An Indigenous musician from a trailblazing family makes history for Winnebago Tribe — and she’s only 21

This story was originally published by Flatwater Free Press.

Tim Trudell
Flatwater Free Press

Sitting on a scorching sidewalk in downtown Winnebago, 7-year-old Tyler Free-LaMere’s little hands danced across the black-and-white keys of her miniature keyboard, bringing the symphonies in her head into the world for people shuffling by. 

Few on reservation at the time realized little Tyler was laying the foundation for a groundbreaking future.

Free-LaMere recently became a National Endowment for the Arts composer — the first-ever Winnebago Nation citizen to do so. She joins at least three other noted Indigenous composers to receive the honor: Louis Ballard, a Quapaw/Cherokee citizen, Brent Michael Davids of the Mohican Nation and Raven Chacon, a Diné (Navajo). 

The 21-year-old two-spirit (LGBTQ), who identifies as non-binary, created the award-winning piece while studying at the University of Nebraska at Omaha. It was originally intended for her mother’s dual language program at Winnebago elementary school. Now, it will be used by Indigenous students across the United States, with Free-LaMere receiving royalties from sales.

“What I don’t think people understand is the National Endowment for the Arts is a huge deal,” said Keely Purscell, a longtime Winnebago Nation leader who has known Free-LaMere her entire life.

“That means that out of umpteen-thousand youth who submitted for this, these very strict composers, writers, artists, saw something in our Tyler and said, ‘We need to nurture this to allow her to have the time, space and money to do this.’ It is quite a coup for the LeMere family, the Free family, the Winnebago people and then the Anishinaabe people that she also comes from.”

Free-LaMere is far from the first trailblazer in her family. Her great-uncle, Frank LaMere, was known nationally for his activism, as well as leadership roles with the Nebraska Democratic Party.

LaMere achieved a long-sought victory in shutting down the off-reservation liquor sales in Whiteclay. His opposition to a racist nickname forced the Sioux City Single-A baseball team to change its name to the Explorers.

Free-LaMere has followed in her great-uncle’s footsteps. At the age of 17, she played a key role in persuading the Winnebago Tribal Council to reverse a decision to ban same-sex marriage ceremonies on the reservation. A video she created on TikTok received more than a million views and helped pressure the council to reconsider its vote in 2022.

When immigration enforcement swept across Minneapolis this past winter, Free-LaMere and her mother led an effort to gather donated items and take them to people in the Twin Cities.

“I’m amazed at the way she just thinks of something and then goes for it,” said Michelle Free-LaMere, Tyler’s mother. “She doesn’t let anything stop her. She takes on the initiative. And I think a lot of it comes from the homeschooling, because she was never one to wait to see what the class did, or wait to see what the teacher told her it was.”

Tyler Free-LaMere’s innate music abilities trace back to her early childhood. Even before her days playing the keyboard in downtown Winnebago, Purscell remembers little Tyler plucking the strings on a small ukulele and figuring out the notes.

Years later, Michelle Free-LaMere, a dual language teacher at Winnebago schools, asked her daughter to compose an original piece to use for the class’s spring program.

Then came a chance encounter in the offices of UNO’s Native American Studies. Cindy Melton Krafka, an adjunct professor, was meeting with a representative of the National Endowment for the Arts. The representative, a composer from Chicago, said he thought the NEA would award the music grant earmarked for Nebraska to a Lakota citizen in South Dakota.

“Hold on a minute. This is Nebraska. If you’re going to have a grant coming out of Nebraska, we have Ho Chunk,” Krafka said, using the ancestral name for the Winnebago. “We have Omaha. Those are the ones we are going to use.”

To prove her point, Krafka took the NEA representative and Skye Junginger, a UNO professor and Indigenous composer, to the annual Homecoming powwow in Winnebago.

After being impressed by hundreds of dancers performing throughout the day and dozens of drummers, the NEA was ready for a Nebraska Native American student composer.

Krafka had the perfect person in mind: Free-LaMere.

“We need a culture bearer,” Krafka said. “She came in and blew them away because she knows her culture. She knows her language.”

