The Tyranny of Tribal Governance

Chukchansi tribal members disenrolled
Carmen George

Written on a beam holding up Chukchansi Gold Resort & Casino are the names of the Chukchansi elders, like a symbol they would always stand as their tribe's foundation -- and that from them everything else has come: children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and now also, a casino.

This winter, many of those names have been erased from the tribe's history books. It is a practice among many gaming tribes that some scholars are calling "paper genocide."

In the mix are elders like 87-year-old Ruby Cordero, born and raised in the area who speaks native Chukchansi as her primary language; people that make up the tribe's original "600" list -- members since the tribe's beginning; and former tribal leaders.

Members said at least 35 of an estimated 55 that received disenrollment letters in September recently received notice that they are no longer members of the tribe following hearings last month at the Picayune Rancheria of the Chukchansi Indians.

Those disenrolled are descendants of Jack Roan, who received one of the original Chukchansi allotment lands. Although there are U.S. Censuses and documents from the Department of the Interior, Office of Indian Affairs from the turn of the century; early photos of Jack Roan from the Smithsonian Institution; and anthropology archives from UC Berkeley showing Roan is of Chukchansi descent -- listed in a 1919 Census as having a Chukchansi mother and a "mixed blood" father (who was of Pohoneechee descent, a band of Miwok) -- it was not enough.

Opponents said disenrollments center on greed over casino profits, old family feuds and that with each new tribal council, everything can change.

In their letters, signed by tribal council chairman Reggie Lewis, it reads that Roan was incorrectly identified in 1915 as Chukchansi on his allotment application, and that some later Censuses state he is full Pohoneechee, along with his last will and testament.

In these original documents, always filled out by someone else in cursive for Jack Roan, he signs his name with an "X." Roan, like many other native people at that time, did not know how to write his name.

Chairman Lewis declined to comment for this story after repeated email and phone call requests.

Laura Wass, Central California director for the American Indian Movement and a leading advocate for disenrolled Indians, said an estimated 400 to 500 Chukchansi people have been disenrolled, far exceeding the average amongst California tribes.

Many Chukchansi people spoke on condition of anonymity for this story for fear of repercussions from the tribe.

Many Chukchansi said a "special relationship" phrase in the tribal constitution regarding membership criteria is being misinterpreted to pave the way for more disenrollments. Members said disenrollments will soon likely extend to members that live outside a five-mile radius of the rancheria since a new boundary map was recently drawn. Using that "special relationship," many members also believe those with ancestors who sold their allotment lands, or those that do not have a personal relationship with one of the two founding Chukchansi families given power in the 80s to recreate the tribe, will be the next to receive disenrollment letters.

"I call it a cultural genocide," said one Chukchansi woman. "There are very few of us left and now they are weeding them out. It seems like we are all related; it's one big family tree, and it's not going to be like that anymore. Like my son said, it's going to be a stick now, not a tree, with just one family."

American Indian tribes nationally make about $27 billion from gaming every year, with about a third of that coming from 67 gaming tribes in California that pull in $7.7 billion annually, said Cheryl Schmit, director for Stand Up California.

Of at least 12 tribes in California issuing disenrollments to their people, 10 have casinos, Wass said.

A disenrollment means members lose monthly casino stipends, previously about $280 a month at Chukchansi, and additional funds through the Bureau of Indian Affairs for housing, education, medical, dental, elderly assistance and child care.

Those still enrolled will receive about $75 more a month because of the recent disenrollments, said one woman with an elder Chukchansi family member that was recently disenrolled. He will lose about $800 a month in elder services, such as help with propane, food and electricity.

"I could remember when everyone was a family, everyone did for each other and spent time with each other and helped each other out, now all they are thinking about is the almighty dollar," she said. "They are hurting their families for $75 dollars more a month? Their ancestors are probably looking down at them from heaven in tears ... I don't even know how they could walk around with their heads up after this. They hurt their own people and didn't care that they did."

Nolan Cordero, whose father was a tribal chairman in the 90s and was recently disenrolled, said he remembers playing as a kid with other Chukchansi at his family's home while a group of elders, including his grandma Ruby, would gather to play cards, laughing and joking and speaking nothing but the native language. Now, at least two of these fluent speakers have been disenrolled.

"The Chukchansi language is a hugely endangered language ... it has maybe a dozen native speakers left, and all over the ages of 60, which makes the language ridiculously endangered," said Chris Golston, chair of Fresno State's Linguistics Department and head of the Chukchansi Yokuts Revitalization Project that has recorded about 1,000 Chukchansi words from the tribe's native speakers since 2009.

Golston presented a slideshow about project, including a Smithsonian photo of Jack Roan, at a tribal council meeting the night many of Roan's descendents in the audience received their disenrollment letters.

"Disenrollments stem from the Indian Civil Rights Act really having no enforceability and because of that, tribal leaders and governments can violate that law but aren't held accountable for it," said John Gomez, president of the American Indian Rights and Resources Organization. "What has been created, or what exists now, is an era or time that very much mirrors that time when individual Indians asked the United States to protect them from tribal governments that were violating their civil rights."

Disenrollments will likely continue unless Congress gives the Indian Civil Rights Act "teeth," or the Bureau of Indian Affairs steps in regarding enrollment disputes, Gomez said.

"Politicians in California are afraid of standing up because they will lose political contributions," said Rick Cuevas, author of the Original Pechanga, created after hundreds in his tribe were disenrolled.

Many have said they hope the disenrollments can be reversed with tribal elections on Dec. 3. Those disenrolled said three tribal council members voted to keep them as members, and four voted to kick them out.

"My dad was the tribal chair for many years, he did so much, he was the greatest of everyone I know," said Nolan Cordero. "I know the disenrollment hurts him and I know it's killing him. It hurts me to see my loved ones going through this more than myself."