[00:00:02] HeyMud podcast presents so I thought I'd share this with you. About the Real Greenlanders the indigenous Greenlanders because sitting on a pelt of a polar bear hunted by her family, Avi Aja Raquel Sana Munak says she's proud to be part of a movement of Greenlanders reclaiming their Inuit traditions and spirituality. The shaman who has Inuit facial tattoos works with spiritual healing practices to help people connect with their ancestors and heal generational trauma. Outside her studio in Greenland, capital of Newark conveys her role, quote, ancient knowledge in a modern world. In recent years, Greenlanders like her have been embracing pre Christian Inuit traditions, including drum dancing and Inuit tattoos. For some, it's a way to proudly reclaim their ancestral roots. It's also a way to reject the legacy of European Christian missionaries who colonized Greenland in the 18th century and suppressed their traditions, labeling them as pagan.
[00:01:22] Quote the sacredness of Christianity is still sacred in many eyes, but so is Buddhism, so is Hinduism, and so is my work, she said in her studio. Surrounded by skulls of seals, raven feathers and medicinal herbs, they help the shaman communicate with salam akpa or other world, the spiritual world. That's where I stand. That the rising, the arising of our culture and us as a people is also to get the equality within our culture, to acknowledge that our culture is legit, that it has to have a space here. The Inuit have survived and thrived for generations in one of the most remote, vast and rugged places on earth, hunting for seals, whales and polar bears. Their traditional religion is animist and you would believe that, quote, every animal and bird, every stone and every piece of earth, the rain and the snow, all have a spirit and a right to be respected. Authors Gill and Alastair Campbell write in their book Greenland. About 90% of the 57,000 Greenlanders identify as Inuit, and the vast majority belong to the Lutheran Church. A Danish missionary brought that branch of Christianity to the world's largest island more than 300 years ago. Greenland is now a semi autonomous territory of Denmark and Greenlanders increasingly favor getting full independence, a crucial issue in a recent parliamentary election.
[00:02:58] Some say Greenland's independence movement received a boost after US President Donald Trump pushed their Arctic homeland into the spotlight by threatening to take it over. Quote, we don't have to walk silenced anymore, Salma Mokok said, quote, that's the change we see, that the voice we get out in the world has been forbidden even within our country. Now that we're opening, we have more freedom. The suppression of Inuit drums and facial tattoos were part of a broader effort to Christianize and assimilate Inuit into the European way of life, said Asta Monstead, a professor at the University of California, Berkeley. She researches Inuit oral history and its connections to Greenland's archeology. Quote Drum songs and drum duels were central to Inuit spiritual and social life, but the missionaries viewed them as pagan practices and superstitions that needed to be replaced with Christian hymns and prayers, she said. Quote Drums were confiscated or destroyed in order to break the connection to the pre Christian beliefs. In some parts of Greenland, though, the drum songs and knowledge of drum making were preserved without the church's knowledge.
[00:04:18] Tattoos were also linked to Inuit cosmology and rites, but missionaries labeled them as pagan and especially viewed the facial tattoos as a defilement of God's creation, said Monstead. Quote they promoted the European ideal where the human body should remain unmarked.
[00:04:38] Well, tunisch the traditional Inuit tattoos were etched by poking sod from soapstone lamps onto the skin with the needle or by dragging a sod covered sinewit thread underneath the skin.
[00:04:52] Women generally got tattoos as they experienced menstruation and childbirth, viewing them as protection against illness and malevolent spirits, Munstead said. But resistance to Inuit tattoos deterred many Greenlanders across generations from getting them. Some who had tattoos hid them, fearing repercussions. Growing up, Theresi Samanak Patterson recalled how her grandmother covered her facial tattoos in soot because she didn't want to be alienated from her community.
[00:05:29] Theresi only got the tattoos that now cover her face the way she remembered her grandmothers after her daughter Avia got them in recent years.
