9. In 2024, three Native candidates from District 9 were elected to the statehouse.
Attorneys for the state of North Dakota maintain that the 2021 map is not discriminatory. In previous court filings, attorneys for the state argued that private groups should not be able to bring lawsuits under Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act on the grounds that it destabilizes state district maps. The state wants the U.S. Supreme Court to uphold the 8th Circuit’s decision overruling Welte’s findings.
Last week, the U.N. Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues released urgent calls to action, including a pause on fast-tracked critical mineral projects and increased funding for Indigenous climate projects. But those recommendations come as the Forum itself is facing an existential crisis.
For 25 years, the Forum has been the leading United Nations body representing Indigenous peoples, but that status has not always translated to policy change by member states or the U.N. itself. Growing questions about the Forum’s effectiveness also come amid budget cuts at the U.N., Trump’s rejection of multilateralism, and ongoing efforts to streamline U.N. processes. These intersecting challenges are all threatening to push the Forum, and the causes Indigenous representatives bring to it, even further toward the margins.
“For us, climate change is not a distant threat. It is a present and lived human rights crisis,” Aluki Kotierk, who is Inuk from Canada and current chairperson of the Permanent Forum, said Friday at the conclusion of the Forum’s two-week annual meeting in New York City.
The Forum’s recommendations reflect discussions and research conducted by hundreds of Indigenous delegates and experts over the past year. They join more than 1,000 recommendations issued by the Forum since it first began to meet, many of which Indigenous advocates deem critical to their survival. But state governments often blatantly ignore them.
A new “Systemic Assessment” report by a group of current and former members of the Permanent Forum underscores this problem. “While UNPFII has succeeded in establishing itself as a visible and legitimate global platform, questions remain regarding its ability to translate dialogue, recommendations, and knowledge production into tangible outcomes for Indigenous peoples on the ground,” the report said. “The proliferation of recommendations has not been matched by corresponding mechanisms for implementation, follow-up, and accountability.”
The report underscores the limitations of the Forum, which makes recommendations on behalf of Indigenous peoples to U.N. agencies and member states, but has been hamstrung by funding cuts and the willingness of other U.N. agencies and global leaders to listen. Annual funding for the U.N. Trust Fund on Indigenous Issues, which helps the Permanent Forum carry out its mission, is at a historic low, falling from more than $300,000 in 2021 to less than $50,000 in 2026. Currently, only three U.N. member states contribute to the fund, down from nine member states in 2006.
The drop in funding reflects a broader liquidity crisis at the U.N. driven in part by late payments from key members like the U.S. and China. Kotierk said the lack of funding has led to staff reductions at the Forum, shorter meeting times, and fewer interpretation services.
That didn’t stop the Forum from issuing bold calls to action on May 1, including urging U.N. member states to seriously consider international court rulings to mitigate climate change by 2027, and to legally protect Indigenous lands, especially land belonging to uncontacted tribes. The Forum published multiple reports with recommendations ranging from asking member states to develop legal protections for nomadic Indigenous communities to urging the Green Climate Fund and Global Environment Facility — multibillion-dollar government-funded global funds — to provide direct funding to Indigenous peoples to mitigate climate change.
Eirik Larsen, who attended this year’s Forum on behalf of the Saami Council, urged Forum members to consider capping the number of recommendations to maximize their effectiveness, and to ask member states and U.N. entities to report back on whether they’ve implemented recommendations from previous years.
Larsen said that despite the need for improvement, he keeps returning to the Forum because it’s an important arena for discussing critical issues at the international level. “It’s a unique venue for Indigenous peoples to interact directly with member states,” he said.
The systemic assessment of the Forum found that many Indigenous survey respondents agreed with Larsen’s appreciation of the Forum, seeing it as “a place of visibility, exchange, and recognition,” the report found. “Yet a large number also characterize it as overly performative, a ‘talk shop,’ or a space in which testimony is heard but not translated into meaningful change.”
To Ghazali Ohorella, international relations and Indigenous rights advisor of the Alifuru Council, the assessment could not have been issued at a worse time. Just a year ago, the U.N. embarked on a process of restructuring, which could lead to U.N. bodies like the Forum being consolidated or eliminated. Today’s Permanent Forum is the result of decades of advocacy by Indigenous peoples for a dedicated space within the U.N., which, by design, privileges the voices of recognized state governments and doesn’t allow Indigenous peoples who remain under colonial rule to vote in the General Assembly. Ohorella is worried that the report — which is based on a survey of 200 respondents, rather than the thousands of attendees over the past 25 years — could give ammunition to the Forum’s detractors. “It allows them to say: ‘See, even Indigenous peoples themselves identified problems with the Forum. Retire it,’” Ohorella said.
