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Photo: Henry Rocher/Harvard Art Museums Fogg Museum.
“Edmonia Lewis 1845-1907” (circa 1870).

Having just learned of an order to post signs outside the Smithsonian saying that the history inside is false, I’m sharing — in the interest of holding on to history based on facts — the kind of information you can still find at the Smithsonian.

Sháńdíín Brown has an article at Hyperallergic about black indigenous sculptor Edmonia Lewis and the exhibit about her in Massachusetts.

” ‘Sometimes the times were dark and the outlook was lonesome, but where there is a will, there is a way,’ the Black and Indigenous sculptor Edmonia Lewis once said. The quotation, now printed and spotlit on a dark blue wall in the exhibition ‘Edmonia Lewis: Said in Stone,’ continues, ‘That is what I tell my people whenever I meet them, that they must not be discouraged, but work ahead until the world is bound to respect them for what they have accomplished.’

“Lewis — who was born in Greenbush, New York, in 1844 and died in London in 1907 — is paid such respect in her first major retrospective at the Peabody Essex Museum [Salem, Massachusetts] held over a century after the artist’s death.

“Co-organized by the Peabody Essex Museum and the Georgia Museum of Art, the extensively researched exhibition tells an expansive narrative of the artist’s sculpture practice and legacy, displaying 30 of Lewis’s Neoclassical white marble sculptures alongside a plethora of archival materials and works by other artists.

“One of the strongest elements of ‘Edmonia Lewis: Said in Stone’ is that the curatorial framework allows for Lewis to be understood simultaneously as a Black and Indigenous artist without conflating the two identities. Indeed, each quite literally occupies its own space in the exhibition: Four thematic rooms — ‘Antislavery and Emancipation,’ ‘Indigenous Artistic Worlds, ‘the Studios of Rome,’ and ‘Religion, Mythology, Transcendence’ — are in conversation with one another and designated by different colors of wall paint. Through collaboration with Black and Native scholars, the groundbreaking exhibition is the first of its kind to present Lewis’s work in dialogue with both of her ancestries. …

“In 1865, Lewis moved from Boston to Rome — a premier hub for American Neoclassical sculptors from the late 1820s to the mid-1870s — and worked there as a sculptor until the early 1890s, when she moved to London. The exhibition informs visitors that within a few years of her arrival in Italy, Lewis was the first woman artist of Black and Indigenous descent to achieve widespread international acclaim. ”I was practically driven to Rome,’ Lewis explained, because ‘the land of liberty had no room for a colored sculptor.’ …

“While abroad, Lewis’s practice did not shy away from activism; her work commented on current American political events. The first carved marble sculpture by Lewis that exhibition-goers encounter is ‘Forever Free’ (1867), in which a man stands upright and looks up with his fist in the air. Broken shackles hang from his arm as a woman kneels beside him with clasped hands, also looking upward. ‘Forever Free’ was the first sculpture by a Black American artist to celebrate Emancipation.

“Made in Rome, the composition borrows visual elements from ancient Greco-Roman marble statuary. Throughout her work, Lewis used the language of Neoclassical sculpture to spread her message while also borrowing imagery from her own time. For example, the exhibition links the kneeling woman in ‘Forever Free’ to a similar image printed on the copper token ‘Am I Not a Woman & A Sister,‘ produced by the American Anti-Slavery Society, and a 1863 newspaper printing of the Emancipation Proclamation. 

“Displayed alongside 18th-century, 19th-century, and contemporary Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe art, ‘Hiawatha’s Marriage’ (modeled 1866, carved 1870) is displayed in another room. In response to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s popular poem of 1855, ‘The Song of Hiawatha,’ Lewis carved the union of Dakota woman Minnehaha and Ojibwe warrior Hiawatha. …

“The exhibition closes by demonstrating Lewis’s legacy in a powerful work by Gisela Torres, a London-based interdisciplinary artist of Afro-Cuban descent who feels a deep ‘psychic connection’ with the sculptor. In a video work titled ‘Reverie and Slumber’ (2020), Torres dreams of Lewis. Video footage of Rome is projected on plaster casts of Torres’s head, overlaid with audio of the artist singing Peggy Lee’s 1969 song ‘Is That All There Is?’ and whispering names of other Black women sculptors. … ‘Reverie and Slumber’ is from Torres’s ongoing reclamation series Looking for Edmonia (Self-Portrait(2018–present), which began after she read an article about the discovery of Lewis’s unmarked grave in a London cemetery where she regularly walked. 

” ‘Edmonia Lewis: Said in Stone’ [contributes] not just in its carefully curated presentation of her artworks, but also in its critical research on the artist and her life, demonstrating how her legacy was carried forward by the Black community. It is deeply moving. I imagine that, as the exhibition travels to two other museums, it will reach other contemporary artists who, like Torres, follow in Lewis’s footsteps. “

More at Hyperallergic, here.

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Photo: Felipe Cohen / Project Museu Nacional Vive.
Clean-up crews have treated the site like an archaeological dig, combing for remnants from the fire and also discovering new finds previously hidden underneath the museum. 

For scientists around the world, too much that was irreplaceable was lost in the great fire at Brazil’s national museum in 2018. That hasn’t stopped Brazilians from trying to rebuild, and in the process, they have discovered new artifacts under the building.

Joel Balsam writes at Smithsonian magazine, “The news arrived with both excitement and a pang of grief: The oldest national history museum in the Americas was slated to partially reopen for the first time since a 2018 fire destroyed more than 16 million objects — 80 percent of its collections. ‘We put out tickets; it sold out in hours,’ says Ronaldo Fernandes, director of the 208-year-old National Museum in Rio de Janeiro.

“Before the fire, some 300,000 Brazilian schoolchildren visited the museum each year. My partner had been one of them, so I got us free tickets to the temporary exhibition in September 2025. The building, Paço São Cristóvão, was a former residence of Portuguese and Brazilian monarchs, and it was as regal as she remembered it. We found that the yellow-and-white facade had been restored, along with 30 statues of Greek gods that adorned the roofline. Inside, the Bendegó meteorite, a 11,820-pound space rock found in Brazil in 1784, had survived the flames and was still on display in the entry room.

“But noticeable changes were everywhere. Some walls remained blackened from the flames. Steel support beams were still twisted and exposed. On the positive side of the experience, we saw new acquisitions, including a 51-and-a-half-foot-long sperm whale skeleton that hung from a fresh 138-glass-panel skylight. … The museum is still rebuilding its spaces and collections, targeting a 2029 reopening date. …

“The morning after the fire, hundreds of people gathered outside the museum’s gates to see the extent of the damage. When some tried to jump the fence, the police responded with tear gas and pepper spray. The outer walls, which had been solidly built by enslaved Africans, remained intact. But historian Regina Dantas remembers entering her third-floor office. … ‘I lost everything — I didn’t have a pen.’

“Items stored in nearby buildings were safe from the blaze: Torah scrolls from the 13th or 14th century, the vertebrate and herbarium collections and a 500,000-volume library. Some researchers dashed into the main building during the fire’s early stages and saved precious specimens that had been used to define entire species. …

Losses included Egyptian mummies, a royal Hawaiian feather cloak gifted to Brazil’s last regent, audio recordings of Indigenous languages no longer spoken and the museum’s entire insect collection.

