The Oglala Lakota Nation: “Genetic Memory” and Gender

My very first interview on masculinity and femininity was with Professor Karen Lone Hill, at the Oglala Lakota College on Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. As the female Chair in the all-male Oglala Lakota Studies Department, I was curious and excited to benefit from her studies and her experience.

With a soft, confident voice, Prof. Lone Hill spoke about the meaning of femininity and masculinity in her culture primarily through stories. This, she noted, was the mode of her aunt, her mentor: “She always tells me things through stories.”

Permeating the stories of the interview was the understanding of “genetic memory.” It is through our ancestors, our families, she explained, that we come to know who we are and that we receive the gifts for which we have been chosen. These gifts come to one through either their female lineage, as women, or male lineage, as men. Mentors of the same sex are important in understanding and developing these gifts as given through ceremonies and in dreams. Such a reality allows men and women to appreciate one another, without devaluing the other sex.

As Prof. Lone Hill remarked, “turtles…represent the women because we have strong hearts. I think some of the medicine men…talk about the women being strength, and the women have that strength…men have the physical strength, but I think the women…their strength is different. Physically, we're not as strong as they are, but spiritually and because [of] our hearts, we have strong hearts and the compassion.” This idea of “genetic memory,” of receiving who we are as women and men through our families, from familial mentors, from traditional stories, then helps to confirm and develop women and men in their personal identity.

On the Oglala Lakota Flag, the circle of white tipis represents the districts of the reservation. The red represents the blood shed in defense of their land.

This is especially important for the Oglala Lakota as some of this memory and identity was temporarily lost. Prof. Lone Hill explained that she teaches a mandatory course on American Indian women. Some of the men complain about taking the course, as they think it’s “women’s business.” However, as the course teaches, before the reservations, before the colonization of the Native American culture, men and women were considered equal. Women made everything, so they owned everything. They worked alongside the men and took care of the children. Neither sex was considered superior to the other. In fact, divorce was allowed for both sexes, and if a woman decided to divorce her husband, she merely had to put his clothes outside of the teepee. However, with the 1868 Treaty of Fort Laramie and the move onto the reservations, Prof. Lone Hill explained, new cultural values regarding gender were imposed: men were then considered superior to women.[1] This course thus seeks to help Native Americans recover their pre-reservation understanding, the “genetic memory,” founding the identity that men and women are equal.

Despite the imposition of foreign values, a mutual receptivity, men’s willingness to learn from women and women’s willingness to respect men’s struggles, still bears witness to the permanence of such a “genetic memory”. This characterized Prof. Lone Hill’s stories about her brothers. After her mother’s death, she explained, her brothers began to come to her, seeking guidance in the decisions that they needed to make. Prof. Lone Hill reflected, “I don't know why they come to me, when decisions need to be made. They just naturally turn to that, to somebody, a female within the family.” At the same time, she noted that a woman who recognizes that a man is struggling with something, is not to view him “as lower” or “to fix them, [because] that’s up to them.” She further explained, “My brother knows about me and I know that he's got what he's got, and so we work together. I think sometimes he's not really moving into, as he should, but I can't tell him that, because that's up to him.” With the “genetic memory” of their equality, a desire for respect between the sexes perdured, even in moments of difficulty, making it possible for families to move forward.

What then can the Oglala Lakota culture teach us today, in our own cultures, about what it means to be men and women?

We can begin by asking ourselves, “What is my genetic memory?” What are the stories, the relationships, that characterize my family? When we are little, most of us enjoy stories about our grandparents, or maybe about how our parents met. What do these stories reveal to us about our own gifts, our own capacities to grow in the world, or even the family struggles that have obscured our original “genetic memory”?

Who then are the mentors, in my birth family or those that have become my family, who can help me to recover and develop my personal identity?

As a man, are there women that I look up to? As a woman, do I try and "fix" men, or do I work together with them, respecting their struggles?

In summary, how can my “genetic memory” help to better form my personal identity as masculine or feminine?

Thank you for accompanying me on this gender journey! May the wisdom of the Oglala Lakota be a gift to you!

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To read more about the Oglala Lakota by Prof. Karen Lone Hill, see “On Learning,” in Shaping Survival. Essays by Four American Indian Tribal Women (The Scarecrow Press, 2006); “Sioux,” in Encyclopedia of North American Indians (Houghton Mifflin, 1996); Civilian, Military, Native American: Portraits of Fort Phil Kearny (Fort Phil Kearny, 1993); Lakota Language-1 (Oglala Lakota College, 1989); North American Indians Today: Sioux (Mason Creek, 2003); and Pine Ridge Reservation: Yesterday and Today (Ba

[1] While divorce is never desirable, sometimes it may be necessary for the health and protection of a spouse and the children. A comparison of this custom with that of the majority United States culture at the time makes it clear that this arrangement did reflect a greater understanding of equality between men and women, since it allowed for the protection of women and children. See, as an example, Susan B. Anthony’s “Address at Seneca Falls in 1848,” at the first convention on women’s rights: “We are assembled to protest against…such disgraceful laws as give man the power to chastise and imprison his wife, to take the wages which she earns, the property which she inherits, and, in case of separation, the children of her love…It is to protest against such unjust laws as these that we are assembled today, and to have them, if possible, forever erased from our statue-books, deeming them a shame and a disgrace to a Christian republic in the nineteenth century…” Ellen Carol DuBois (ed.), The Elizabeth Cady Stanton-Susan B. Anthony Reader. Correspondence Writings Speeches (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1992), 31. This was twenty years before the Treaty of Fort Laramie.

