Surviving Disappearance, Re-Imagining & Humanizing Native Peoples: Matika Wilbur at TEDxSeattle

Matika Wilbur, is one of the Pacific Northwest's leading photographers and a certified teacher at Tulalip Heritage High School
She shares how she explores the contemporary Native identity and experience and docuuments it through the impeccable artistry of each of her silver gelating photographs.

In the spirit of ideas worth spreading, TEDx is a program of local, self-organized events that bring people together to share a TED-like experience. At a TEDx event, TEDTalks video and live speakers combine to spark deep discussion and connection in a small group. These local, self-organized events are branded TEDx, where x = independently organized TED event. The TED Conference provides general guidance for the TEDx program, but individual TEDx events are self-organized.* (*Subject to certain rules and regulations)

I am from the Swinomish and Tulalip tribe.

I am here today to carry
the message from the silenced.

To show you some
of Native America's beauty.

And to encourage
our collective consciousness

to reimagine the way we see each other.

Can we re-learn to see as human beings?

Does the photographic image
impact our lives

and the lives of those around us?

If it does, can we use that image

to encourage and inspire one another?

Do something for me:

try to remember the last time that you saw

a Native American in massive media.

Is this what you saw?

If it is, I wouldn't be surprised,
because between 1990 and 2000

there were 5,868
blockbuster-released films.

Twelve included of American Indians.

All of them showed Indians as

spiritual or in-tune with nature

Ten of them as impoverished and/or
beaten down by society,

ten as continually
in conflict with Whites.

However, the image of
the professional photographer,

the musician, the teacher, the doctor,

were largely absent.

What's interesting is how this image

manifests itself into our psyche.

You see, when this image

is shown to a young Native person,

they report feeling lower self-esteem

and depressed about
what they are able to become

or would like to become.

Shockingly, when shown
to the white counterpart,

their self-esteem is raised.

If society only sees us as these images,

it means that our modern issues
don't exist.

Nor do our efforts like
schooling and economic development

through sovereignty and Nation building.

How can we be seen as modern,
successful people

if we are continually represented

as the leathered-and-feathered
vanishing race?

For the last ten years,

my work has been about
counteracting these images,

to create positive indigenous
role models from this century.

My most recent endeavor, Project 562,

is dedicated to photographing

every indigenous nation

in the United States.

So far, I've driven 50,000 miles,

shot 106 tribes,

and shot thousands of rolls of film.

And each tribe that I go to,
I interview folks,

I ask them questions about
identity and stereotypes.

What does it mean to be a real Indian?

How do we deal with blood quantum?

Tell me about some of the issues
within your community.

But most importantly,

can you tell me your story?

Such as this one:

here we have Leon Grant.

Leon is an Omaha Indian.

He was reared on a ranch in Nebraska.

When he was sixteen years old,

he decided that

he wanted to pursue an education.

So he left a note for his folks
while they were in town,

and proceeded to walk for 49 days
until he arrived in Phoenix, Arizona.

When he got there, he put himself
through a community college,

undergrad, theology school,
and eventually law school.

And then he set up American Indian Centers
all across the country.

Because Leon told me at that time,

Indian People were still
considered lesser citizens.

This is a photo of my cousin Anna.

Anna is Swonomish, Hualapai, Havasupai,

Cherokee, Chemehuevi, and Salish.

And, I was talking to Anna
the other day, and I said,

"Anna, do you think racism
still exists in America?"

Oh, and Anna started crying.

And I was like "Oh, Anna!" and she said,

"You know, Matika,
if you want to know about that,

all you have to do is go to the lunchroom.

You can see the segregation."

She said, "I just don't think
it's ever going to change."

And I said, "Oh, honey,
of course it can change!"

You see, I sat in that lunchroom.

So I could relate to her.

I just love her.
This is Marva "Sii~xuuttesna" Jones

Marva is from the Village of Nilichinden,

which is a tribe in Northern California

with a colonized name of
"The Smith River Rancheria."

However, the people are Tolowa.

Marva is rad! You'd love her.

(Laughter)

And you'll notice her 111 tattoo.

When I asked her about its significance,

she said,

"I always knew I wanted to get my 111.

Especially after learning the history
of it being outlawed in California.

California independent Indian tattooing

was outlawed in the early 1900s.

I always thought I was going to have one.

Learning our history
empowered me to get my 111.

It was traditionally applied
through the tapping method.

For me it signifies
my commitment to who I am.

It signifies my ability

to carry forward my ancestors' message

and the work that my people
have laid for my community.

