This semester I am teaching an undergraduate course titled HIST 236 Indians in U.S. History. Throughout the semester I will upload short lecture clips that may be of interest to readers of this blog. The first clip takes place at the end of class where I close my lecture (on Native American oral history and tradition) talking briefly on Hopi emergence and migration. I have inlcuded the PowerPoint slide that I am discssing above, and the video below (video and sound quality are not the best…I will make necessary improvements for next time).
Matthew Sakiestewa Gilbert lectures on Hopi emergence and migration. The lecture takes place at the University of Arizona, January 22, 2025, in the course: HIST 236 Indians in U.S. History (video run time 2min 35 sec).
A prayer I wrote and delivered on February 11, 2024, at The Ridge Christian Fellowship, Tucson, Arizona. People should feel free to read this prayer outloud in public and adapt it to fit their church congregation.
A Petition for God’s Mercy and Grace
by Matthew Sakiestewa Gilbert
Our Father in Heaven, You are Holy, set apart in every way.
You are the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The One who rescued the Israelites from Pharoah and caused the horse and rider to be thrown into the sea. The One who is faithful and “keeps His covenant for a thousand generations.” To You, and You alone, we pray.
This morning, we are reminded of the words of the psalmist David: “I was glad when they said to me, let us go into the house of the LORD.”
Today, we enter your house with joy and thanksgiving, offering our thanks for Your goodness, Your provisions, and Your Word.
LORD, forgive us of our sins. The “lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life.” Hold not these trespasses against us, we pray.
LORD, we ask that You give healing to the sick, encouragement to the downcast, strength to the weak, and humility to the proud. Comfort the widows and provide for the orphans.
LORD, be with our elders and others who serve among us, including the staff. Grant our elders wisdom and conviction as they oversee and shepherd the flock. Bless those who lead us in song, minister to our youth, and who rise early and stay late to prepare this place for worship. To You, and for them, we give You thanks.
LORD, we pray that You would protect the children, the most vulnerable in our church and society. Help us see clearly the war waging upon them, taking place within our schools, across the internet, and by our governments. Protect them from all evil. Have mercy on the little ones, especially those still in their mother’s womb.
LORD, we pray for those who are unrepentant and remain guilty before You: our loved ones, neighbors, and those in authority, including our President. Soften their hearts to understand and receive the good news of salvation. Have mercy on them, and save them from Your wrath, we pray.
LORD, prepare us now to hear and receive Your word. Let us not seek to have our “ears tickled” or egos lifted, but our minds renewed and hearts convicted.
LORD, be with our brother, Pastor Jeremiah. May he preach confidently and boldly, rightly dividing the Word of truth. Give him clarity of mind, reverence for You, love for the saints, and a heart for the lost.
We lay these petitions before Your throne of grace, asking in the name of Christ Jesus, our mediator, the Author and Perfector of our Faith. In His name, we pray.
Ten years ago, while serving as the Dean’s Diversity Fellow in the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences (LAS) at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, I was asked to write a brief statement on diversity and inclusivity in the classroom. My views on diversity and inclusivity are primarily based on my Christian beliefs, values I received from my parents, and belonging in the Hopi community. My opinions here are not comprehensive; others have written many books about the topic. They are, however, principles that guide each class that I teach. I have included the statement below and adapted it to reflect my teaching at the University of Arizona.
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Every Person Matters
Every person has an important role in furthering diversity and inclusivity at the University of Arizona. For some, “diversity” speaks only to one’s gender, racial or ethnic background. While representing these areas is crucial for any environment to be diverse, a fuller understanding of diversity includes much more.
Over the semester, you will sit next to students from different regions of the United States and other parts of the world. And you will learn alongside individuals from different social, cultural, or religious backgrounds. Some of your peers will hold views that are vastly different or perhaps even very similar to yours.