“A nonprofit called Projeto Museu Nacional Vive — or The National Museum Is Alive — is raising funds for the museum’s reopening, with backing from UNESCO, the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro and the Vale Cultural Institute. But the project is still about $29 million short. …

“Brazil’s Ministry of Education provided about $2.35 million so the rebuilding could begin right away. Crews sifted through the rubble layer by layer, treating the palace like an archaeological site in hopes that some items had survived the fire. Crews found a shard of a French vase gifted to Emperor Dom Pedro II, and, miraculously, the skull of Luzia, the oldest human remains discovered in the Americas. About 5,000 artifacts recovered from the wreckage are being restored by archaeologists, a process that could take decades. …

“When cleanup crews reached the final layer of rubble, they encountered a surprise: the foundations of a chapel built in 1840 and destroyed in 1910. ‘We knew all the time there was a chapel there … and now we found it,’ says Fernandes. The fire also uncovered bricks from earlier periods, as well as layers of wallpaper not seen since the exile of Brazil’s last monarch, in 1889. …

“The reopened museum will showcase the chapel ruins and exposed bricks. The museum also plans to maintain some charred walls and exposed beams to commemorate the tragedy. …

“All the while, new artifacts are coming in — more than 16,700 to date. Burkhard Pohl, a Swiss-German collector who maintains one of the world’s largest fossil collections, donated 1,105 fossils from the Araripe Basin, in northern Brazil, that date back 115 million years. The National Museum of Denmark has also returned a Tupinambá feather cloak taken from Brazil in 1689. …

“The museum doesn’t simply want to redo its collections as they were. Like many 19th-century institutions, it featured numerous stolen artifacts and neglected to consult the Indigenous peoples and enslaved Africans whose cultures help make up the country’s history.”

More at Smithsonian, here. I’m cheered by these efforts, but I still can still hear entomology professor and photographer Alex Wild lamenting the permanent loss of the vast insect collecrtion. It will never be the same.

By the way, I wrote in 2022 about how Brazil is bringing its indigenous communities into the rebuilding process. Read that post here.

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Photo: Goldman Environmental Prize.
Alannah Acaq Hurley is a Yup’ik leader, executive director of the United Tribes of Bristol Bay, and winner of the 2026 Goldman Environmental Prize for North America.

It is inconceivable to most people in the modern world that if gold was lying around nearby, you wouldn’t help yourself to it. Indigenous communities are not “most people.”

At the environmental radio show Living on Earth, host Steve Curwood recently interviewed Goldman Environmental Prize winner Alannah Acaq Hurley, executive director of the United Tribes of Bristol Bay, Alaska.

Steve Curwood
“In 2001, a Canadian mining company proposed a massive gold and copper mine at the headwaters of Bristol Bay, a pristine water system on the coast of the Alaska Peninsula that’s home to the largest sockeye salmon run in the world. The salmon support a thriving ecosystem and are a cultural and economic lifeblood for native Alaskans, who have stewarded the land and water for thousands of years. And as the company moved ahead with plans to build the largest open pit mine in North America, those indigenous communities joined together to bring it to a halt. In 2023 they secured a rare ‘EPA veto’ of the proposed Pebble Mine, and the 2026 Goldman Environmental Prize for North America recognizes an Indigenous leader in this fight.

Alannah Acaq Hurley
“My Yup’ik name is Acaq. My Irish name is Alannah Hurley. … Acaq is my great-grandmother’s name.

Curwood
“Alannah, before we start talking about your work protecting Bristol Bay, paint us a picture of the bay. What makes this such a special place? …

Hurley
“It has all the different types of terrain in all of Alaska, in one place. Where I live, at the mouth of the Nushagak and Wood River, we have everything from tundra and wetlands to mountains, freshwater lakes, freshwater rivers, the muddy waters of Nushagak Bay, the beautiful, crystal clear ocean waters as you go west towards Togiak and Twin Hills. … It’s so pristine you can still hunt and fish and pick berries and eat them straight from the land. You can drink right out of the lake and rivers. It’s paradise. …

Curwood
“It produces, what, more than $2 billion of annual revenue from Sockeye fishing alone. It’s also an important food source and cultural site for Indigenous communities, First Alaskans. Talk to me about what the bay means to the people in the area.

Hurley
“So there are three different Indigenous groups in Bristol Bay, the Yup’ik people, the Dena’ina people, and the Alutiiq people. And our homeland, you know, has been stewarded by our people for thousands and thousands of years. They’ve taken care of this place and entrusted it to us. Our lands, our water, and everything that that entails, the salmon, the moose, the caribou, the bears, us, our freshwater fish, our berries, our plants, our medicines, we very much view it as all very connected. So anything that happens to our lands and waters happens to us. And so it is everything to us. It is the health of our people, physically, culturally, spiritually, it sustains us. It nourishes us. We’re so blessed to be able to live in the ways that our ancestors have lived. …

Curwood
“In the year 2001 or so, the Northern Dynasty Minerals mining company proposed the development of what’s called the Pebble Mine. … What would have been the environmental impact of such a project?

Hurley
“The environmental impact of the Pebble project would have been devastation. … That picture is not a question of, if something will happen, but when, especially in an earthquake-prone zone, and in a very interconnected, you know, hydrologically interconnected place, they’re like the veins of the bay, like the body, everything is connected, all of that water is connected. …

Curwood
“Some say that there are literally hundreds of billions of dollars worth of copper and gold and other minerals in the area for the Pebble Mine. Sounds like a lot of money, but you didn’t see this as good news for your community if this got developed.

Hurley
“No, we did not. … Very early on, the vast majority of Bristol Bay’s people said, no, no way, this is not worth the risk. You cannot put a price tag on our water and what salmon mean to us as a people. …

Curwood
“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but my understanding of a lot of Alaskan politics means that at the state level, there wasn’t a huge amount of pushback against this Pebble Mine proposal.

Hurley
“Yeah, our people’s concerns were really falling on deaf ears at the state level. We saw the state rewrite our area management plan illegally, without proper input or public process or consultation with our tribes. … And so because our concerns were falling on deaf ears at the state level, our tribal governments really saw the federal government as the place to put some energy, and that was where kind of the petition to the EPA came from, because the state was not listening. They were doing the exact opposite, to really grease the skids for the company to move forward. …

“The tribes petitioned in 2010 to prohibit all mines like Pebble within the Bristol Bay watershed. The EPA came back and said, we’re not going to act on a prohibition immediately under our authority under the Clean Water Act, but we are going to study Bristol Bay. We want to do an assessment. And we want to ask, is this place really unique, and what does this fishery mean to the state and people? … They took three years to do a bunch of studies. They were in a lot of different communities, there was a lot of peer review to answer those questions, and after that very long, drawn-out assessment, they determined what our people had been saying all along. …

“It was a bit of a roller coaster between the different administrations, but it’s really a testament to the dedication of our people and our region, that regardless of the administration, regardless of winning and losing court cases, they did not give up. And so the EPA, in January of 2023, finalized protections to stop the project.”

More at Living on Earth, here.

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Photo: Mark Saludes.
Rodolfo Sagban stands inside a newly built micro-hydro facility in remote Nabuangan village, Philippines.

The Iran war has been a fiasco in almost any way I can imagine. Except for the increased focus on renewable energy, energy sources that don’t have to pass through the Strait of Hormuz, newly weaponized by Iran.

Mark Saludes writes at the Christian Science Monitor, “In a mountain village in the northern Philippines, electricity does not arrive through transmission lines or come from burning imported fossil fuel. It flows from a local river.

“Each night, as lights flicker on inside scattered homes, the power is generated by a small turbine turning steadily in the dark – built, maintained, and managed by the community itself.

“ ‘We don’t have to rely on outside power facilities. We decide when to switch it on and off,’ says Rodolfo Sagban, chairman of the Lapat Micro Hydro Power Association in Nabuangan village, located in Apayao province. ‘Most importantly, everyone in the village can access it, regardless of economic status.’

“The Iran war that began in late February has drawn attention to the Philippines’ fragile, import-dependent economy, as electricity costs, transport fares, and even food prices continue to climb. Roughly 3.6 million households across the Philippines live off the electrical grid – including about 1.2 million that rely on government-run, diesel-fueled power plants. These households have been hit especially hard by the global energy shock. 

“But in Nabuangan, these big-picture pressures barely register. Decentralized, renewable-based systems such as the one built here are shielding some communities from energy price spikes and grid instability – and they could offer a way to strengthen the country’s overall energy resilience.

“ ‘The real solutions are already here: community-led, small-scale energy systems that live in harmony with nature,’ says Joan Carling, a co-founder of Indigenous Peoples Rights International.

“Nabuangan’s first micro-hydro system – a simple, streamside structure – began operating in 2002. Water is diverted into a narrow intake and collected in a small reservoir. From there, it flows quietly through a long pipe that slopes downhill. Gravity creates enough water pressure to spin a small turbine inside a concrete enclosure. Power lines carry the electricity to homes across the village. 