It also signifies courage and strength.

I've had it since January 20th of 2011.

It'll be two years.

I never thought about
he experience of people staring at you

everywhere you go until I got it.
I really wasn't prepared for that.

I didn't get it for those reasons.
I'm really not one for attention,

whether it's negative or positive,

it's about a fifty-fifty.

Airports, stores and public places,

I feel like it's made me not
look at people anymore.

You can tell that people judge you.

You can totally tell
when they don't like you.

And sometimes they acknowledge you
and they say, 'Nice tatoo, sister.'

But some people are just like,

'Who is this freak?'

'Why would you do that?'

I thought you could tell it's tribal.

But I guess people don't know.

So it's brought on
a new sense of patience for me."

This is a photo of a White Mountain
Apache crown dancer.

I had the rare opportunity
to take this photo

while I was in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

They represent the mountain spirit gods,

and dance for traditional, sacred reasons.

This is Starflower Montoya.

Star is Barona and Taos Pueblo.

She's wearing her traditional manta

that she received during
her coming of age ceremony.

When I asked Star,

how do we navigate
being an Indian in 2013, she said:

"My grandma said it best: 'You have
to wear your moccasin on one foot,

and your tennis shoe on the other.'"

(Laughter)

This is Paul Chavez.

Paul is Bishop Paiute and Apache,

which is in the Owens Valley.

It's one of the most beautiful places
I've ever been to.

Paul has spent his life dedicated

to the preservation of Native culture.

First by serving as the tribal chairman,
by setting up TANF programs

throughout Indian Country
and by working with Native youth.

While I was visiting Paul
in Paiute country,

I was most taken aback
by the story of the "paya,"

which means "water" in Paiyute.

Pre-colonization, the Paiyute people

constructed and managed 60 miles
of intricate irrigation systems

for millenia, long before the city of
Los Angeles secured its largest water source

through modern engineering
over a century ago.

After the Indian Wars of 1863,

surviving Paiute returned home to find

their ancient waterworks taken over
by white settlers.

Today, 150 years later, the Paiute tribe

is still in litigation
for those waterworks.

It's a fine example of our tribes'
continued struggle for sovereignty.

When I talked to Paul about these issues,

he said, "The important thing is that
we are here. We survived.

If you think about it, every Native that is
alive today as a result of

our ancestors surviving.

So you have to ask yourself,

'Why are you here?'

'Why am I here?'

I've come to the conclusion for myself
that we are here to carry on as a tribe.

Otherwise, we will become our colonizers.

We will just blend in.

And that's our struggle, not to do that,

because being a Native person from here,
or wherever you are,

there's value in being who you are.

Not only as a tribe,

but for the sustainability of the Earth.

It has a lot to do with our traditional,
sustainable ways.

The most fundamental part of
being sovereign is

believing you are sovereign.

Believing that you are a nation.
That's the basis.

Then, the next step
is acting upon that.

This is Jane Blackman.

Jane is from the Pala tribe
in Southern California

and she is a devout Catholic.

Jane wanted to have
her photo taken in the mission.

Here we have a photograph of Hayes Lewis.

Hayes is the superintendent
for the Zuni school district

And it's really exiting.

The Zuni tribe just broke away

from the neighboring district.

When we were talking about how it was

that they had come to decide this,

we were talking about how federal policy
has affected education, he said,

"The next step in development

is actually changing the policies
and the structure of education

that will make a difference.

If you just take the structure
of education the way it is,

with its policies, practices and mandates,
what difference does it make

if you don't go back into the community
and basically rebuild from the bottom up?"

This is Guylish Bommelyn.

Guylish is also Tolowa.

He is an Athabascan speaker.

He teaches his language
in the tribal school there.

Since I've been on this journey,
I've met Athabascan speakers

in Alaska, in California, in Arizona,

in New Mexico,

and the southern tribes say that
the northern ones got tired of walking.

(Laughter)

This is Mary Evelyn Baumgarten.

Mary is just lovely.

Mary is a retired professor
from the University of New Mexico

where she taught indigenous education.

Mary is passionate about training teachers

to work within indigenous communities.

After a very long conversation about

the history of boarding schools
in this country, and assimilation,

she said, "When are we
going to stop asking our children

to choose between cultural education
and western education?

I think we are ready to stop
the assimilation process.

The time to change is already among us."

This is Anthony "Thosh" Collins

from the Salt River Pima tribe.

Thosh is a bird singer.

That's his rattle there.

