Native Americans enlist for turf and tribe
They continue to join the military in larger numbers than almost any other minority group – many out of a sense of tribal duty.
from the August 20, 2007 edition
Page 3 of 3
"Our patriotism is first to the family and the clan," says Ed Piestewa, a Hopi, during a veterans-appreciation ceremony on the Navajo reservation. As we speak, a color guard marches out into the searing sun. They're wearing military attire along with feathered head dresses and traditional jewelry. Moments later, the color guard sings The Star-Spangled Banner – in Navajo.
Mr. Piestewa's niece, Lori Ann Piestewa, was the first female soldier to die fighting in Iraq. Her convoy was hit by a bomb in 2003 in Nasiriyah. (Pfc. Piestewa's best friend Jessica Lynch was injured in the same attack). She was a single mom with two small children and, according to her uncle, hoped military benefits would help support her family. Her decision to serve carried cultural significance as well.
"She was fulfilling a traditional right of passage," says Piestewa. Then he adds, "Natives were enlisting before we were recognized as US citizens. They enlist to protect the family."
Similarly, when Mary Cohoe looks at the flag, she doesn't think about Congress, the president, or democratic ideals. To her, Old Glory is a symbol of the US military and the physical sacrifices she and her people have made for their land. Ms. Cohoe served in Vietnam with the Red Cross. The US Army issued her a military ID while she was in the country, and she still considers herself a Vietnam veteran. "It's our dirt," she says. "That's where we came from. The flag is the loyalty that we have, as Navajo, to Mother Earth."
• • •
As Ms. Cohoe and other veterans explain, the military is one way for native Americans to gain power in a country that they believe continues to ignore and mistreat them. "We are using the system to protect our culture – to survive," she says.
Donovan Nez feels he has achieved a balance between his two identities: Indian and American. Though he lives off the reservation in Phoenix, he edits independent films about young Navajo adults reconnecting with their native roots. He feels integrated into American culture but not assimilated. Still, he grapples with his military service. "That's an ongoing question for me," he says. "How can you be a vet after the US treated your people so bad?"
At Swiffle Spring, Nez finishes his prayer to Mother Earth. He fills empty milk cartons and soda bottles with water to bring to his parents. Then he hands a brimming pitcher to his sister, who pours the cold water over his cupped hands, head, and neck – an impromptu baptism.
"The reason I'm OK with being a US citizen is that Mother Earth is the same wherever you are," he says. "For me to have the whole US as my home" – Nez pauses mid sentence, as though in awe – "I'm so lucky to be living on my land."