“Over time, the system has expanded to two other villages in the area, Bubog and Sitio Simud. A fourth facility is under construction to provide electricity to Sitio Lapat, and is expected to be operational within a few months.

“Together, these water-powered energy stations form a small but stable network. 

“ ‘If other villages want a micro-hydro, we will teach them,’ says Mr. Sagban. ‘We will teach them how to manage it because management is what’s important.’

“Community members contribute labor to build and maintain the local systems. Decisions are made collectively. The forest that feeds the river is protected, because it is essential to the system’s survival. 

“Faith Joy Bonifacio, a resident of Sitio Lapat who has worked overseas as a contractor, runs a small internet hub powered by the village’s micro-hydro system and solar panels. The setup allows locals to charge personal devices, access all kinds of information, and stay connected without leaving the village.

“ ‘We don’t have a mobile signal here,’ she says. In the past, ‘we had to climb mountains just to send a message.’

“Reliable electricity also extends working hours, supports small businesses, and improves access to education. The changes have been gradual and they make a real difference. But they would not have been possible without a commitment from the community. 

“ ‘Unity among the people is very important,’ Mr. Sagban says. ‘Without it, these projects would not have been possible.’ …

“Says Gerry Arances, executive director of the Center for Energy, Ecology, and Development (CEED), ‘Every disruption in supply quickly ripples through the economy.’ … Mr. Arances says decentralization is one part of a practical response to the current uncertainty in global energy markets. 

“ ‘This does not mean dismantling the national grid, which remains essential for large industries and urban economies that require high-capacity power,’ he says. ‘But for much of the country, especially remote and underserved communities, decentralized and community-managed systems can serve as a strong complement.’ ” 

More at the Monitor, here.

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Photo Gabriela Campos/The New Mexican.
Josiah Enriquez, three-time world champion hoop dancer, dances during one of his weekly practice sessions in Pojoaque.

I heard of hoop dancing in the past but didn’t know much about it. Today’s article helps fill that gap for me. At least I now know hoop dancing is nothing like the hula hoop craze. It’s more about healing.

Cormac Dodd writes at the New Mexican, “Josiah Enriquez’s moccasins etched rapid, intricate patterns in the sand as he danced at the end of a dirt road, a portable speaker offering up powwow songs amid the juniper.

“Although he stirs crowds around the U.S. with peerless performances of contemporary hoop dancing, this rural arena has long been the spot where Enriquez, 23, toils and trains with a devotion not unlike that of a professional athlete. He is seen now as the nation’s foremost hoop dancer.

“His face revealed utter absorption on a recent day as he controlled a red hoop rapidly circling his arm.

“ ‘It’s a beautiful dance,’ he said, almost breathless after a long dance. ‘I don’t know where I would be without it.’

“Enriquez (Pojoaque and Isleta pueblos, Navajo Nation) has been distinguishing himself on what is widely considered to be the most prominent stage in competitive hoop dancing — the Heard Museum’s annual World Championship Hoop Dance Contest in Phoenix — winning his third consecutive world title in February. This marked a major career moment.

“Hoop dances have long been part of traditional Indigenous healing ceremonies, featuring quick, complex footwork as the dancer forms various shapes, many mimicking the movements of animals, using hoops. Tony White Cloud of Jemez Pueblo is credited with starting modern hoop dancing in the 1930s.

“Enriquez is the lead instructor at the local Lightning Boy Foundation in Pojoaque, a community organization that stages the Youth Hoop Dance Championship in Santa Fe and instructs about 75 students, according to its website. …

“Already considering next year’s World Championship Hoop Dance Contest, Enriquez knows he would be the first dancer to win four world championships in a row in the competition’s 36 years if he triumphs again.

“At this year’s event, he told the story of the Chicken Dance — mimicking a hunter stalking his prey as he capered in front of a crowd.

” ‘Growing up, I’ve always had the rhythm, the love for the dance,’ he said.

“ ‘In the last three years, there’s no question: He’s the best dancer,’ said George Rivera, a decorated Northern New Mexico artist, president of the Lightning Boy Foundation and former governor of Pojoaque Pueblo. ‘We’re just so proud of what he does. He’s such a good role model and he gives back to everyone.’ …

“Born and raised in Pojoaque Pueblo and a graduate of Pojoaque Valley High School, Enriquez began competing in hoop dancing events about a decade ago. It took him years, he said, to mature.

“He now speaks with a maturity beyond his years, noting he views hoop dancing as medicine for the people. He has moved people to tears. He has been told he is ‘good medicine.’ …

“A spiritual leader at the pueblo, he is also proud of the work he does as an instructor with the Lighting Boy Foundation, finding fulfillment in teaching and mentoring the next generation of dancers — aware of the positive role hoop dancing, and the dedication it requires, can play in a young person’s life. …

“Enriquez is not the only dancer associated with the organization that found success at the Heard Museum’s competition in February: Mateo Ulibarrí (Pojoaque and Santa Clara pueblos) finished first in the teen division for the fourth consecutive time, and JaiPo Harvier (Pojoaque, Santa Clara and Taos pueblos, Tohono O’odham Nation) finished second.

“Enriquez sweated through a set Thursday afternoon in the throes of a full-body dance, ending with one hand gripping a large sphere, representing Earth, shaped from the hoops. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains towered in the distance.

“He said growing up in Pojoaque Pueblo and participating in traditional dances shaped his outlook on dance, recalling how he was always told soreness after a dance means you have taken away the audience’s pain. Enriquez thinks about this in his approach to contemporary hoop dance, too.

“ ‘When you’re dancing, you pray for the people because it’s important that they feel it and it’s important that they get the life that you’re giving from your dance,’ he said.

“ ‘When you’re dancing for our feast days,’ Enriquez added, ‘they tell us if you’re sore the next day, it’s because you’re taking all the soreness from the people that can’t dance or people that are sick, you take it and you fill it. It’s a sacrifice that our people make for the better of our village.’ ”

More at the Santa Fe New Mexican, here.

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Photo: Newberry Library.
This image from the Newberry Library
in Chicago represents the clans of the ogimaag (chiefs) of the Lake Superior bands of Ojibwe. The clans are shown united at a time when they were petitioning the US government to revise treaty boundaries set in 1842. 

In Chicago, there’s a library with an impressive indigenous studies collection, of which the art above is an example. I have never seen anything like it, a charming illustration of tribal chiefs, their individual symbols, and their collaboration to deal with the US government. It is in the Newberry Library.

Courtney Kueppers reported recently for WBEZ about the library and a $4 million grant “from the Mellon Foundation that will help widen access to Indigenous languages, some of which have been on the brink of disappearance.

“The research library holds roughly 2,400 items directly related to more than 300 different Indigenous languages as part of its vast Indigenous Studies collections, which include more than one million manuscript pages, 11,000 photographs and 2,000 maps.

“Right now, only a small percentage of that is available digitally, which can pose a barrier to tribal nations and scholars. Part of the new grant funding will focus on making more of the collection available on Newberry’s website, with a specific focus on language-related items.

“ ‘Those are often of major interest to tribal nations who are working on language revitalization activities,’ said Rose Miron, Newberry’s vice president for research and education. …

“The loss of Indigenous languages has been called a state of emergency. Many languages were nearly eradicated after the U.S. federal government attempted to force Indigenous people to assimilate in the 19th and 20th centuries through orders that included Native American boarding schools. …

“ ‘Children were literally being punished for speaking their own languages and being forced to speak English instead,’ said Miron, a historian whose area of study has focused on Indigenous history in the Great Lakes region. Now, as many tribal nations focus on revitalizing languages and teaching them again, Miron said items in the Newberry’s collection can play a critical role, especially for nations with no living speakers. …

“The Newberry collection includes Bibles and other religious texts created by missionaries who were attempting to assimilate tribal members by translating those works to Indigenous languages. Among the other linguistic items are boarding school materials that were translated into Dakota. …

“Miron said, ‘I have seen people in the collection weep upon seeing something that is related to their family, or is related to their community that they’ve never seen before.’ …

“In total, Newberry says, more than half the funds will go directly to tribal nations.

