Archaeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association最新文献

Arthur Caswell Parker (1881–1955) was one of the first Indigenous archaeologists. As a Seneca-descended scientist from the Cattaraugus Indian Reservation, his cultural background aided with collaboration and research. Many archaeologists uncritically use Parker as an example of a Native archaeologist, anthropologist, and ethnographer. However, his career started at a time when the field of archaeology was still in its infancy, when practices now considered unethical were commonplace. Parker excavated and sold human burials, published records of sacred ceremonies, and provided images of False Face Masks and Snow Snakes. Yet, an examination of his personal correspondence illustrates both a concern for archaeological practice as well as efforts to prevent sensitive cultural aspects from being released to the wider, non-Native public. These seemingly contradictory stances illustrate that Parker's practice was more nuanced than previously believed. Parker's writings and actions indicate a concern for the situation of the Seneca people and attempts to do what he thought best for others (even if they disagreed). Despite all this, the simplistic assumption that Parker, as an Indigenous archaeologist, always acted in the best interest of his people continues to influence how Euro-Americans perceive how archaeology should be done. This belief must be interrogated in order that we may move archaeology forward to be a more respectful and equitable practice.

The Nevin site in Maine has become a contested space as Wabanaki people seeking to repatriate their ancestors confront archaeologists who adhere to the antiquated postulates of their predecessors. Warren K. Moorehead, of Phillips Academy's archaeology department, focused field work on Maine's so-called “Red Paint” cemeteries from 1912–1920. Moorehead acknowledged the antiquity of the cemeteries but saw the people as members of a “lost civilization” culturally distinct from later Indigenous groups. Douglas Byers succeeded Moorehead and excavated graves at the Nevin site from 1936–1940. Despite radiocarbon dates and a better understanding of the Archaic period, Byers did not attribute Nevin's lavish grave goods to that early era. The confusion sowed by Moorehead and Byers still influences contemporary archaeologists and museum personnel who resist Wabanaki efforts to repatriate their ancestors under contemporary legislation. Despite the lack of robust research on in-migration, prevailing ideas about the Late Archaic in Maine envision a population replacement by southern immigrants. This hypothesis opposes claims of cultural connectedness by contemporary Wabanaki peoples. Here, we explore the archaeological legacy associated with the Nevin cemetery and challenge archaeologists to confront colonialist science that permeates repatriation.

While the history of North American archaeology points to a long engagement with tribal elders and scholars, these encounters largely consist of unequal, extractive relationships wherein Indigenous collaborators and Indigenous archaeologists have been treated more as objects of study and pity—what Bea Medicine refers to as “creatures”—rather than as equal research partners. As an Indigenous woman and a settler Chicanx woman, we reflect on the life journey and scholarship of Bea Medicine, a Lakota scholar-activist and mentor to Indigenous anthropologists. Dr. Medicine's work has provided generations of Indigenous anthropologists with the means to participate in the discipline with their whole selves and, importantly, on their own terms. We argue that Medicine's contributions provide good medicine for the field in the form of concrete strategies for continuing to decolonize the discipline and for doing work that centers the direct needs and perspectives of Indigenous peoples. When read alongside Indigenous archaeologies’ often overlooked grandmothers, mothers, and aunties, Medicine's work also highlights continuing disparities in archaeological practice, from our relationships with and to Indigenous nations to the relations we cultivate in the Academy as Black, Indigenous, and People of Color.

Racism, microaggressions, sexism, gendered, financial, ableism, and many more facets of discrimination are legacies still prevalent within the field of archaeology, perpetuating an environment of exclusion. Graduate students are particularly cognizant of the ways in which exclusion impacts their academic experiences and their choices to continue pursuing archaeology professionally and academically. Despite the rise of critical and collaborative approaches to the historical archaeologies of Indigeneity, the African Diaspora, and more, graduate programs often do not critically examine the historical and structural elements preventing an inclusive environment when courting students of visibly diverse backgrounds. There is a pragmatic disconnect between institutional discussions surrounding diversity and the tangible outcomes of these discussions at a grassroots level. Through the creation of the Community, Anti-Racist, Respect, Engagement (CARE) Inclusivity Committee, conversations among the student body in an interdisciplinary, community-centered, and collaborative historical archaeology graduate program have begun to address problems with exclusion and identify ways in which inclusion can be furthered. This chapter outlines the process and methodology used in the creation of the CARE Inclusivity Committee and subsequent workshop and offers thoughtful reflection about the effectiveness of grassroots organization at the graduate student level in advocating for change. CARE aims to create safe spaces where uncomfortable conversations are encouraged, to help both students and faculty acknowledge the different levels of exclusion. The goal is not only to foster an inclusive environment, but to create a sustainable process for future cohorts and empower other graduate students to enact tangible change.

