Student Interview Series Part IX

“Give back at least as much as you are given”: An Interview with Joseph Bruchac

by Steven Colon

Dr. Joseph Bruchac is an author, performer, educator, and activist who works to preserve and share indigenous culture. He has directed a college program for a maximum security prison and founded both a literary center and review press. 

As a professional teller of the traditional tales of the Adirondacks and the Native peoples of the Northeastern Woodlands, Bruchac has performed widely in Europe and throughout the United States. His work centers Native experiences and culture. He has authored over 120 books, including poetry, short stories, novels, anthologies, and music that reflect his Native American heritage and traditions.

I chose to interview Dr. Bruchac as his work is a unique form of resistance to settler colonialism. His performances and books offer a glimpse of the vibrant civilizations that have been reduced, but still survive in the wake of colonization. Dr. Bruchac offers resistance through art.

Colon: When did you start writing? Did your creative writing always center on Native American experiences? How has your writing evolved throughout your life and career?

Bruchac: I started writing when I was in grade school. What I mostly wrote then were poems and short stories—often about animals. My first career choice was to be a naturalist and, at Cornell University, I spent 3 years majoring in Wildlife Conservation. However, after taking two courses in Creative Writing, I switched my major to English and spent an extra year getting a degree in English with a minor in Zoology.

My first published poems—in student literary magazines at Cornell—focused on nature and a Native American perspective, such as an often-anthologized poem of mine called “First Deer.” While in graduate school at Syracuse University, where I had a writing fellowship, one of the poems I wrote—in 1966—was called “Notes of a Part-time Indian.” My first collection of poetry, published in 1971, was titled Indian Mountain.

I have certainly written—ever since my first published poems in 1963—about other things than the Native American experience. For example, I have a Young Adult novel that draws on my Slovak heritage, called Dragon Castle. But the Native experience—in all its complexity past and present—has been a major focus. I have written about my three years as a volunteer teacher in Ghana, West Africa, from 1966-1969. And I continue to write about nature, sometimes from a Native angle, but sometimes not.

In terms of how my work has evolved, I have to admit that a major stage in my evolution as a writer came in the early 1980s when I got my first computer, an Eagle II in 1982. That made it possible for me to write much more prose—because whatever I write goes through many revisions and until then I mostly wrote poetry and some short fiction.

I also have to say that I have, over the years, become much more confident as a storyteller. One of my major influences was Chinua Achebe, the Nigerian author. His book Things Fall Apart is a masterpiece of storytelling and an example of how one can draw on one’s own folk culture. Chinua was a close friend and an advisor for my PhD.

Colon: Based on your research and writing, what criteria, if any, needs to be met for an individual to possess and claim an indigenous identity? Must this be based on blood, lineage or heritage, familiarity with and commitment to culture, or any other requirements?

Bruchac: I do not believe a claim—as an author—to an indigenous identity is based solely on blood. I do regard that as part of the criteria, however. One may learn about one’s culture all through one’s life and no one is born knowing any language or culture.

Indigenous identity as a writer is a combination of blood, heritage, and deep personal commitment, which includes connection to your community and your elders.  “Give back at least as much as you are given,” as Stephen Laurent, an Abenaki elder who was a dear friend expressed it to me.

Colon: Your work has been critical to the preservation of Abenaki culture. What specifically have you done to contribute so successfully to keeping it alive? Do you work with other tribes or indigenous groups in the efforts to preserve their cultures and history?

Bruchac: I’ve tried, through my storytelling and writing, to draw attention in an accurate way, to our traditions and those of other Northeastern Native nations. It’s meant a great deal to me to see my books used in Native communities over the years—my retellings of (Haudenosaunee) Iroquois stories being used in rez schools throughout New York state and being referenced by Haudenosaunee storytellers and my retellings of Abenaki stories being used in Wabanaki communities throughout New England, for example. And I have been a storyteller-in-residence at a number of Native Schools over the years.

One thing I am immensely proud of is the way other members of my family have contributed. My son James founded our Ndakinna Education Center, where he teaches traditional Native skills and wilderness programs. Among other things, we run the yearly Saratoga Native American Festival, a free event that draws from 3,000 to 5,000 attendees and focuses on the traditional Native cultures of the Northeast through dance, music, storytelling, and indigenous arts and crafts.