“ ‘We fundamentally believe that tribal nations are the best representatives of their own history,’ said Miron, adding that the library is also open to repatriating items in its collection.

“The Indigenous collection at the library originated with a donation in 1911 from the wealthy businessman Edward E. Ayer, whom Miron said was an avid collector of books, manuscripts, artwork and publications about different tribal nations. Ayer also endowed the collection, and that has allowed the Newberry to grow the collection over the years and dedicate a librarian to it. …

“The latest round of Mellon funding is an extension of a previous planning grant, which the museum received in 2020. The planning process resulted in the ‘Indigenous Chicago‘ project, which looks to provide information and resources on Chicago’s historic and modern-day Indigenous communities. It includes interactive online maps that reinterpret Chicago’s history from Native American perspectives.

“The project comes amid other recent local efforts to better recognize Indigenous people and their culture. A new partnership between the American Indian Center of Chicago and the Forest Preserve of Kane County led to the introduction of a new bison herd, bringing the animals to the local tallgrass prairie for the first time in 200 years. The center will steward the herd.”

More at WBEZ, here. If you live in Chicago or visit, try to give us a firsthand account of the library.

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Photo: Thejavikho Chase.
Today we learn that stink bugs can be ground into a thick paste and used to make valuable products. 

OK, this food may be nutritious, but it sounds pretty gross to me. I suppose that eating unfamiliar foods outside your culture takes extreme hunger — or a sense of adventure.

But as Femi Ezhuthupallickal Benny and Thejavikho Chase report at the Guardian, the people who routinely eat stink bugs are doing it because they like it.

“Every few years when Udonga montana, a bamboo-feeding stink bug, erupts in massive swarms,” they write, “the people of the Mizo community in northern India don’t reach for pesticides. Instead, they look for baskets.

“Locally, this small brown stink bug is called thangnang. Outsiders see them as an infestation but in the bamboo forests of Mizoram state this small brown bug has long been woven into the food culture.

“Drawing on generations of traditional ecological knowledge, the Mizo people have developed an intricate system of harvesting, processing and consuming the insects that not only provides high-protein nutrition but also helps control pest populations without harming the forest with pesticides.

“ ‘We have been eating thangnang for more than 100 years,’ says Salemkulhthangi, an elder from the Serhmun village. …

“The big harvesting opportunity comes during mautam, the rare mass flowering of bamboo (Melocanna baccifera) that triggers stink bug outbreaks. ‘There isn’t a fixed date or month; it’s mostly around September-October,’ says Lalvohbika, a conservationist at Dampa tiger reserve in Mizoram. …

“Instead of spreading a sheet on the ground to collect the falling insects, as entomologists might, the Mizo have designed a fishing net-like implement with a long bamboo handle and a conical plastic pocket held open by a strong circular metal wire. As the flowering approaches, the villagers shake the branches, sending the bugs tumbling into the net. Once full, the bag’s narrow end is untied and the catch is emptied into gunny sacks at the base of the trees.

“Hot water is poured over to kill the insects, which are then cleaned and put in a basin where twigs, leaves and other debris are removed by hand. The cleaned bugs are soaked again in warm water, then ground into a thick paste that is processed into two valuable products: a fragrant cooking oil used as food and medicine, and a protein-rich paste used as animal feed.

The taste, it should be said, is an acquired one.

“The stink in the bugs’ name comes from the pungent odor they emit when they are stressed or threatened. … The oil that appears as a top layer as the paste is boiled is carefully skimmed off, bottled and sold in local markets. Nothing goes to waste: even the pulp that remains after oil extraction becomes hmun hlui, a tangy condiment eaten with rice, and the leftover residue is sun-dried and fed to pigs. …

“As global demand for protein rises and climate change threatens food security, the Mizo way of turning a sporadic pest outbreak into protein is a reminder that perhaps the future of food lies not in modern laboratories but in the ancient wisdom. …

“Yes, insects can ravage crops and frustrate farmers, but some of the creatures that chew through leaves and stems are, remarkably, more nutritious than the plants they destroy. … As the entomologist Victor Meyer-Rochow once asked: ‘Why kill insects when they per se are nutritious?’

“It’s a question that resonates deeply in several villages in north-east India where even crop pests find their way into the cooking pot, not out of desperation but as part of a sustainable, seasonal diet that values what their land provides.”

More at the Guardian, here. Have you ever tried chocolate-covered ants or any similar foods that Westerners like me are too squeamish to enjoy?

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Photo: Miryan Delgado.
Satipo and Nauta municipalities are the first in Peru to grant legal rights to stingless bees. 

Today’s article is about protecting special bees in the Amazon. As I read it, I couldn’t help thinking about a novella called The Bee Wife, by novelist, blogger — and advocate for indigenous Amazonian languages — Francesca Forrest.

The article is about stingless bees in Peru being granted legal rights.

Damien Gayle at the Guardian, “Stingless bees from the Amazon have become the first insects to be granted legal rights. …

“It means that across a broad swathe of the Peruvian Amazon, the rainforest’s long-overlooked native bees – which, unlike their cousins the European honeybees, have no sting – now have the right to exist and to flourish. Cultivated by Indigenous peoples since pre-Columbian times, stingless bees are thought to be key rainforest pollinators, sustaining biodiversity and ecosystem health.

“But they are faced with a deadly confluence of climate change, deforestation and pesticides, as well as competition from European bees, and scientists and campaigners have been racing against time to get stingless bees on international conservation red lists.

“Constanza Prieto, Latin American director at the Earth Law Center, who was part of the campaign, said: ‘This ordinance marks a turning point in our relationship with nature: it makes stingless bees visible, recognizes them as rights-bearing subjects, and affirms their essential role in preserving ecosystems.’

“The world-first ordinances, passed in two Peruvian regions in the past few months, follow a campaign of research and advocacy spearheaded by Rosa Vásquez Espinoza, founder of Amazon Research Internacional, who has spent the past few years traveling into the Amazon to work with Indigenous people to document the bees.

“Espinoza, a chemical biologist, first started researching the bees in 2020, after a colleague asked her to conduct an analysis of their honey, which was being used during the pandemic in Indigenous communities where treatments for Covid were in short supply. She was stunned by the findings.

” ‘I was seeing hundreds of medicinal molecules, like molecules that are known to have some sort of biological medicinal property,’ Espinoza recalled. ‘And the variety was also really wild – these molecules have been known to have anti-inflammatory effects or antiviral, antibacterial, antioxidant, even anti-cancer.’

“Espinoza, who has written a book, The Spirit of the Rainforest, about her work in the Amazon, began leading expeditions to learn more about stingless bees, working with Indigenous people to document the traditional methods of finding and cultivating the insects, and harvesting their honey.

“Found in tropical regions across the world, stingless bees, a class that encompasses a number of varieties, are the oldest bee species on the planet. About half of the world’s 500 known species live in the Amazon, where they are responsible for pollinating more than 80% of the flora, including such crops as cacao, coffee and avocados.

“They also hold deep cultural and spiritual meaning for the forest’s Indigenous Asháninka and Kukama-Kukamiria peoples. ‘Within the stingless bee lives Indigenous traditional knowledge, passed down since the time of our grandparents,’ said Apu Cesar Ramos, president of EcoAshaninka of the Ashaninka Communal Reserve. ‘The stingless bee has existed since time immemorial and reflects our coexistence with the rainforest.’

“From the outset, Espinoza began hearing reports that the bees were becoming more difficult to find. ‘We were talking actively with the different community members and the first things they were saying, which they still do to this day, is: “I cannot see my bees any more. It used to take me 30 minutes walking into the jungle to find them. And now it takes me hours.’ “

“Her chemical analysis had also turned up some concerning findings. Traces of pesticides were appearing in the stingless bees’ honey – despite their being kept in areas far from industrial agriculture. …

“For years, the only kinds of bees to have official recognition in Peru have been European honeybees, brought to the continent by colonizers in the 1500s.

“ ‘It almost created a vicious cycle. I cannot give you the funding because you’re not on the list, but you cannot even get on the list because you don’t have the data. You don’t have the funding to get it.’ In 2023, they formally began a project to map the extent and ecology of the bees, ‘because by that time we had already spoken with the [International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN)] and some government people in Peru and understood that that data was critical.’

