HYPOCRISY OF THE TSALAGI NATION OF OKLAHOMA

From the Website of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma

"There are literally hundreds of thousands of“Cherokees” some with blood who cannot meet enrollment criteria." –Gayle Ross, letter to the Native American Times, 3/22/07

This seems to confirm that some citizens of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma admit that we exist. But a CNO task force is working hard to discredit us as "wannabes" even to the point of reporting us to the IRS and Attorneys Generals of some states and on the internet.

What it boils down to is not preservation of Tsalagi Heritage it is PURE GREED!

I am Tsalagi, no if and or buts about it!!

Cherokee Warrior

ARE YOU AN UNDOCUMENTED, DISENFRANCHISED CHEROKEE?

It has long been prophesied by our elders and ancestors, that the return of the Buffalo, the new century and seven generations would bring forth many people of Cherokee blood that want to rejoin the heritage that had been hidden from them. Hidden from them because of the fear left from the 1800's when the white man persecuted our people. These people coming forth now, maybe with just a drop of Cherokee blood, have been given the spark by the Creator to return to the Cherokee white path, to learn of their ancestors, of our old ways, and some may want to help in bringing back our history, customs, ceremonies, stories and language, or even to recognize and practice those old ways. I now this prophesy is true as I was in the supermarket last week and they now have Buffalo at the meat counter.However, heart warming and proud as we may feel about those of us who are on this path, there are still others who reject us. People who have appointed themselves above everyone else and say they are the Cherokee "Experts," and say that they are the real recognized Indians and that we are not. We are considered and called a "Wannabe," or a "Twinkie" by them. These people who claim they have the knowledge concerning our ancestor's and past are the ones who are quick to point the finger at others and accuse us of being a fraud. If our old traditions were the knowledge they hold, then they would know that to judge and call down another, or by even having bad thoughts against another is against the old way of teachings. It is wrongful and is also known as bad witchcraft to talk against another and to put them below you. When it comes to being a Cherokee or not, it does not matter how much Cherokee blood you have, it is that you DO have even a single drop and that you wish to live your life as a Cherokee. This is the old way! Why then do these "Experts" degrade those of less blood or those who cannot prove their Cherokee heritage? In my opinion it simply comes down to selfish greed and / or the desire for money. Money from the same government that tried to exterminate and genocide our ancestor’s some two hundreds years ago. Some of our cousins think that we are trying to steal their money or government benefits away from them. So, in unwarranted defense, they strike back and call us a fraud. This is a mid-set that has been instilled in our cousins over 180 years, by this same government who tried to destroy us as a people. They wanted to eliminate us altogether, and to assimilate us into another race. That did not work, but they did create a mixed blood race, which has caused a separation between us, that may never allow us to come back together, or at least cause it hard to reunite with our recognized cousins. But these Cherokee people coming back to the way are strong, we are the descendents of the survivors and we won't give up. All we want is to be accepted, recognized by our own, not by the government. We want to assist in gaining the benefits for our cousins, not to steal those benefits. Most of us could care less if we are recognized by the United States Government, or by a State organized unit, or to be a member of one of the recognized tribes, no...we just want to be accepted for who we are, your brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles, grandfathers and grandmothers, we are all your relations. All Cherokee, despite how much blood we have, know that we are all related, and to gain anything for our people we must unify, and not continue to be divided. Call the Cherokee people wanting to return to the white path, "Returning Cherokee," "Disenfranchised Cherokee," or "Un-recognized Cherokees," but do not call them "Wannabes'" or "frauds." Do not look down on us or talk about us behind our backs. Don't sneer, giggle or laugh at us. Do not refuse to talk to us if we speak to you in a respectful way. Give these Cherokee people the same respect they are offering to you. These Cherokee People coming back to the ways of their heritage will not let anyone deny them from being who they are, we do not apologize to anyone on the quantum of our blood, or the color of our skin, hair or eyes and will let no one deny us the pride and privilege of being a Cherokee. "The Creator gave no man the power to say who any other man can or cannot be".It should also be recognized that these undocumented Cherokee, might also be the descendants of the Cherokee people who fought against the white man, the Cherokee people who refused to be placed in reservations. The Cherokee people who hid out in the hills from the white man and kept themselves "free." These Cherokee felt that they had held to their belief of freedom and did not give in or sell out to the white mans government. These were the Cherokee who felt that they were the true Cherokee, the true warriors for our freedom. These people went through a lot to keep hidden from the white man and to be safe from removal. They had to change their names and / or take on the names of non-Indians. They kept no records so that they could not be traced. All family history was by word of mouth. Soon, not even verbal history was spoken under fear of imprisonment. So our ancestors had to hide their pride. It became so bad that soon no one spoke of their heritage and unfortunately, some younger family members were not told of their heritage just so they would be kept safe. Our ancestors gave up a lot, just to be free. During and after the removal of the people, times became very hard. So the government devised yet another way to assist in the extermination of the Indians. The government offered those Indian people their own plots of land and also gave them up to $5,000.00 in cash so that they could live and farm their own lands. They even offered them slaves. But this was not without a catch. To do this, the government required these families to denounce their Indian citizenship and heritage and to never speak of it again. The government wanted these Indians to live as whites and because times were so hard for these people, many accepted the offer. In any of the cases mentioned, they would have never thought that one day their descendants would return to their heritage and find that we could not trace our families because of the secrets. Today, because of that, some of their descendants cannot find a history of their family. Cannot prove, by the white man's government standards, that they are Cherokee. Our ancestors never thought that we'd have to prove to anyone who we were. Does anyone have the right to put these people down because their ancestors were the warriors who fought against being a prisoner of the white man? No! Actually it should be quite the opposite. We as a people are our own worst enemies. As long as we continue to separate ourselves, and not acknowledge our other Cherokee people, we will never be united. Until we are united we have not become ONE people and we will continue to lose the strength that we should have as one people. Until this in fact happens, we will never fulfill what the Creator has taught us. Standup, be proud of who you are. Tell everyone that you are a Cherokee Indian and proud to be. Make sure you fill out job applications stating who you are; a Native American. Join a disenfranchised Cherokee band or organization in your state. Make a promise to learn the Cherokee traditions, stories and the language and each day, choose a time to practice telling these stories or speaking our language. It is up to us to keep our heritage alive, as one or as a whole, a family, and a people. The Cherokees have a very rich part of America’s history, which continues today; show your pride in that history. Make your ancestors proud to know you are proud to be their relations. Do not allow anyone to take away your birthright. Stand up and be proud of who you are...you will not stand-alone!

