In America, we have many examples of people being denied federal rights. For me, a Chippewa tribal member, my story of being denied these rights occurred at a pinnacle moment of my life when I was supposed to have a celebratory expression of accomplishment and culture… albeit while incarcerated.
My tribal feather freedom saga began with the axiom: “You cannot have your Eagle Feather or Tribal Stole at graduation.” As the only tribal member at Stateville Correctional Center and earning my second degree in six years, not only am I in a continuous oppressive state, but I am also often the recipient of abstract “No’s.” The particular denial I’m speaking of was focused towards a request to display my Chippewa Eagle Feather and Tribal Stole at my Master’s degree graduation ceremony. This denial was especially concerning because it is in direct violation of federal laws which grant incarcerated tribal members their cultural expression, which includes the right to don Eagle Feathers.
Receiving a Master’s degree is a high-water mark. Receiving the only Restorative Justice Ministries MA in the country while in a prison setting like Stateville is almost inconceivable. Experiencing this event in the presence of my tribal family members, who traveled over seven hours from a Northwoods reservation to stand with me behind 40-foot concrete walls, and surrounded by a tactical team in full gear, was a miracle. Nevertheless, the specialness of this day standing in tribal solidarity at my graduation, was not only a sight, it was a fight. A fight to exercise my Anishinaabe bear clan rights, to have, hold, and to proudly display my Eagle Feather and Tribal Stole. On this day, it was paramount that we be recognized and not silenced, because we are still here! Not descendants, not ancestors of a tribe, but actual tribe members are right here.
The Illinois Department of Corrections (IDOC) has never allowed tribal members, actual Certificate of Degree of Indian Blood (CDIB) card holders, the opportunity to exercise their Native American Rights Fund (NARF) federal rights. Conversely, other prisons across the US allow federally recognized tribal members to wear their Eagle Feathers and medicine bags – which are on their person at all times. Interestingly, this state named after a tribe, Illinois, has never honored or upheld this federal mandate. In the summer of 2023, both my higher education institution and the IDOC simply deflected my tribal requests with their abstract “No’s” until the Bear clan Ojibwes pulled out their big claws and reached out to State officials. The last task for me in a genuine methodological prescription was to identify and assess the premises that formed those abstract “No’s.” This racial syllogism was wrong. It was wrong federally, and it was wrong spiritually in me, thus, I had to pivot and take up a short war club: a 3-inch pen.
In Prison Industrial Complexes (PIC) like Stateville, we are given 3-inch rubber non-shank pens to write with under the guise of security, and it is with my 3-inch flex pen that I have earned two degrees in six years. In 2019, I was awarded a Bachelor’s degree in Organizational Resource Development from Northeastern Illinois University. In 2023, I was awarded the aforementioned Master’s degree. Both of these served as praxis to address these abstract, top-down “No’s.” It was time to sort out the legal laundry and go beyond aggregate levels. There are dimensions to these denials, and for me it was time to draw a line in the concrete with bear claws.
How exactly did I sort out chaotic smoke signals and strange fire? A key for me was to assess the dimensions by stepping back to view beyond the smoke, to see the root causes and the mechanisms that planted these denials in the first place. In my heart, I knew how the depth of this issue would affect a few people deeply, and how my NARF denial wasn’t uniform and was only impacting tribal members in the Illinois PIC. This was no longer about diffusing an issue, but rather transforming it.
Yet, first I had to ask myself: was this issue connected to my studies about white racial framing, white fragility, or was this simply a misunderstanding, an oversight or an outright error? My experience in the PIC has proven that just about anything is possible. Considering my location, the best approach was not to make assumptions, but to calmly climb the covert ladders of my given abstract “No’s.” My inner man gives little weight to words from people standing on stolen land. This in turn causes me to pray in the Spirit to the one who holds me and my needs in His hands.
The tribal way was always one of somatic awareness, opening and practice in the context of the Spirit and worship. The tribal practice for me is prayer to Gizhemanidoo (“God of Christians”), Jesus the Christ. This coupled with stewarding persistence and marshaling resistance to Illinois systems of power had finally yielded a last-minute graduation Pow Wow, which resulted in not telling a tribal member “No!” but rather. “Ok. We’ll allow.”
In the end, at the School of Restorative Arts graduation held by North Park Theological Seminary, I was proud to display my Eagle Feather and Tribal Stole, which was finally freed, even if it was only for a moment within the PIC. My personal liberation theology must always be lived out beyond me, it must be used for advocacy. Today, the fight for my Eagle Feather flies on as my grandson proudly dances with it at his Pow Wows. Maybe one day he will know how far it has flown because we had Christ’s favor and higher education tools to Nasdimoshinaag-wii-ni-mossaadimaang (“help us practice our culture well”).
Let us all remember A’awedi Ikidowan gii Gizhmanidoo (“The word was God”), so let us utilize our words for change.
