This article is part of an ongoing series of stories by ICT examining the complicated issues of Indigenous identity.
Jourdan Bennett-Begaye
ICT
Alright y’all. I’ve been wanting to do an identity series for a few years now. It’s finally here!
So often when the conversation of Indigenous identity comes up, I come back to a memory from approximately 20 years ago.
I was in high school when my sister played soccer at the North American Indigenous Games in Denver. The games is a multi-sport event for Indigenous youth from Canada and the United States. My sister played with other Native kids from around New Mexico and made the three-hour weekly trek to Albuquerque from our home in the Four Corners each week for what felt like months.
The games are set up like the Olympics with an opening ceremony to kick it off. I remember walking to Empower Field at Mile High with thousands of other Native people. It was the first time in my life that I’ve been exposed to this many Indigenous peoples outside of the southwest region of the U.S.
It amazed and shocked me because we looked so different. At 16, I thought and felt that some of these people couldn’t be Native. But I saw the way my parents would talk with and befriend other Indigenous parents, exchanging stories, and my dad often swapped pins with folks.
He collected so many pins on his hat!
This story came up with a Navajo friend in recent years and they said something along the lines of: “Sometimes I think as Navajos, we are culturally isolated.” In retrospect, that may have been true.
Fast forward to 2025 and we’re more connected than ever by technology.
It had me ask more questions and wanting to learn more about other Indigenous peoples while asking, “what makes them Indigenous?” Of course, many will answer the land, the water, etc. But I wanted to know how is being Indigenous or Native today different from hundreds of years ago or what does that look like in 100 years especially when we’re all so unique? Why is it that when I attended the annual Alaska Federation of Natives convention two years ago that I cried during the Quyana performances?
Even with the help of technology, I know we have so much more to learn from other Indigenous peoples and Native nations.
I have many hopes for this series: to hold up a mirror to Native people and to show all the nuances of who we are. I do not want us to be identity police. I want us to capture what being Indigenous looks like today, how complicated it is, and to be forward-looking. The goal is to show readers that what is standard in one community isn’t the same for another across the country. How did colonization impact it? How does it continue to impact us? How did Indigenous identity evolve since contact?
Our babies and communities deserve a beautiful future, and it starts with us. We have to start asking the tough questions with kindness and care. We need to look deep in ourselves (the good, ugly, and imperfect parts of us) and recall the past to move forward boldly.
Keep in mind that one story will not encompass everything. There’s so much to explore. This story and those coming are building blocks to the ongoing and evolving conversation around Indigenous identity.
Lastly, it was very important for me to approach this with so much compassion, respect, and thoughtfulness because of the delicate nature of this conversation. This project was inspired by family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and community members from my life, with a variety of identity experiences. They were kept in the front of my mind when I pitched this project.
So I ask you, whoever you are and however you identify, and whatever community you are part of, that when you enter into a conversation regarding Indigenous identity to keep an open mind and a kind heart.
I’m not asking for leeway but kindness and respect. I’m tired of us acting terrible to each other. It’s no way to be in relationship or kinship with one another. This isn’t a shouting match. Shouting never won an argument.
We can ask the tough questions while being kind and respectful.