Author lecturing at the UofA. Photo by Faraz Saberi
But as long as people from the same cultures or other commonalities keep only to themselves or only value the opinions of those who are like-minded, then a truly inclusive community will never be achieved. Having a diverse group of people in any one place is not enough. A diverse environment is not always an inclusive one.
Inclusivity begins when diverse people, which includes all people, acknowledge each other’s presence. It happens when individuals converse with one another and when they care enough to appreciate their differences.
A classroom committed to inclusivity functions with the understanding that every person matters. It does not require people to agree with one another or to see the world in the same or similar manner. But it is a space where everyone’s perspectives and opinions are valued and where people’s presence and participation are encouraged.
From the moment you walk into the classroom, you will already enter a very diverse space. In this regard, obtaining a diverse environment in class is the easy part. The challenge and excitement come when each person works together to transform that space into an inclusive one.
Author (right) standing next to his father, Willard Sakiestewa Gilbert (left). October 2021
My father and I drove east on Interstate 40 until we reached Exit 219, the Twin Arrows Navajo Casino turnoff.
After exiting the interstate, we headed south on a dirt road until we reached the first of two sign-in checkpoints, indicating that we had entered one of three ranches of the Hopi Three Canyon Ranch.
Since 2005, the Hopi Tribe has owned and managed the ranches near Twin Arrows. Consisting of 400,000 plus acres, the ranches are in the state’s hunting units 4A, 5A, and 5B North. Known for its beautiful hills and canyons, the region has attracted hunters for its elk, deer, and other wildlife.
Each year, the Hopi Tribe works with Arizona Game and Fish to reserve hunting permits for its members to hunt specific Hopi Trust Lands, including those comprising the Hopi Three Canyon Ranch.
Before this trip, I had little experience hunting. My father taught me to fish when I was young, and I only occasionally hunted rabbits and squirrels. I had no previous knowledge hunting elk or any big game animal.
After driving for an hour, we reached our campsite, a secluded spot on a ridge overlooking a large valley. We set up camp and prepared for the next day’s hunt. Dinner that night was beef and potato stew and white rolls from Sam’s Club.
Hopi hunting grounds at sunset
There is something special and therapeutic about spending time outdoors and away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Here, on the Colorado Plateau, our cell phones, try as they may, could not acquire a signal: no calls, text messages, or internet.
What normally consumes my time and dictates my day, my Apple smartphone became nothing more than a clock and camera. I felt free.
At night, the Milky Way and constellations I first learned about in grade school were visible. To the south, city lights from Phoenix glowed a golden hue, the same from Flagstaff in the northwest. And far in the distance, headlights from cars resembled a LED neon rope stretching from Winslow to Winona.
Each morning started the same. We woke up at 4:30, heated water for coffee, and talked about whether we heard elk during the night.
Elk bugling is a good sign for hunters. It means the herd is excited, and the seasonal rut is still on. Bugling bulls also imply the presence of female elk, referred to as cows. We had cow tags.
Last day of our 2021 Hopi Hunt
Slowly and carefully, we walked through a forest of juniper, stopping often to listen and paying close attention to movement near or far. Occasionally, if the wind was right, we caught the scent of elk urine. Although we encountered elk that first morning, we did not have a good or clean shot.
Hunting elk is hard work, physically and mentally exhausting. After three days, we packed our gear, broke down camp, and headed out.
Sometimes, all one returns home with from a hunt are memories and experiences, and those are often more valuable than a freezer full of meat.
This summer David Skinner, editor of Humanities Magazine (published by the National Endowment for the Humanities) invited me to write an article reflecting on Larry C. Skogen’s excellent book To Educate American Indians: Select Writings from the National Educational Association’s Department of Indian Education, 1900-1904 (University of Nebraska Press, 2024). The article was part of a special edition of Humanities Magazine on Indigenous-related topics and edited by Shelly C. Lowe (Navajo), Chair of the NEH. I was honored to write this piece and have included the text and the link to the essay below.