We also offer free immersion weekends in Abenaki language. My son Jesse is a fluent speaker of the Abenaki language and teaches it all over New England, as well as doing Native language writing, translation, and coaching for films. My younger sister Margaret is both a tradition bearer and the head of the Native Studies Program at the University of Pennsylvania. I like to think that I have been a positive influence for them.

I’ve also been very supportive of other Native American writers and storytellers—too many to mention—in part through publishing books through a press I founded, The Greenfield Review Press.

And I have worked with other tribal nations in projects involving cultural retention, Native language revival and retention, and I’m always looking for ways to be more helpful.

Colon: You use books and storytelling (for all ages) to educate and raise awareness about indigenous history and traditions. What other mediums would you like to see used to spread knowledge about Native American culture?

Bruchac: Film is an extremely important medium—an area where my son Jesse is doing terrific work. Jesse created a website westernabenaki.com where one can hear and learn the Western Abenaki language. So, too, is social media. I have a little presence on Facebook and have been using Twitter recently.

Several years ago, I co-wrote and produced a film about the life of Jim Thorpe that was shown on PBS: Jim Thorpe: The World’s Greatest Athlete.

I also think music cannot be discounted. I’ve been writing and performing music for many years, both traditional and original songs I’ve written.

Two years ago, with my friend Brent Michael David, we created a short historical opera called Purchase of Manhattan.

I have also done plays, including one for the anniversary of Hudson’s voyage called River of Tides.

Colon: Earlier in your career, you spent eight years directing an academic program inside a maximum security prison. What was the most insightful thing you took away from this experience?

Bruchac: In addition to that eight years creating and coordinating the Skidmore College University Without Walls (UWW) program at Great Meadow Correctional Facility from 1974-1981, I have also done many writing workshops since 1971 in prisons from Maine to Alaska. Further, for two decades, my late wife Carol and I sent donated poetry books and magazines to men and women in prison all over the American continent.

I think my main insight—aside from the futility and inadvisability of incarceration for 90% of the people in prison—was that the creative spark lives in all of us. To see men and women classified by society as worse than worthless grow and blossom as poets has been deeply inspirational and meaningful for me. I recommend seeing a film about one such man, Jimmy Santiago Baca, who rose from illiteracy to becoming a major American poet. It is called A Place to Stand.

Colon: You have performed across the nation and in Europe. Is there any one performance that has particularly resonated with audiences?   Why do you think it had such special significance for them and for you?

Bruchac: To be totally honest, it’s hard to think of any one single performance that stands out in my memory. My focus is always on the now, the eternal moment that exists when you are in the midst of a story that is telling you as much as you are telling it.

But because I often have performed with my two sons, I suppose one of the most memorable ones for me—and for audiences—was one of the first times when Jesse, then 21 years, and I performed for an audience of 500 teachers at a conference at a Catskill hotel 24 years ago—having them see us on the stage, a father and son sharing from their heritage together.

No, wait, something else just came to mind. My son Jesse’s two children, Carolyn who is 12 and Jacob who is 10, have been raised speaking the Abenaki language. Five years ago, when Jesse and I took the stage at the Kanatsiohareke Mohawk Community’s annual Strawberry Festival, we had just started a welcome song in Abenaki when we looked out and saw my grandson Jacob, a rattle in one hand, a little chair in the other, approaching the stage. He climbed up the stairs, set up his chair, and started playing and singing with us. My heart was full and so, I think, were the hearts of everyone in the audience.

Colon: If a person could read only one of your works, which one would you recommend and why?

Bruchac: Perhaps my autobiography— of my early life —Bowman’s Store.
 

Steven Colon is an honors graduate of UConn with a double major in political science and history. He is interested in studying the effects of different forms of indigenous resistance.  He can be reached at steven.colon@uconn.edu. 

Student Interview Series Part VIII

Donna Edmonds Mitchell is an inspirational poet and storyteller who is a Perry Clan Descendant of the Pocasset Wampanoag Peoples.