“The mapping revealed links between deforestation and the decline of stingless bees – research that helped contribute to the passing of a law in 2024 recognising stingless bees as the native bees of Peru. The law was a critical step, as Peruvian law requires the protection of native species. …

“In experiment in 1950s Brazil to create a strain that would produce more honey in tropical conditions led to the creation of the Africanized honeybee. … Now, Espinoza and her colleagues found, these Africanized bees have begun outcompeting the comparatively gentle stingless bees in their own habitats. …

“Living a semi-nomadic lifestyle in a remote part of the Avireri Vraem Biosphere reserve, Elizabeth [an Asháninka elder] farmed and kept bees at a spot in the forest some distance from her home. But she described how her stingless bees had been displaced by Africanized bees, which attacked her violently whenever she visited.

“ ‘I felt so scared, to be honest,’ said Espinoza. … ‘I want them gone.’ “

Read what happened next at the Guardian, here.

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Photo: Pablo Sanhueza/Reuters.
The Sarmiento de Gamboa glacier in the strait of Magellan.

The conservation effort in today’s article would never have been possible without the dedication of many conservation-focused individuals, including donors. The participation of one of those donors, the founder of clothing company Patagonia, should interest my younger grandson. He loves the company for its sustainable policies.

John Bartlett wrote recently at the Guardian about how the dedication of conservation-minded individuals has benefited Chile.

“Chile’s government is poised to create the country’s 47th national park, protecting nearly 200,000 hectares (500,000 acres) of pristine wilderness and completing a wildlife corridor stretching 1,700 miles (2,800km) to the southernmost tip of the Americas.

“The Cape Froward national park is a wild expanse of wind-torn coastline and forested valleys that harbors unrivaled biodiversity and has played host to millennia of human history.

“ ‘I have been to many exceptional places, and I can tell you that the Cape Froward project is the wildest place I have walked through,’ said Kristine Tompkins, the renowned US conservationist at the heart of the project. ‘It’s one of the few truly wild forest and peak territories left in the country, and the richness of the Indigenous history in the region makes a case for these territories to be preserved for all time.’

“It is the 17th national park created or expanded in Chile and Argentina by Tompkins Conservation and its successor organization, Rewilding Chile. The groups have spent the best part of a decade knitting together a patchwork of land purchases and state-held properties to create the park. In 2023, they signed an agreement with the Chilean government to donate the land to become Cape Froward national park.

“[Last] February, a population of 10 huemul, an endangered deer species, was found in the park, and a network of cameras regularly captures wild pumas and the endangered huillín, a river otter. The area also encompasses 10,000 hectares [~25,000 acres] of sphagnum bogs, a spongelike moss which stores carbon deep below the ground.

“Benjamín Cáceres, the conservation coordinator in the Magallanes region for Rewilding Chile, is a native of Patagonia who first visited Cape Froward at the age of 12 with his conservationist father, Patricio Cáceres. ‘My father was always a dreamer,’ he said. ;When he found out about an abandoned lighthouse all those years ago, he brought us here as a family.’ …

“The San Isidro lighthouse is one of seven designed and built by the Scottish architect George Slight along the treacherous strait of Magellan. It was abandoned in the 1970s and itinerant fishers would come by to salvage wood until the roof collapsed. Now, Patricio and Benjamín’s vision for the restored lighthouse is becoming a reality. It has been converted into a museum of the natural and human history of the area and – together with a cafe on the beach below – will become the entry point for the new national park.

“Dotted along the shoreline are delicate archaeological sites that enshrine the history of the Kawésqar, a nomadic Indigenous people who navigated fjords, rocky beaches and forests in canoes carved from trees. …

“ ‘The area was widely inhabited by nomadic canoeists who lived by fishing and gathering food,’ said Leticia Caro, a Kawésqar activist who belongs to the Nómades del Mar community. ‘For our community, it is very important to protect this area, where you can also see the different ways of inhabiting the land and seas, and the interaction with other peoples like the Yagán, Selknam and Tehuelche.

“Long after Indigenous communities had settled in the area, the waters of the strait of Magellan, which the Kawésqar call the tawokser chams, became the link between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. … The murky depths have claimed many lives and spawned legends. Treasure troves lie in the depths, and sealed bottles of rum have washed ashore over the centuries. …

“There are still a number of steps before the national park officially comes into existence.

“An Indigenous consultation process, a legal requirement for large-scale projects in Chile, was held in September but fell flat. Chile’s environment ministry said it would make ‘every effort’ to advance with plans for the park by March. But if no progress is made after two years, the lands revert to the ownership of Tompkins’ organizations.

“ ‘Each of the park projects we have developed has specific reasons for being considered essential for conservation,’ said Tompkins, who was the chief executive of Patagonia outdoor clothing for 20 years until 1993. ‘And in this sense Cape Froward is a piece of an ecological puzzle that, over time, should ensure that key biodiversity sites within Chilean Patagonia are permanently protected.’ ”

More at the Guardian, here.

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Photo: Juan Karita/AP.
An Aymara grandmother passes the ball during a warm-up before a traditional Bolivian handball match, Dec. 9, 2025.

Juan Karita writes at AP, “Before setting out for the wide, white mountain, Ana Lia González Maguiña took stock of her gear: A chunky sweater to guard against the chill. A harness and climbing rope to scale the 6,000-meter summit of one of Bolivia’s tallest mountains. Aviator glasses to protect from the bright highland sun. And most crucially, a voluminous, hot-pink skirt.

“The bell skirt with layered petticoats — known as the ‘pollera’ (pronounced po-YEH-rah) — is the traditional dress of Indigenous women in Bolivia’s highlands. Imposed centuries ago by Spanish colonizers, the old-fashioned pollera has long since been restyled with local, richly patterned fabrics and reclaimed as a source of pride and badge of identity here in the region’s only Indigenous-majority country.

“Rather than seeing the unwieldy skirt as a hindrance to physically demanding work in male-dominated fields, Andean Indigenous women, called ‘cholitas,’ insist that their unwillingness to conform with contemporary style comes at no cost to their comfort or capabilities.

“ ‘Our sport is demanding, it’s super tough. So doing it in pollera represents that strength, it’s about valuing our roots,’ said González Maguiña, 40, a professional mountain climber. …

“Skirt-clad miners, skaters, climbers, soccer players and wrestlers across Bolivia echoed that sentiment in interviews, portraying their adoption of polleras for all professional and physical purposes as an act of empowerment.

“ ‘We, women in polleras, want to keep moving forward,’ said Macaria Alejandro, a 48-year-old miner in Bolivia’s western state of Oruro, her pollera smeared with the dirt and dust of a day toiling underground. ‘I work like this and wear this for my children.’

“But many also described the current moment as one of uncertainty for pollera-wearing women in Bolivia. … Center-right President Rodrigo Paz entered office [in November 2025] as Bolivia’s economy burned, ending a long era of governance shaped by the charismatic Evo Morales (2006-2019), Bolivia’s first Indigenous president who prioritized Indigenous and rural populations … Through a new constitution, Morales changed the nation’s name from the Republic of Bolivia to the Plurinational State of Bolivia and adopted the Indigenous symbol of the wiphala — a checkerboard of bright colors — as an emblem equivalent to the national flag. For the first time, pollera-wearing ministers and officials walked the halls of power.

“But disillusionment with Morales’ Movement Toward Socialism party grew, especially under his erstwhile ally ex-President Luis Arce, who was arrested [in December] on allegations that he siphoned off cash from a state fund meant to support Indigenous communities.

“Some cholitas now wonder how far that change will go and fear it could extend to their hard-won rights despite Paz’s promises to the contrary. They describe feeling neglected by a government with no Indigenous members. They worry about the implications of the army last month removing Indigenous symbols from its logo and the government deciding to stop flying the wiphala from the presidential palace, as was long the tradition.

“ ‘I feel like the government won’t take us into account,’ said Alejandro, the miner. ‘We needed a change. The economy must get better. But it’s sad to see there are no powerful people wearing polleras. I see it as discrimination.’