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Indian Boarding Schools and the “Problem” They Were Meant to Solve by Matthew Sakiestewa Gilbert
“Originally published as “Education for the Indian Problem” in the Summer 2024 issue of Humanities magazine, a publication of the National Endowment for the Humanities.”
Over the past 20 years, I have taught Native American history at community colleges, Christian schools, and large universities. I have encouraged my students to think critically, ask hard questions, and consult primary resources. “Don’t just read about what people said,” I tell them, “Do the hard work, go to the original source, and read them for yourself.”
In his edited collection of essays from the National Educational Association’s Department of Indian Education (1900–1904), Larry C. Skogen, a scholar long affiliated with Humanities North Dakota, has made that hard work a little easier. Skogen’s book, To Educate American Indians, includes speeches by white educators employed by the U.S. government’s Indian Service to teach Native American children. Some of the speeches resonated with me not only as a scholar but as a Hopi person, causing me to reflect on my family history and experiences as a teacher who has written extensively on the Indian boarding school experience.
When I lecture on Indian education, I often first introduce my students to the so-called Indian Problem, providing a lens for students to understand how non-Native people viewed Indians—not as an asset or benefit, but as a “problem” that needed to be addressed and eliminated. Not eliminated by slaughter or outright genocide (the U.S. government had failed in those attempts) but eliminated in the sense of eradicating culture and identity.
By the turn of the twentieth century, the U.S. government had stopped warring with Indian nations on the Great Plains and elsewhere, but the battle for the minds and affections of Indian youth continued at Indian schools. School officials, such as H. B. Frissell, principal at the Hampton Normal and Agricultural School in Virginia, believed schools played a major role in solving the Indian problem by making Indian youth discontent. “It is sometimes said of the schools off the reservation,” observed Frissell, “that when their students return they are not willing to live as their parents did. . . . A wholesome discontent is a most helpful sign.”
For the Hopi, the most widely known example of this comes from the life of Polingaysi Qoyawayma. Polingaysi spent four years, from 1906 to 1910, at Sherman Institute, an off-reservation Indian boarding school in Riverside, California. When she returned home, she judged her parents for living according to Hopi ways and customs (No Turning Back is her autobiography). Young people, especially teenagers, are already disposed to be critical of their parents. School officials such as Frissell used this to their advantage to turn Indian youth against their families.
Alienating Indian youth from their communities and cultures was accomplished by various means. At Indian schools, officials instructed students in math, science, history, and other disciplines. Teachers wanted their Indian pupils to see the supposed superiority of Western education while simultaneously becoming critical and doubtful of Indian teachings and worldviews. Male students learned trades and female students learned to be good housekeepers according to Western values. Some students also participated in sports and musical ensembles, while others used their skills in the English language to work in the print shop or as editors for the school newspaper.
In my office, a prized possession sits on a bookcase: a complete ten-volume set of The Red Man, the official student-written newspaper of the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania. Hardbound and organized by year, the books recall happenings throughout the school year, motivational speeches, Native American stories, and alumni news.
“Every Indian school should have the newspaper,” William T. Harris, U.S. Commissioner of Education, remarked in his 1902 speech in Skogen’s collection. Telling his audience that Indian pupils should read “first that which interests him,” the commissioner further observed that the pupil will “go from that to the far-off events of the world, according as he grows in intellectual capacity.”
School officials did not encourage Indian youth to listen to their parents back home on Indian reservations. They did not encourage them to seek wisdom from their tribal elders or other knowledge-keepers about the world beyond their homelands. Instead, they wanted them to learn from newspapers and considered the printed word far superior to the oral tradition often spoken in one’s Native language.
Photo caption
Studio portrait of Sioux students wearing their Carlisle boarding school uniforms in 1880, identified as, back row: David (Kills Without Wounding), Nathan (Ear), Pollock Spotted Tail; and front row: Marshall (Marshall Bad Milk) and Hugh (Running Horse).