I choose to interview her because she has done an amazing job of inheriting the responsibilities connecting the Perry Clan and the original Watuppa Reservation. She shared her family’s rich story of survival from the early 1700s to the present, in ways that keep alive indigenous people’s history and spirit.

Chu: Your family's history of survival dates from the early 1700s to the present day.  What specific wisdom and other resources enabled them and you to survive and to thrive? Was the ability to have and then to retrieve rights to the original homestead essential?

Edmonds Mitchell: We never lost the wisdom of our elders. In fact, our forced assimilation created an inner, secretive way of being that keeps us connected to our cultural relationships with all life forms. We think every human and animal and even plants have their own life, their own heartbeat. So we treat them with respect. Shortly after the invaders arrived, we developed strategies, as clans of indigenous nation peoples, to maintain our traditions while adhering to the invaders’ westernized philosophies and lifestyles because our survival depended on it. Even though their intention was to “take the Indian out of the child,” the plan was never 100% effective.  To this very day, they continue to do the same, but now nearly all nations are working together to take our stolen lands back.

Chu: Are the Perry Clan and the original Watuppa Reservation unique in how they kept their memories and legacies alive? 

Edmonds Mitchell: Yes. Absolutely. Its uniqueness is that the lands were put into trust under the guardianship of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts by the infamous Indian-killer Benjamin Church for the 13 Wampanoag clans living on their ancestral territory from what is now called Tiverton, Rhode Island to Freetown, Massachusetts.  The Perry clan has followed and will follow the matriarchal ways of our culture. 

Chu: You use photographs and original stories and poetry to bring the past into the present. What are some examples of past indigenous practices that remain highly meaningful to Native people living today? 

Edmonds Mitchell: In my opinion, it seems that the only peoples allowed to bring their past into the present are ones who claim European descent and western ideologies and philosophies. However, one's bloodlines are not necessarily reflected in their skin hue. Most nation clans did not live within racially-biased societies. The color of one's skin was not thought to correlate to the character attributes of truth, honor, respect, compassion, or reciprocity.  The deeds of the invaders reflect none of these attributes.  Rather their actions reflected how they treated each other on their ancestral lands in Europe. When one comes from a conquer-and-control mentality, one’s conscience has been suppressed at such a young age that one is incapable of building relationships with others whose culture, tradition, or spirituality differ from one’s own. Of course there are wrong-thinking persons within all nationalities and ethnicities. However, the majority of indigenous peoples living on their ancestral lands of North, South, and Central America as well as the African continent still live in communal clans and nations.  In short, we rarely forget our original teachings of living in oneness or sacredness with all life forms. We continue to bring our ways into the present.

Chu: While the largest museum in the U.S. dedicated to Native peoples is based in Connecticut and many people have heard of the King Phillip’s War, many Americans assume that indigenous people of the northeast of the United States were more completely obliterated than in other regions of the United States.  What would you like people living in the U.S. today to understand about the Native people of Rhode Island and Massachusetts and the larger northeast region?

Edmonds Mitchell: Throughout our histories, pre- and post-colonization or the KPW, we have always maintained relationships with our neighboring nation peoples.  Hence, most of us have bloodlines mixed with other nation peoples as well.  Our languages stem from the same linguistic root of the Algonquin language as far north as Canada and South to the Mississippi.  Our waterways provided easy travel along the outer coastlines, and lakes and rivers where trading took place or solstice and seasonal ceremonies were performed as part of our spiritual beliefs.  Once the invaders arrived here, all nations observed how dishonorably they treated each other and the natural surroundings.  They spoke of “their God”, yet, to them, nothing was sacred. Everything and everybody was a commodity to be conquered, controlled, or killed with a specific intention— to make as much money as possible.  Even though it took over forty years to commence the KPW, the indigenous nations communicated with each other about their observations.  When word got out about the destruction of a village, while burning our elders, women, and children, our survivors sought refuge with our surrounding nations that had not yet been affected.  If you have ever attended a powwow, you’ll see all indigenous nations of the North continent and beyond represented. Many dances are intertribal.  We are still here, strong and vibrant, continuing our sacred ceremonies while individually and collectively honoring and living in harmony with our natural surroundings.  We are still never taking more than we need and still sharing our ways of being one with nature in hopes we can together protect all of life.  We taught the invaders how to survive on our lands, so only a fool would believe that we all died off.  We are still here!

