A Mormon Girl’s Guide to Unsettling Family History

Step 1: Begin to Question 

“But we know the story of our ancestors.” 

There are times as a teacher you know you’ve messed up. And this was one of them. 

I had just finished explaining the Bering Strait land-bridge theory of Native American migration.  The confused looks on my fifth grade students’ faces made it clear I had not done a very good job.  

“Ms. Emily? None of this makes sense. I thought Passamaquoddy people came into the land when Koluskap shot an arrow into the ash tree.”  

The picture became clearer. Here I was, a good-intentioned white teacher in front of a class of Native students, telling them white people’s ideas about the very core of Native identity. 

“My Uhkomi says we belong to this land because we’ve always been here.”  

Not only was I telling a different story to the one in their oral tradition but doing so was causing them to question both what their Elders had told them and also that precious link to the land that is their birthright. 

I managed to quickly respond that their statements were true and that what archaeologists say could be true as well. Class ended in the euphoric rush that happens at the last bell of each day, and we left it at that. 

Still, on the drive home, my students’ words played on repeat in my head:

We know the story of our ancestors. 

And I couldn’t help but wonder if I truly knew the story of mine.  

Step 2: Research 

As any good Mormon girl would, I turned to Family Search for the answer. I decided to select an ancestor that had been in America for a long time and one that arrived recently. This is what I discovered: 

Abraham Pietersen van Deusen was the first miller in New York. In 1636, he  acquired Quentensis Island. In 1641 and 1643, he was elected to two councils that were formed to deal with an “Indian Outbreak.”

Alli Sophia Luoma, my great-grandmother, immigrated to the U.S. from Finland in 1901. She moved there because there was a small Finnish community established in Hanna, Wyoming. 

I knew these facts weren’t telling the whole story. So, I decided to do a little extra googling. 

Step 3: Shift Contexts  

I specifically wanted to know how Native people showed up in the picture. I researched Tribes, original place names, events. Through it all, the facts remained the same, but the context shifted: 

Abraham Pietersen van Deusen was the first miller in Lenapehoking, the  homeland of the Lenape (also known as the Delaware). In 1636, Van Deusen likely stole, or at least gained by coercive means, Quentensis Island, a place  occupied by the Narragansett people. In 1641 and 1643, Van Deusen sat on two  councils which attempted to extract tribute payments from the Lenape at the  Dutch governor’s behest. While it took some persuasion from the governor, the  council permitted a declaration of war. Kieft’s War lasted years, but the worst of it was on February 24, 1643, when 120 Lenape people were massacred, including women and children.  

Alli Sophia Luoma, my great-grandmother, immigrated to Turtle Island from  Finland in 1901. This was only eleven years after Wounded Knee. The effects of the 1887 Dawes Act, which resulted in the loss of ninety million acres of Native-owned land nationwide, were still being felt. In 1905, three years after her arrival, the Shoshone and Arapaho Wind River Reservation was reduced by 1.5 million acres to make land available for the influx of immigrants and homesteaders in Wyoming.  

I wasn’t all that surprised to learn about my Dutch colonist ancestor. After all, he was the sort of  settler-colonist you learned about in elementary school, the ones we all know made “conflict” with Native people. I was sad thinking of how his actions brought about genocide, but I could’ve predicted such an outcome. 

I was, however, very surprised how my great-grandmother’s life directly impacted Tribes. I  ignorantly assumed that since she lived in the twentieth century, her role would be small. I realized that my great-grandmother was also a settler-colonist. And her coming to America was part of a program that stripped away the rights of Native people. 

As my ancestors’ descendants, I am a settler-colonist. Those of us in the majority society all are, even if we don’t realize it.  

Step 4: Know the Why

When I called my mom to tell her what I had discovered, she asked, not unkindly, “But why know all of this? What good comes from it?”  

I think she asked this because, of course, we both felt sad and anxious thinking about our ancestors’ culpability. Like many Americans, I think my mom perhaps felt powerless to change anything. 

Why should we know these sad truths about our ancestors?  

I guess that maybe I have this idea that the generational trauma experienced by Native people needs a response from settler-colonial society, one of generational accountability. 

We owe it to Native people and our own humanity to learn the truth.  

And the truth is difficult. Native Americans experience higher rates of suicide than any other  ethnic group in the United States. The homicide rate of Native women is ten times that of other women. Native people experience poverty at the highest rate of any major racial group. Native populations have the highest drug overdose deaths related to any population in the US. Many  reservations, including the one I was on, do not have safe drinking water.  

As settler-colonial Americans, the truth is that our family histories are the why behind these facts.  

Hopefully, we can turn that knowledge into meaningful action.  

Step 5: Take Action 

I came to the conclusion that the last step in decolonizing my family history would be to make reparations, however small, towards the specific Tribes my ancestors’ lives impacted. Those reparations will most likely be monetary. However, I also aim to change society through educating myself and others. 

Here’s my game plan as of writing this essay: 

1) Make a shortlist of non-profits that do meaningful work with those Tribes, especially  those run by Tribal members 

2) Donate money to those non-profits (setting up recurring donations, when possible)

3) Follow Tribal organizations, educators, and public figures on social media

4) Learn the histories of those specific Tribes by reading books, watching documentaries, and visiting museums 

5) Support Native artists, authors, musicians, and entrepreneurs by purchasing products and services directly from them  

6) Teach my own family members the truth of our family history, especially my nieces and  nephews, whom I hope will grow up learning about Native people in a more accurate way than I did 

7) Start referring to our country as a nation of settlers as well as a nation of immigrants

8) And last, but not least, share what I know with anyone who is willing to listen 

I will share the hardship I have seen Native people experience, but I will also share the joy.  Tribes have fought for this joy and I have witnessed it: the shared heartbeat that comes from a group of boys and men drumming in a circle, girls giggling and braiding one another’s hair before ceremony, Aunties and Uncles making jokes that make younger generations blush, the naming of a baby in a traditional name, a name their ancestors would recognize and know.  

And in case you’re wondering, if anyone asks, I will tell them Passamaquoddy people did come into the world when Koluskap shot his arrow into the ash tree.