—Photo by John N. Choate, Carlisle, Pennsylvania, Swedish National Museums of World Culture
The U.S. government’s attempt to suppress Native languages took various forms. One especially interesting piece in Skogen’s volume is Emily S. Cook’s 1904 address titled “What’s in a Name?” Skogen notes that oftentimes Indian people had no say in the matter and that government officials changed Indian names, which they struggled to pronounce, to make it easier to keep records related to Indian affairs.
The government’s name-changing policy sought to weaken Indian identities and eradicate the use of Indigenous languages. But not every individual in the Indian Service, especially those who lived and worked with Indian communities, saw the wisdom in eliminating Indian names.
Cook was one of these people. “Why should Imogen be preferred to the Kiowa name Imguna, or Jack to Zapko?” Cook asked, “Why not have a few less Marys and Johns in the world and enrich our nomenclature by picking out gems from aboriginal matrices?” Cook knew the value of Indian culture in American society, and she considered it cruel and “short of criminal” to assign names to Indian children and adults that did not reflect their tribal identity and caused great confusion within the family.
Reflecting on Cook’s advocacy for Indian names, I cannot help but think about my own family and how things could have been different for us had more school officials listened to Cook.
In the late 1940s, my grandfather, Lloyd Gilbert, attended the Phoenix Indian School in Arizona with his two siblings. The three arrived at the school with the surname Quache (pronounced Kwah-tsee), which means “friend” in the Hopi language. Officials at the Phoenix school, however, did not tolerate Indian names and told them they needed to consult with one another and replace theirs with an English name.
The mandate likely caused my grandfather and his siblings great stress and a sense of loss. It also required them to think deeply about appeasing the government while not disconnecting themselves from their family. They ultimately chose “Gilbert,” their father’s first name. A disheartening and difficult position to be in, they nonetheless demonstrated agency and worked together to address a problem imposed upon them.
While Indian students studied at government schools, prominent and influential employees in the Indian Service waxed eloquently on the state of Indian affairs, the challenges of training Indian youth, and their responsibility to “uplift” Indian pupils with Western education and values. Some did so with an air of arrogance or even ignorance. Others, such as Cook, did so with compassion and balanced foresight. Within this collection, Skogen exposes them all and provides an insightful resource to read their words within a larger historical and cultural context.
As the late David Wallace Adams wrote in the foreword, the “historical gap” between all that has been written and taught about the history of Indian education and the documentation on how “leading educators of the day viewed the proper ends and means of Indian schooling . . . is now closed.” However, the opportunity for students and others to interpret these essays and critically analyze their recommendations for solving the Indian Problem is now open.
Congratulations to Hopi-Tewa professor, Jeremy Garcia, for his new appointment as Interim Assistant Vice Provost of Native American Initiatives (NAI) at the University of Arizona! Below is the official announcement sent to the UofA community earlier today.
My grandfather (on my mother’s side), Tio A. Tachias, recently passed away in Phoenix. He was well known among the larger Latino/a community in Arizona and had a long career working with Native Nations across the state. More than a great politician and community leader, he was a wonderful grandfather who loved his family immensely. I intend to share more about him in the future. His obituary, which I helped write, is below.
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Tio A. Tachias, Obituary
Tio A. Tachias
Teofilo “Tio” Archuleta Tachias, community leader, elected official, and consultant, passed away on July 6, 2023, at 87. Tio is survived by his wife Micha of thirty-one years, children Christine (Willard) Gilbert, Sally (Tom) McMillian, Tommy (Laura) Tachias, Karen (Pat) Marez, stepchildren Adriana (Ricardo), Alejandro and Leonardo Montiel-Cordova, brother Ernesto Tachias, thirteen grandchildren, twenty-five great-grandchildren, and two great-great-grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his parents Alfredo and Aniceta Tachias, his first wife, Elisa “Liz” Fajardo, six siblings, daughter Gloria (Jerry) Dusek, and stepson Rafael Montiel-Cordova.