“But González Maguiña said she still had hope, given how far Indigenous women had come.

“ ‘We already have the strength and everything that comes with it,’ she said. ‘We’re certainly going to knock on the doors of this new government.’ ”

More at AP, here. I have posted several articles about these Bolivian women in the past. Here is one on handball competitions.

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Photo: David B Torch.
Recently the Norwegian National Ballet tackled the delicate subject of a 19th century rebellion by the indigenous Sami people. The non-Sami dancers wondered if they had the right to tell the story.

Indigenous reindeer herders called the Sami have a presence in the north of Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia — and the sort of history indigenous people have experienced around the world. Was the Norwegian National Ballet reckless in trying to bring a 19th century Sami rebellion to life using non-Sami dancers?

Lisa Abend wrote at the New York Times in November, “Far in the north of Norway, a test of sorts was underway. Two weeks earlier, the ballet ‘Lahppon/Lost‘ had premiered at the Opera House in Oslo. Created by a Sami artist about a Sami uprising, and danced by the Norwegian National Ballet, the work had opened to largely positive reviews. But last Friday, ‘Lahppon/Lost started a two-night run in Kautokeino, a cultural capital for the Indigenous Sami people and the very town where the rebellion it depicts took place.

“ ‘The audience was five times bigger in Oslo, but I was more nervous here,’ said the creator and co-choreographer of ‘Lahppon/Lost,’ Elle Sofe Sara, whose ancestors participated in the uprising. ‘I knew that so many descendants of the rebellion would be there, and … I was asking myself: “Have we done it in a good way?” ‘ …

“When the work premiered at the Opera House on Oct. 31, it was the first time a piece by a Sami choreographer had been presented on the main stage. It was also part of a recent wave of commissions from leading arts institutions that have recognized Norway’s long history of forced assimilation of and discrimination against the Indigenous group, which is widely considered Europe’s oldest. …

“For Ingrid Lorentzen, the Norwegian National Ballet’s artistic director, who commissioned the work, and for the company’s dancers, none of whom are Sami, the performance raised questions about whether they had the right to tell the story. …

“Said Lorentzen, ‘Are we again stepping over the voices that we are trying to create space for?’ …

“For the Sami, the Kautokeino rebellion remains a sensitive subject. During the 1852 uprising, Sami followers of a strict Christian sect attacked Norwegian authorities, including the local sheriff and priest. … In the aftermath, church and state stepped up their efforts to ‘Norwegianize’ the Indigenous group, which continued into the 1960s.

“For well over a century, the rebellion was shrouded in shame among the Sami. But a political and cultural awakening in the 1970s prompted a gradual re-evaluation, and today the causes and meaning of the Kautokeino uprising are contested, with some viewing it as an example of religious fanaticism and others considering it an early Indigenous rejection of the authorities’ ongoing suppression of Sami rights and culture.

“Among the predominantly Indigenous audience that filled the seats of Kautokeino’s Sami National Theater, several attendees confessed to pre-curtain anxiety . … ‘I was so nervous,’ said Ayla Nutti, 20. ‘I was worried they wouldn’t get it right.’

“It was precisely the uprising’s complexity that drew Sara to the story. From her research, she knew that the episode still carried a heavy emotional burden. ‘We did interviews with descendants, and some of them didn’t want to talk about it, or they would talk and then tell us to delete the conversation,’ she said. …

“The dancing in ‘Lahppon/Lost’ is intensely physical, and much of it was devised by Sara’s collaborator, the Icelandic choreographer Hlin Hjalmarsdottir. The dancers whip the ground with fury and twist their bodies with an energy that oscillates between tortured and ecstatic. Combined with video close-ups of the dancers’ faces, and striking costumes from the Danish designer Henrik Vibskov, the muscular movement gives ‘Lahppon/Lost’ a contemporary feel.

“Yet the work remains thoroughly Sami. Much of that character can be attributed to Lavre Johan Eira, who performs a Sami form of throat singing called joiking that is believed to convey the living essence of its subject. ‘Lahppon/Lost’ opens with Eira’s haunting version of a joik. …

“By all accounts — and two standing ovations — they succeeded. ‘Sometimes when you see non-Sami dancers, there is a distance between them and the Sami stories,’ said Kristin Solberg, the director of a Sami theater in Mo i Rana, Norway. ‘But these dancers embodied them and gave movement to the land. I felt like I was watching my story.’

“[Reindeer herder] Sokki found himself in tears. ‘It didn’t matter that the dancers weren’t Sami,’ he said. ‘They made the rebellion come closer. It was magic.’

“In the intimate space of the Kautokeino theater, the performers felt that magic, too. And it didn’t end with the curtain. As they stepped outside after the final show, the Northern Lights were casting swirling bands of luminescence against the night sky. ‘It’s the perfect ending,’ said [dancer] de Block. ‘We released the spirits tonight.’ ”

More at the Times, here. Lots of great little videos.

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Photo: Peter Ellzey.
DY Begay in her weaving studio in Santa Fe, New Mexico, in 2022.

Traditions often gain strength and durability when the spirit behind them is reinterpreted through a new generation’s sensibilities. A case in point: the way the weaving and dyeing of Diné artist DY Begay has enriched a traditional Navajo craft.

Sháńdíín Brown and Zach Feuer at Hyperallergic recently interviewed the artist.

They write, “For over four decades, artist DY Begay expanded the expressive range of Diné (Navajo) weaving, transforming the form into a language that is entirely her own. She is a Diné Asdzą́ą́ (Navajo woman), born to the Tótsohnii (Big Water) clan and born for the Táchii’nii (Red Running into Water/Earth) clan. Her maternal grandfather is of the Tsénjíkiní (Cliff Dweller) clan and her paternal grandfather is of the Áshįįhí (Salt People) clan. 

“Begay is a fifth-generation weaver who was raised in Tsélání (Cottonwood) on the Navajo Nation, where her family’s sheep flock still resides. Rooted in Diné Bikéyah (Navajo homelands) — from the cliffs of Tsélání to the horizon of the Lukachukai Mountains — her work reflects the blended hues of sunsets, mesas, and mountain ranges, while her use of wool from her family’s flock and natural dyes binds her practice to the land she seeks to honor and protect.

“After graduating from Arizona State University in 1979, Begay moved to New Jersey and immersed herself in the fiber art world of New York City. She studied historic Diné textiles at the Museum of the American Indian, whose collections later became part of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI). Most of these pieces were created by Diné weavers whose names were not recorded, likely women. She also took inspiration from the work of artists such as Anni Albers, Sheila Hicks, and Lenore Tawney — all of whom trained in modern Western traditions yet studied Indigenous weaving practices. …

“When she returned to Tsélání in 1989, her grandmother, Desbáh Yazzie Nez (1908–2003), saw her weavings and urged her to develop her own compositional sensibility. Begay quickly gained recognition at the Heard Museum Guild Indian Fair and Market as well as the Santa Fe Indian Market, yet she felt restless in her practice. By 1994, that questioning crystallized into a breakthrough: She began developing color hatching, a method of creating subtle gradations and nuanced color interactions that transformed the solid, banded designs of conventional Diné weaving. …

“In August, Begay spoke with us over Zoom from her home in Santa Fe. The interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Sháńdíín Brown and Zach Feuer
“In Sublime Light: Tapestry Art of DY Begay, the first book dedicated to you and your recent retrospective at the NMAI, you write about watching your mother and grandmother weave in the hogan. …

DY Begay
 “I don’t remember the very first time I picked up weaving tools and set a loom on my own. I was very young. I do remember standing behind my mother’s loom, watching her pull colored yarns over and around the warps. Her fingers moved swiftly in and out, pressing the wefts into place. Within minutes, geometric shapes stacked and formed into the outline of a Ganado-style weaving. At that age — maybe four or five — I could not quite comprehend how those shapes came together. I was always perplexed and in awe. Everything happened so fast in front of me as her hands composed lines and rows of colored yarn. 

“I grew up surrounded by weavers: my maternal grandmother, my mother, and my aunts. Someone was always at the loom, often positioned in a very central place inside the hogan. And we lived in the hogan when I was growing up, and everybody else did too.

