Pub Date : 2023-03-01DOI: 10.1353/ail.2023.a908065
Melissa Adams-Campbell
Abstract: “Locating Sacajawea” traces how three Native women authors— Monique Mojica (Kuna-Rappahonnock), Mary Kathryn Nagle (Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma), and Diane Glancy (Cherokee and German descent)— incorporate archival found text and Indigenous community concerns to challenge US myths surrounding Sacajawea’s participation in the Lewis and Clark expeditions. In retelling Sacajawea’s story, these authors reconnect her to Native communities and concerns.
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Pub Date : 2023-03-01DOI: 10.1353/ail.2023.a908061
From the Editor Kiara M. Vigil, Editor Han mitakuyepi, Greetings my relatives, As we all reemerge and re-envision our lives in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, SAIL is finding its footing anew and enjoying a gradual uptick in submissions for our publication. This issue highlights work that came to the press during the pandemic. For these authors the process of review and revision took longer than usual, but each was able to engage deeply and thoughtfully in preparing the work that you will read here. Lloyd Sy’s “The Hermeneutics of Starvation: Fish in James Welch’s Winter in the Blood” traces various forms of lack in Welch’s novel’s depiction of scarcity. This essay argues that the dearth of fish within a Blackfeet/Gros Ventre diet pushes characters to interpret their circumstances through a “hermeneutics of starvation.” With attention to sexual violence and rhetorics of survivance Cortney Smith engages with a close reading of a novel by Louise Erdrich to reveal how the suspense genre and weaving in Ojibwe storytelling help to unearth issues Native women continue to face. In “Snake Eyes: Linda Hogan’s Monumental Serpentine Embodiment of Justice,” Catharine Kunce explores how Hogan’s essay creates “sentence by sentence” and “word by word” an articulated representation of a snake to create both a physical and metaphysical “mound of insight.” Moving from this earthwork and the knowledge it contains to the figure of Sacagawea, Melissa Adams-Campbell’s article traces how three Native women authors, Monique Mojica (Kuna-Rappahonnock), Mary Kathryn Nagle (Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma), and Diane Glancy (Cherokee and German), challenge nationalist mythmaking around Sacajawea by amplifying Indigenous community concerns and archival found texts. Keeping with the theme of Native women’s perspectives and stories is Lindsey Stephens’s “As Long As It Gets Read: The [End Page vii] Lakota As-Told-To Genre, Authenticity, and Mediated Authorship in Mary Brave Bird’s Lakota Woman and Ohitika Woman.” In this essay, Stephens situates Mary Brave Bird’s controversial text within Lakota activist literary traditions. In addition to these scholarly works, this issue features several poems by Kimberly M. Blaeser and Kenzie Allen to highlight the enduring importance of creative works within Studies in American Indian Literatures. Finally, this issue includes one posthumously published piece by Tadeusz Lewandowski titled: “The Intellectual Evolution of Sherman Coolidge, Red Progressivism’s Neglected Voice.” His wife communicated that Tadeusz was enthusiastic about being able to share this work with SAIL, where he compares Sherman Coolidge’s leadership in the Society of American Indians with other Red Progressives. Tadeusz’s work aims to highlight Coolidge’s contributions to Native intellectual history by centering the personal history of this figure and different contributions of intertribal activists during the early twentieth century. Wophida tanka for reading, Kiara M. V
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Pub Date : 2023-03-01DOI: 10.1353/ail.2023.a908069
Tadeusz Lewandowski
Abstract: Compared with his Red Progressive contemporaries, the Arapaho Episcopal priest and long-term president of the Society of American Indians, Sherman Coolidge (ca. 1860s–1932) has often been neglected in scholarly literature. This essay seeks to recover his important legacy as a thinker and intertribal activist through his writings, speeches, and statements while arguing against incomplete assessments of his work as assimilationist. A survey of his output from the 1880s to 1920s— which includes archival works never before discussed— instead reveals Coolidge’s transformation from a Christian proselytizer convinced of white society’s preeminence into a robust pluralist who forcefully defended Native cultures, values, religions, and heritage—and at times argued for their superiority. The presentation of this intellectual evolution is situated within Coolidge’s own personal history and an interpretive framework that distinguishes three key periods in his output as he developed his critique of Euro-American society and colonialism.