Tio, the youngest of thirteen children, was born in Cabezon, New Mexico, on November 4, 1935. At age six, he and his family moved to Flagstaff, Arizona, where they lived on the south side of town. Tio attended South Beaver Elementary School, Flagstaff High School, and Arizona’s Teacher College (now Northern Arizona University). As a young man, he worked at one of the town’s sawmills and in masonry to afford college while providing for his family. Later in life, he served as Business Manager and Treasurer at the local Ford dealership and as the Assistant Director of Public Relations and Development at the Museum of Northern Arizona. While his career included various business endeavors, he especially enjoyed the world of politics, an interest that started at a young age.
When he was twelve, Tio witnessed President and presidential candidate Harry S. Truman deliver a rousing campaign speech at the train depot in Flagstaff. Toward the end, Truman pointed to Tio and said to him, “With your help, I will be elected President of the United States.” For the next few weeks, he campaigned for Truman, knocking on doors, shaking hands, and distributing flyers and campaign signs. Truman won the presidency in November 1948, and Tio beamed with pride for his role in the victory. This experience ignited Tio’s passion for politics and community activism. A lifelong Democrat, Tio became the first Latino in Flagstaff to win a major election, beating his incumbent to serve as a member of the Coconino County Board of Supervisors, a position he held for twenty-four years. In the early 1980s, Tio was appointed to the Arizona Board of Regents, becoming the Board’s President in 1984.
The impact of Tio’s political career and community service reached beyond Flagstaff and northern Arizona. Over the years, he won numerous awards and recognitions, including the César Chávez Diversity Award (2018) for his “outstanding community leadership and diversity.” He also served on the national Board of Directors for the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS), became a founding member of the Coordinating Council on Mexican American Affairs, and secured a seat on the Governor’s Advisory Board on Economic Planning and Development. Tio also worked closely with several Native Nations in Arizona, a strong advocate for tribal sovereignty and Indian self-determination. In 2016, the Arizona State Legislature also honored him by reading into the Congressional Record a tribute to Tio, which stated in part: “[Mr. Tachias] developed personal and political relationships with Arizona Governors Castro, Babbitt, Mofford and Napolitano and is widely regarded as the best person to identify, register and turnout new voters on the Navajo Nation. His work contributed to countless victories and helped thousands of new voters exercise their right to vote…”
More important to him than his political pursuits, Tio loved visiting with family and friends, watching sports, playing the guitar, cooking award-winning fajitas, and singing traditional Mexican folk songs. He also enjoyed telling stories of his past, including shining shoes and selling newspapers as a young boy to soldiers on the Santa Fe train, meeting Elvis Presley and Andy Griffith during his time at Ford, sharing a cocktail with former U.S. Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy, hosting dinner at his home for Mexican American civil rights activist César Chávez, and greeting renown singer Vicente Fernández in Mexico. An avid reader and student of history, Tio also traveled extensively with his wife, Micha, to Europe, South America, Mexico, Canada, and throughout the United States. Eager to share his adventures, Tio was a remarkable storyteller, and his ability to recall specific details and captivate his listeners remained with him throughout his life.
A true gentleman, Tio’s calm and welcoming demeanor put people at ease, while his selfless, graceful, and humble attitude won him the admiration of many. God blessed the family tremendously with Tio. He will always be remembered as a loving and kind son, brother, husband, father, grandfather, uncle, cousin, nephew, and friend.
A funeral will be held on July 28, 2023, at San Francisco de Asís Catholic Parish in Flagstaff, Arizona. Services will begin at 10 am.
My love for history was evidenced at an early age.
Growing up in the 1980s, I had a fascination for all things space and thought perhaps one day I would become an astronaut.
NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) was a big deal in the ‘80s, and the launches and landings of its Space Shuttles during that decade always attracted national and international attention.
When I was in third grade living in Albuquerque, New Mexico, NASA had created a special program called the Teacher in Space Project.
Introduced by President Ronald Reagan, the program existed to “inspire students, honor teachers, and spur interest in mathematics, science, and space exploration.”