“I watched my mother create stepped patterns with hand-dyed yarns, moving with precision and grace. Teaching came through showing. It was a physical action. The word that I always remember, and is still used today, is kót’é — ‘like this.’ My mother said ‘kót’é, kót’é.’ …

SB & ZF
“Do you remember the moment when you first began weaving yourself — whether your family set up a loom for you or you started working on theirs?

DB
“I was very curious. I tried to hold my mother’s tools, but they were too big for my hands. … Eventually, she allowed me to sit with her once in a while and said ‘kót’é, kót’é.’ I began to get used to the natural action of tapping with the combs. I was about eight years old when I had my own loom. I don’t remember its size. My mother prepared the warp and I used leftover yarn from her bin. I do remember finishing my first weaving, maybe two colors. It was pretty decent for a first attempt. It was a good learning situation because my mother was there. She would sometimes unweave certain parts and we would go on. …

“Most finished weavings, maybe two by three or three by three feet, and some saddle blankets, were taken by my father and my grandfather to the local trading posts to exchange for food, fabric, or whatever was needed. My mother never went to the trading post herself — we didn’t have a vehicle then, so transportation was by wagon or horses. They would roll up the weavings, pack them, and take them to the trading post. …

“In weaving ‘Pollen Path,’ I wanted to share a cultural belief. Among the Diné, we sprinkle corn pollen to honor a new day, to seek blessings, and to bring balance into our lives. Corn itself is a sacred plant. The pollen is collected in late summer, when the tassels of the corn begin to pollinate. We gather it in the early morning, just before the sun rises. For me, ‘Pollen Path’ reflects peace, beauty, and gratitude for life.

“The project began in the summer of 2007, a very good year for growing plants that I use in dyeing my wool. My sister, Berdina Y. Charley, planted local corn seeds she received from our Táchii’nii (Red Running into Water/Earth) relatives. I believe these were heirloom seeds from our Táchii’nii family. …

SB & ZF
“How do you translate the experience of walking in beauty, through the landscapes of Diné Bikéyah (Navajo Country) and more specifically your home of Tsélani (Cottonwood), into the two-dimensional form of weaving?

DB
“Not only do I have my Tsélani landscape embedded in my mind, but I frequently photograph the surrounding textures at various times of the day to capture different lighting as it reflects on the terrain. …

SB & ZF
“Can you tell us about your color palette and the process of dyeing the wool? Is it essential for you to use and make dyes that are from the earth?

DB
“I have been practicing and experimenting with natural dyes for quite a while, and I love using local plants to create my color palette. It is both essential and traditional in my culture to use what the earth provides to create dyes for our yarn.

“My palette comes from many sources. I work with common plants such as cota (Navajo tea), chamisa, rabbitbrush, and sage. I also use non-native materials like insects, fungi, foods, and flowers. Each has its own season, and I collect plants according to the time of year.

“The process itself is an experiment every time. I’ve studied many dyeing methods and learned to be attentive to formulas that help obtain and preserve the colors. For me, making dyes from the earth is not only practical but also deeply connected to tradition and creativity.”

More at Hyperallergic, here. No paywall. Subscriptions encouraged.

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Photo: Emily Mesner/Anchorage Daily News.
Lenora Ward, general manager at KOTZ radio station, listens to a 2022 dog-sled musher interview while on-air at the station in Kotzebue.

Few places in the US rely more heavily on public radio than Alaska. That is why people who care about Alaska rushed to bridge the gap after the current Congress decided public radio is not needed.

Iris Samuels reports for the Anchorage Daily News, “An Alaska fund has raised $3.5 million as it seeks to replace federal funding rescinded by Congress for public radio and television stations.

“Amid fundraising efforts, station leaders say they are already beginning to cut some programming. …

“Congress in July voted to rescind $1 billion in federal funding for public media across the country. … Two of Alaska’s three-member congressional delegation voted in favor of the rescission, which eliminated roughly $15 million intended for more than two dozen stations in Alaska. …

“Sen. Lisa Murkowski was one of a few Republicans in Congress who attempted to salvage the federal funding that Congress members themselves had approved last year, pointing to its importance in alerting Alaskans to natural hazards like tsunamis, earthquakes and fires.

“In a recent call hosted by a coalition of Alaska public radio and television stations, PBS President Paula Kerger said that Alaska is at the forefront of national fundraising efforts intended to — at least temporarily — supplant federal funding with money from private donors and foundations. …

“Kerger said she was ‘deeply grateful to Sen. Murkowski, who really fought for us more than any other member of Congress.’

Alaska stations banded together in the days following the July rescission vote to, with the Alaska Community Foundation, establish the Voices Across Alaska Fund, which in its first two months raised more than $3.5 million.

“The funds came from 80 donors, which include individuals, corporations and foundations in Alaska and in the Lower 48, according to Alaska Community Foundation spokesperson Ashley Ellingson. The funds will be disbursed to stations [based] on stations’ needs, Ellingson said. …

“Alaska Public Media President Ed Ulman said that since the rescission, new donors have begun giving, or existing donors have upped their contributions. …

“Funds will be distributed to Alaska stations, which are also independently fundraising, several station managers said in recent days. Even as they have pivoted to fundraising efforts, the station managers reported making several targeted cuts to their programming in response to the loss of federal funding.

“Alaska Public Media, the state’s largest public station, has paused Alaska Insight, a television news program that was broadcast across the state. Ulman said Alaska Public Media has also cut its education programming and is considering cutting Debate for the State, a program that features candidate forums for statewide offices. …

“Gretchen Gordon, general manager of KUAC, a station serving Interior Alaska, said the station has cut overnight broadcasting, eliminated some national radio programs and lost television service in Nenana in response to the federal funding cut. Gordon said KUAC is ‘determined to find ways to restore lost programs and services.’

“Kristin Hall, general manager at KYUK, which serves Bethel and the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta, said the station lost $1.2 million in federal funding, and could eliminate more than half its staff by the end of the calendar year.

“Justin Shoman, president and general manager of KTOO, said the Juneau-based station may need to adjust its coverage of the Legislature. Gavel Alaska, a live-streaming service for legislative hearings, press conferences and trial hearings, costs more than $1 million annually to run and receives no state funding, Shoman said. Until the rescission, federal funding made up more than a third of KTOO’s annual budget. …

“The federal funding cut comes after a yearslong refusal by Gov. Mike Dunleavy to spend state dollars on public media. Starting in his first year as governor, he repeatedly vetoed funding intended for public radio stations. This year, the Legislature did not fund the grants for public radio in the budget. …

“ ‘It’s not lost on many of us that the Legislature has every single year put in funding, in particular for rural public radio,’ said Ulman. ‘And yet, there is one individual who has the power of the veto who exercises that veto and goes against — I’m just going to say it — the will of the people.’

“When Begich, Alaska’s lone U.S. House member, voted in June to claw back federal funding for public media, he reasoned that public broadcasting was no longer essential because Alaskans now use ‘pervasive cellular, satellite, and wireline technologies.’

“But Gordon, with KUAC, said many Interior residents do not have access to broadband internet. … ‘Our lawmakers need to understand that a little better,’ she said.”

Will the new fundraising levels last? Only time will tell. More at the Anchorage Daily News, here. And do read about how an Alaska public radio station saves lives, here.

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Photo: Jaida Grey Eagle via MPR News.
Among her many accomplishments, Twin Cities-based author Marcie Rendon writes a mystery series about indigenous investigator Cash Blackbear. 

I read a lot of mysteries, and I gravitate toward those about different cultures, often outside North America. But indigenous cultures here are equally foreign to me, which is why I have enjoyed Marcie Rendon’s Cash Blackbear series, about a tough young Ojibwe woman who investigates crimes against members of Upper Midwest tribes, often women.

I have several articles here for you to click on if interested, but I’m going to focus on what the Minnesota-based McKnight Foundation said about Rendon when they gave her an award.