[00:05:40] The tattoos I have goes from mother to daughter for thousands of years, theresi said in Greenlantic translated by her daughter. I have the same as my grandmother. That's my heritage. These days, when she's out on Newark's streets and encounters others displaying Inuit tattoos, she feels encouraged, especially when she sees them on young Greenlanders.
[00:06:07] When I see them, it's like we have a connection, she said. Without knowing them and them knowing me, we say hi, some come give a hug and say thank you. For the Inuit, the quillat played a crucial role in conflict resolution through drum duels. The drum, Monstad said, had three main functions for entertainment and socializing, as a tool for the shaman during their seances and as part of a pre colonial judicial system.
[00:06:39] Quote in the drum duels, opposite opponents used songs, insults and exaggerated body movements to argue their case before the community, which would stand in a circle around them, she said. She said the crowd's collective laughter often determined the winner without the need for a formal ruling. And while some duels helped ease tensions, others ended in public humiliation, sometimes forcing the losing party to leave the community and become a kwitoq, a person living in nature outside of society. This exile could be tantamount to a death sentence in the frigid Arctic environment.
[00:07:21] Greenland was a colony under Denmark's crown until 1953 when it became a province in the Scandinavian country. In 1979 the island was granted home rule and 30 years ago became a self governing entity, but Denmark retains control over foreign and defense affairs. The former colonial ruler is accused of committing abuses against Greenland's Inuit, including removing children from their families in the 1950s with the excuse of integrating them into Danish society and fitting women with IUD contraceptive devices in the 1960s and 70s, allegedly to limit population growth. Some Greenlanders believe the recent global attention on their mineral rich country and a unified call for independence from from Denmark has allowed them to speak more openly about these abuses committed by their former colonial ruler. Some have grown closer to their rich pre Christian indigenous culture. Quote Our culture is very spiritual. I want to bring that back, said Naja Parunua, an award winning singer songwriter. Quote I want to be in that wave with my fellow young people. I feel like we've been looked down for so long and we really haven't had a voice for a long time growing up. She said she felt that it was, quote, cooler to be a Dane or to speak Danish and was ashamed to be Greenlandic and follow Inuit traditions. Quote maybe not embarrassing, she said, but it was taboo or weird to do the drums or be inuk. Her father, Marcus Olson, is a former Lutheran pastor who was dismissed from his church position in 2022 after he loud drum dancing during a National Day service at the Nuwa Cathedral. He knew that was risky, but he did it because he believes that quinat, the Inuit traditional drum, needs to be reinstated from its valued position in religious services and other aspects of Greenlandic life.
[00:09:30] Olson, who wears a collar with a small quid knot and a crucifix, takes inspiration from the Latin American liberation theology movement, which holds that the teachings of Jesus requires followers to fight for economic and social justice. He also takes inspiration from the Rastafarian legend Bob Marley, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. And civil rights activist Malcolm X.
[00:09:57] Para Una feels inspired by her father. She began to embrace her roots through her music, which encourages Greenlanders to value their Inuit culture and history.
[00:10:07] Quote the more I practiced my art singing and writing songs, I Began to realize how important it is to accept my roots, to have more self respect, to have higher self esteem and in that way have a healthier way of living and a more positive view of the world. She said, it's important to bring that back so that we can love ourselves again.
[00:10:33] I want to share with you now. Standing Rock sue Tribal chairwoman Janet Akayer's statement on the jury verdict against Greenpeace. And if you haven't heard, yeah, you know, Energy Transfer did a lawsuit against Greenpeace over the protests that happened at Standing Rock. And it was just a rile jury of North Dakotans anti environment and of course Greenpeace lost and they're supposed to pay millions and millions of dollars that would shut down Greenpeace USA if they don't win their appeal.
[00:11:11] And you know, I just, and I think about, you know, when someone once asked me, you know, why, you know, why, you know, you're just really, really into the environment. And I said, yeah, I live in it. Shouldn't we all care about where we live? Hmm.
