#NOWYOUKNOW

I have always been fascinated with gravel races - the grit, grind, and experience of

traversing through the ‘dirt’ for miles and miles. Every year when the “DK” gravel event comes up, like football season, I cringe at the normalization of anti-indigenous slurs in sports media. “R*dsk*ns” and “D*rty Kanza”, slurs glorifying grit and suffering as sport without ever knowing the actual suffering of the people who were called those slurs.

I am a cyclist, founder of Cyclista Zine, and a Kawaiisu-Shoshone-Paiute descendant Of

Tejon Tribe. Growing up Native means you are taught the unsettling truths about

America’s history and our erasure that persists the American Myth. Learning about my own history means I am also taught about other Native American tribes history. I was taught by elders that there are 26 states that have names from Native American origins.This includes the state, Kansas, which was named after the Kansa/Kanza. When you know this history, it’s easy to identify the misuse of tribal names regardless of intent cause

‘dirty’ was a common slur always used to dehumanize Native Americans.

The #changethename petition I started was an act of solidarity with Kanza relatives and

allies to ask owners of the event to be aware of the harm associated with their event title

and change it. I don’t have a story of scrubbing my own skin till the dirt bled off but there is the historical and present erasure I deal with, the eyes and cheekbones I can’t hide, the “I thought you all were extinct” comments, the family stories of mission schools assimilation programs, kidnappings, land theft, and the generational traumas associated. I know there are newspapers and stories of the word ‘dirty’ to justify theft of my peoples land, of other tribal lands. I know the slur “d*rty indian” is one that still

hurts many of us today.

I also know that Kanza relatives, along with allies in faith, academia, and residents in

Kansas have been raising awareness and engaging the issue with the event name longer than the April petition or June petition. Before me, in 2018 where conversations, petitions, education, emails, letters and books to educate the race founders. I’ve seen them.

I’ve read them. I’ve heard them. There were opportunities for change but decisions were

made behind closed doors and silenced others - legal rights. And in April, the statement as a permission slip to keep the slur as an event name silenced me.

This was how I learned when and where Indigenous voices in cycling mattered.

Folks say intentions were naive, good, and honorable and often find ways to justify the

slur for an event name. Even with legal rights, it’s not like anyone ever sought consent or asked permission from any of us about anything about our lands and cultures anyways.

Now you know... erasing Indigenous voices, gaslighting, stonewalling, white washing

history, shouting and acting willfully ignorant are repeatable patterns of colonial

violence and harm when Indigenous people resist even when there is a legal right.

Until 1978, under the The American Indian Religious Freedom Act, it was illegal for

Native Americans to practice our medicines, cultures, hunt our way, and practice our

religions. It was legal to hunt us down and steal our lands. It was legal to justify

genocide and label us “savage”, “uncivilized”, and “dirty”. It was legal to imprison us for speaking our languages. Freedom of speech does not legally make it moral to dehumanize a people. It’s not ‘just a name’ when words repeat and perpetuate harmful historical patterns to the very people it was intended to exploit.

The lack of representation and exclusion of Indigenous people in the cycling community

means that there is a general lack of proper education of Native American history and

the very lands they “play” “explore” or “adventure” through. Outside is not free. The

land is our Mother, places of origins, ceremony, medicine, and sacred burial sites. We have been connected with the land since time immemorial.

Being an Indigenous woman in the cycling community also means I create with others

an inclusive cycling community outside of colonial systems perpetuated in ‘the

outdoors’. Decolonizing bikes and the outdoors, means respecting the land, giving back to it, honoring those before us, and reclaiming what has been erased.

The places we ride through are sacred for many Indigenous tribes. Broken treaties mean the very land our wheels and feet touch are stolen and its origins erased and

whitewashed.

When you honor the ‘dirt’, honor the ancestors whose bones are buried beneath it. Honor the people who are still here. 

Be a good relative to the land, ask for consent. 

This

is ceremony.

Land/Consent,

Christina Torres 

 The first time i went up to the Council Grove area, the last place my father’s people lived on our ancestral plains, (i can’t even say free plains because by the 1800’s there was no such thing and by 1873 we had been removed from Council Grove to Indian Territory in what would later be named “Oklahoma”,) on my first pilgrimage back i fell in love, the land embraced me. We danced and visited together; it was a comfort and an education. It made me happy to be with these places, to see them and listen. We were there during Washunga Days. This is part of a celebration with the local community that some Kaw people take part in, to honor each other’s history. One of the days there was a parade and Kaw people had a float. We threw candy to the crowd. One woman caught the candy i threw and looked at me, she asked me “Do you want it back?” i knew what she meant. Everyone has heard the words, “indian giver.” But we know the reality of broken treaty truth, how the government “gave” our people land then took it back. i also knew i didn’t want to throw any more candy that day. But then an auntie handed me a bunch and nodded at the children lined up on the sidewalks- i started tossing the sweet stuff. 

