The Native American Occupation of Alcatraz Island: The Forgotten Memory

When learning about memorial landscapes and the metaphors used to scrutinize these places of memory, my mind immediately went to Alcatraz Island and its role as an arena. According to Cynthia D. Smith and Teresa Bergman, “Places like Alcatraz Island occupy physical space and therefore provide tangible evidence of the past with which visitors can interact” (165). What tangible evidence of the past is being presented and interacted with at Alcatraz?  

I visited San Francisco this past August, and while I did not step foot on Alcatraz or within its buildings, I did witness the “must-see” tourist attraction from the outside via boat. Apart from the isolated nature of the prison buildings, I noticed what was written on the walls— “Indians Welcome, You are on Indian Land”—bright red words painted by a group of Native Americans that occupied the island from November 20, 1969 to June 11, 1971. At the time, when the boat sailed past the island, I was not fully aware of the Native American Occupation of Alcatraz Island. For context, “On November 20, 1969, ninety men and women, calling themselves the Indians of All Tribes, issued the ‘Proclamation of the Indians of All Tribes,’ which pledged to transform the former federal prison into an American Indian cultural center, spiritual center, and museum, and then took over the island. For nineteen months, the protestors operated a school, day care, and health center. The number of occupiers eventually peaked at 400” (Bauer). The Native American protestors strategically used the landscape and its association with suffering, inscribed in the island, to speak on environmental injustice; they used a collectively recognized past memory to express present strife. “The ‘Proclamation of the Indians of All Tribes’ recognized environmental issues in Indian Country. After claiming the island, the Indians of All Tribes compared the environmental conditions on reservations to the former prison, ‘this so-called Alcatraz Island is more than suitable as an Indian Reservation, as determined by the white man’s own standards’” (Bauer).  

 

The occupation was as foreign to me as the rest of San Francisco. However, I was familiar with the narrative of Alcatraz Island that films, media, and the government have shaped to be the dominant memory: a chilling, impossible-to-escape, maximum security prison and penitentiary. Smith and Bergman further discuss the popularization of this idea of Alcatraz, “Most visitors to Alcatraz have some familiarity with the island’s use as a federal penitentiary, which is amplified through the shared public experience of touring this memory site” (165).  

 
In contrast to the heavy emphasis on “governmental authority, …visitors are denied the opportunity to publicly experience spaces relevant to the Native American Occupation. In the absence of such experiences, visitors are unlikely to identify with those who occupied the island or with the counter narrative offered by their story of civil disobedience as a response to the governmental abuse of power” (Bergmann and Smith). The graffitied phrases are the extent to which the Native American story is memorialized. In contrast, “the prison’s history and its ideology of incarceration are instantiated through the multitude of buildings on the island; the

Native American history of the island is represented by painted graffiti. These material traces of the past on Alcatraz are by no means equally compelling rhetorical resources…Even though Alcatraz’s varied historical past is well represented in banners, exhibits, and film, there are several powerful physical elements that work to diminish any memory of the site’s history as other than a federal penitentiary” (169, 160). Does this miniscule attempt to memorialize the Native American Occupation fall in line with the “we’ve done enough” excuse?
 

The Native American Occupation of Alcatraz Island was historic, groundbreaking, and profoundly instrumental in future non-violent acts of civil disobedience such as “such as Pit River People on PG&E land” and other “acts of cultural self-determination,” but its influence is not felt at the site itself (Bauer). According to Dwyer and Alderman, “The ability to commemorate the past is limited by competition and conflict among parties of social actors wishing to narrate the past differently.” This political contestation of the island makes Alcatraz act as an ‘arena’ where the Native American experience is fighting to be remembered, battling with other variations of memory associated with the island that have taken the spotlight. Specifically, “at Alcatraz Island, the physical and sensorial experience strongly shapes the constructed historical memories and focuses visitors on the disciplinary power of the state rather than the resistance efforts of the Native Americans” (Bergman and Smith).
 