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Pub Date : 2023-03-01DOI: 10.1353/ail.2023.a908063
Cortney Smith
Abstract: In the best-selling and award-winning novel The Round House (2012), Louise Erdrich strategically uses the suspense novel genre to engage a wide audience to the sexual violence Native women face in the United States, including the jurisdictional maze those living on reservations experience when seeking justice. Through a close textual analysis (both format and content narrative features), I examine how the novel demonstrates Gerald Vizenor’s theory of survivance. Specifically, how Erdrich’s maneuvering within the suspense genre, by both adhering to certain tropes but also subverting the form by weaving Ojibwe storytelling to indigenize the text, demonstrates survivance and participates in consciousness-raising by exposing readers to the issues facing Native peoples.
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Pub Date : 2023-03-01DOI: 10.1353/ail.2023.a908062
Lloyd Alimboyao Sy
Abstract: This essay proposes that James Welch’s Winter in the Blood (1974) considers what it might mean to perform interpretation in decrepit situations. To do this it traces various forms of lack in the novel and their conjunction with practices of reading or comprehension, but it especially focuses on the novel’s depiction of scarcity with regards to an important part of the Blackfeet/Gros Ventre diet: fish. The essay argues that the novel’s dearth of fish— among other destitute conditions—forces characters to interpret their situations through what I call the “hermeneutics of starvation.” I suggest that this form of reading, which I base on the statements of the book’s elder Yellow Calf, could characterize the literature of the Native American Renaissance more generally.
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Pub Date : 2023-03-01DOI: 10.1353/ail.2023.a908067
Kimberly Blaeser
Five Poems Kimberly Blaeser (bio) the knife my father gave me at eight One inch longer than my empty ring finger,no field master multi-function wonder,a single blade Case slimline trapperpocket knife my brother would teach meto thumb— open closed open closed open againuntil I could slide it out quick and smoothuntil I could point it, flick my wrist,throw and sink it every time blade firstin the sweet summer White Earth clay,respect it, wipe it clean on my jeans.The knife my father gave me at eightwhispered to me the things he left unsaid.Small, sharp, and pearl-handled pretty—it does the work of any man’s blade. Previously published in In Other Words: Poems by Wisconsin Poets in English and Chinese [End Page 104] plead the blood Now search for stories they have buriedlike bodies— silence of hidden graves.How we unearth night-crawler truths:children and words (they whispered cot to cot) where dark ritualsfound them— devoured.Oh, holy edifice where robe-blessed led,schooled in terror brown charges,how claim the unnamed from Wiindigooterritories. Bargain in language of tabernaclefor sifted earth remnants, lost futures.Ourstolen— restolen. Previously published in The Poets’ Republic (Scotland) [End Page 105] quiescence I Soft pampas grass. We bed down like deer, rest after the dying. Spirits all walk towards horizon. Transform against the evening chrysalis of sky. II You feed me your dark-eyed loneliness, wisdom from Dr. Fauci, and sectors of tangerine small as my thumb. Scent the air. Everything is shrunken or overblown now. I am undressing. Blue jeans, flannel. My polished toes naked in the damp tickling fronds. The bottom of my feet tender as story. III Soon we are turning to B & W. 100 years ago. Just before Betty White was born. Just before that other dying time. Those epidemic faces— framed like myth in our eyes. Everybody sainted but us. IV We tether ourselves, but things grow out of control. Network images on repeat— guns and knees, shattered windows, and black death. Plague upon plague. V I keep seeing the picture of the elk, its antlers turned to tree. Bare black branches silhouetted against a stormy sky. In that tangle, a singing bird. VI Let us stand now where the grass is tall, settle our legs there among the growing. Listen like all forlorn for the least crackle of air. Until the nocturnal bats hum our names. [End Page 106] Perhaps then we shall feel. Edges. Splintering. How soon a bough, a stem, a tributary? How soon we too shall antler like deer woman. VII Yes, rise now— after the dying. Thick-necked and sturdy. Russet with hope— await the perch of bird. beneath the berry moon Nii bas giizis, oh Night Sun,what mischief have you made?Ode’iminikewi-giizis— Oh heart moon,when berries the size of your fingernailbloom and ripen, fragrant and dangerousas night under June summer sky. Oh globeof perfect greed, midnight giizis who watcheshow sweetly they entice and fill us. On tonguestheir glib red holy satisfying as kisses.But oh, Strawberry
