Where does a reporter begin to tell the story when someone gets kicked out of a tribe? That question arises more and more often today. Let me cite just three examples, which I will follow up on in this column:
- In Montana, Chippewa families have been left, and kept, off the Chippewa Cree tribal rolls on the Rocky Boy's Reservation for at least eight decades. And their 21st century attempts to be recognized by the tribe are leading them nowhere.
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In a recent referendum vote, the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma asked its voters to decide whether descendants of black slaves could maintain citizenship in the tribe. Voters said no. A temporary tribal court injunction on May 14 reinstated the Cherokee Freedmen -- former slaves who lived side by side with the Cherokee -- while they go through an appeals process, making them eligible to vote in a June 23 tribal election.
- And for two decades, the Pechanga Band of Luiseņo Indians in California has been reviewing, determining and disenrolling people once listed on the tribe's census rolls.
As reporters, we have to ask ourselves: What are disenrollment stories really about? Are they about politics? Greed? Identity? Racism?
Some of these elements exist in all the stories. And they can be present in the views of those accused of greed or racism, as well as those affected by these actions. For the journalist, it becomes important to start the reporting process by understanding the background of each tribe. That includes treaties and agreements that helped shape each tribe into the political entity that exists today.
A reporter can get this information from any number of places, including:
- Federal Indian law lawyers
"The State of the Native Nations," which will be published soon by Oxford University Press, offers a good primer on this topic. It helps you understand the relationship between tribal self-determination -- including the right to define tribal membership -- and U.S. Supreme Court decisions, other court opinions and statutes.
My story about this issue started with a recent invitation to attend an evening feast and Chippewa round dance in Great Falls, Mont. The day's event began with a meeting of those who trace their ancestry to the nearby reservation's namesake, Chief Rocky Boy. (The chief himself had no children. Those descended from his brothers and sisters are known as "lateral descendants.") The group had gathered to discuss tribal disenrollment.
Glen Gopher spoke out at the Chippewa round dance that I attended. He stood in front of the descendants of Chief Rocky Boy. He spoke of the grievances felt by many people in the room, the families and individuals who aren't being recognized as citizens of The Chippewa Cree Tribe.
After the meeting, I called the Chippewa Cree tribal office in Rocky Boy, a town on the reservation, and spoke with Richard Sangrey, the tribal CEO. He said that those who want to be recognized would have to be half Indian or more -- and could include blood from other tribes -- and be "adopted" by the Chippewa Cree with a two-thirds referendum vote of the tribe.
This issue has been around for some time. And it likely won't be settled in a referendum vote, which is why it's important for a reporter to step back and be prepared to dig deeper.
Another high-profile disenrollment case making headlines involves the Cherokee Freedmen in Oklahoma.
In a recent referendum, the Cherokee people were asked to vote on whether the Freedmen could be considered tribal citizens of the Cherokee Nation. The tribe voted to change its constitution to recognize only Cherokee who had relatives on the "blood" list, not the former-slave list.
The Freedmen and their supporters have called the decision racist, saying the tribe refused to recognize the Freedmen because they were black.
Many news stories about the Freedman have been told within a "racist" framework.
In California, the stories about the Pechanga in Temecula have been framed around a story of greed. KNBC-TV in Los Angeles recently aired a piece about disenrollments and the Pechanga tribe, where 220 people have been kicked off the tribal rolls. The report focused on the Pechanga government's $20,000 monthly per-capita payment, by which a family like the disenrolled Hunter clan, with 90 adult members, could take in more than $20 million a year.
"Does that mean that the money that is left, the other families get a bigger piece of the pie?" reporter Colleen Williams asked.
A clan member replied, yes, but added the disagreement was a matter of claiming heritage, not money.
"This all revolves around an internal battle being waged on Indian reservations across the country," Williams said in her broadcast. "Thousands of Indians are being kicked out of tribes. Critics say it's more about greed than anything else. The tribes say it's about preserving their lineage."
Money and lineage are definitely at stake. And greed can work both ways. As for preserving lineage, many tribes have "adopted" outsiders and accepted them as part of the tribe. Likewise, tribes have a long history of banishing their own for creating disharmony within the tribe.
There are several ways to explore how and why individuals or families are disenrolled. And a variety of questions and factors deserve consideration:
- Are specific tribal benefits at stake, including health and education benefits? Does tribal enrollment status allow a citizen to vote and participate in reservation-wide elections and politics?
- Are those seeking enrollment fulfilling a primal need to belong and creating a sense of identity?
- Is belonging to a tribe all about money? Tribal status among certain casino-rich tribes can bring cash-in-pocket perks, otherwise known as per-capita payments.
Jodi Rave reports for Lee Enterprises in Missoula, Mont.
The situation of Chippewa that are barred from enrollment in...