The questions I ask all of you are: Why do you think the Native American experience with the island has been forgotten? Is the preservation of terracotta graffiti enough? Is the construction of a memorial experience geared away from the Occupation intentional? What can be done to reinscribe the Native American memory back into the island? 

 

References: 

Bauer, William J. “The Occupation of Alcatraz Island and Environmental Injustice in Indian

Country.” UC Press Blog, 8 Oct. 2021, www.ucpress.edu/blog/56876/the-occupation-

of-alcatraz-island-and-environmental-injustice-in-indian-country/. 

Bergman, Teresa, and Cynthia D Smith. Places of Public Memory the Rhetoric of Museums and

Memorials. University of Alabama Press, 2010. 

Dwyer, Owen J., and Derek H. Alderman. “Memorial landscapes: Analytic questions and

 metaphors.” GeoJournal, vol. 73, no. 3, 2008, pp. 165–178, https://doi.org/10.1007

/s10708-008-9201-5. 

 

Ageism and the Politics of Age in The Gambia

In December 2016, Gambians went out to vote for a new regime. The elections were the most critical in the history of our country. For 22 years, we were ruled by dictator Yaya Jammeh, who came to power in 1994 after overthrowing the government of Dawda Jawara. Jawara was highly praised internationally for his respect for human rights and democratic ideals. He was seen as one of the founding fathers of African multiparty democracy. During his reign, Jammeh oversaw a very repressive state regime. Therefore, when the elections arrived in 2016, most Gambians were tired of his rule. However, the big elephant in the room was who would lead the way. No one was willing to face Jammeh. In the run-up to the elections, Jammeh arrested many opposition leaders, including the main opposition figurehead, Ousainou Darboe, for staging protests calling for electoral reforms.

                                    Gambia's former president, Yaya Jammeh

Most of the population, therefore, did not want to risk being arrested. It had to take courageous youth leaders to lead the way. Just a few weeks before the elections, youth leaders came together with the sole purpose of advocating for a united opposition front against Jammeh, which was seen as the only credible way to unseat him. The concerns of the youth leaders were based on the realization that the youth are the biggest voting bloc in the country’s demographics. The opposition leaders agreed to the demands of the youth. They knew they risked losing the votes of the young people if they did not heed their demands.

As the campaign for the election was approaching, the youth leaders, including me, also joined the opposition leaders to canvass for votes. On December 2, 2016, the unthinkable happened. Jammeh lost the elections. For the first time in Gambian political history, an opposition party won an election against the incumbent. Jammeh refused to step down until a looming military invasion was launched against him by West African leaders. Young people and women were brimming with hope in the days after Jammeh left power. It was hoped that a new dawn was on the horizon for the youth of the country. Their marginalization in governance was going to end. Their optimism makes total sense. Young people make up 68% of The Gambia’s population. They also play a very vital role in many of the important sectors in the country. However, over the years, this role was not recognized. The government did not take sufficient steps to solve the monumental challenges they faced, leading to a mass exodus of young people out of the country in search of greener pastures in different parts of the world.

Sadly, this optimism soon faded away, to be replaced by grim reminders of the marginalization of the past. The first of such reminders came when the government announced its cabinet positions. Out of 18 ministerial positions, no young person was appointed to represent the youth constituency, who gave so much to ensure the government came to power. This was in sharp contrast to the promises made by the opposition leaders during the campaign to consider youth for top government positions. Several protests were staged to remind the political leaders of their promises to young people. When the young people started making noise, the elderly politicians reminded them of the blessings of old age and how, just like in an African context, one should never question elders.

     Current Gambian president, Adama Barrow

One of the opposition leaders even lamented that the elderly are in a better position to occupy political positions since they were once young people and know the problems of young people. This was unfortunate, given that it later came to be realized that many of these old people were out of touch with the needs of young people and the dramatic changes in the youth sector. Many of these “born before computer generations” could not even operate a computer or smart phone. They knew nothing about the plight of young people. Almost eight years later, this problem has not been corrected. Two years ago, a young person was appointed Minister of Youth and Sports, but he is the only young person in the government.