{"title":"Five Poems","authors":"Kimberly Blaeser","doi":"10.1353/ail.2023.a908067","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ail.2023.a908067","url":null,"abstract":"Five Poems Kimberly Blaeser (bio) the knife my father gave me at eight One inch longer than my empty ring finger,no field master multi-function wonder,a single blade Case slimline trapperpocket knife my brother would teach meto thumb— open closed open closed open againuntil I could slide it out quick and smoothuntil I could point it, flick my wrist,throw and sink it every time blade firstin the sweet summer White Earth clay,respect it, wipe it clean on my jeans.The knife my father gave me at eightwhispered to me the things he left unsaid.Small, sharp, and pearl-handled pretty—it does the work of any man’s blade. Previously published in In Other Words: Poems by Wisconsin Poets in English and Chinese [End Page 104] plead the blood Now search for stories they have buriedlike bodies— silence of hidden graves.How we unearth night-crawler truths:children and words (they whispered cot to cot) where dark ritualsfound them— devoured.Oh, holy edifice where robe-blessed led,schooled in terror brown charges,how claim the unnamed from Wiindigooterritories. Bargain in language of tabernaclefor sifted earth remnants, lost futures.Ourstolen— restolen. Previously published in The Poets’ Republic (Scotland) [End Page 105] quiescence I Soft pampas grass. We bed down like deer, rest after the dying. Spirits all walk towards horizon. Transform against the evening chrysalis of sky. II You feed me your dark-eyed loneliness, wisdom from Dr. Fauci, and sectors of tangerine small as my thumb. Scent the air. Everything is shrunken or overblown now. I am undressing. Blue jeans, flannel. My polished toes naked in the damp tickling fronds. The bottom of my feet tender as story. III Soon we are turning to B & W. 100 years ago. Just before Betty White was born. Just before that other dying time. Those epidemic faces— framed like myth in our eyes. Everybody sainted but us. IV We tether ourselves, but things grow out of control. Network images on repeat— guns and knees, shattered windows, and black death. Plague upon plague. V I keep seeing the picture of the elk, its antlers turned to tree. Bare black branches silhouetted against a stormy sky. In that tangle, a singing bird. VI Let us stand now where the grass is tall, settle our legs there among the growing. Listen like all forlorn for the least crackle of air. Until the nocturnal bats hum our names. [End Page 106] Perhaps then we shall feel. Edges. Splintering. How soon a bough, a stem, a tributary? How soon we too shall antler like deer woman. VII Yes, rise now— after the dying. Thick-necked and sturdy. Russet with hope— await the perch of bird. beneath the berry moon Nii bas giizis, oh Night Sun,what mischief have you made?Ode’iminikewi-giizis— Oh heart moon,when berries the size of your fingernailbloom and ripen, fragrant and dangerousas night under June summer sky. Oh globeof perfect greed, midnight giizis who watcheshow sweetly they entice and fill us. On tonguestheir glib red holy satisfying as kisses.But oh, Strawberry ","PeriodicalId":53988,"journal":{"name":"Studies in American Indian Literatures","volume":"7 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135533121","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-03-01DOI: 10.1353/ail.2023.a908064
Catherine Kunce
Abstract: Chickasaw Linda Hogan’s essay “The Snake People” contains innumerable references to snakes, pointing to the reptile’s exquisite beauty, to its remarkable qualities, and to its representations throughout history. Seemingly parenthetically the essay also alludes to an earth monument in the form of a snake, over 1,200 feet long, constructed by American Indians in what is now Ohio. Catherine Kunce argues that the structure, form, and content of Hogan’s essay itself creates a literary, serpentine monument that invites readers to move beyond abstraction and to become active antidotes to injustice.