Writings excerpted from “The Lone Wolf Band of Cherokee Indians”, Indiana's Cherokee people, and expanded upon by Chief Nvya Yona, UCN.

Trail of Tears

Samuel Cloud turned 9 years old on the Trail of Tears. Samuel's Memory is told by his great-great grandson, Michael Rutledge, in his paper Forgiveness in the Age of Forgetfulness. Michael, a citizen of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, is a law student at Arizona State University.
It is Spring. The leaves are on the trees. I am playing with my friends when white men in uniforms ride up to our home. My mother calls me. I can tell by her voice that something is wrong. Some of the men ride off. My mother tells me to gather my things, but the men don't allow us time to get anything. They enter our home and begin knocking over pottery and looking into everything. My mother and I are taken by several men to where their horses are and are held there at gun point. The men who rode off return with my father, Elijah. They have taken his rifle and he is walking toward us.
I can feel his anger and frustration. There is nothing he can do. From my mother I feel fear. I am filled with fear, too. What is going on? I was just playing, but now my family and my friends' families are gathered together and told to walk at the point of a bayonet.
We walk a long ways. My mother does not let me get far from her. My father is walking by the other men, talking in low, angry tones. The soldiers look weary, as though they'd rather be anywhere else but here.
They lead us to a stockade. They herd us into this pen like we are cattle. No one was given time to gather any possessions. The nights are still cold in the mountains and we do not have enough blankets to go around. My mother holds me at night to keep me warm. That is the only time I feel safe. I feel her pull me to her tightly. I feel her warm breath in my hair. I feel her softness as I fall asleep at night.
As the days pass, more and more of our people are herded into the stockade. I see other members of my clan. We children try to play, but the elders around us are anxious and we do not know what to think. I often sit and watch the others around me. I observe the guards. I try not to think about my hunger. I am cold.
Several months have passed and still we are in the stockades. My father looks tired. He talks with the other men, but no one seems to know what to do or what is going to happen. We hear that white men have moved into our homes and are farming our fields. What will happen to us? We are to march west to join the Western Cherokees. I don't want to leave these mountains.
My mother, my aunts and uncles take me aside one day. "Your father died last night," they tell me. My mother and my father's clan members are crying, but I do not understand what this means. I saw him yesterday. He was sick, but still alive. It doesn't seem real. Nothing seems real. I don't know what any of this means. It seems like yesterday, I was playing with my friends.
It is now Fall. It seems like forever since I was clean. The stockade is nothing but mud. In the morning it is stiff with frost. By mid-afternoon, it is soft and we are all covered in it. The soldiers suddenly tell us we are to follow them. We are led out of the stockade. The guards all have guns and are watching us closely. We walk. My mother keeps me close to her. I am allowed to walk with my uncle or an aunt, occasionally.
We walk across the frozen earth. Nothing seems right anymore. The cold seeps through my clothes. I wish I had my blanket. I remember last winter I had a blanket, when I was warm. I don't feel like I'll ever be warm again. I remember my father's smile. It seems like so long ago.
We walked for many days. I don't know how long it has been since we left our home, but the mountains are behind us. Each day, we start walking a little later. They bury the dead in shallow graves, because the ground is frozen. As we walk past white towns, the whites come out to watch us pass. No words are spoken to them. No words are said to us. Still, I wish they would stop staring. I wish it were them walking in this misery and I were watching them. It is because of them that we are walking. I don't understand why, but I know that much. They made us leave our homes. They made us walk to this new place we are heading in the middle of winter. I do not like these people. Still, they stare at me as I walk past.