Chu: You are very committed to giving voice to your ancestors while bridging the gaps between Southeastern Clans, Bands, and Tribes.  How do you foster collaborations between different clans and bands of people?  What are the major obstacles? What are the most effective resources?

Edmonds Mitchell: We have never lost our clan, band, or nation collaborations. They have always been and will continue to be a crucial part of our being. The system built by the invaders’ government was meant to divide and conquer. There was a time when such tactics were successful. However, we have always been adaptable with our surrounding. Because of this, we still maintain the roots to our culture, traditions, and spirituality. Our biggest obstacle is to get non-indigenous people to listen to and believe our truths. The history books written by the invaders are believed to be the truth while ours are believed to be the myth. However, their writings are the myths used to have others believe they were justified in their actions. Very few are willing to admit that they got where they are today off the deaths or enslavement of indigenous peoples. Our time for truth is now. Our most effective resources are the continuation of our nation-to-nation collaborations. Red Power is on the move across all nations.

Chu: You aim through storytelling to communicate the multiple effects of colonization and forced assimilation on indigenous people.  What are those effects?  Does understanding them better change the lives and self-understanding of Native and non-Native people?

Edmonds Mitchell: One cannot change the reality of what was done.  But one can admit to the wrong-doings and take the appropriate actions to build a mutually beneficial way of living. Such actions would include honoring our treaties or agreements, our traditions, culture, spirituality, and relationships with the natural world.

Chu: Many Native American people are very mixed in racial and ethnic terms. You are an Afro-Native American. Are there many Afro-Native Americans?  Do they face distinct challenges that non-Afro Native Americans do not share or that non-Native African-Americans don’t experience?  How do you understand these distinct and overlapping elements of who you are?

Edmonds Mitchell: First and foremost, we are all mixed race. Every race, from the beginning of time, is mixed.  All European peoples have traveled across the many oceans to different continents to trade resources. Many of them had relationships while there. Indigenous peoples very rarely sought to travel from their ancestral continents. Most were taken from them by colonization or enslavement.  The color of one’s skin does not reflect one’s ancestral bloodlines. Race ideology originated from the European philosophy of divide-and-conquer. However, the culture and traditions of your clan, band, or nation are passed generationally.  I was raised in the culture, traditions, and spirituality of my Wampanoag nation by my ancestors who survived colonization and assimilation. I am neither Black nor White. I am indigenous First Nation!

Hanli Chu is a student in the Masters of Science program in Quantitative Economics at UCONN where she is also enrolled in the Graduate Certificate in Race, Ethnicity, and Politics.  She observes that injustice makes her sick and that she hopes many things can be done to address it, even if doing so will be a long haul.  She can be reached at hanli.chu@uconn.edu.

Student Interview Series Part VII

Dr. Michael Gilmore is an associate professor in New Century College at George Mason University. He earned his bachelor’s degree at Colorado State University in 1995 and a Ph.D. in Ethnobotany from Miami University in 2005. In 1999, Dr. Gilmore began working on conservation projects with the Maijuna, an indigenous people in the Peruvian Amazon. In 2004, their joint effort led to the establishment of a Maijuna Indigenous Federation, FECONAMAI. The federation essentially allows the Maijuna to have a voice against government policies that would otherwise oppress them. The federation also makes it easier for the Maijuna to collaborate with groups like Rainforest Conservation Fund to fight against unfair policies together. Dr. Gilmore continues to work with Maijuna. Currently, they are trying to establish a protected area to preserve Maijuna’s lands and resources for future generation. He is also working with the Maijuna to solve issues pertaining to drinking water and sanitation.