One of the most valuable aspects of the Forum is its ability to elevate issues that otherwise might be ignored, like Indigenous health, which was the main topic of this year’s gathering. “There is no health without land. The well-being of Indigenous peoples is inseparable from our lands, waters, and territories,” Kotierk said in her closing speech. “To restore health, we must advance decolonization.” This year, the Forum’s official recommendations urged U.N. member states to disaggregate health data on Indigenous peoples by 2027, and “to treat prolonged climate-induced displacement of Indigenous peoples as a health emergency.”
Kotierk said that the Forum has been instrumental in influencing global policies. “This Forum has consistently elevated what the world too often ignored. It has brought visibility to the crisis of Indigenous peoples’ languages, affirmed the rights and leadership of Indigenous women and girls, and ensured that Indigenous peoples’ voices are not only present — but heard — in international decision-making,” Kotierk said.
Yet despite its importance, it’s not easy for Indigenous advocates to participate in the Permanent Forum. Structural barriers that limit participation include challenges obtaining visas — which have worsened under the Trump administration — lack of awareness about the Forum and how to register, and the high cost of travel. In the systemic assessment report, survey respondents suggested the Forum consider holding regional, national, and local gatherings “that do not force all meaningful participation through a single annual gathering in New York.”
Mariah Hernandez-Fitch, a first-year law student at Emory University and a member of the United Houma Nation, attended the Forum for the first time as a youth fellow for the Ban Ki-Moon Foundation. Hernandez-Fitch has never been abroad and this was her first time participating in a global Indigenous space. “It was beautiful to see people not all in suits,” she said. “Seeing people in their cultural attire, their formal wear, that was very exciting to me.” She listened to someone from Vietnam speak about how climate change was affecting their community and was moved by how similar their experience was to her family’s experience with rising seas in southeastern Louisiana.
But she also felt overwhelmed by the process, confused by when the side events were happening, and ended up not delivering a planned statement, in part because she was intimidated by the process. “There’s rules, but if you don’t know about them, you do feel out of place even in a space that is for Indigenous peoples,” she said.
Still, now that she’s back in New Orleans, Hernandez-Fitch can see herself returning to the Forum. “I can see myself applying the law and my experience into those spaces,” she said. “I could see myself not being scared of making an intervention.” It helped to meet other Indigenous youth who care just as much as she does about making a difference. “There’s a communal kind of excitement and I feel excited for the future.”
Conversations about how to make the Forum more effective will continue at next year’s gathering, which will be held from May 10 to 21 and focus on global progress on the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.
The Gallup City Council on April 28 night voted 4-1 to delay a vote on an agreement that would deliver nearly 110 million gallons of wastewater each year to a proposed 330-acre data center.
Greg Thompson, the co-founder of Teraplex Data Centers LLC, told the City Council that he wanted to build a data center in the Gallup Tradeport with a tenant like Oracle, Meta, Amazon or Microsoft. Much like the Oracle and OpenAI Project Jupiter data center under construction in Doña Ana County, Thompson said the Teraplex data center would supply its own electricity — in this instance, through a mix of solar power and natural gas. Once built, Thompson said the data center would employ about 300 people.
Proposals for data centers to provide their own power have proven controversial in New Mexico. Project Jupiter’s developers recently revised their plans to build two natural gas plants that would annually emit more greenhouse gases than Albuquerque and Las Cruces combined.
The Gallup vote came two hours into the council meeting. Outside the chambers before the meeting began, a small group of protesters gathered with signs opposing the data center and accused the company of targeting Gallup along with other parts of rural New Mexico for centers they say degrade the environment.
“They’re going to ruin our sky. They’re going to ruin the dirt. They’re going to ruin the precious breath that I have left,” Toni Pinedo, an Indigenous activist and Gallup resident, told Source NM. “All for what?”
While a majority of the council argued that they needed more information before casting a vote on the agreement, Mayor Marc DePauli said he was impressed by the data center developer’s presentation.
“I was always skeptical and still kind of am about data centers…but bringing us the option of using our wastewater, it’s kind of a deal-changer,” DePauli, who was the lone elected official opposed to deferring the vote, said during the meeting. “Overall, on the water side, it works out pretty well for us.”
Thompson told Source NM after the meeting that the Washington, D.C.-based Teraplex, which incorporated late last year, has had “informal conversations” with Gallup officials about a data center for the past several months. The company has not yet reached an agreement with a potential tenant for the complex, he said, though he listed Oracle, Microsoft or Meta as possibilities.
He also stressed that the April 28 evening meeting was the “first of many steps” and said he welcomed the community’s input, as well as the council’s decision to defer a vote.
