May 28, 2006 - 02:08:24 CDT
My younger brother, Whitney Bell, made me proud the day he walked across the stage to receive his diploma for a master's degree in communication.He looked like he was 7 feet tall as he wore a beautiful, black-tipped eagle feather headdress.
I remember the morning of his graduation. He rushed about, taking care of last-minute details. His to-do list included making a visit to the dean's office, because he was told he needed permission to wear his eagle feathers, traditional symbols of achievement.
I said: Don't ask, just do it.
But, understandably, he wanted this special day to be more predictable. So he went to see college administrators at St. Cloud State University in Minnesota.
"They didn't know anything about eagle feathers," he said. "They didn't know about my culture, or me."
Luckily, there was an Indian Center in St. Cloud. School officials called there to get the lowdown on our Northern Plains tribes, the Mandan, Hidatsa and Arikara. They later called Whitney to say he could wear his headdress.
I still remember all the foreign students who wanted my brother to pose for pictures with them. Was it because he was tall and handsome? Or were they in awe of our tribal traditions?
We enjoyed that day. But across the country, Indian students are battling school officials over the right to wear sacred eagle feathers, a revered cultural item for tribes all over the United States.
In some cases, school officials have humiliated Indian graduates.
Last year, a high school student in Portland, Ore., had eagle plumes pulled from her head. And a student in Pocatello, Idaho, was removed from his high school procession because he wore an eagle feather.
This year, high school students in Mesa, Ariz., prevailed. The school had banned wearing eagle feathers with caps and gowns at Westwood High School, where 225 Indian students attend school.
Ryan Wilson, president of the National Indian Education Association, said many people in reservation communities can't believe Indian students face these problems, which happen mainly in urban areas.
But he tells them: "Trust me. It happens. It happens all over the place."
Recently, the Associated Press reported 50 students in New York "quietly protested outside their school Friday, upset with a decision to allow six seniors to wear their traditional Onondaga regalia to graduation next month."
Graduation ceremonies shouldn't be a cultural battleground for Indian students.
But they are. More than 90 percent of some 600,000 Indian students attend public school, where decision-makers often lack cultural knowledge. The problem becomes exacerbated, Wilson said, when Indians make up 1 percent of the U.S. population but are expected to educate the other 99 percent.
Students don't have that kind of time, he said.
The Indian Education Association president issued a statement encouraging students to wear their eagle plumes and feathers. And don't ask for permission, he said, "even if it's in defiance of ill-conceived school district policies."
Express your tribal identity, he said, especially on a day that half their Indian classmates won't enjoy because they dropped out.
School officials like to argue that nothing can be worn to dishonor the cap and gown. But they fail to understand a sacred eagle feather brings honor to the person wearing it.
Others around the feather benefit, too.
At Wyoming Indian School in Ethete, Wyo., high school graduates don't even wear a cap and gown. Instead, every student wears traditional clothing and as many eagle feathers as they want.
If the National Indian Education Association encourages students to carry wings or wear headdress from the revered bald or golden eagle - even in defiance of the rules - then educational institutions ought to heed the message.
Schools that fail to recognize tribal traditions reflect a cultural ignorance reminiscent of turn-of-the-century boarding schools. I'd say cultural arrogance, but it seems most people opposed to cultural integrity have none themselves.
When I graduated from the University of Colorado, I wanted to carry an eagle fan. I didn't think I should have to ask anyone. There was some initial protest from school officials, but my mom and sister encouraged me to carry it anyway.
So I did.
The most memorable moment of my college graduation was when I walked across the stage. My friends and family sat in the building where I attended journalism classes. I heard my Aunt Alyce "lulu," meaning she rattled a woman's cry of honor for me.
I felt so proud. My chin trembled. I held back tears. I left the stage with a college diploma in one hand and an eagle fan in the other.
(Jodi Rave covers Indian issues for Lee Enterprises. She can be reached jodi.rave@;lee.net or (800) 366-7186 ext. 299.)
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