[00:11:27] All right. Here's her statement. She says, as chairwoman of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, I take offense to the jury verdict in the Energy Transfer slap lawsuit against Greenpeace. We expect more from North Dakota judges and members of the jury from our neighboring communities. Energy Transfer's claims in this case were ridiculous. They were wholly disrespectful of the Standing Rock Sioux tribe, our ancestors and our youth who started the movement in 2016 to protect our water from an oil spill from the dapl. Neither Greenpeace nor anyone else paid or persuaded Standing Rock to oppose dapl. Our young people and our elders urged us to protect our water and grandmother Earth, USI Makah. That is what happened and is happening still. Energy Transfer's false and self serving narrative that Greenpeace manipulated Standing Rock into protesting DAPL is patronizing and disrespectful to our people.
[00:12:33] We understand that many Morton county residents support the oil industry, even out of state pipeline companies such as Energy Transfer. But we are your neighbors and you should not be fooled that easily. Energy Transfer does not know us. They don't know who we are. An indigenous nation that has survived every attack because our ancestors are with us. Greenpeace did not manipulate Standing Rock, but Energy Transfer has manipulated Morton County. The DAPL crosses our treaty in aboriginal land for hundreds of miles. Our ancestors occupied this land for thousands of years before North Dakota came into existence. The land between the Hart and Missouri river are our unceded treaty lands under the 1868 and 1851 Fort Laramie Treaties. Our aboriginally occupied territories extend east to the James river and beyond. This is an historical truth. If Greenpeace can be held liable for telling the truth about Sioux Nation treaty rights, then we are all in trouble.
[00:13:43] The construction of Fort Rice on our northern boundary in 1864 was a violation of the Fort Laramie treaties. This required our tribe to be vigilant. No one should be surprised that Warrior Society burials are found in this area near the pipeline route. And do not insult our cultural experts who have wisdom over matters. Most residents of Morton county or bureaucrats at the state historical society know absolutely nothing about energy transfer and its lawyers should be ashamed of themselves every day. North Dakotans on the jury should know better when it comes to the excessive police and private security response to the generally peaceful protest at Cannonball. Believe your eyes. The scenes of guard dogs menacing tribal members are reminiscent of the violence of white supremacists in the Deep south during the 1950s and 60s. But it was in North Dakota in this day and age. It was on the news and on the Internet. Many of the protesters were Native American veterans of the United States Armed Forces. Energy Transfer used attack dogs against peaceful protesters and war heroes. But the jury sided with the of state unlicensed security with the attack dogs instead of North Dakota Veterans who supported Standing Rock. A Texas oil company has come to North Dakota and its lawyers and propaganda machine are weaving stories about how the Standing Rock Sioux tribe and our supporters have lied and how the poor pipeline company, a trillion dollar richer than in 2016 when this all started, should receive extra millions from nonprofit organizations. It's a funny thing about liars. They always accuse everyone else of lying.
[00:15:42] The Greenpeace trial was marked by secrecy. The court is not making the transcript public. The documents obtained by Greenpeace about energy transfers terrible safety record are protected by a secrecy order and are not available to the public. The judge exhibited so much bias in favor of energy transfer that a team of international human rights lawyers felt compelled to monitor the trial. One prominent monitor stated, quote, in my six decades of legal practice, I have never witnessed a trial as unfair as the one against Greenpeace that just ended in the courts of North Dakota.
[00:16:21] Standing Rock has tried to work for greater transparency on daplab. It is our experience with the Army Corps of Engineers and Energy Transfer that all documents relating to the DAPL pipeline safety are heavily redacted and kept secret. What are they hiding? Who is looking out for the communities that may be affected by an oil spill? And why didn't the North Dakota court allow Greenpeace to address these questions at the trial?
