Origins
Where have we come from? How did we get here? Two of my driving questions.
In Blog #1, I explained my own trajectory in coming to the forest after decades of teaching in urban areas. I needed to immerse myself in nature.
Now, as to the origins of these lands themselves, walking among these hills, I often contemplate what life was like before non-Native colonizers came, how the indigenous Pomo and Yuki once lived here. Not so very long ago—up to the 1850s—they thrived on the plenty provided by the sea, forests, rivers, and valleys and lived in relative peace for generations.
In the same years when my ancestor Emily Bancroft lived in San Francisco in the 1860s, Native Californians and Indians across the West were battling to save their lands and lives (see Benjamin Madley’s book on that history, An American Genocide). But for non-Indian urban dwellers, “Indian disturbances”—as Emily once referred to such conflicts—were far away, and only meant a delay in the mail.
Once I moved to Mendocino County, I became attuned to the enduring presence of Native peoples here and elsewhere in rural California where tribes have clawed back their own land and cultural practices.
For example, in the process of an Indian-led struggle over the destruction of sacred sites during the construction of the Willits Bypass (see my blog Urban Woman’s Guide Back to the Land, starting #26 on this conflict), I developed a friendship with Priscilla Hunter, an elder of the Coyote Valley Band of Pomo Indians, and her Chicana partner Polly Girvin.
In seeking to learn how the Coyote Valley Reservation came into being, I conducted dozens of oral history interviews with Priscilla, Polly, their family, friends and associates. The resulting interviews became a rich trove of stories I’ve woven together to help preserve the history of Coyote Valley’s rejuvenation.
Polly Girvin, me, and Priscilla Hunter enjoying storytelling.
These Pomo people’s culture nearly died out. Under the leadership of Priscilla’s ancestors two generations back, her own generation, and now her children and grandchildren’s generations, the Coyote Valley Pomo, like many other California tribes, have created a strong community with housing, recreation, medical care, education, and cultural renewal, including a summer Big Time featuring their own tribe’s Feather Dancers.
Pomo Feather Dancers at the Pt. Arena Acorn Festival, 2017.
Their struggles continue. Priscilla, Polly, and a strong coalition of tribal and non-Indian environmental activists are now seeking co-management of a Mendocino state forest where Indian people once found refuge from the onslaught of white settlers on the coasts and in the valleys. You can learn about this tribal effort to reclaim rights over the destiny of Jackson Demonstration State Forest and its cultural sites at PomoLandBack and SaveJackson.
The joy of collecting stories also steered me to help Fred Short (Chippewa) write his memoir, called The Stories of Fred Short: American Indian Movement Spiritual Leader. Fred’s trajectory led him from juvenile incarceration, to a young career as a prize fighter where he could pound out his anger, to eventually finding peace of mind in sobriety and the healing power of practicing culturally relevant Native traditions.
Fred and I speaking at a ceremony.
Fred’s book is available privately; if you’re interested in buying a copy, let me know, and I’ll connect you with his wife Connie Short, or contact them on their Facebook page.
And so the circles of my life come round with deep connections to people, to land, and to story. I’ll speak more about collecting oral histories—like my ancestor Matilda Bancroft did—in my next blog.
