American Indian Culture and Research Journal

Salish elder Dolly Linsebigler from St. Ignatius, Montana, well remembers the 1950s, when the United States attempted to terminate the Flathead Indian Reservation, where her small hometown is located. That memory is the reason why she emphasizes that the young tribal members need to learn tribal history and traditions: “The young need the chance to be able to say: ‘This is my reservation, I belong here, and I want to learn the history of my people.’” She tries to teach her children and grandchildren to pay attention to the tribal council and tribal affairs. Indian values are important to her. Linsebigler, former Flathead Culture Committee employee and current powwow committee member, believes that the Confederated Salish and Kootenai tribes have to be careful not to become terminated. That Linsebigler and other members of the tribes still fear for the potential loss of federal services, benefits, programs, and treaty rights—even though termination as a federal policy itself was terminate in the course of the 1960s—is the subject of this article. In 1953–54, the Salish and Kootenai tribes of the Flathead Reservation in western Montana successfully resisted congressional bills to terminate the trust status on their lands, federal programs on the reservation, the reservation itself, and, ultimately, the tribes themselves. In the course of the 1970s, self-determination policies replaced the forced assimilation ideology behind termination. However, increasing chances for self-determination—economic independence, political self-government, and decreased federal interference in tribal affairs—did not mean that the threat of termination disappeared from Salish and Kootenai life. This article discusses the tribal reactions to and struggle over the issues of Indian-white conflict, factionalism, and liquidation of tribal assets. It argues that the battle to defeat the federal policy of termination in the 1950s, and the calls for liquidation of tribal assets coming from within the tribes in the 1970s, strengthened the tribal leadership’s resolve to guide the Salish and Kootenai to greater self-determination and take control of their affairs without losing their homelands.

Wampum, defined as native-made shell beads of roughly standardized size and shape, evolved early in the seventeenth century and served as an essential element in the interactions among several Native nations and various European groups. The central region of wampum production was around Long Island Sound, while the principal area of wampum belt use was up the Hudson River and into Canada. Primary use was among the Five Nations Iroquois (Six Nations after 1722) and the Huron Confederacy. The incorporation of these shell bead elements of regular size (roughly three to four millimeters in diameter and eight to ten millimeters long) into woven bands, commonly called belts by the English and colliers by the French, took place at about the same time. The relationship between the standardization of this particular shell bead form and the production of wampum belts or bands is unknown, although it remains the focus of much speculation. True wampum, or that category of shell beads of standard size also called “belt” wampum, was used primarily among the peoples of the Iroquois and the Huron confederacies, with the contiguous territories of these peoples creating a zone that Becker characterizes as the “Core Area.” Beyond this region the use of wampum beads, and particularly belts fashioned from them, was much more limited. Among the Penobscot, in Maine, one of the cultures beyond the Core Area, the chronological sequence for the use of wampum, as well as the range of functions, differed considerably from what has been described in the Core Area. The role of what George Price identifies as the “wampum-producing tribes” such as the Wampanoag and Shinnecock, as well as each of the separate cultural traditions that developed for employing wampum (cultural transformations and unique features), merits its own separate study.

Douglas C. Jones (1924–1998) stands out among Western novelists for his multicultural text and dialogic perspective. In Arrest Sitting Bull (1977) and its sequel, A Creek Called Wounded Knee (1978), he presents colonial issues, such as the removal of the Native American, from various ethnic points of view. Jones’s work is far more realistic than romantic, although overtones of the latter movement are apparent in how he portrays the past. His characters are not idealized noble savages or heroes; they are individuals with strong personal qualities who endure in the face of overwhelming circumstances. The novels often include ethnic hybrids—persons who symbolize points of ethnic encounter and embody hope for the future. In these respects, Jones views the frontier’s clash of cultures with a fresh, multidimensional perspective that neither condescends nor ridicules. He presents history with commendable accuracy and explores why ethnic conflict exists and how such confrontations reflect a general pattern of historical struggle. Although not a student of literary approaches or Foucauldian criticism, Jones illustrates the ways in which colonizing tactics operate: Arrest Sitting Bull demonstrates how one dominant ethnic group can establish and maintain control over the subaltern. The text reveals the author’s views on the victimization of the Lakota by the colonial process, particularly by the killing of the Sioux leader Sitting Bull. Arrest Sitting Bull, in effect, provides a case study in the operations of colonization. The novel also considers the human side of events surrounding the death of Sitting Bull, including both personal relationships among Anglo and Native Americans and more formal relationships between politicians, the army, and the agency. Native and Anglo cultures may be presented as incompatible at this time, but Jones’s treatment of the volatile situation provides a mediating perspective, one that attempts to understand what went wrong. His account of events in this literary history expands ordi-