Free-LaMere realized early on what lay in front of her. She wasn’t simply writing music — she was telling the story of generations of Winnebago who came before her.

“Traditionally, we were very matrilineal and maternal, like it was the wife and her family in her responsibility to care for the warriors and build them up to be prepared for war,” she said.

However, as encounters with Europeans grew more common, tribal roles shifted as the colonizers refused to deal with women, instead recognizing men as the Winnebago leaders, Free-LaMere said. That eventually extended to music.

“Nowadays, there’s a lot of gender politics when it comes to anything Indigenous culture, especially in Ho Chunk context,” she said. “So the belief is that women shouldn’t be messing with music. They shouldn’t be singing leads and being the main voice of the song.”

As a youth, Free-LaMere said she often felt frustrated by those discriminatory attitudes.

“It’s kind of been a way to police women and females in terms of writing music and singing songs,” Free-LaMere said. “I knew that if I were to come out about this project, I would receive a little bit of backlash, especially from people who come from that cultural background. But everyone was quite receptive, and it was pretty welcomed rather than criticized.”

Free-LaMere understood the importance of having tribal support. Learning the Ho Chunk’s traditional language was vital to her growth as an Indigenous person, which aided in her composing the tribal song.

To ensure accuracy of her musical piece, Free-LaMere worked with a representative of the Hoocak Academy, based in Wisconsin, the Ho Chunk’s traditional home. By that point, she had transferred to Little Priest Tribal College on the Winnebago reservation, having felt threatened at her UNO dormitory. She didn’t feel as though UNO’s administration adequately responded to her claims, which included death threats, Free-LaMere said. She felt safer near home.

Free-LaMere knew generally she wanted the song to tell a story, one that tied her tribe’s historical relationship with the Algonquin people, who actually gave them the title of Winnebago. But she wasn’t quite sure how to connect it all.

Putting out a daily offering of food for the spirits to help guide her, Free-LaMere prayed to the Creator one morning before heading to class. That is when the idea for the song — one about acceptance and Indigenous pride — came to her. Then, while sitting in class, the words came. She quickly started writing, then composing the musical notes.

My heart is strong, and I come from the people, the big voice, and no one can take my voice away.

The lyrics are intentionally short and simple because that’s how songs are traditionally composed, Free-LaMere said. But they convey a lot of meaning and, through their repetition, the melodies can grow complex.

“If you have a song in your heart, there’s no one that can take it away from you,” she said. 

The original piece was performed during the spring 2025 Winnebago elementary school program. It was published in October.

Now that it is published, Indigenous people across Turtle Island (an Indigenous term for the United States) and everyone else can listen to the song.

Historically, Indigenous music was recorded without consent, distributed and copyrighted, sometimes by the anthropologists and music educators who would come into Indigenous communities, Free-LaMere said. This time, the composer retains the rights to the music, she said.

Free-LaMere’s music and words will be shared with schoolchildren from the Mohicans in the northeast to the Diné (Navajo) in the southwest. Tribes can even rework the words to fit their traditional language, Free-LaMere said.

“The goal was to create culturally appropriate materials that anyone could use, and to ethically teach Indigenous music education. … Any music educator can take these materials and apply them to their classroom, or even transpose them into a jazz combo or any contemporary format,” she said.

Her work resonates beyond the classroom, said UNO’s Junginger, a Santee Dakota Nation descendant.

“It also signals increasing recognition of Native voices in areas where they have traditionally been underrepresented,” he said. “This kind of acknowledgment can leave a lasting impact, influencing her career and inspiring others to see what is achievable.”

Free-LaMere is now finishing her undergraduate degree at the University of South Dakota in Vermillion. She is eyeing law school as a post-graduation possibility.

Purscell sees Free-LaMere’s composition as a major step forward for Native Americans. When missionaries first came, they translated hymns into the Dakota language to entice them into attending church. Free-LaMere is now taking that in the opposite direction and showing “Ho Chunk ways are really amazing,” she said.

“I cannot wait to see her sing this song on the stage,” Purscell said. “And keep going, keep singing, keep composing, keep blazing a trail. Somebody has to be first. There always has to be somebody to be first.”

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