Women also suffer in the new government. Out of the 18 cabinet positions, only two—the ministries of gender and children and basic and secondary education—are handled by women. There were initially four, but over the years, the number dropped. The picture is not very different from the rest of Africa. Most African governments are run by people who are old. Nigeria recently elected someone who is in his 70s as president. The late President Mugabe once ruled Zimbabwe until his 90s. Paul Biya, the current president of Cameroon, is 90. Alasana Watara of Ivory Coast is 81. Teodora Nguema Mbasogo is 81. Several other African leaders fall into this age bracket.

With these very old people running the affairs of Africa, one would be tempted to wonder why most African leadership has not been inspiring most of the youth population. Much has been said about the socio-economic challenges in Africa. With its huge natural resources, Africa should be at the forefront of economic advancement. But one reason Africa continues to struggle to uplift many of its people from socio-economic challenges is that most of its people are not represented in governance. Governance has gone beyond appointing people to speak and make policies for others. Marginalized groups can speak for themselves and should be able to sit at the table by themselves. Women and youth must be part of the decision-making process in Africa. They deserve better.

The privilege of female football in Vietnam (1)

                                               National female team won SEA Games 32. Photo: Nam Tran

Let’s start with an announcement in 2014 by Le Hoai Anh – former general secretary of Viet Nam Football Federation (VFF) which manages and operates all football activities in the country: “I don’t talk about comparison here, but for a country, male football is the national image. In all categories of football competition, male football is the top. It doesn’t mean we take female football lightly….” (2). It’s evident that from the authority leader’s mindset, there is transparent discrimination, which partly contributes to my concern – the privilege of male football in Vietnam.

If he doesn’t want to compare, I will. According to FIFA ranking, Vietnam male football currently ranks fourth in Southeast Asia with three times winning the SEA Games - the biggest league Southeast Asia, while its counterpart occupies first place with seven gold medals in the SEA Games. Incredibly, the national female team “qualified for their first-ever FIFA Women's World Cup” (3) in 2023 – the great unprecedented result that the male team has not ever achieved until now.

And you will be surprised (in my case, furious) by the benefit the girls get before, during, and after what they have done. In the meeting celebrating the accomplishment of the national female team in 2022, Prime Minister Pham Minh Chinh said: “The second aspect I want to mention is that when choosing football as the career, they [female players] have to face hardship when their salary is low, not even enough for basic needs. The basic salary is about VND 5,000,000/month [$213], sometimes even less. Therefore, many of them have had to work extra jobs to make a living such as online sales, farming...” (4). At the same time, the salary of ordinary male players varies from VND 10,000,000 ($426) to VND 15,000,000 ($638) (5) – 2 to 3 times higher than female players. Clearly, better pay for the exactly same job. Moreover, famous male players can earn hundreds of millions of VND, even billions with advertisement contracts, participating in events… (6). I tried to find some information about those kinds of things with female players, but I found nothing. It takes no effort to see how bad society treats female football no matter how good it is, which partly leads to the privilege of male football nowadays in Vietnam.

                                                                      Photo: Hong Nam

I agree that football, apart from being a sport, is business as well. It is understandable to me that at some extent, male football with more audiences/clients can have bigger investment from private sector. However, from the government’s perspective, female and male football should have the same attention and should be considered the pride of the country alike. No half should enjoy privilege like the status quo. Though there have been some changes recently, like “establish female development fund”, said Prime Minister Pham Minh Chinh in the meeting mentioned above, I think we have a long way to go before privilege is eliminated.

(*) I’m sorry because most resources are in Vietnamese, please use translation tools to have more details. Thank you!

Anh Do

---

(1) Vietnamese use the word “football” to indicate “soccer”. I will use “football” term in in whole article.