I chose to interview Dr. Gilmore because most of his activist work took place in Peru, my home country. It is not often that someone from the U.S. academy takes interest in my country, especially regarding the indigenous people within the Amazon. Thus, I wanted to gain some insight from someone who developed a sustained collaboration with  an indigenous group in Peru and helped them in their endeavor to secure a better life. I am very thankful for the aid that Dr. Gilmore has provided to the people of my country and for taking the time to answer my questions.

 Montoya: Given your academic career, what inspired and motivated you to reach out to the indigenous peoples of the Peruvian Amazon?

Gilmore: I had always wanted to go to the Amazon and my Ph.D. advisor has deep ties in the Peruvian Amazon so it made sense for me to work there. Since starting my work, I have really fallen in love with the people and the area and cannot imagine working anywhere else. I have definitely found my life’s passion.

Montoya: Given that you are based in an urban center where you work as an academic, was it difficult to establish a communicative and working relationship with members of the Maijuna? How did you first make contact?

Gilmore: I first visited one of the Maijuna communities on my first trip down to the Peruvian Amazon with my Ph.D. Advisor. During that trip, I made some very basic contacts with some members of the community. On my second trip down (my first solo trip), that is when the real adventure started. It took me several months working in the community to really begin to develop close and deep relationships with people due to language and cultural differences. Now, some of my best friends in the world are Maijuna.

Montoya: What are the central political challenges faced by indigenous peoples in the Peruvian Amazon, like the Maijuna? Are these similar to or different to the struggles of indigenous peoples of the Andes? How would you compare the challenges of the Maijuna to other indigenous struggles around the globe?

Gilmore: The Maijuna, like most other indigenous groups in Peru and around the world, have been incredibly marginalized and disempowered since first European contact. They also experience racism from broader society. Due to these reasons, the Maijuna have been silenced and not listened to over the years.  So, the central political challenge is getting people in power to listen to groups like the Maijuna and to treat them equally.

Montoya: Do indigenous people in the Amazon consider themselves Peruvian? Why or why not? Are these associations, or the lack of them, problematic?

Gilmore: The Maijuna consider themselves Peruvian but this has obviously not always been the case given their history. However, I do think that they consider themselves Maijuna first and Peruvian second. That is, they identify themselves at their core as Maijuna.

Montoya: Given your research experience, who or what (whether institutions or organizations) do you consider the most powerful allies of the Maijuna and other indigenous peoples in the Amazon? What do the Maijuna think of these groups and their strenngths or possibilities as allies?

Gilmore: To be honest, I think that the Maijuna have learned that it is important to build broad coalitions that pull in a variety of allies each with different strengths. That is, some allies do great community-based work, others work very effectively on the political level, and still others have expertise in doing more science-based work. So, for the Maijuna work we pulled in a wide variety of allies and really played to the strengths of each organization. The successes in Maijuna lands would not have been possible by working with only one ally or organization.

Montoya: How influential, or helpful, are international efforts to advance indigenous rights in the realization of indigenous people’s goals?

Gilmore: I think international efforts can be extremely helpful in elevating indigenous rights on the global stage. That being said, it cannot happen solely on the international level and must also happen on the community, state, and national levels if we are to make serious change.

Montoya: What are some common misconceptions held in Peruvian society and the academic world about indigenous peoples and indigenous struggles? What do you consider the basis for these misunderstandings?

Gilmore: In Peruvian society, I think that many people view indigenous people as backward, ignorant, and unworthy of consideration. And, this really boils down to racism and other deep rooted prejudices in society. By the way, I think that many people in the US feel the same way about Native Americans so this is not a uniquely Peruvian misconception. Also, I should note that I do think that things are starting to slowly improve in Peru and move in the right direction even though there is still a long way to go.

Montoya: What specifically would you recommend to scholars seeking a better understanding of the indigenous groups that they are interested in researching?

Gilmore: I think that it is really important to ask indigenous communities what is important to them and to actually spend the time to listen to what they have to say. This can help academics do more applied work that can help to solve some of the challenges in the communities where they hope to work. I think that doing applied and community-based work, and not purely extractive research, is absolutely critical.

José Montoya, 23, is originally from Peru and holds dual nationalities. He has a Master's degree in Political Science from the University of Connecticut.  He can be reached at jose.montoya@uconn.edu or  jm1494@yahoo.com.