We come to a big river, bigger than I have ever seen before. It is flowing with ice. The soldiers are not happy. We set up camp and wait. We are all cold and the snow and ice seem to hound us, claiming our people one by one. North is the color of blue, defeat and trouble. From there a chill wind blows for us as we wait by a frozen river. We wait to die.
My mother is coughing now. She looks worn. Her hands and face are burning hot. My aunts and uncles try to take care of me, so she can get better. I don't want to leave her alone. I just want to sit with her. I want her to stroke my hair, like she used to do. My aunts try to get me to sleep by them, but at night, I creep to her side. She coughs and it wracks her whole body. When she feels me by her side, she opens her blanket and lets me in. I nestle against her feverish body. I can make it another day, I know, because she is here.
When I went to sleep last night, my mother was hot and coughing worse than usual. When I woke up, she was cold. I tried to wake her up, but she lay there. The soft warmth she once was, she is no more. I kept touching her, as hot tears stream down my face. She couldn't leave me. She wouldn't leave me.
I hear myself call her name, softly, then louder. She does not answer. My aunt and uncle come over to me to see what is wrong. My aunt looks at my mother. My uncle pulls me from her. My aunt begins to wail. I will never forget that wail. I did not understand when my father died. My mother's death I do not understand, but I suddenly know that I am alone. My clan will take care of me, but I will be forever denied her warmth, the soft fingers in my hair, her gentle breath as we slept. I am alone. I want to cry. I want to scream in rage. I can do nothing.
We bury her in a shallow grave by the road. I will never forget that lonesome hill of stone that is her final bed, as it fades from my sight. I tread softly by my uncle, my hand in his. I walk with my head turned, watching that small hill as it fades from my sight. The soldiers make us continue walking. My uncle talks to me, trying to comfort me. I walk in loneliness.
I know what it is to hate. I hate those white soldiers who took us from our home. I hate the soldiers who make us keep walking through the snow and ice toward this new home that none of us ever wanted. I hate the people who killed my father and mother.
I hate the white people who lined the roads in their woolen clothes that kept them warm, watching us pass. None of those white people are here to say they are sorry that I am alone. None of them care about me or my people. All they ever saw was the color of our skin. All I see is the color of theirs and I hate them.

PART CHEROKEE?

From The Cherokee Observer, Vol 4, No 4 - April 1996

PART Cherokee?

Guest Editorial by Jason Terrell [Cherokee Nation Member]

I couldn't believe my eyes. The line on the screen said "Sequoyah, the part-Cherokee silversmith..."
I went back to my friend, the editor, and said, "Hey, this story looks OK, except for this part about Sequoyah being 'part-Cherokee'." "Well, he was, wasn't he?" my friend responded. "No", I said.
"His father was a white man, right? That means he had some white blood in him," she added. "That's not the point," I said. "He was Cherokee in every sense of the term. Whether he had a white parent or relative is immaterial...and besides, he didn't even know his father!"
She stared at me blankly and I threw up my hands. Try as I might, I just couldn't make her understand that the term 'part-Cherokee' doesn't mean anything. I even told her that if she used that word back home, the elders would laugh and ask, "So, what part of you is Cherokee? Your nose?"
But, hey, what did I expect. How do you explain to someone that there's no half-way point being Cherokee? You either are or you aren't. It's not a question of how many Europeans vs. how many Cherokees one has in the ole' family tree. Most all of us can play that game.
It's not even a question of where you live. It IS a question of loyalty. You either have a loyalty to our people, or you don't. It IS a question of commitment. That means getting involved and not letting self-interested individuals take the people for a ride while you sit by. It means that no matter where you go, you come home to family and friends and you want to make a difference. Its the way you live and the way your family has lived. It's knowing who your relations are and where you fit into our society.

Notable Quote

"I have Indian Blood in me. I have just enough white blood for you to question my honesty!"
Will Rogers