A Living Memorial

Last November, on my first visit to the state of Minnesota, I spent several hours in the corner of a small antique shop in downtown St. Paul sorting through wooden boxes of random postcards, old family photographs, and discarded tourist ephemera, most of which depicted images and information about regional sites. There was an oversized postcard presenting a map of "MINNESOTA ARROWHEAD COUNTRY, THE GREAT MID-CONTINENTAL RECREATIONAL REGION OF AMERICA—FOR THOSE WHO SEEK THE TONIC OF THE WILDERNESS." There was a brochure promoting the Mount Rushmore National Memorial, indicating the monument's proximity to a road named for General Custer. Another brochure beckoned the reader to "ENJOY MYSTERY CAVE, MINNESOTA'S LARGEST CAVE—ALWAYS 47 DEGREES—A NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN MEMORY FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY—SEE THE FASCINATING MARVELS OF NATURE'S HANDIWORK AS COURTEOUS AND INFORMATIVE GUIDES ESCORT YOU THROUGH THE SPACIOUS, ELECTRICALLY LIGHTED CORRIDORS OF MYSTERY CAVE." One of the family photographs depicted a man posing before a war memorial; another group portrait appeared to have been taken at a summer picnic. The women sat next to one another on chairs, hands folded neatly across their laps, stocking-clad legs crossed at the ankles. The men stood behind them, wearing straight ties and cardigans and smiling through spectacles. An impression on the back of the photograph indicated that the picture was taken in 1946.

At one time these artifacts might have evoked in me a certain nostalgia, an appreciation for their narrative tone and their reference to the trappings of the early American Midwest. Today, however, they evoke a range of sentiments, including betrayal, confusion, dismay, and disgust. The maps and photographs, the brochures and the tourist attractions they promote—all tell stories about a stolen land and a place contrived by white settlers and their descendants, of whom I am one, and with whom I am connected.

I had come to Minnesota to witness and participate in an event commemorating the removal of Dakota people from their homeland after the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862. The event was called Manipi Hena Owasin Wicunkiksuyapi, which means "We remember all those who walked." It would take place at Fort Snelling, yet another historic site: a military outpost from the 1820s that also served as a postwar concentration camp for Dakota people.¹ In preparation for the event, I read about the war of 1862 and learned that many Minnesotans have called it the "Sioux Uprising" in keeping with the popular myth that the uncivilized bring their troubles upon themselves. Some historic accounts conveyed the familiar sense of entitlement that often accompanies patriotic messages. They carried a didactic "lest we forget" message to those white descendants presumed to inherit the land. Other accounts acknowledged the abuse of power by early white settlers but did so in a way that tended to excuse those of us who reside in the present. They conveyed regret and remorse along with a sense of distance.

This arms-length acknowledgment makes sense to me. Confronting the realities of my own cultural heritage is complicated by my desire to divorce that heritage and extricate myself from the legacy of the white settler. Western concepts of time and place make this selective attachment seem possible. In dominant white culture, place is objectified through maps and representations. Land is property and spectacle. Time is a series of events, and the past is as malleable as our record of it; images and artifacts evidence the truth. We tend to display that which affirms our existence, and hide, disown, or detach from that which degrades us. We have a contrived orientation to time and a selective orientation to ancestry.

In November of 2002 a group of Dakota, friends, and supporters gathered together and walked the 150-mile trail that Dakota ancestors walked as prisoners in 1862. The stories about that commemorative march suggest a collapsing of time; those living in the present walked with their ancestors in a gesture of acknowledgment and...