Student Interview Series Part VI: Marcos Moreno

Marcos Moreno is a public health advocate and medical researcher. Marcos is a Native American, who is a member of the Pascua Yaqui Tribe from the Pascua Yaqui Reservation in southern Arizona. Marcos is the first person from the Pascua Yaqui Reservation to graduate from an Ivy League University. During his undergraduate career, Marcos was recognized for his dedication to his studies by being asked to participate in advanced laboratory research into both neurological reward pathways as well as possible therapy candidates for drug addiction. Marcos plays an active role in public health work outside of his research both with his tribe and around the world. For instance, in 2013 Marcos took part in St. John’s University’s founding chapter of the Global Medical Brigades that takes trips to rural West Africa. In 2014 Marcos took part in a public health project on the Pascua Yaqui Reservation aimed at assessing the Pascua Yaqui Tribe’s health department while aiming to improve standards of living on the tribe’s reservation.

I chose Marcos because he really embodies what an activist on the rise looks like. I think that other people can relate to work most when it includes both subjective and objective dimensions. Marcos does exactly this because he has learned/is learning information relevant to many in the neuroscience field but always brings his findings back to where he came from. It is important to recognize those who have made life-long contributions to their communities.  At the same time, those at earlier stages or just beginning their efforts deserve attention too. Unlike many of classic readings in Native American Studies that are based on a recollection of past events, Marcos’ memories are of more recent events and his reflections are on the current situation.

Bovell: You spent the first two decades of your life living on the Pascua Yaqui Reservation in southern Arizona. You are now a medical student at UND-School of Medicine and Health Sciences. How would you describe the key differences between living on a reservation and living at Cornell? What are the main differences in everyday cultural and social norms? How do the very different racial compositions of the two places manifest themselves? As you begin to live outside Native American spaces what fundamental changes (if any) have you been forced to undergo? To exist outside your reservation do you think you have to conform to the broader non-Native American norms and therefore abandon Native American practices?

Moreno: In short, I would say going to college increased my standard of living substantially. To be honest, when I first got to college I remember I felt like I had all of a sudden become very wealthy (at least what I thought was wealthy at the time). I know it may sound kind of silly now, but back then it was a pretty big change to go from not having my own room or bed at my home on the rez, to all of a sudden having my own very nice room (and bed) at an Ivy League University. I was very thankful for the opportunity Cornell gave me and I remember just wanting to make sure that they didn’t regret doing so.

As far as everyday differences between Cornell and my reservation, obviously there were a lot. I think one of the biggest general things I noticed right away was just how tightly organized things were at Cornell versus my reservation. Part of me liked the structure it provided, but another part of me disliked how uptight people and things seemed at first. It was very different to go from a place like my reservation that didn’t even have (or didn’t enforce) things like traffic laws, gun laws, or laws against underage drinking, to then be at a place like Cornell where a couple of minor citations could get you kicked out of school. I knew things would be different, so I guess I wasn’t all that surprised, but it still was an adjustment.

As far as racial composition, I’d say Cornell was actually very diverse compared to my reservation. Whereas everyone was pretty much cut from the same mold on my reservation (with me and my brother being the two palest kids around), Cornell was a place where people were literally from all corners of the world. It was the first time I’d ever had any real interaction with people who were not either Native, White, Black or Mexican. I think I learned more in my first year in New York alone just about different cultures and countries than I did in my 18 years prior; for the first time in my life I was meeting people from China, Chile, Japan, Burma, India, Nepal, the Philippines, you name it. Learning firsthand from these people about their cultures was probably one of my favorite Cornell experiences.

Living outside of my Native community, yes, I’ve had to undergo some changes, but I kind of like to think of my time in the mainstream US as an extended visit in a different country. Starting when I was in college, I really gained an affinity for travelling. You learn so much from it and the cool thing is you can choose to adopt certain aspects of a culture or not to, so long as you just respect the culture and the place you are on your visit. I guess I’m a little biased because I like learning about different cultures and I like experiencing new things, which isn’t the case for everyone, so I can see why many Natives (my father being one of them) are reluctant to leave what is familiar. Not being on the reservation obviously can be difficult because I can’t be home for every ceremony that I took part in as a kid, but, at the same time, it does make me appreciate the moments I am back on the reservation for those things. I know it will always be there for me to go back to and given the integral role the reservation had in making me the man that I am, I don’t feel like that part of me can ever really be taken away.