It has been over 25 years since Maria Franklin (1997b) asked, “Why are there so few black American archaeologists?” While low numbers can still be attributed to Black Americans choosing to pursue more lucrative careers, we must also understand that barriers instituted and perpetuated by racism also play a major factor. Through highlighting the experiences of archaeologists from John Wesley Gilbert (1863–1923) to contemporary professionals, the legacy of racism and discriminatory treatment of Black archaeologists assists in answering Franklin's question. Though numbers have increased since the creation of the Society of Black Archaeologists in 2011, the retention of Black graduate students and professionals in the field is still a challenge. Revisiting this question in the time of Black Lives Matter in Archaeology may provide some clarity.

Archaeology on Oregon's Coast has been largely limited in scope and has lacked the holistic viewpoint of Indigenous coastal history. Investigations began in earnest around 1930 with avocational archaeologists like Marcus Seale interested in expanding their “trophy item” collections. The male dominated field of professional archaeology began to evolve in the 1940s and 1950s with investigators from varying backgrounds, like Luther Cressman who began studying the material culture of the Oregon Tribes as if they were an extinct group. The 1970s push for federal recognition brought increased Tribal involvement and collaboration with archaeologists such as Richard Everett “Dick” Ross. Unfortunately, Tribes remain largely uninterested in archaeology as Indigenous individuals and communities continue to be left out of the narrative. Cultural resource professionals at major institutions continue to curate “cultural material” under the aegis of science and resource protection while arguing against the repatriation of material based on either lack of skeletal components, or a misguided understanding of “affiliation” and of Native views of sacredness. We explore the legacy of our predecessors and how we as archaeologists must take a more comprehensive Tribal perspective approach to understanding Oregon coastal history and more respectfully manage legacy collections.

Russell City, California was once a small farming settlement located near San Francisco Bay. Its population increased and demographics changed during the 1940s, when African American and Latinx families migrated to the area and became the town's majority. The hamlet was never incorporated and lacked basic utilities, yet Russell Cityans self-governed, provided civic safety services, established churches and businesses, and sealed financial deals between neighbors. In the 1950s, however, surrounding areas began considering Russell City a blight. Newspaper articles reinforced this idea, while simultaneously detailing governmental attempts to impede Russell City's improvement efforts. In 1963, Alameda County began the forced relocation of Russell's tenants via a redevelopment project. Residents protested to no avail, and by 1968 the town was destroyed. The area is now an industrial park.

Contemporary archaeology methods like archival research, oral history, material analysis, photography, and mapping are essential to understand Russell City's past. Using these approaches also enables former residents to cognitively bridge past and present, contributes to forming individual identities, fortifies community solidarity, and exposes the paradox of how living in Russell City was experienced by townspeople compared to how it was viewed by those outside its perimeters. Lastly, documenting Russell Cityans’ experiences and mapping the town are acts that confront the race and class-based systems that not only shaped their lives as well as others in similar communities across the United States, but continue to affect marginalized peoples today.

Archaeological research of dismantled homes at the Albany Bulb in the San Francisco Bay, California, prompted me to rethink the category of “homelessness” and the temporal boundaries of archaeological research. This paper treats the history of people who called this landfill-turned-park home as part of broad processes of redevelopment and displacement in the Bay Area and beyond. Archaeological and artistic research provide a critical methodology through which I reflect on contemporary struggles for homeless rights and conflicts over who needs to be “cleaned up.”