[00:16:51] DAPL is a dangerous pipeline. It crosses our unceded treaty and aboriginal land energy transfer destroyed tribal burials as identified by our cultural experts, and committed violence against our people. That is the history that North Dakota and Morton county must reckon with after the Greenpeace verdict. That day seems farther off than ever.
[00:17:20] KMUD is a community radio station in the Redwood Region of Northern California. Donate to Support People powered
[email protected] I'm going to share this with you now. It is from Professor Victoria Sutton from the Lumbee Nation. She's a law professor on the faculty of Texas Tech University. In 2005, she became a founding member of the National Congress of American Indians Policy Advisors Advisor Board to the NCAI Policy center, positioning the Native American community to act and lead on policy issues affecting Indigenous communities in the United States. And, she says, although I grew up in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina, I feel at home in Pembroke, North Carolina, on the coastal end of the state, with the longleaf pines and swamps filled with cypress trees, partly submerged, sheltered in shade, partly reaching for the sun. The Lumbee Indian tribe in Pembroke is officially also known as the People of the Dark water, reflecting the deep black color of the swamp, doing what it does well, breaking down previously used organics for use by the next generation of biological organisms.
[00:18:47] Pressure from colonists from Virginia to South Carolina make the swamp an attractive refuge for the indigenous people in that region to live somewhat at peace with encroaching settlement. Where settlers saw the swamp as full of deadly animals and disease, the Lumbee people saw its value with its unique gifts from the Creator. Living and thriving in the swamp requires ecological knowledge and skill that the Lumbee people have developed over centuries. What plants are medicine?
[00:19:20] What animals are family? Which animals are to be respected but avoided and teaching the next generation?
[00:19:28] Hurricane Matthew in 2016 caused significant damage, and some damage was lasting. More submerged lands in the Lumbee community resulted. Yet the Lumbee Indian community is almost 100 miles from the eroding coast of North Carolina on the Atlantic Ocean. It is almost certain there will be significant land loss over the coming decades due to rising water table levels that never return entirely to their previous lower level until the table reaches the surface of ground level and land is lost to human footing. While complete displacement is not likely, at least in this century, mitigation for flooding is almost certainly an increasing necessity in this dynamic that calls for the resilience for which The Lamai Nation tribe is known to adapt and mitigate these environmental forces that are constantly changing.
[00:20:25] After spending some time in Pembroke this week, I left and traveled directly from Pembroke, North Carolina to the United Houma Nation in Louisiana. The United Houma Nation has land in the Bayou region of Louisiana that has been submerging to the point that evacuation was necessary. In Houma, Louisiana, I observed the first displacement and resettlement project of Indigenous people in the continental United States due to soil submersion. Submersion is not the only existential problem we have had displacements in Alaska among the Native Alaskan villages, at least one Alaskan village, Nu Tuk, had to move due to melting permafrost making their territory uninhabitable. The Native Alaskans knew from their own traditional knowledge that this would be uninhabitable and have been planning for the move for at least two decades. In September of 2024, the last 71 residents moved to Mirtavik, the resettlement village, joining 230 others who began moving in 2019. Quote they will become one of the first Alaskan Native village to complete a large scale relocation because of climate change. Climate change, while it can be slowed, is going to continue to change and mitigation is where planning should be focused. The United Houma Nation is the first Native American tribe in the continental United States to be resettled due to the inundation of their land by rising sea levels at the coastal edges of our states with the lowest lying lands. On April 30th of 1803, the United States signed the Louisiana Purchase Treaty with France. In that treaty, Article 6 was dedicated to dictating the agreement for the United States to recognize the existing government to government relationships and signed treaties with the Indian tribes. And this is what Article 6 says. The United States promised to execute such tribes and articles as may have been agreed between Spain and the tribes and nations of Indians until by mutual consent of the United States and that said tribes or nations other than suitable articles shall have been agreed upon.