“This was just a ‘hello,’” he said. “We’re going to come back with our entire team to explain what’s going on, and we want to address all of their concerns, because we share them, too. We are attempting to make a more-green data center compared to some of our other competitors, and we hope that’s felt by the community.”
If approved, the agreement before the council would have let Teraplex buy nearly 110 million gallons of wastewater from Gallup annually. The city treats about 2.3 million gallons of wastewater each day, DePauli said.
Approximately a dozen residents spoke against the agreement during the meeting’s public comment period, many of whom referenced Gallup’s depleting aquifer and ongoing interstate compact negotiations regarding the state’s access to water.
“Gallup has an unclear future concerning water rights,” Larry Winn, who previously chaired the local water board, told the mayor and councilors, adding that data centers have come to earn a national reputation as “the biggest single problem there is…It’s amazing to me how such a thing could be taken at face value,” he said of Teraplex’s vision for building a data center in the area.
Eirena Begay, an Indigenous mother of four, urged councilors to be skeptical of the promises Teraplex was making about its environmental impacts or water usage. Even though the company seeks to use wastewater, she said the company’s ambitions still amount to “rerouting a shared resource to serve a private enterprise.”
After listening to the community pushback, Councilor Ron Molina said he agreed that city leaders needed more information before making a decision. However, he said he didn’t want people in attendance to “lose sight of the fact that we need to bring industry” to Gallup.
From behind the dais, Councilor Sierra Yazzie Asamoa-Tutu held up a printed copy of a lawsuit that the New Mexico Environmental Law Center filed over Project Jupiter and said she wanted to urge her colleagues to defer the vote before going too far down the same road as Doña Ana County officials.
“I understand the appeal,” she said. “What I’m concerned about is what does this open the door to?”
Mountain BureauNewsBlack HillsdrillingICT Must ReadMiningpe slapete lien and sonsSouth DakotaUS Forest Service
Pete Lien & Sons has formally requested its permit to drill near a sacred site in the Black Hills be withdrawn following a weeklong Indigenous occupation at the site.
RAPID CITY, S.D. – Natural resource mining company Pete Lien & Sons has canceled its plans to conduct exploratory graphite drilling 0.6 miles north of Pe’ Sla, a sacred site within the Black Hills of South Dakota, according to two organizations opposed to the project.
The company sent a letter to the U.S. Forest Service on Friday morning withdrawing the permit that the agency granted on Feb. 27 for 18 graphite drilling sites within the two-mile buffer zone around Pe’ Sla, said NDN Collective and the Black Hills Clean Water Alliance. The buffer zone was created in 2016 by a memorandum of understanding between the Forest Service and several tribes.
Pe’ Sla is a sacred site to the Oceti Sakowin (Lakota, Dakota and Nakota) tribes and part of the Lakota people’s creation story.
ICT reached out to Pete Lien & Sons and the U.S. Forest Service for comment but hadn’t heard back from either by the time of publication.
The decision comes after a weeklong occupation of the project site by Indigenous treaty defenders, including Lakota youth who “locked down” or tied themselves to the drilling equipment. Four days prior, a temporary restraining order issued by a U.S. judge prohibited all drilling at the site until further court proceedings.
“Today’s successful protection of Pe’ Sla, which is the result of courageous land defense by the community, strategic legal action, and collective prayer, marks a great victory for the people and Mother Earth,” said Wizipan Garriott, president of NDN Collective and Sicangu Lakota, in a statement Friday.
NDN Collective, which helped organize the occupation, said on May 5 that Pete Lien & Sons removed all drills and equipment from the Rochford Mineral Exploratory Drilling Project areas.
“The Pe’ Sla Protectors Camp successfully accomplished their goal of evicting the drills from the area,” NDN Collective said Friday. “We made the decision to demobilize camp and then developed plans with partners to continue monitoring the site until the injunction hearing later this month to ensure that the drills do not return.”
All drilling at the site was ordered to stop following U.S. District Judge Camela C. Theeler’s ruling on the matter on Monday. Theeler ruled in favor of the two lawsuits against the drilling project, one by nine Oceti Sakowin tribes and another by nonprofit organizations NDN Collective, Black Hills Clean Water Alliance and Earthworks. Theeler granted a temporary restraining order on the project, causing all drilling to stop until the cases could be heard before the court.
NDN Collective said information revealed during the restraining order hearing Monday showed drilling was already completed at 7 of the 18 permitted drill sites prior to the group beginning its occupation of two sites April 30.
“Given this pace of work by Pete Lien & Sons, we know that they likely would have completed drilling for most if not all their samples before the (temporary restraining order) was even granted, making our action to protect Pe’ Sla even more consequential,” NDN Collective said in a statement.