{"id":28606,"date":"2022-10-03T09:08:36","date_gmt":"2022-10-03T13:08:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.indianz.com\/News\/?p=28606"},"modified":"2022-10-03T09:25:41","modified_gmt":"2022-10-03T13:25:41","slug":"underscore-news-powwow-returns-to-penitentiary-for-first-time-since-covid-19","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/indianz.com\/News\/2022\/10\/03\/underscore-news-powwow-returns-to-penitentiary-for-first-time-since-covid-19\/","title":{"rendered":"Underscore.news: Powwow returns to penitentiary for first time since COVID-19"},"content":{"rendered":" \"Washington<\/a>
Keith \u201cSoy\u201d Redthunder, Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation, has attended the Washington State Penitentiary powwow for years. He is the great-great grandson of Chief Joseph the younger and a Vietnam veteran. Photo by Jarrette Werk \/ Underscore News<\/figcaption>\r\n
Indigenous Prisoners Hold First Powwow Since 2019<\/div>\r\n
For Native Americans incarcerated at the Washington State Penitentiary, the September event was a highlight of the year that they fought to preserve.<\/div>\r\n
Monday, October 3, 2022<\/div>\r\n
By Karina Brown<\/div>\r\n
Underscore.news<\/a><\/div>\r\n

<\/p>\r\nThis story originally appeared on Underscore News<\/a>.<\/strong>\r\n

<\/p>\r\nIn the grassy plateau of eastern Washington, powwow dancers in full regalia entered a circle of spectators, drummers and singers. There were grass dancers adorned with brightly colored fringe that shook and swayed with their movements. Jingle dancers covered in tiny metal cones added to the percussive rhythm.

<\/p>\r\nBut most of the dancers that day were dressed in identical khakis and white tee shirts. They moved to the beat of the drums, surrounded by their families and supporters. Outside that ring stood rows of chain link fences topped with razor wire.

<\/p>\r\nOn September 8, Native American prisoners at the Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla hosted their first powwow in three years, a 50-year tradition temporarily halted by the Covid-19 pandemic<\/a>.

<\/p>\r\n\u201cToday is a big day, to be able to see our families,\u201d said Yakama inmate Tallon Saluskin. \u201cAnd to get to show love.\u201d

<\/p>\r\nThirty-seven Indigenous inmates and 75 guests attended the first of 22 powwows scheduled for September and October in Washington state prisons. It was the first time the Washington State Department of Corrections allowed an outdoor powwow in a medium-security prison. There was drumming and dancing, plus a feast of salmon, buffalo stew and fry bread. Late in the afternoon, prisoners presented handmade gifts to nearly every attendee.

<\/p>\r\n \"Washington<\/a>

Joey Brooks, Lakota, has participated in four powwows during his incarceration at Washington State Penitentiary. He credits a reconnection to his culture for guiding him in the right direction. “No matter how far you get off the path, the medicine will bring you back,\u201d Brooks said, on September 8, 2022. Photo by Jarrette Werk \/ Underscore News<\/figcaption>\r\n

<\/p>\r\nJoey Brooks, a Lakota inmate, grew up on the Navajo Nation. He said the September event was his fourth powwow at the prison in Walla Walla.

<\/p>\r\n\u201cWe come together to try and show our family that we\u2019ve let down that we can change,\u201d Brooks said. \u201cAnd that we\u2019re trying to change.\u201d

<\/p>\r\nThe lack of powwows, sweat lodges and other Native American religious ceremonies during the pandemic made a difficult time period even harder, according to Jeremy Garretson, Northern Arapaho, Indigenous Reentry Program Manager at Unkitawa. The organization\u2019s name is a Lakota word that means \u201cours, yours and mine\u201d and conveys the concept that what appears to be individual must be cared for collectively.

<\/p>\r\n\u201cWithout access to prayer, you\u2019re dealing with a completely different individual,\u201d Garretson said.

<\/p>\r\n \"Washington<\/a>

Jeremy Garretson, Northern Arapaho, serves as the Indigenous Reentry Program Director at Unkitawa, a nonprofit centered in traditional practices to help heal and support communities through ceremony, art and culture. Garretson, who was formerly incarcerated himself, now assists Native circles in Washington prisons. Photo by Jarrette Werk \/ Underscore<\/figcaption>\r\n

<\/p>\r\nThat painful stretch of time devoid of religious ceremonies ended sooner for prisoners who participated in other religions, even though Native Americans are incarcerated in the United States at higher rates than any other racial category, after African Americans. Though they make up 1.9% of the population of Washington State, nearly 5% of the people jailed in state prisons in Washington are Native American.

<\/p>\r\n\u201cWe just have too many of our young men and also women in the prison system,\u201d said Shelly Boyd, a Sinixt member of the Arrow Lakes band of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation and a guest at the September powwow. \u201cAnd everyone that comes in here, they bring a little piece of their family here with them.\u201d

<\/p>\r\nCovid restrictions in prison were especially detrimental to Indigenous faith practices, according to Gabe Galanda, attorney and founder and chairman of Huy (pronounced \u201cHoyt\u201d), a nonprofit that advocates for Indigenous prisoners.

<\/p>\r\n\u201cYou can\u2019t distance inside a sweat lodge the way you can during a mass or some other form of religious worship,\u201d said Galanda, a member of the Round Valley Indian Tribes.

<\/p>\r\n \"Washington<\/a>

On September 8, 2022, 75 guests and 37 Indigenous prisoners attended the first powwow held at the Washington State Penitentiary in three years. The tradition was halted during the COVID-19 pandemic. Photo by Jarrette Werk\/ Underscore News<\/figcaption>\r\n

<\/p>\r\nRestrictions under the pandemic caused an absence of ceremony comparable only to one other period of time, since officials in Washington State first allowed them, at least 50 years ago.

<\/p>\r\nIn 2010, the Washington Department of Corrections (WDOC) sharply curtailed the Indigenous faith practices it allowed. At issue were budget cuts and a dispute over whether to allow children to attend powwows.

<\/p>\r\nBut the religious rights of Indigenous prisoners are protected under the First Amendment, the American Indian Religious Freedom Act of 1978 and rulings from the U.S. Supreme Court including the 1979 case Bell v. Wolfish, which found that prisoners “do not forfeit all Constitutional protections by reason of their conviction and confinement in prison.\u201d

<\/p>\r\nTen tribes petitioned the governor for a reversal of the 2010 policies, but it took over two years for the WDOC to restore Native prisoners\u2019 religious rights.

<\/p>\r\nIn the spring of that year, Galanda helped a Tulalip tribal member regain his job as Native chaplain when the WDOC fired him for trying to bring in tobacco for use during a change of seasons ceremony.

<\/p>\r\nAt the September powwow, Galanda said his own father had been imprisoned in Washington state when his mother was pregnant with him.

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