Bovell: What values from your cultural background and upbringing contribute to your everyday and more long-term decision-making processes? Can you provide some specific examples? Is there any specific life experience or personal relationship that has influenced you to do the work you are now doing?

Moreno: Culturally I would say my tribe is very prideful, some might even say stubborn. Historically I think much of that stems from the fact that my tribe essentially spent 400 years resisting the Spanish conquests of Northern Mexico and southern Arizona; the fighting only officially stopped in the 1920s, 300+ years after most Native tribes in the area, including the Mayans and Aztecs, had been wiped out. As a result, I think a big thing that permeates many aspects of our culture is a very strong sense of pride; it can be a positive attribute if you handle it in the right way, but it certainly has its downsides as well. One way that I’ve seen this manifested in me was in my previous inability to ask for help. The first time I really noticed it was when I was applying for college. Neither of my parents went to college, so I was very naïve about the process and everything it entailed, but rather than ask people for help, or even for information, I was very guarded against letting people know that there were all these things that I didn’t know. I spent so much time on my own researching basic things, when a lot of my questions would have been easily answered by a high school guidance counselor or a teacher. Looking back, I know now how silly it was to feel so bad for not knowing what I thought were basic things. In reality, it’s a very complex process that everyone struggles with. Fortunately, everything worked out, but if I could do things over again, I’d probably at least let a teacher or counselor read over my application essays.

Bovell: Can you describe the academic work that you are now doing? Is it informed by political or activist work that you do beyond the academy? Do you envision your research as a form of intellectual activism? Why or why not?

Moreno: As of now, I split time between medical school and as a researcher in a lab examining neurological changes in children born with fetal alcohol syndrome. I wouldn’t say the work I do on this end is intellectual activism per say, however my career interests have been shaped heavily by my experiences with my tribe, so I can see why people might think that. Most of my research both past and present has centered on addiction (at both the physiological and psychological level), and child cognitive development. I study addiction because historically within my community and many Native American communities, drugs and alcohol are a major issue, and most of the time these issues spill over and effect vulnerable populations like children, who of course are my second area of research.

The area of my work that was a little more activist in nature was a Public/Community Health Assessment that I worked on for my tribe’s reservation back in 2014. Basically, we surveyed the community, gathered population data, and statistics on standards of living, employment, etc., data which we later used to write multiple grants that funded vastly improved health and community facilities on the reservation, roads, expanded plumbing and improved waste management. This was a project that obviously struck close to home for me because all my family still lives on the reservation, and it is still in many ways the only home I’ve ever known. (see attached power point if you’re interested)

Bovell: When you consider the state of your and other Native American communities, how would you diagnose their current situation? What are the primary changes you hope to bring about in them through your current and future work? How do you intend to achieve those aims?  Do you have important partners and allies? If so, who are they and how have they emerged as trusted collaborators?

Moreno: It’s hard to speak for all Native communities because the situation will vary a lot from tribe to tribe, however, generally speaking, Native American communities are quite a bit behind the rest of the US. Many of the issues within Native communities are byproducts of extreme poverty (Pascua Yaqui Reservation median household income in 2009 was $12,000), and, as a result, you see many issues in Native communities that you see in lower income communities throughout the US, albeit a bit more pronounced (Pascua Yaqui Reservation high school graduation rate is 24%). If I had to put a label/ diagnosis on Native communities like my own, I would say that we are still very much in the developing stage, but are starting to show signs of improvement. For example, in my own tribe and others, sentiments toward western education are slowly changing and, as a result, we’re seeing more people graduate from high school and many even starting to look at higher education options and secondary training. We’re a long way from where education advocates like myself or others would like, but improvement is promising.

