The Healing Power of Matriarchs

Someone once told me that being Native is not easy. I did not fully understand the weight of this statement until I researched my own family history and discovered what happened to my Dakota and Nakota ancestors. They, like so many others, were forced to abandon traditional ways of life and assimilate into the white man鈥檚 world. Generations later, I am a result of that assimilation, a descendant with centuries of ancestral trauma running through my veins.

Chronic mental and physical health issues have long plagued my family. It is now known that epigenetics impact health over generations. Cycles of abuse, especially with men in my family, have been passed down, and impact how I view the world. It is my responsibility to break those cycles and heal not only myself, but my ancestors.

Mariana Harvey, Yakama
As a young adult, Mariana became involved with harvesting traditional foods and bringing those foods back to the Native community. Learning plant medicine and her Native language became priorities. She looks to the land and water as the holders of knowledge and abundance when times are difficult. Mariana sees Indigenous women as natural organizers. We are the core of our families. We are the caretakers of not just our families, but also of the Earth. *Photo by Roxann Murray*

I did not grow up Native. Neither did my father, nor his father. On the Fort Peck Reservation in northeast Montana, my family was colonized early when my great-great grandmother was given to a wealthy, white cattle rancher in 1891 at the age of 15. I do not have all the answers about why this happened, but from what Native Elders have told me, this was not uncommon. She would later be called a 鈥淣ative American cattle queen鈥� in a newspaper out of Butte, Montana.

After she died from strychnine ingestion, her husband sent their three daughters (one of them my great-grandmother) away from their home in Montana to attend a private Christian school. Their father (my great-great grandfather) and the U.S. government wanted to erase their Native identity. They were successful for 125 years, until I met the women who would inspire my photography project titled 鈥淢atriarch: Portraits of Indigenous Women in the Pacific Northwest Fighting for our Collective Future.鈥�

Nancy Shippentower, Puyallup, Tulalip
Nancy grew up playing with her siblings and cousins along the Nisqually riverbank. It was the height of the Fishing Wars in the 1960s, and Nancy鈥檚 family was at the epicenter of it. Nancy鈥檚 father was jailed for catching fish to feed his family. Her mother was jailed for defying state game wardens. Nancy鈥檚 teachers harassed her because they were sport fishermen. She learned how to be a fighter and a leader from her parents. They taught her to speak up for what is right and to be independent. *Photo by Roxann Murray*

In 2023, I received an art grant to do a project that had been brewing in my mind for five years. I had spent a few years on the frontlines, fighting proposed fracked gas and methanol facilities in the Port of Tacoma, both as a water protector/land defender and a photographer. I met many strong Indigenous matriarchs who inspired me to protect the land and water. At the time, I did not realize these encounters would turn into lasting friendships. I did not realize these women would help me come to terms with my own Native ancestry and colonial trauma.

Elizabeth Satiacum was the first woman I met while photographing a public hearing in my hometown of Tacoma, Washington, in 2016. I was drawn to her cedar-woven hat and the red cape that covered her shoulders. Her warm smile made me feel comfortable enough to ask if I could sit next to her.

Sweetwater Nannauck, Tlingit, Tsimshian, Haida
Sweetwater grew up in Alaska, and was raised by her Tlingit grandparents. She ate traditional foods and lived off the land and water. Her grandfather was a storyteller; he taught her to always be proud of where she comes from.
Sweetwater founded Idle No More Washington, dedicating her life to protecting the land, water, and Native communities. She educates the public on how to decolonize activism and make space for Native leaders. She encourages the next generation to learn their ancestry and stay close to the Elders. Sweetwater hopes her life has exceeded the prayers her grandmother said for her. *Photo by Roxann Murray*

The hearing we attended focused on a proposed methanol refinery planned to be built on Puyallup Tribal land. The refinery was being planned by Northwest Innovation Works, a private shell company This could explain why, five months earlier, Xi Jinping was in Tacoma visiting with Lincoln High School students and then-Tacoma Mayor , who is now a Democratic member of Congress representing Washington鈥檚 10th Congressional District.

Paige Pettibon, Bitterroot Salish
聽Paige鈥檚 grandmother created a sense of place, home, and belonging. She now honors these themes in her art. Paige witnessed addiction and the tragedies that come with it in her family; this encouraged her to break cycles of trauma. Paige stresses the importance of true community and sisterhood when at times there is only a fa莽ade of togetherness. She focuses on being mindful with the connections she makes and encourages others to stay away from a scarcity mindset; it creates lateral oppression that is a detriment to the growth of oneself and the community.聽聽
*Photo by Roxann Murray*

It was the first time I saw so clearly the tie between corporations and our local government. Witnessing the way these companies were responsible for destroying the environment and still had access to our elected officials further motivated our protest actions. We filled city council meetings, petitioned, door-knocked, and protested around the city through artful activism. The community made such an outcry about the methanol project that the plan was scrapped.

