In the midst of the flooding, I drove through the reservation to investigate the damage, and finally arrived at Wounded Knee, the site of the infamous 1890 massacre and the 1973 American Indian Movement occupation. I parked and trudged up a small hill, taking in the mud pulled on the heels of my boots. Above was a mass grave of one hundred and forty-six Lakota. As I felt the weight of this solemn place, I was forced to say a prayer. At the summit, I paused for a while, watching residents of a nearby housing estate walk down the highway to the nearest post office to collect rations from the National Guard. I checked Twitter and learned that Governor Kristi Noem, a Republican, had driven onto the reservation in a convoy of military vehicles with drinking water. She wasn't welcome. Just two weeks earlier, Noem had passed a law that blamed protesters who opposed projects like the Keystone XL oil pipeline for what the state called "rioting." (The Oglala were among those tribes opposed to the pipeline and the bill.) Here before me, in a scene, were the interlocking forces of genocide, ecological apocalypse, resistance and oppression – the imperial roots of the climate crisis and its colonial ones Effects.
After visiting Wounded Knee, I could not in good conscience write the story I had HuffPost Editors had assigned. A fifteen hundred word article treating the housing program as a worthy but isolated effort felt like a betrayal of the material I had gathered on the spot. As an indigenous journalist, I decided that the only appropriate way to tell a story like this was to manage poverty, climate change, and resilience all at the same time, and apply all of this to the story of colonization, settlement, and genocide – an apocalypse on top of another.
Being native to North America means being part of a post-apocalyptic community and experience. Indigenous journalists have always grappled with earth-shattering stories: either as a historical backdrop for current events, or in the deep desperation of the unfolding legacy of dispossession, displacement and death of indigenous peoples that has spawned nations like the United States and Canada. This perspective tests the boundaries of journalism and challenges reporters to address marginalized topics unknown to most readers, with a view to the people, stories and systems buried and erased by colonization – all without the thread of narrative to lose. (…)
THREE OTHER ARTICLES THAT WOULD READ
BEST COMMENTS • • SAVED DIARIES
TWEET OF THE DAY
BLAST FROM THE PAST
That day at Daily Kos in 2006—NSA Monitoring: How It Puts You At Risk:
Depending on the exact wording of the question, there are polls all over the place of Americans' views on the NSA program, but for the sake of argumentation, I'll go over the most recent CNN poll That is, around half of the population thinks it is okay for the government to monitor and collect data without an arrest warrant. Based on this, I assume that most of us have friends, family members, or co-workers who have uttered the words: I have nothing to hide. So why should I care about NSA surveillance?
Here's an introduction to why you should care.
There is a risk of identifying theft … and it's illegal
From all of the reports we have heard about the NSA secret program, it is clear that it is a large-scale vacuum operation that collects, stores, and shares that information with other agencies without any guarantee. Everything that is done with electronic transmission is practically traceable – i.e. online credit card purchases and billing, ATM transactions, payment for groceries with a debit / credit card. PINS, passwords, social security numbers, driver's license identifier information, bank account numbers, all are available … all in the hands of federal agencies and their employees. (…)