In terms of the primary changes I’d like to see, I think getting Native communities up to speed with the American mainstream lower income groups would be a significant improvement. Natives often occupy a weird space in America because while we are technically American citizens, tribal reservations can often provide a very restrictive, yet semi-comforting “bubble” of sorts. For the Natives living on reservations, it becomes a separation from the rest of America not only physically, but psychologically. It’s restrictive in the sense that reservations largely limit the opportunities available to the people bound to them, however because pretty much everyone who occupies the reservation is restricted, there is a sort of “blissful ignorance” phenomenon that occurs. Most people don’t fully understand some of the things they might be missing out on, because when nobody has those “things”, they can be hard to conceptualize. I think the more people like myself venture out into the mainstream US, and normalize things like higher education, the more people in our own communities will realize how much more is out there for them. It then becomes the responsibility for people like myself to essentially help this process, building that metaphorical bridge between our reservation and the outside world.

Bovell: Are you familiar with the work of any other Native American activists? What is it about their work that would lead you to define it this way?  Are there any indigenous activists (in the U.S. or globally) with whom you hope to ally in the future?

Moreno: In 2016 I was fortunate to gain access to a very cool network of people that has a very big hand in Native American activism. The Udall Scholars is basically a group of students selected as either rising seniors or juniors in college who have made contributions to Health Care, Government/ Policy, or Environmentalism. In addition, many scholars also engage in many philanthropic and public service causes, with a good portion of people being dedicated to Native American activism. Of them all, a leader I am looking forward to working with in the future is a good friend of mine, Victor Lopez-Carmen. He, like me, was a Udall Scholar in 2016 and is currently a Fulbright Scholar doing a year long research project in Sydney, Australia with local Aborigine populations. He’s an avid indigenous rights activist who has even spoken at U.N. conferences regarding Native American issues. Given our close relationship formed over our time together in Ithaca, New York (Victor attended Ithaca College), I can see us doing great work together down the road. Victor also plans to apply to medical school when he returns to the US, so something tells me we will almost certainly cross paths again. 

Bovell: Are there forms of personal fulfillment, whether the meaningfulness of advocating for justice or instances of, self- actualization, that fuel and sustain your drive to do the work that you do? Do you think bridging medical research and political advocacy can happen relatively easily or are their tensions between your professional and political aims? Do you envision using the skills of medical research, once acquired, to advance your larger advocacy goals? What unique possibilities for action will be opened by the training you are currently receiving?

Moreno: A lot of the fulfillment I receive from my work is intrinsic; I am pursuing work in a field I love and have wanted to be a part of for a long time. That said, many of the specific interests I have within the field of medicine, particularly those involving underserved populations, obviously developed because of experiences with my community. The reservation has its flaws no doubt, but it’s my home, and I can’t in good conscience just turn away from my community when it’s in obvious need of my help. I always said I wanted to return home to the village that helped raise me, and, as it stands, that’s what I plan to do. So yes, in short, my community is a major factor in the work that I do.

As far as bridging medicine and political advocacy, I think it can be difficult, however I’d say my tribe and I have a very good rapport and an excellent working relationship through our past dealings and projects together. In addition, I think the biggest thing is that my tribe trusts me a great deal, in large part because of my history in the community prior to me leaving for college. I was part of tribal ceremonies, attended tribal schools, and still have most of my family living on the reservation. It just reinforces to them that our community means a lot to me, and I think it’s a big reason why our tribal council and elders have trusted me so much through the years. It’s my hope that, as I learn and grow more, this continues.

The obvious opportunity that will arise from my training will come in the form of me bringing back a valuable medical skillset to my community. I’ll be the first person from the reservation to receive their MD. I’m also hoping it will spur younger generations to pursue forms of higher education, particularly in the sciences. I’m hoping I can help foster interests in those fields, as well as others. If I can do that, then we can multiply the positive impact made on our community by increasing our human-power through improved education and skill sets.

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Elizabeth Bovell recently graduated from the University of Connecticut with a double major in Political Science and Sociology. She is currently working as a paralegal in New York City at Mayer Brown. In the future she hopes to work for the U.S. Department of Trade and Commerce with the aim of regulating a fair and equal system for both her own race and other people of color.