There are a lot of ways to see this, and a lot of excuses that could be made. Maybe that woman thought i dropped the candy and wanted it back. Maybe. But in my heart i know she knew what she was saying, and those children next to her heard her say that to me, heard her taunting me. They also saw me keep my temper and offer more love. What makes a more lasting impression?

 And then there is that bike race. That race has been going on for years. People make money from that race, and that name. Bars have drinks named in that way, and people say it means nothing ‘bad.’ That it isn’t offensive. If you aren’t sure what i’m talking about, let me slow down. i’m referring to a bike race that rolls through our ancestral homeland, through broken treaty land, that uses the name of the tribe i am a citizen of, a nation which has existed here since before written history, and they call us dirty, right there in the name of the race. The bike race is named after my father’s people, my people. And we’re indigenous people. Kansa. For the record? We aren’t named after the state, the state of Kansas is named after us. No one asked our opinion about that either. 

Changing the name of the gravel race is an essential start for moving forward as a community, otherwise, we’re stuck in 1873- a time when it was ok for newspapers to call us dirty and for the government to systematically slaughter, relocate us and sell off the land we left behind. 

It would be really terrific if we could move beyond that; linguistically is a good place to start. Now, show you mean it.

 #nowyouknow #namethechange  

 maxpú hiⁿga miⁿga/charlee huffman

is a teacher, a student and intersectional advocate at the cross roads of Indigeneity and Dis/Ability.  She taught college for a decade and then taught her language, Kaáⁿze Íe. She now listens more than speaks and trusts in the process; .   

Glenn Fell- What are the Flint Hills? 

 What are the Flint Hills? These old hills. These ancient hills. They don't soar like mountains do. They don't dominate the horizon. They roll in a gentle and beautiful manner. They meet the sky at dawn and dusk in a way that mystifies. Colors of land and grass blend with sky and cloud. They are full of silent solitude. They are best experienced alone. They are best experienced on foot, in stillness. They are full of life, they bring an awareness of life, and will bring to you the sensation of being alive, if you will allow them to. Climbing one of their steep hills with bits of smooth flint rock underfoot to a wide vista or disappearing into one of their lush valleys of tall grass and clear streams is a wonder. It can be in summer with thousands of wildflowers in bloom, in Fall with the glowing reds and yellows of prairie grass or in winter in wind-driven snow drifts, but it is always a wonder. Yet, to fully experience these hills you must- know the people of this wonderland, the Kanza. It would more appropriate I think, to call these Flint Hills the Kanza Hills. The Kanza called themselves the people of the Southwind and they lived among these hills, making their homes along its waterways. They understood its ways. They flourished here. They lived here, they died here. They are proud of their culture, their way of life, their language. They knew this land, its plants, its animals, its ways. And then within the span of one generation they were forced to leave here, on foot, in sorrow, leaving behind the bones of their ancestors. Yet, today, everywhere you go in these hills they, their bones are there, their spirit is there, they are still there. They never really left. Their descendants are alive and well and you can meet them. They still come home to these hills to dance and pray and sing the old songs. You can only really know these hills if you take time to stop and sit still and let them touch you. You can only really know these people, the Kanza, if you stop and take time to listen, take time to learn their story, meet them, hear them tell it. You can hear their voices in these hills if you stop to look and listen, slow down, be alone, sit, be still, let the hills and their voices touch you, touch your mind, your heart, your soul. Then you will understand who Kanza are and will always be an intimate living part of the wonder in these hills. You will understand why it is important that what is done and said in these hills, must bring honor to them, bring honor not just to these hills, wonder though they are, but honor to the name Kanza, and in doing so honor not just a name but a still living and proud people. That is what the Flint Hills are.  

Dr Glenn T Fell

Naturalist and agriculturalist with a PhD in Agronomy. University professor of agriculture and

conservation in Africa and Kansas for 20 years. Former leader of the Flint Hills Region of the Kansas

Native Plant Society. Prairie guide for native grass and wildflower and identification and appreciation.

Helped establish and name the Southwind Nature Trail at the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve in the

Kansas Flint Hills. Amateur nature poetry writer and photographer. Former resident of Olathe and

Emporia Kansas now residing in Boulder, Colorado.