[00:22:50] Well, this also includes some of the tribals yet to be federally recognized. More than two centuries later, one of these United Houma Nation, composed of about 7,000 citizens throughout Louisiana, eventually found ground to settle beyond insurmountable settler pressures in the Bayou region of the state. This is a beautiful ecosystem filled with biodiversity and providing a filter for purifying water that is returning from the Mississippi river and to the Gulf.
[00:23:21] It is also vulnerable to sea level rise and the natural occurrence of island submersion. The island de Jean Charles has sunk to 320 acres from its more than 22,000 acres in the 1950s.
[00:23:39] Did you get that? It shrunk to 320 acres from 22,000 in the last 75 years.
[00:23:50] It is a home to citizens of the United Houma Nation. Hurricane Katrina and Ida left lasting damage and submersion and the Deep Horizon oil spill caused irreparable environmental damage to the lands. The United Houma Nation was never compensated for it, while other tribes were compensated with the settlement. Due to the arbitrary nature of political federal recognition, the federal government disregarded Article VI of the Louisiana Purchase Treaty. But the United States has helped with the resettlement project. New Isle was established as a settlement for the residents of Isle de Jean Charles, both native and non native. The new settlement is about 70 miles north of the Isle de Jean Charles, in a less flooded prone area near the Chevron facility and Chevadonier, Louisiana. Not far from Houma, Louisiana. In August of 2022, the residents began moving into the development for which a $56.5 million grant was made available through NOAA's Climate Resilience Regional Challenge, separate from the funds to resettle the community with a new house in exchange for their lost property now declared Marshall from the Louisiana Community block grant funding process. Yeah, I'm just wondering now if that money is still there. You know, the guy with the chainsaw cut and everything to continue. Meanwhile, island nations throughout the world are at risk for inundation and submersion. Island and atoll nations, many with all or part of the population, indigenous people, are similarly experiencing island submersion and loss of land. Island nations with high ground or central mountains potentially have high ground to which to retreat when the coastal areas are submerged, like the Fiji Islands. However, it all involves significant displacement, some needing new geographical nations altogether. In the South Pacific, indigenous islanders of Kiribati became the world's first climate change refugees. Although the UN Refugee High Commission does not recognize climate change refugees as a legal refugee category, climate refugee has been coined as a way to describe their displacement. But environmental refugee is probably more accurate. Tuvalu is also likely to be submerged. The Tuvalu foreign Minister fabulously gave his speech for the 26th meeting of the parties to the Climate Change Agreement. Standing in the ocean, the Marshall Islands, another atoll island nation and a nation under a compact with the US is also at risk. In the Caribbean, the Grand Bahama island is at high risk of submersion as well as Trinidad and Tobago, Hurricane Dorian produced flooding that was not followed by a full recovery. In the Bahamas Illustrating the way in which submersion takes place fits and starts not all at once, but major events that become cumulative submersions. The indigenous peoples who are resettling in new areas take their traditional ecological knowledge with them to adapt to new areas. But a lot is lost with the place where the traditional ecological knowledge has gained. Others may be able to stay and adapt like the Lumbee Indian tribe, whereas the united home of Louisiana will have to resettle and re establish custom and tradition. They are moving only 70 miles away. But like the Fijians, moving from the coral reef environment to a mountain environment is a world apart. And new ecological knowledge will be built over time. Indigenous peoples are still here today because they are resilient. Moving from one territory to another over millennia is part of normal ecological changes, human mitigation and human conflict. These indigenous peoples are resilient and will build again. The knowledge that is being built in today's first resettlements will become important traditional knowledge to share for future generations.
[00:28:12] But more importantly, in Oakland, there's an incredible urban Indian health center. They have built several buildings now. They've done so much work that a street was actually named after the founders.
[00:28:26] They sponsor the Indian Indian Red Market three times a year in their parking lot. And they have helped so many Native people.
[00:28:39] One of Bill Wapapa's sons is a very big part of it.
[00:28:47] So it's really important.