Using data from the United States Census 1990, the Energy Information Administration estimated in 2000 that 36.8 percent of the 29,375 occupied housing units on the Navajo Nation lacked electricity. The Navajo Nation has very low population densities, and the large distances between homes make the cost of providing conventional sources of electricity prohibitive. Arizona Public Service, the primary provider of electricity in Arizona, estimates the cost of erecting power lines to be roughly $25,000 to $30,000 per mile, an impossible sum for most families in this region, where the unemployment rate hovers around 50 percent. Given the extremely low population densities, it is simply inconceivable that many houses could be connected to the power grid. More recent calculations, based on Census 2000 data, show that between 10,000 and 23,000 homes need some type of electricity provision system that is not connected to the grid. An estimate of 18,000 homes appears to be a reasonable current target figure (this number could very well increase as the population grows). The predicted cost of any program providing electricity and the associated appliances to these homes falls between $115 and $350 million. Using the baseline figure of 18,000 homes, the estimate is roughly $235 million. These are costs above the typical construction costs for the expected new housing units. The authors have completed an analysis of the potential success of a small business operating on the Navajo Nation installing self-contained solar systems, including battery storage, for these 18,000 homes. Several scenarios were analyzed, and the individual prices of the systems ranged from $10,000 to $19,000, depending on the size of the system and the level of retail markup.

Since the early 1990s, two-spirit people from a variety of tribal backgrounds have been coming together for social and spiritual meetings. Two-spirit, a term adopted by gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender (GLBT) Natives, represents an emerging new interpretation of “traditional” Indian identity. Like most mainstream Indian events and ceremonies, two-spirit gatherings emphasize Native traditions, cultural participation, and personal survival. Gatherings offer a way to maintain friendships, find other “Indians like them,” and gain access to cultural experiences that are not available within their tribal communities because of homophobia. Two-spirit gatherings provide a place for the assertion of two-spirit identity within supportive spiritual and social contexts. By transcending contemporary mainstream Native ideological regulations on sexual identity and gender roles, the two-spirit gathering emphasizes the self-acceptance and the gender diversity that were historically a part of American Indian culture. During these events, men mix gender roles by dressing in women’s dance regalia and taking on female ceremonial and social roles. Gatherings not only create an alternative to the masculinized and hetero-focused social structure of tribal and Native American society but also provide a place for two-spirit persons to assume the role of cultural participant. In this article, I examine the ways in which men in the Green Country Two-Spirit Society of Oklahoma use the annual gathering to compensate for the lack of opportunities to express sexual identity and gender difference within mainstream Native cultural contexts. I also explore how the gatherings reveal two-spirit identity as a compromise of one’s sexual, gender, and racial identities. First, I will discuss the development of two-spirit identities, societies, and gatherings. Second, I will look at the manner in which two-spirit gatherings draw on Native cultural traditions. Two-spirit men have developed alternative communal spaces in which to express both their indigenous and their sexual and gender identities. The cultural practices of gatherings represent the crossing of established boundaries, as well as the reconfiguring of what it means to participate in traditional Native practices. Two-spirit gatherings also illustrate the complex role played by sexual and gender identity in the shaping of social identities in public contexts.

The mainstream press has written a great deal about Indian gaming and its impact on Indian and non-Indian communities. The debate, however, tends to focus on Class III or “casino-style” gaming. The press and, unfortunately, the research community have largely overlooked the effects of Class II gaming. Notwithstanding their second-class status in the research, Class II gambling ventures have the potential to bring substantial change to the Indian communities that develop them. This study of Class II gaming operations in Oklahoma concludes that tribal governments are translating revenues and employment opportunities derived from Class II gaming operations into positive social investment reflected in quality-of-life improvements within both the tribal communities themselves and in surrounding nontribal communities. Moreover, Class II operations have a net positive impact on the Oklahoma economy through their demonstrated ability to attract out-of-state customers to depressed regions of the state. The tribes’ successes offer a striking example of the principal intent of gaming operations: socioeconomic self-determination for tribes.