摘要:契卡索·琳达·霍根(Chickasaw Linda Hogan)的文章《蛇人》(The Snake People)中无数次提到蛇，指出这种爬行动物的精致美丽、卓越品质，以及它在历史上的代表。这篇文章似乎附带提到了一座蛇形的土碑，有1200多英尺长，是由美国印第安人在现在的俄亥俄州建造的。凯瑟琳·昆斯认为，霍根文章的结构、形式和内容本身创造了一个文学的、蜿蜒的纪念碑，邀请读者超越抽象，成为不公正的积极解毒剂。
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Pub Date : 2023-03-01DOI: 10.1353/ail.2023.a908068
Kenzie Allen
Four Poems Kenzie Allen (bio) love song to the man announcing pow wows and rodeos How your voice over salted flankslicks tender, and when you say young ones,our future, hitches left like making room,and when you name the horses, booms low,storms a kick-up moan, chases them down,as spotted silverfish in a round pen quarrelthen shoot back out the entrance,spot-lit and away in a shuddering.Name me a jingle dress in neon and gold leaf,bespeak moccasins for my turning feet—with my mother’s best beading—paint her having sewn those seedsonto leather backing all of my life.Welcome the crowd to my birthand the language to my ears, early,my name, early, wampum andthe good spirits everywhere and early.Don’t send me home without a round of applauseif not a title, if not a good ride and a fast time. Previously published in Narrative Magazine [End Page 110] with thirteen moons on your back For the Desert Tortoise like tree bark curled into whirlpools of stone,burrowed under earth while the sun burned down and Coyote roamed the sand— do we, too, returneach to our burrows in the shivering dark, wear armor as a shelter we can carry,don’t we, on your back, touch earth? Sometimes, ever so slowly, we learn of the sweetnessof cactus fruit, mesquite grass, the arid wind as the sound of an ocean rustling in creosote,what the long-awaited rain can yet resurrect. Coyote watches. He marvels; what small wisdom,your survival, in this rising heat, in this strange home you have made. Previously published in Alphabeast: a book of poems. [End Page 111] even the word oneida / can’t be written in oneida1 What ails the nation’s liesunseats the sustenant. At least, it tilts halos, allies loss, attunes statues to skeletal white noon, an oilskin title, a tesselate easeI salute. I, the tithe, Ithe hesitant (no) saint (no) unholy. I, in the nuns’ salon. Thus, they anoint the (un)hostile entity— the we who talk less; sweat less;listen heat-less, sans teeth. All alleles, all eons, all heathen shell unsewn shakes whole a lethal sienna, a toll to hasten want. An unlikely whetstone,this State without yokeouthunts its own lie, lawless skyline in awe at the likeness, the kiln,the hush, how it shines. Previously published in Bellingham Review [End Page 112] red woman If I am blood-ruled, let it beas every pinch of tobacco taken from medicine pouches and forcibly tuckedunder the white shirt of a thirteen-year-old girl, now emptyeven of prayer, or a girl whose last sight is the river,or a girl whose last sight is the river, or a womanwhose last sight is the anger even before the river,or a boy, who grabs a knife and calls the cops and tells themhis own description; I tell you, that’s despair I know well. I’m cuter with my mouth shut.Sexy, with two black braids. The words sound better when I don’tspeak them at all, so they tell me, I’m all anger and bad giver, a riot waiting to happenin that short little skirt, they say. They ask me to wash my hairin the river. To see what it would have been like
{"title":"Four Poems","authors":"Kenzie Allen","doi":"10.1353/ail.2023.a908068","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ail.2023.a908068","url":null,"abstract":"Four Poems Kenzie Allen (bio) love song to the man announcing pow wows and rodeos How your voice over salted flankslicks tender, and when you say young ones,our future, hitches left like making room,and when you name the horses, booms low,storms a kick-up moan, chases them down,as spotted silverfish in a round pen quarrelthen shoot back out the entrance,spot-lit and away in a shuddering.Name me a jingle dress in neon and gold leaf,bespeak moccasins for my turning feet—with my mother’s best beading—paint her having sewn those seedsonto leather backing all of my life.Welcome the crowd to my birthand the language to my ears, early,my name, early, wampum andthe good spirits everywhere and early.Don’t send me home without a round of applauseif not a title, if not a good ride and a fast time. Previously published in Narrative Magazine [End Page 110] with thirteen moons on your back For the Desert Tortoise like tree bark curled into whirlpools of stone,burrowed under earth while the sun burned down and Coyote roamed the sand— do we, too, returneach to our burrows in the shivering dark, wear armor as a shelter we can carry,don’t we, on your back, touch earth? Sometimes, ever so slowly, we learn of the sweetnessof cactus fruit, mesquite grass, the arid wind as the sound of an ocean rustling in creosote,what the long-awaited rain can yet resurrect. Coyote watches. He marvels; what small wisdom,your survival, in this