Northern Cheyenne Women: Resiliently, Respectfully Navigating Our Own Way

Before we began our morning interview with Professor Medicine Bull, we asked him which Northern Cheyenne women he would suggest that we interview. He sat there, reflective, deeply quiet, and then responded: “Teanna Limpy. Go see Teanna Limpy.” He gave us directions, and David and I decided to go find her later that day.

When we arrived at the Tribal Historic Preservation Office (THPO), we were told that Teanna had been out all day at a meeting and they didn’t know when she was expected back. Having left our names and number, we turned to go, and she pulled up to the office. Within ten minutes, we were seated on a sofa, listening to the ruminations of this young, beautiful Cheyenne woman – softly spoken and proud of her heritage.

Teanna is the first female director of the Tribal Historic Preservation Office, a department entrusted with safeguarding cultural resources located on the Northern Cheyenne Reservation and ancestral lands of the Cheyenne people, and at the age of 32, realizes that she carries an enormous responsibility as a Cheyenne woman. Like other women of her Nation, she is “finding [her] own way…with…respect for how we’ve been as a [Northern] Cheyenne people.”

Traditionally, the majority of the Cheyenne are patrilineal. The men customarily speak for the women and children, with the men passing down generational knowledge and tradition to other males, and the women “kind of follow suit behind them” respecting their knowledge and trusting their guidance. Even though a lot of the teachings emphasize that “males…have to work their way up to be on the same level as female, because females are life givers,” Teanna still finds herself nervous when she is the only woman sitting at the table – and she is often the only one speaking from not just a tribal perspective, but more importantly from a Cheyenne perspective, to various agencies in the same field of work who have little to no understanding of who her people are!

Where does this courage to preserve tradition, while having to break some of its protocols, come from? Teanna first attributes it to the constant encouragement of her grandfather: “my…grandpa is like, ‘Get out there, go tell them, go stand in front of a crowd. Don't be scared.’ So it's kind of hard to come out of that, and I still have difficult times with that.”

As a woman then, Teanna, while still single, finds that she is called to give life not to children, but in the preservation of the Cheyenne tradition, at work and at home: “You build your child or your person that's going to grow up to continue that way of life.” And that tradition is not preserved as a photocopy, but by seeking its living form in the midst of the two worlds in which the Cheyenne live: the world of their history and heritage, and a world that has sometimes sought to eliminate them. She speaks excitedly, with that same light-heartedness noted by Professor Medicine Bull, about the repatriation of the bones of two young men from Fort Robinson.

In the winter of 1878-1879, 150 Northern Cheyenne members seeking to return to their northern reservation – a period known as the Exodus – were intercepted and imprisoned at Fort Robinson in Nebraska. Being deprived of food and heat and told that they would be sent south again, they attempted an escape. The young Cheyenne warriors took the brunt of the gunfire, hoping this would allow the elders, women, and children to escape. The US Army killed almost half of the Cheyenne. A first repatriation of the remains of those killed at the Fort Robinson massacre occurred in 1993. Teanna then led the second repatriation of two young men in 2017, 138 years after the massacre: the men with whom she worked told her that the warriors were happy to come home.

Teanna Limpy at the 2017 Repatriation: Photo by John Warner, for the Billings Gazette, August 27, 2017, “Northern Cheyenne remains returned to reservation after 138 years”

What then, does she think is the gift that the Cheyenne people have to give to the world? It is their resilience in the midst of difficulties and change. “We don't do things hastily. We think things out. If we know it's a good thing to do, we do it. Of course, it plays into our beliefs and who we are, our stories, traditions, the things that we share with one another. The things we tell the world about why it's important, why our land is so precious, and all that comes with history and teaching and continuing what our ancestors have taught us. That's the reward, it's people get to see who the Cheyenne people are.”

Seeing who Teanna Limpy is, a young woman proud of her tradition, sometimes admittedly scared in her role as the first female director of THPO and yet confident of her knowledge and heritage, is a true gift and a real reward. Professor Medicine Bull was wise to suggest her as our model.

How then can this resilience of the Northern Cheyenne help us to better form our personal identities as feminine or masculine?

As a woman, do you give life? Do you realize this life-giving in terms of your heritage, finding new forms consistent with that tradition in the world of today? Are you willing to step out in courage for your family and for your traditions, so that other people can receive the gift of your culture?

As a man, do you encourage the women in your family? Do you help them to see where their gifts and talents are needed, where they can bring life? Are your family stories something shared between women and men, to cultivate a family resilience and hope?

Thank you for accompanying me on this gender journey! May the wisdom of the Northern Cheyenne be a gift to you!