(2) https://soha.vn/the-thao/vff-xac-nhan-bong-da-nam-duoc-uu-ai-hon-bong-da-nu-20140521184558642.htm

(3) https://www.fifa.com/fifaplus/en/articles/how-vietnam-qualified-womens-world-cup-australia-new-zealand-countdown

(4) http://www.thiduakhenthuongvn.org.vn/dien-hinh-tien-tien/thu-tuong-pham-minh-chinh-nhung-co-gai-kim-cuong-da-lam-nen-chien-thang-mang-y

(5) https://thanhnien.vn/cau-thu-v-league-khong-chi-song-dua-vao-luong-1851343285.htm

(6) https://cand.com.vn/giai-tri-the-thao/Cau-thu-Viet-Nam-va-chuyen-kiem-tien-ngoai-bong-da-i523514/

Beyond Survival: The Right to Thrive

One of the frameworks discussed in Spatial Justice: A frame for reclaiming our rights to be, thrive, express, and connect is Spatial Power. This touches on the issue of how one’s geographical location might facilitate or challenge our ability to thrive and express ourselves. Upon reading this, I cannot help but wonder how different life could have been had I been born and raised in a different part of the world. How much spatial power can a place that was colonialized for 350 years offer? What does it mean to live in a post-colonialized country? How does my ancestors’ experiences with oppression, rape, torture, and executions shape the world that I was born into?

Some horrendous effects of colonialism in Indonesia take form in a collective trauma that is passed on for generations. My grandmother used to talk about how she needed to flee, with my 3-year-old father on her back, trying to find a place to hide in the wood so they would not be slaughtered that day. To my other grandmother, who had Alzheimer, the joyous sound of fireworks triggered her fear and anxiety, causing her to run in panic while screaming, ‘The Dutch is here! We need to run!’

These stories are not unique. This trauma is shared by many Indonesians, embedded in our bodies, and buried in our unconsciousness. Most of the time, it does not have a chance to be unpacked and addressed. Consequently, they tend to be more reactive to stress and become subject of dominance by fear, panic, and rage (Narvaez, as cited in Maté, 2022). Many adults around me believe that the world is hostile and unkind, which turns almost into a self-prophecy as they build the world around them from the viewpoints of their wounded selves.

It is common for Indonesian kids to grow up being yelled at, or even hit, by grown-ups, including your teachers and neighbors. Sometimes, for running around, jumping, singing, crying—or in other words, for being a kid. Maté in his book the Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illnesses, and Healing in a Toxic Culture (2022) mentioned that when children are in a survival mode, their brains do not get to develop properly. Defensive-mode and growth-mode cannot take place at the same time. He wrote,

“When children become invulnerable, they cease to relate to life as infinite possibility, to themselves as boundless potential, and to the world as a welcoming and nurturing arena for their self-expression.” (Mate, 2022)

Our space had us view the world as a place that did not know how to welcome playfulness and curiosity. We were told to sit still and not to ask questions, so we did not upset anyone. We became expert at reading every room that we entered in, every person’s mood, just to protect our sense of safety. Being born in a certain place can mean that we do not need to be overly alert and hypervigilant.

It also means not having to deal with an inferiority complex. The segregation policy that was imposed by the Dutch colonial heavily reinforced our hierarchy system. It did not allow native Indonesians to occupy the same space as totok (A term referring to Dutch people, which means ‘pure blood’). These places included restaurants, pools, and schools. Indonesians were seen as inferior, therefore, they were expected to crawl and bow before our colonizer. We were not allowed to speak their language. We were made to believe that we were less human by the society that the Dutch built. The fact that these practices happened, unfortunately, are not nearly as shocking as realizing how little these historical inequalities have changed. To this day, white workers in Indonesia can expect to be paid sometimes five times more than Indonesians for doing the same work. They can even expect to be accommodated and treated with more respect and patience.