Thosh is dedicated to total body wellness

by eating mostly plant-based foods.

When I'm with Thosh, it is always
way easier for me to choose

the salad over the French toast!

(Laughter)

So, I was in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

We went down for the Gathering of Nations.

I got there and I was like,

"Oh, my God! There's 21 tribes
in New Mexico.

Who am I gonna photograph,

and how am I going to reach
all of these people?"

So I put it on Facebook:
"I'm looking for friends,

and I need to go to all of these tribes."

And I realized that my friend Dana's mom

was from Navajo Nation

and Valerie called me and she said,

"I'll take you."

So we drove, and drove and drove

and drove down a dirt road

until we finally arrived here

at Ray and Fannie Mitchell's house.

Ray and Fannie are 82 and 83 years old.

They've been married for 65 years.

They only speak Diné.

So, their daughter translated for me.

Ray is a retired railroad worker.

He's retired to ranch life.

Fannie is a weaver.

Here where they live on Navajo Nation,
they live without

running water or electricity.

They live on a sheep camp.

Fannie shears the sheep,

dyes the wool and weaves the rugs.

When I was going out there,

I was feeling so sorry for myself,
because it was my birthday.

And I was upset that
I was getting another year older.

But also because I was away
from my family and my friends

and then I got here
and they made me mutton stew

and handmade tortillas

and they prayed for my journey

and they made me feel like family.

And I just felt so blessed.

So, I was going into
the famous Grand Canyon

to photograph the Havasupai People.

And I called Matthew.

After I got permission from
the tribal council to go there,

I said, "I would like to come on Friday."

He said, "Well, do you hike?"

(Laughter)

I was like, "I have running shoes."

He said, "Okay, fine.
Do you ride horses?""

And I said, "Yeah! I have cowboy boots."

(Laughter)

He was like, "We're going to put you
on a helicopter."

(Laughter)

So they took me down
into the Grand Canyon.

Matthew says to me,

"Matika, to get here, all you have to do

is drive up old Route 66.

You'll see a sign for Havasupai.

Turn right there.

Drive until you see a helicopter.
When you get there,

tell the pilot you're an Indian,
He'll let you on; he'll bring you down."

(Laughter)

I was like, "What?"
(Laughter)

So, my mentor told me that

"Courage is having fear,

and doing it anyway."

So I mustered all of my courage:

I got in my car, and I drove Route 66,
I looked for the sign.

I took the right, I found the helicopter,

I showed him my tribal I.D.

I got on the helicopter
and I arrived down there.

When I got off the helicopter,

Benji and Matthew were waiting for me

and all of my fear dissipated.

This photo was taken

at about 11:00 at night after a full day
of shooting in the Canyon

and all around their beautiful village.

The Havasupai People consider themselves
the guardians of the Grand Canyon.

"Havasupai" means,

"The people of the blue-green water."

This is Matthew in his traditional regalia

with his daughter.

So the next day, I took this photo:

this is Rex Tolusi.

When Benji brought me over to see Rex,

Rex said,

"I really have a hard time

talking with outsiders, because in 2000,

surveyors came in,

and they took our blood.

They said they were going
to help us with diabetes.

And then they used our blood

to try to prove that
we weren't from the Canyon."

So I didn't set up my microphone,
I didn't take my camera out of my bag.

I sat and visited with Rex for a while.

We talked about what it's like.

I said, "I, too, I grew up on a Rez,

I, too have suffered from the effects

of our inter-generational trauma,

I, too, am recovering."

And we had similar paths,

as teachers in tribal schools.

And we cried for the students

that we'd lost.

Finally, after Rex heard

that I could make really good fried bread,

(Laughter)

he said, "You can turn
your microphone on."

"What would you like me
to tell the people?"

He said,

"Remind them that we all come
from the same Mother Earth.

I think they may have forgotten.

Tell them that all of us,

the brown, the red,

the yellow, the purple,

we are all from the same place.

Our job is to take care of our Mother.

But mostly, tell them we survived."

As I was driving out of the Grand Canyon,

on the road to come here,

I was just so overwhelmed by gratitude.

I was crying.

And I started thinking about all the people
that have supported my journey so far:

the generous Kickstarter contributors,

the people that have fed me

and housed me, and prayed for me.

And sent me off in a good way.

I realized that people are supportive

because they believe in a cause.

Because, at the core of it all,

we all want to remember

that we come from the same place.

That we belong to one another.

So, the journey continues!

Thank you.

(Laughter)

(Applause).