Melvin Martin: Just when you thought it was safe...

Opinion

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

When it comes to the extremely chronic problem of racism towards the American Indian in Rapid City, South Dakota, I am reminded of the highly popular tagline for the 1975 movie, "Jaws" - "just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water..." - please access this article "Women convicted of hate crimes accused of violating probation" that appeared in the Rapid City Journal's online version on February 9, 2010.

In a nutshell, this is the story and I quote: "Two Rapid City women convicted of a racially motivated hate crime were back in court Tuesday. Genna Gitzke and Miranda Sheldon, both 21, were arraigned on probation violation charges in front of 7th Circuit Court Judge A.P. Fuller. Gitzke and Sheldon pleaded guilty to malicious intimidation in July for harassing and intimidating two groups of Native Americans. At that time, Fuller placed them on five years probation and ordered them to spend the anniversary of their crime in jail. Fuller granted a suspended sentence providing the women had no probation violations. The judge´s suspension order would have sealed the record on the felony conviction."

A portion of the "malicious intimidation in July" involved the use of a motor vehicle (a "car" to these women), a practice that is quite common in Rapid City whenever Indian people are harassed in such a manner - or as I have designated this particular form of behavior, "drive-by cowardice."

"Drive-by cowardice" in various forms has been occurring in Rapid City for decades.

I was born in Rapid City in the `50s and left there when I was 18 after joining the U.S. Army in 1971. My family has had a presence in Rapid City since the late '20s when one of my mother's uncles became one of the first Indians to own his own home there.

One morning in December of 1971, after having completed basic training at Fort Polk, Louisiana (where I was the only Indian in my training unit) and three weeks of additional training at Fort Sam Houston, Texas (at which time I was granted Christmas leave); I was waiting for a cab at the old Continental Trailways bus station in downtown Rapid City (in my winter green uniform) when a carload of cowboys and a few girls drove by, called me a "red skinned nigger," and threw a brown paper bag at me that exploded against the wall behind my head (the bag contained a large amount of feces).

They then drove off at a fairly high rate of speed, with three of the vehicle´s occupants wagging their tongues at me and flipping me off through the rear window.

From the time that I last lived in Rapid City to when I left (an 11-year period, from 1995-2007, minus a year in New York), I lived and worked downtown where I walked to and from work, and practically every day I was glared at and/or rudely stared at by passing non-Indian motorists. And perhaps two to three times a week a carload of punks would either yell out some kind of racial epithet as they passed me on the street or loudly honk their horns at me. Several times I was referred to as a "wetback" and once I was even called a "f**king gook!" by a carload of drunken college guys as I was on my way to the public library on a Saturday afternoon. I voluntarily joined the military during the Vietnam conflict, so being called a "gook" had a special resonance with me.

There was another noteworthy incident that took place in downtown Rapid City that constituted an act of "drive-by cowardice," and with yet another unusual physical component tossed into the mix. On February 19th of 2005, at around twilight, I was walking back to my apartment after celebrating my birthday with a dinner at the Radisson at Main Street and Mount Rushmore Road when all of a sudden a luxury-model SUV pulled up alongside me. The vehicle's windows were tinted to the extent that I could not see the occupants at all. The passenger side window went down and a gigantic pair of white buttocks materialized, protruding out the window by at least a foot.

There was a loud scream and the words "This is for you, chief! Go back to the f**king reservation! F**k you!"

And exactly like my assailants in 1971, the SUV drove off at high speed, heading west on Main Street. What could I have done? As in all the other times when I was treated like this, all I could do was to continue on my way. And never once did I ever retaliate - until now with this op-ed.

My physical appearance during this period can best be described as "business professional" as I worked in sales and marketing. I have always worn my hair short and I am clean-shaven - I make this observation to point out that I was never a dirty street wino or some kind of a scruffy, homeless denizen of the alleyways that the majority of whites in Rapid City believe most Indian males there to be. Not to say that these particular individuals deserve to be harassed, but I was no more than just another citizen going about his daily, mundane routines.

I lost track of the number of Indian people who complained to me over the years of the harassment they received simply walking down the street in that town, but a conservative estimate goes into at least several hundred.

I wish that there was some way that Rapid City could at last be revealed to all of the nation and the rest of the world for the racist manure pile that it is. For the past 15 years I have actively fought alone as a behind-the-scenes activist against the mistreatment of Indian people not only in South Dakota, but throughout the country whenever incidents like these and worse have occurred. And in closing I am asking all who read this op-ed to tell others about it. Please share it. Pilamaya.

Melvin Martin is an enrolled member of the Oglala Sioux Tribe of South Dakota. He can be contacted at pbr_74@live.com.