This past week, I went out to Standing Rock in North Dakota to the Oceti Sakowin camp. I’ve made several journals about the situation there but if you haven’t read about it, the rundown (skip if you already know it):

The Standing Rock Indian Nation is standing their ground against the Dakota Access Pipeline being built along the Missouri River (their only water source). The land it is to be built on is land recognized by the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1851 as Indian land, yet Army Corps of Engineers claim ownership. The Standing Rock Nation set up a camp on that land to prevent continued progress of the pipeline, and the camp has since exploded to now more than 5000 people, standing to defend the water.



This will be in two parts. This first part will be about what I did there, and the second about what we need to learn from Standing Rock.

Part 1:

This is a turning point in history because it is the first time since the mid 1800s that the seven fires council has gotten back together. It is an important moment in history. Last Tuesday I got myself to Standing Rock to the Oceti Sakowin camp. It was a very tense time to have done so as just this past Sunday, the Natives there and their allies had suffered a brutal and excessive attack from law enforcement that was nothing short of a human rights violation. They were sprayed with water at below freezing temperatures, teargassed, and shot at with concussion grenades among other things. These things were completely within the possibility of happening again in the time I planned to be there.

Arriving at the camp was surreal. It was remarkable to drive up and see so many tipis again, but this time it wasn’t a movie, it wasn’t a reenactment, it was real. You could also smell the fires and the smells of ceremonial herbs being burnt, a smell familiar to me that I hadn’t smelled in so long. Not long after settling in, I began to work as was my intention there, to offer a helping hand. At first this was simply helping set up some tipis and later other things. It also involved spending time in the two-spirit camp, a group given the blessing by the council of elders (who are the authorities at camp). It was great to spend time with other queer/trans Native folks. I also have to say that as a whole, being at the Oceti Sakowin camp was probably the most I’ve felt like myself, both in terms of gender and as myself entirely.

By this point it was impossible to ignore the fact that we were constantly being watched and the threat of violence was never too far away. There are planes flying overhead 24/7, and they flew pretty low. The militarized police also installed a series of extremely bright lights over the hills in the distance that were always present to us at night. These were intimidation tactics. That night however I think I got to experience how my ancestors survived and got by day to day when they faced threats of violence. That night we had celebration and dances at the sacred fire. I even got to drum and sing with the drum group providing the music which was such an amazing experience. All the while we could see that the militarized police were on the hills in the distance, and we still celebrated, laughed, and lived even with that threat of violence. This is how our people survived after so many relentless attacks throughout our recent history.

The night was freezing, the temperature in general was very cold, it’s a true North Dakota fall, in fact it was maybe mild by North Dakota standards but it was very cold for me. The next morning I woke up early in the cold weather, to attend morning prayer. The snow came down as morning prayer began. It was a beautiful experience. It began by the sacred fire, and as the sun rose, we walked to the river to pray and offer tobacco. Later that morning I would meet Native journalist Simon Moya Smith which was my one “celebrity” sighting that I was excited to hear about.

This next day however was full of tension as we were put on high alert and told that a raid on camp was imminent this day. Women and children were evacuated. Me and a friend were at one of the tipis in the evac area with some of the kids waiting for their parents. We did music together to keep their minds off things while all the rest of the things were happening. All the while, the planes were still flying overhead, they were unrelenting. Eventually the high alert went down and I was able to briefly return to my main camp area. I would later go to Fort Yates to do a supply run where I got to see the land in all its beauty. The great plains are stunning. More of the same happened in the last day and a half to not keep this going too long.

It was surreal to get back to “cozy” Boston, after just having been in what is essentially a war zone. I’ve been on edge for the first day or so since getting back, not convinced I’m away from immediate danger. I’ve since sort of calmed down.

In the next part I am going to write about what I learned, what my takeaways were, and what we should all learn from it.