Americans—In Every Sense of the Word

Indigenous Peoples Day, or Día de la Raza —still Columbus Day for some— marks two eternally-dueling sides of history—of conquerors and conquered peoples, Indigenous and immigrant, settlers and the unsettled. Most Latinos in the United States are the living embodiment of this, once removed from the original point of encounters in the Caribbean, Central, and South America and now here on Turtle Island, an indigenous name for North America. The legacy of this impacts not only, first and foremost, hundreds of Indigenous sovereign nations within this country, but is implicated in an immigration policy that demonizes those crossing our southern border. This border, which did not exist until 1848, when the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo ended the war between Mexico and the United States, was imposed upon Indigenous communities that have existed throughout the region for eons.

When President Trump and his allies attack Mexicans, they’re not talking about only Mexicans, of course. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) isn’t giving anyone a pass because they or their parents came instead from Peru or Panama or Paraguay. They see us all, collectively, as the Other that must perpetually be conquered and/or corralled. Even Puerto Ricans, who are U.S. citizens from birth, get caught up in this drama.

At the same time, it’s not completely correct to say that all Latinos within each respective nationality are equally impacted. The main target of antipathy and antagonism, in interpersonal and policy-based racism toward immigrants, is directed most intensely at those who either arrive directly from Indigenous territories (many speak only their original languages, not Spanish) or who, at least in appearance, present the Amerindian phenotype of their ancestors.

The most recent news —as if children in cages isn’t horrific enough— about forced sterilization performed on immigrant Mexican and Central American women in border concentration camps, is a page from the playbook of genocide—something Native American women know all too well. The irony should not be lost on anyone, that those whose ancestors —Indigenous Peoples— have lived here the longest are the most attacked by those whose European forebears arrived most recently.

“While Team Biden-Harris have indeed put forth several platform points in this regard, we can urge them to focus especially on the honoring of U.S. treaties”

In unprecedented numbers, some Hispanics (the U.S. government’s favorite term for us) have begun indicating their race in the U.S. Census as “Native American”—a phenomenon for which the Chicano Movement of the 1960s certainly first lit the spark. This assertion of indigenous identity and the respect for indigenous survival and resilience is part of a journey perhaps only possible in the United States: reckoning with the non-European heritage that, in Latin America itself, so many grow up taught to be ashamed of and even deny. This reclaimed pride in actual Indigenous heritage comes at an opportune time, in 2020, to connect us, as immigrants, with our historical kin here in the United States—as true allies—much as so many among the African diaspora here have come together in the Movement for Black Lives.

One immediate way to demonstrate solidarity is at the polls next month. Julián Castro led fellow Democratic candidates with his action plan on Native American issues. While Team Biden-Harris have indeed put forth several platform points in this regard, we can urge them to focus especially on the honoring of U.S. treaties, as well as the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which was produced by collaborative effort, including key Indigenous voices throughout Las Americas.

YouTube is filled with videos of the burgeoning trend among many young Latinos in the United States doing DNA test “reveals”—showcasing a gotcha moment intended toward family members who insist all their roots are from Spain. The moment of reckoning comes when the teenage protagonist discovers that their genetic lineage is in fact 25%, 48%, maybe as much as 75- 80% Amerindian.

Such knowledge must not in any way be understood to confer citizenship or membership in an Indigenous nation. But it matters because it underlines the historical grounding from which we, our parents, our grandparents have come—and can link us in a most meaningful way to the peoples of this land in which we live today; peoples whose ancestors, like many of our own, were in the Americas long before Columbus.