To accomplish this, NASA trained civilian teachers to be Payload Specialists and to travel with the astronauts into space in NASA’s space shuttles.
While orbiting earth, the teachers would perform various science experiments and broadcast those lessons live to classrooms across the United States.
The first teacher set to go in space was Christa McAuliffe, a high school social studies teacher from New Hampshire.
All through Fall of 1985, my teacher prepared us for these space lessons, and my classmates and I eagerly anticipated the fast approaching launch date of January 28, 1986.
When that day finally came, I joined my teacher and classmates in our classroom to watch the launch of the Space Shuttle Challenger.
I still remember the excitement in the TV announcer’s voice as the shuttle left the launchpad: “Lift off, lift off of the 25th space shuttle mission and it has cleared the tower…”
Less than seventy seconds later the unthinkable happened. The space shuttle exploded -it burst into flames, killing all seven crew members, including Mrs. McAuliffe.
We cried. But our teacher wept.
Later that night, on national television, President Reagan remarked: “We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and ‘slipped the surly bonds of earth’ to ‘touch the face of God’” (from the poem “High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee).
The next day after school, I asked my mother to take me to the store to purchase a copy of the Albuquerque Tribune. Even as a 9-year-old, I knew some of the historical significance of that moment.
A moment recorded in a newspaper. A newspaper that I saved (archived) and put in my special blue sticker album – two items that I still have today.
Thirty-six years have passed since that tragedy. Its anniversary comes and goes, and few people think much of it.
But ask someone who was raised in the ’80s where they were when the Challenger blew up, and many will respond similar to me:
I was in school, at my desk, watching in horror and with profound sadness.
[Update Dec 11, 2021): Twenty minutes after I published the below post, President Robert Robbins sent a mass email to campus that included a brief acknowledgement of Tuesday’s ruling in Georgia to halt the government’s COVID vaccine mandate. It simply read: “Many of you are aware of the ongoing litigation regarding federal executive orders that imposed vaccine requirements on federal contractors. The University will continue to monitor legal developments and provide guidance to affected employees. In the meantime, we continue to strongly encourage everyone to get vaccinated and for employees to verify their vaccination status.” Also, later the same day, Northern Arizona University announced that it had suspended its COVID vaccine mandate.]
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On Tuesday of this week, U.S. District Court Judge R. Stan Baker in Georgia issued a nationwide stay that placed a halt on the federal government’s ability to require the COVID-19 vaccine for its contractual workers.
Since then, colleges and university across the nation have also halted their vaccine mandates, including the University of Kansas, the University of Iowa, and the University of Mississippi. The number of universities that are following suit is growing by the hour.
In Arizona, the Maricopa Community College District, which comprises of 10 schools, stopped its vaccine mandate almost immediately after Tuesday’s ruling.
But what about the University of Arizona, or the other two big state universities, namely ASU and NAU? How will they respond?
Up until the writing of this post, UA campus administrators have yet to advise its employees on any changes to their mandate. A quick glance at UA’s vaccine mandate webpage shows that it has not been updated; business as usual.
If the ruling in Georgia prohibits university administrators from mandating the vaccine (which I believe it does), it would significantly hinder their practice of white paternalism on campus, as this would take power away from them – power to tell brown, black, and other white people what do with their bodies.
As I have mentioned elsewhere, white paternalism is alive and well at the University of Arizona. In fact, it now thrives here under the guise of “public health,” and yet few people on campus seem to be disturbed by it. Or are they?
Since publicly voicing my opposition in October, faculty, staff, and students at UA have expressed similar concerns to me. But for good reasons they have chosen to keep their concerns private. I (and they) understand the power dynamics of institutions of higher education. And I am cognizant of my role at UA and position in the academy.
I expect soon that President Robert Robbins will send a mass email to all campus employees regarding the recent ruling in Georgia and any changes to UA’s vaccine mandate. This will be a carefully worded email, as campus administrators do not let go of power easily.