“The McKnight Foundation is pleased to announce the selection of Marcie Rendon for its 2020 Distinguished Artist Award—a $50,000 award created to honor a Minnesota artist who has made significant contributions to the state’s cultural life. Rendon, an enrolled member of the White Earth Nation, is a writer whose poems, plays, children’s books, and novels explore the resilience and brilliance of Native peoples.

“ ‘Marcie brings a strong and necessary voice to so many genres,’ said Pamela Wheelock, McKnight’s interim president. ‘She has created a tremendous body of work, including poetry, plays, lyrics, and award-winning crime novels, all while raising up other Native voices in our community. Her commitment to making art in community embodies what a distinguished artist means to Minnesota and to McKnight.’ …

“A gifted storyteller and prolific writer, Rendon is the author of the award-winning Cash Blackbear mystery series, set in Minnesota’s Red River Valley. The first novel in the series, Murder on the Red River, earned the 2018 Pinckley Prize for Debut Novel, and the second, Girl Gone Missing, was nominated for the Mystery Writers of America – G. P. Putnam’s Son’s Sue Grafton Memorial Award. Rendon … is also the author of four nonfiction children’s books, including Powwow Summer (Minnesota Historical Society Press, 2013).

“Rendon’s plays include Sweet Revenge, chosen for the Oklahoma Indigenous Theatre Company’s 2020 New Native American Play Festival. She has also curated and produced a variety of Native-focused performances at the History Theatre, the Minnesota Fringe Festival, and Patrick’s Cabaret. She is the founder of Raving Native Theater, a platform that brings voice and visibility to other Native American artists and performers.

“ ‘We are more resilient than we are traumatized,’ said Rendon. ‘Art keeps us thriving, not just surviving. I try to make room for other Native artists. Every time someone steps forward, it makes room for others to step forward.’ …

“Rendon’s poem ‘Resilience’ is also included in US Poet Laureate Joy Harjo’s digital project ‘Living Nations, Living Words: A Map of First Peoples Poetry,’ which will join the permanent collection of the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress.

“Rendon’s awards include a 2020 Ensemble/Playwright Collaboration Grant from the Network of Ensemble Theaters and the Playwrights’ Center, and a 2020 Covid-19 artist grant from the Tiwahe Foundation for demonstrating resilience during the pandemic. Rendon was named a 2018 50 Over 50 honoree by AARP Minnesota and Pollen Midwest and received Loft’s 2017 Spoken Word Immersion Fellowship with poet Diego Vazquez. …

“Said Sandy Agustin, a member of the Distinguished Artist Award selection committee, ‘Whether she is writing about boarding schools, incarceration, or the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women, she is nurturing Native voices and amplifying communities that are too often unheard, especially Native women.’

“Born in northern Minnesota in 1952, Rendon was a voracious reader, creative writer, and poet from an early age. While studying criminal justice at Moorhead State College in the early 1970s, she was part of a group of Native student activists who successfully demanded the launch of the university’s first American Indian studies department.

“After moving to the Phillips neighborhood of Minneapolis in the late 1970s, she worked as a counselor and therapist, while raising her three daughters. In 1991 she saw a performance by Margo Kane, a Cree-Saulteaux artist, that inspired Rendon to share her own poetry and writing with a wider audience. …

“She is currently collaborating with artist Heather Friedli on an upcoming installation at the Weisman Art Museum about the high rates of incarceration among Native women.”

I have read most of the Cash Blackbear books (there’s a new one just out), and I find the urgent educational energy of the series both its strength and its weakness. Rendon feels empowered by a need to educate unenlightened readers like me, and I appreciate what she’s doing. After all, injustices continue and indigenous women in particular still disappear at an intolerable rate. I’ll just say that sometimes the mission overwhelms a good yarn.

More at the McKnight Foundation, here. See also Minnesota Public Radio, here, and Visual Collaborative, here.

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Photo: Larry Price/The Guardian.
Diné voters ride on horseback through the Navajo Nation to the polls in 2020. Allie Young, a Diné grassroots organizer, started the Ride to the Polls campaign.

Elections never stop being important, and next Tuesday, Nov. 4, will be a critical one in many parts of the country as we struggle to shore up democracy. Today we learn about how hard indigenous people sometimes work to get to the polls.

Melissa Hellmann wrote at the Guardian last year about Navajo people’s understanding of voting as an important way to protect the environment.

“In Diné, or Navajo, culture, the horse symbolizes strength and resilience, as well as a connection to the earth. Cowboy culture is so relevant to Native communities, that horseback trail rides are used to draw awareness to issues within the community including suicide prevention, and alcohol and drug use, said Allie Young, a 34-year-old Diné grassroots organizer. This fall, Young has harnessed the trail ride to engage Diné voters for the presidential election: her group’s voter-registration events will culminate with 100 Indigenous voters riding on horseback to a polling station in Arizona on election day. …

“Young, founder of the Indigenous-led civic engagement program Protect the Sacred, told the Guardian. ‘[When] we’re connected with the horse, we’re then reconnected to Mother Earth and reminded of our cultural values and what we’re fighting for, what we’re protecting.’ …

“Political representation that brings needed resources into Native communities is particularly important on tribal lands, where 75% of roads remain unpaved. …

“Young said she hopes that the success of the Ride to the Polls campaign in 2020 and 2022 will encourage ‘the greatest Native turnout ever’ in the upcoming election. This year, the campaign has extended its reach with events such as skateboarding and bull-riding competitions, heavy metal and country music concerts.

“ ‘We’re trying to communicate to our community that we need to protect our tribal sovereignty,’ said Young, ‘and with that, protect our sacred sites, protect our lands, our cultures, our languages, our traditions.’

“Young launched the Ride to the Polls campaign in 2020 in response to the rapid spread of Covid-19 infections in the Navajo Nation, where some counties saw the highest death rates per capita in the nation. She wanted to ensure that her community filled out the US census to receive the funding they deserved and to elect politicians who prioritize the concerns of Native communities.

“ ‘Our nation and many tribal nations across the country were devastated by the onset of Covid-19 because our system is being chronically underfunded,’ said Young, ‘which revealed to the rest of the world what we already know: that the government is not honoring our treaty, which says that we are to receive good healthcare and education.’ She began creating culturally relevant initiatives so that young Diné citizens who felt disenfranchised would see voting as a tool to ‘rebuild our power as a community.’ …

“So far, they have registered 200 new voters and checked or updated the registrations of about 400 people.

“On 12 October, the actor Mark Ruffalo will join Ride to the Polls to help mobilize Native voters and to mark the 100th anniversary of Native Americans being granted the right to vote. …

“ ‘Indigenous people have only been able to fight for their future at the ballot box for 76 years,’ Ruffalo said in a statement. ‘Now we’re seeing a massive movement of young Indigenous folk exercise their power at the polls.’ …

“All Native Americans were finally granted the right to vote under the federal voting rights act of 1965. Still, barriers have remained that make it difficult for Diné to register to vote and cast ballots, including a lack of residential addresses since many people on the Navajo Nation use post office boxes. It also can take up to an hour to drive to a polling location, said Young. And this summer, the US Supreme Court ruled that Arizona can enforce a state law requiring prospective voters to include proof of US citizenship in registration forms, which Young said was a ‘slap in the face to Native Americans, who are the first peoples of this land, to be asked to prove their citizenship.’

“To help address some of those hurdles, Protect the Sacred is partnering with the Indigenous-led voter-engagement non-profit Arizona Native Vote. Indigenous organizers register voters and help residents find their addresses by locating their houses on Google Maps. ‘A key talking point when we talk to voters is letting them know that voting and registering to vote should not be this hard,’ Jaynie Parrish, executive director of Arizona Native Vote, said. …

“During a six-stop trail ride to register Diné citizens throughout the Navajo Nation in mid-September [2024] indigenous organizers discussed with voters the importance of casting ballots in every election. They served citizens stew and frybread while explaining to them that county elections can determine how local government operations are funded. Young said: ‘I believe that we started a movement around the power of the Native vote.’ ”

And so, they voted. We know what happened in 2024, and we know what has been happening to environmental protection since then. But every election counts in moving the needle back toward the people. So, please vote on Tuesday and at every election in the future.

More at the Guardian, here.

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