rising heat, in this strange home you have made. Previously published in Alphabeast: a book of poems. [End Page 111] even the word oneida / can’t be written in oneida1 What ails the nation’s liesunseats the sustenant. At least, it tilts halos, allies loss, attunes statues to skeletal white noon, an oilskin title, a tesselate easeI salute. I, the tithe, Ithe hesitant (no) saint (no) unholy. I, in the nuns’ salon. Thus, they anoint the (un)hostile entity— the we who talk less; sweat less;listen heat-less, sans teeth. All alleles, all eons, all heathen shell unsewn shakes whole a lethal sienna, a toll to hasten want. An unlikely whetstone,this State without yokeouthunts its own lie, lawless skyline in awe at the likeness, the kiln,the hush, how it shines. Previously published in Bellingham Review [End Page 112] red woman If I am blood-ruled, let it beas every pinch of tobacco taken from medicine pouches and forcibly tuckedunder the white shirt of a thirteen-year-old girl, now emptyeven of prayer, or a girl whose last sight is the river,or a girl whose last sight is the river, or a womanwhose last sight is the anger even before the river,or a boy, who grabs a knife and calls the cops and tells themhis own description; I tell you, that’s despair I know well. I’m cuter with my mouth shut.Sexy, with two black braids. The words sound better when I don’tspeak them at all, so they tell me, I’m all anger and bad giver, a riot waiting to happenin that short little skirt, they say. They ask me to wash my hairin the river. To see what it would have been like","PeriodicalId":53988,"journal":{"name":"Studies in American Indian Literatures","volume":"70 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135533122","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-03-01DOI: 10.1353/ail.2023.a908066
Lindsay Stephens
Abstract: This essay examines Mary Brave Bird’s controversial as-told-to autobiographies Lakota Woman and Ohitika Woman and situates them within the rich catalog of Lakota activist literature. Like most texts in the Lakota as-told-to genre, Brave Bird’s books, co-authored with Richard Erdoes, have long been denigrated and dismissed by scholars because of their collaborative roots; many critics challenge their authenticity and the nature of the stories being told. The first section of this essay interrogates the validity of those critics’ complaints, and the latter half counters those complaints by offering an alternative, updated reading of the texts that deploys two reading strategies proposed by Channette Romero: orality and discursive characterization. Through those lenses, we find that Mary Brave Bird’s stories, though they may be mediated to some degree through Richard Erdoes, serve as crucial artifacts of conditions in the American settler state in the twentieth century.
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Abstract:Cherie Dimaline’s Empire of Wild critiques colonialism and celebrates Georgian Bay, Ontario, Métis identity through a narrative that uses the figure of the Rogarou as the Métis trickster and template for addressing these realities. Subtexts alluding to related stories in prairie sources edited by Maria Campbell; allusions to a French-Catholic local legend referred to as “the wolf of Lafontaine”; and the relevance of Anishinaabe cosmologies, traditional teachings, and other-than-human beings also dramatize, deepen, and support the reader’s understanding of Métis resistance and resurgence. Dimaline’s poetic narrative reflects Leanne Simpson’s approach to decolonial love and connects the novel’s themes and subtexts.
{"title":"Rogarou Genealogies in Cherie Dimaline’s Empire of Wild","authors":"M. Lacombe","doi":"10.1353/ail.2022.0021","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ail.2022.0021","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract:Cherie Dimaline’s Empire of Wild critiques colonialism and celebrates Georgian Bay, Ontario, Métis identity through a narrative that uses the figure of the Rogarou as the Métis trickster and template for addressing these realities. Subtexts alluding to related stories in prairie sources edited by Maria Campbell; allusions to a French-Catholic local legend referred to as “the wolf of Lafontaine”; and the relevance of Anishinaabe cosmologies, traditional teachings, and other-than-human beings also dramatize, deepen, and support the reader’s understanding of Métis resistance and resurgence. Dimaline’s poetic narrative reflects Leanne Simpson’s approach to decolonial love and connects the novel’s themes and subtexts.","PeriodicalId":53988,"journal":{"name":"Studies in American Indian Literatures","volume":"16 1","pages":"102 - 123"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2022-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"72490112","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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