A sign from the Dutch colonial that says Verboden voor Honden en Inlander, translated as ‘No entry for dogs and indigenous people’

McIntosh (2004) described how some privileges make you feel welcome and allow you not to be angry. I believe this remains true. I find myself a place, a home, in this world—from which I can see the world in a different light; but even joy can feel strange. I experience cheeriness differently because it often is accompanied by happiness guilt. A part of me is angry for my father, my mother, and my grandparents—for they were robbed of the ability to experience life beyond survival. The other part of me griefs for my inner child—for she never knew what it feels like to live in the world that does not only welcome, but also celebrate her—for she, like her family, was systemically denied the ability to thrive.

Check out also:

Indonesia: Decolonializing the mind (https://historibersama.com/indonesia-decolonizing-the-mind/)

Intergenerational trauma animation (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlqx8EYvRbQ)

 

References

Design Studio for Social Intervention. (n.d.). Spatial Justice: A frame for reclaiming our rights to be, thrive, express, and connect. 

McIntosh, Peggy. 2004. White Privilege and Male Privilege. Pp. 86-93 in Women’s Voices, Feminist Visions: Classic and Contemporary Readings edited by Susan M. Shaw and Janet Lee. Boston: McGrawHill.

Maté, G., & Maté. 2022. The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illnesses, and Healing in a Toxic Culture. New York: Avery, an imprint of Penguin Random House.

 

Environmental Racism in Institute, West Virginia

 

In Rethinking Environmental Racism: White Privilege and Urban Development in California, author Laura Pulido discusses how black and minority communities are disproportionality exposed to pollution in Los Angeles and she provides the historical background of how industrial plants are located next to these communities. However, this issue is not unique to southern California. Black people in Institute, West Virginia, face daily hazards of poor air quality. With a population of 1,400 people, Institute is located in the Chemical Valley and home to the Union Carbide Chemical plant (Ward, 2021). This plant has been known to produce ethylene oxide, a cancer causing chemical (NPR).  

 

Post Civil War, a large population of freed slaves migrated to Institute because of its close proximity to the southern plantations. In 1943, the Union Carbide Plant was established (Center for Land Use Interpretation). Black residents then had a difficult time leaving because their homes were polluted and worth very little. In addition to this, they could not receive loans to move into new homes because of Redlining. Conversely, their white neighbors had no problem receiving loans and leaving. The black residents were commonly denied home loans and forced to stay in the polluted area. (Ward, 2021). As a result, black residents have a higher risk of cancer due to prolonged exposures of the ethylene oxide carcinogens. 

Just like Los Angeles, black people had limited mobility because of Redlining and other racial discriminatory practices resulting in poor health for all. Unfortunately, environmental racist cases like these happen all over the country. 

If you're interested in listening to a podcast related to this topic: https://www.npr.org/2022/01/20/1074376796/when-the-air-you-breathe-is-toxic#:~:text=And%20while%20it's%20been%20a,chemical%20produced%20at%20the%20plant.

 

 

                                                                    West Virginia Citizen Action Group

 

Institute Plant | The Center for Land Use Interpretation. (n.d.). https://clui.org/ludb/site/institute-plant#:~:text=One%20of%20two%20major%20chemical,Dow%20Chemical%20Company%20in%202001 

NPR. (2022, January 20). When the air you breathe is toxic. NPR. https://www.npr.org/2022/01/20/1074376796/when-the-air-you-breathe-is-toxic#:~:text=And%20while%20it's%20been%20a,chemical%20produced%20at%20the%20plant. 

Pulido, L. (2000). Rethinking Environmental racism: white privilege and urban development in Southern California. Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 90(1), 12–40. https://doi.org/10.1111/0004-5608.00182 

Ward, K., Jr. (2023, February 6). How Black communities become ‘sacrifice zones’ for industrial air pollution. Mountain State Spotlight. https://mountainstatespotlight.org/2021/12/21/black-communities-industrial-air-pollution/