I met Nancy Shippentower when we spoke on a panel about environmental activism in Indigenous communities at Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington. Her parents fought for fishing rights, and their actions helped impact the Boldt decision of 1974, which continues to guide issues of Native sovereignty 50 years later.

Carolyn Christmas, Mi鈥檏maq
聽As a multiracial child in Nova Scotia, Carolyn always had questions about her identity. Carolyn鈥檚 mother moved the family to the Northeast coast of the U.S. to make a new life for her children, but it came with a cost because she rejected her Native roots and it made Carolyn feel invisible. Even though Carolyn鈥檚 mother hid their cultural identity, Carolyn still grew up eating traditional foods and heard her mother occasionally speak her Native language. She once asked her mother, 鈥淲hat are we?鈥� because she felt her family did not fit in. Her mother鈥檚 response was, 鈥淲e are human.鈥� *Photo by Roxann Murray*

Today, she instills that same strength and determination in her grandchildren. She teaches young people that everyone has a responsibility to help restore the balance in the ecosystems that sustain us.

In 2017, Carolyn Christmas and I attended the same actions opposing a liquefied natural gas (LNG) facility at the Port of Tacoma. Puget Sound Energy was successful at greenwashing the project by saying LNG burns cleaner fuel than oil or coal. The majority of people do not understand that the LNG to be stored in the facility comes from areas in Canada and the Rocky Mountain states where Native people are dying from poisoned air, water, and soil due to fracking. Nor do Tacoma residents make the connection between man camps at the extraction sites and the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls.

Elizabeth Satiacum, Quileute
聽As a young child, Elizabeth became a ward of the state during the 1960鈥檚 Scoop Era. The purpose of the Scoop was to take Native children from their families and assimilate them into the white man鈥檚 world. This caused disconnection between the children and their communities. Foster parents were abusive; she was punished if she tried to speak her language. She experienced the same traumas that children in boarding schools experienced, but on a one-to-one scale in the foster system. None of this dimmed her sense of humor and she never gave up hope. *Photo by Roxann Murray*

The women in my photography project did make these connections, and taught me to think holistically.

Still, it was not until years later that Carolyn would impact how I view myself as a Native person. We reconnected when my father donated firewood for her inipi (sweat lodge) in 2023 and she invited me to attend. Her joy and humor were infectious and we hit it off right away.

Lisa Fruichantie, Seminole
Growing up in Dena鈥檌na culture in Alaska, Lisa learned at a young age that we must never take nature for granted. She lived off the land and sea with her family, residing in fish camps during the summer. Everything changed once Exxon Valdez鈥檚 oil hit the water; the ecosystem was destroyed and her community could no longer support itself due to the negligence and greed of a fossil fuel company. This pivotal moment in Lisa鈥檚 childhood opened her eyes to the importance of protecting the environment, including the communities that rely on it for subsistence. *Photo by Roxann Murray*

Our experiences are similar in some ways; we were not raised in Native households, and we felt disconnected from ourselves. We felt invisible and lost until we learned about our People. While photographing Carolyn, I asked her what she wants the next generation to know. She replied: 鈥淜now where you come from. Know who you are. Know who your people are. Once you know those things, no one can change you.鈥�

Janene Hampton, Syilx, Okanagan
聽Janene did not have the benefit of growing up in a traditional way; her grandmother was disenfranchised after marrying a settler. It wasn鈥檛 until the movement at Standing Rock when Janene went back to her roots. She drove to North Dakota with three carloads full of donations. She stayed for six months until the military destroyed the camp. When she came home, she wanted to learn how to live off the land and be more connected to nature. She now spends much of her time with extended family on her ancestral homeland of Penticton, BC. *Photo by Roxann Murray*

Spending time with these eight matriarchs and listening to their experiences helped put me on the path to finding myself and my ancestors. If I had never met these inspiring women, I might still be lost with my identity. I might not have learned about how colonization directly affected my family. I might not have learned about ancestral trauma and how it affects our DNA, even generations later.

Now I hope to pay forward the transformative wisdom and friendship these matriarchs shared with me. I share their photos and stories of building a better collective future for all of us, including generations of our grandchildren to come, so they may enlighten and inspire others.

Roxann Murray is an award-winning neurodivergent documentary photographer with Nakota and Dakota ancestry based in Tacoma, Washington. Her latest photography project, 鈥淢atriarch,鈥� was funded by the Tacoma Artists Initiative Program grant. Find her on Instagram @atouchofwanderlust.

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