[00:28:50] And they're losing so much of their funding because of that man with the chainsaw and all the people around him.
[00:29:06] And they have a duty as part of treaties to provide that health service.
[00:29:21] But we know they really don't care. I'm going to share this with you.
[00:29:27] It is from Nanette Star Yandel. She's a public health professional and policy advocate working in urban Indian health across California. A descendant of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, she writes and works at the intersection of healing, sovereignty and systems change. She lives rurally with her dogs and teaches yoga as part of her ongoing commitment to balance and care. And she says, people often ask me what I do. I work in urban Indian health, I say. And then I wait. More often than not, I get a puzzled look followed by something like, so you're an activist. It's a fair question, but not a simple one. How do you explain the layered, beautiful and sometimes painful complexity of Indian country, especially the part that exists in cities, yet lives beyond the census? I wasn't raised on a reservation with or with a clear sense of Native identity. My grandparents denied that part of themselves, not just in passing, but as a deliberate erasure born from pain, survival and the complexities of a mixed background shaped by trauma. There were layers of abuse woven into that history, things they didn't speak of, but which shaped the way they parented, the way they presented themselves and the way they separated from their own ancestry. The silence wasn't just cultural. It was emotional and protective, a shield against the past. Still, the teachings were there. They spoke of hunting and gathering, of watching the land and the water, of listening to the animals. They taught me, without naming it, that caretaking was a responsibility, not a choice. Only take what you need and you give back what you can. They never named it. Only after they passed did I begin to understand what had been so carefully and painfully pushed away. As I learned more about the brutal policies, generational trauma and racism that shaped their world, I began to see their denial was not an absence, but a kind of severing, a cutting off. There was no open conversation, no naming of identity, only distance. And that distance left me with grief and disorientation and an ache to ask them all the questions I never knew to ask. I was already working in Native public health by then, serving tribal communities across regions.
[00:31:55] But then something shifted. The dots began to connect between policy and people, between family and the communities I was invited into. The lines are still blurry and I still don't know exactly where I stand. But I know this family is there, written in the past if you're looking to look. And I know I'll always be an outsider, even when welcomed in. That truth doesn't change, but it doesn't mean you stop showing up now.
[00:32:23] I self identity as Native. I also present like a bright red headed white woman. I live rurally, far from the urban centers where I do most of my work. I don't call myself an urban Native, but I work in service to Native people living in cities. People with incredibly diverse relationships to identity, culture and place. Some grew up with strong tribal ties. Others are navigating their own discovery, like I am. For more than 15 years I worked across Native public health, from tribal epidemiology centers to community clinics and policy organizations. I sat with elders, youth and he health leaders in Native spaces from Alaska to the southern border of California. I've listened, asked questions, and try to let humility guide my role. What I've learned is that Native identity isn't a box to check. The census may ask for categories, but life resists categorization. Urban Native communities especially reflect that complexity. Blended families, mixed ancestry, relocation histories, chosen kin, adopted kin and multiple tribal affiliate affiliations. And yet they are undeniably Native spaces, resilient, brilliant, and held together by generations of care.
[00:33:45] So what is urban health? Urban health? It's more than services. It's relationships. It's trust. It's advocacy and visibility and walking with communities who are often left out of policy conversations, even though they make up the majority of the Native populations in the United States. In California alone, nearly one people identify as Native. Most of them live in cities, and many live in the in between, not quite seen, not quite counted, but fully present. Urban Indian health is about seeing those people and sovereignty at its core. It's about self definition, about existing fully on your own terms. When someone asks me what I do, I smile. And if they're really listening, I tell them I work in service to stories that haven't been told. I advocate for health in the broadest, truest sense, for healing, belonging and the right to define who we are, where we come from, and where we are going.
[00:34:49] This has been a K Mutt Podcast. To listen to other shows and more episodes of this show. Find us on all the platforms where you get your podcast and also on our website, kmud.org.