The Northern Cheyenne: The Joyful Hope of the Morning Star Appears

Among the men and women of the Northern Cheyenne nation, one of my most poignant interviews was with Professor Burt Medicine Bull, Cheyenne Language Instructor at Dull Knife College. As David Bailey shook his hand and greeted him in Cheyenne, Prof. Medicine Bull smiled broadly and welcomed us into his classroom. He held out a piece of smoking cedar explaining, “I was just saying my morning prayers” and then invited David and myself to join him in a brief purification ceremony.

We did so and then sat down to learn from this man of prayer, this man of the Morning Star.

The Morning Star is displayed prominently on the Cheyenne flag. When the Northern Cheyenne, seeking to escape the United States Army and return to the Tongue River Valley, would see the Morning Star, they knew that they had survived one more day. There was one more day to live, one more day to hope.

And in fact, this same hope, or hopeful joy, in the morning and in the midst of mourning, characterized Prof. Medicine Bull and his stories of masculinity and femininity.

When asked what the gift of the Cheyenne people to the world was, he immediately yet calmly replied, “We're called the lighthearted people, because no matter how tough a situation is, we laugh, because that helps to ease the pain. In…January of 2010, I lost three of my older children all at once…and if it wasn't for that humor, I don't think I could've handled it. I wouldn't be sitting here, I'd be in Billings skid row feeling sorry for myself, drinking,…drugging.... But the teachings of my grandparents, the Creator is going to do something,…there's something in store for you….don't ever blame the Creator, because he's the one that's in control of our lives. So, that's what I always keep in mind…He wanted those three children back, he wanted them back to help. That's how I see it.”

The man who carries this grief, even with a pained smile, is the same Prof. Medicine Bull who is “always cheesing,” according to his students.

How then does a Northern Cheyenne man live? How does this hope and this sense of humor, this trust in the Creator, characterize his everyday life? That, for Prof. Medicine Bull, was an easy question. Growing up with his grandparents, he learned from his grandfather that “a man provides for everything.” He begins by rising early in the morning, before the sun. Prof. Medicine Bull recounted, “[W]e'd get up real early to go outside and pray... He [grandfather] said you get all the blessings from that. We'd stand there,…just before the sun come up, and when it'd come up, you could actually feel that puff, it was like a wind or a air, sacred air he would call it. He'd say, ‘That's from the power of the sun. That's what that is. You want to get that all the time. It keeps you healthy.’”

This provision then continued in a very practical way. It included gathering wood for the stove, planting a garden, and building a home, all long-term, constant projects. This hope and joy of providing for others each new day and for the future colored the masculinity taught to Prof. Medicine Bull by his grandfather.

What then does it mean to be a Northern Cheyenne woman? Prof. Medicine Bull smiled profoundly at this question, reminiscing: “My grandmother would always say this… ‘I would normally be saying this to my granddaughter, but you're my grandson and I'm raising you, so here's what a woman is supposed to be like…’” Women, too, were to live in such a way that they were present to the day while counting on the Creator for the future. They were to share what they had with those in need, “even if it’s down to your last bowl,” as this would be recognized and their needs provided for. Moreover, women were to bring hope to others by their presence. He repeated her words, “ ‘Talk good to people. You see someone over there kinda looking sad, go over there and shake their hand, smile, and say, 'Hey, really good to see you.' Put a smile on their face. That helps people.’ ”

And, in fact, the need for this hope and humor becomes clear in his work. Often, Prof. Medicine Bull says, students are angry, because they do not speak their own language, the Cheyenne language. While the Nation may have survived and may see the Morning Star each new day, the current generation of youth did not receive their traditions from their parents. They feel disconnected from their Nation, especially when others are speaking Cheyenne at the powwows or at home. However, after about a month of classes, when they are capable of saying their own names and using basic phrases, Prof. Medicine Bull says they feel good, because they can begin to understand.

Prof. Medicine Bull’s work to restore the native language of the Northern Cheyenne is thus one more sign of that joyful hope, a sign of the Morning Star, which allows his people – to live as a people – for another day and for the future.

In this context, it is more than fitting that his name in Cheyenne is Setovaatse, or “Appears.” With him, appears the hope of his people.

What then can we learn from the wisdom of the Northern Cheyenne? How can the joyful hope and humor of the Morning Star characterize the way we live out our gifts as women and men?

For men, the questions can regard providing – and the mode of provision! Is the provision you make for others not just physical, but also first and foremost spiritual? Do you struggle with a tendency to approach life cynically, or are you learning how to “cheese” and count on the Creator? Is there a need of your own culture, for which you are called to provide in joyful hope?

For women, the questions can regard our attitude of hope towards others. Do we share with those who need now, in the hope that provision will be made for us for the future? Do we speak with a smile to those who are upset, or depressed, bringing a joyful hope to them through our presence? Do we encourage other women and men in our own family traditions?

In summary, how can the joyful hope and humor of the Morning Star help to better form my personal identity as feminine or masculine?

Thank you for accompanying me on this gender journey! May the wisdom of the Northern Cheyenne be a gift to you!