Kevin Abourezk
ICT
CROW TERRITORY – Lakota youth lazily swung their legs over the back of the flatbed truck carrying them to the corrals where their horses grazed. As they bumped along the grassy road, they sang in their traditional Lakota language. I looked up from my place beside the tipi where I had been staying and smiled and waved at them.
How do you know you’re in the right place?
When the children feel safe enough to sing.
The scene happened at a campsite set up by the Cheyenne River Lakota people near the Battle of the Little Bighorn National Monument in Montana during the 150th commemoration of the Battle of Greasy Grass in late June.
My sundance family – the Vances, Benoists and friends from Australia, the West Coast and some friends from my hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska – visited the commemoration for several days. And then we traveled back to Cheyenne River for our ceremony.
Joe Keller (left) and Steve Vance, historic preservation officer for the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe, set up a tipi at a camp established by Vance’s tribe a few miles from the Little Bighorn National Monument in Montana. The 150th commemoration of the Battle of Greasy Grass took place June 25-27, 2026, and drew thousands of Native visitors. (Kevin Abourezk/ICT)
Both experiences reminded me of what life must have been like for our ancestors and offered me a vision of what we might still remake.
At a large campground down the road from the Cheyenne River Lakota campsite, dozens of tipis stood in a field surrounded by trees. One evening, a few friends and I ventured to that campground, where we witnessed our Cheyenne relatives taking part in a stomp dance. Hundreds of people participated and watched the dance, which took place around a circle of singers hovered over a large drum.
I didn’t want to walk away from the celebration, but I also didn’t quite feel like it was mine to enjoy. As much as the Lakota and Cheyenne have considered each other allies and relatives – having fought together against the 7th Cavalry in 1876 – I felt called to return to my own Lakota people, who took part in a round dance just a few tipis away and who then hosted a ribbon skirt contest, followed by what I presume was a snake dance.
Steve Vance, historic preservation officer for the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe, helps set up a tipi at a camp established by his tribe a few miles from the Little Bighorn National Monument in Montana. The 150th commemoration of the Battle of Greasy Grass took place June 25-27, 2026, and drew thousands of Native visitors. (Kevin Abourezk/ICT)
A tall man with thick black hair that hung freely past his waist led the dance, which included at least 50 participants who wound their way around tipis as a drum group sang. Children laughed and everyone swayed to the music. The man swung his head this way and that and danced adeptly to the beat of the drum.
The dance ended with the participants swirling around the man. As they circled him, they danced faster as the drum rose in timbre and speed. The man smiled in pure joy as the people spun around him.
The people loved the man because the man loved the people.
Cheyenne River Lakota elders watch people set up tipis at a camp established by their tribe a few miles from the Little Bighorn National Monument in Montana. The 150th commemoration of the Battle of Greasy Grass took place June 25-27, 2026, and drew thousands of Native visitors. (Kevin Abourezk/ICT)
My sundance leader Steve Vance is also such a man. A revered Lakota elder who has spent his life bringing back the ancient ways of his people and preserving what remains of Lakota spiritual customs. Vance firmly believes in the power of prayer and the nobility of sacrifice.
These are some of the examples of male leadership I find myself drawn to of late. I can’t speak for female leadership, but there are certainly women in these places I’ve traveled who clearly prove themselves each day to be irreplaceable to their tiospayes.
There are still places in this world where we can go to find good, strong, reverent people who care and love one another and who sacrifice each day to ensure the survival of their families and their people. Of course, there are such places and people right here in Lincoln, Nebraska
A canvas structure constructed from canvases and poles from several tipis is seen here at the All Nations Camp established by several tribes a few miles from the Little Bighorn National Monument in Montana. The 150th commemoration of the Battle of Greasy Grass took place June 25-27, 2026, and drew thousands of Native visitors. (Kevin Abourezk/ICT)
But sometimes I find myself drawn to the not-entirely-tamed Indigenous communities of the Great Plains in order to be reminded of who I am and why I fight to share our stories and uplift Indigenous voices – to inspire our people and give our children hope.
We’re still here. We aren’t going anywhere, America. You’ve had 250 years to erase us and you tried damn hard 150 years ago at Greasy Grass. You haven’t succeeded and you never will.
How do I know this? I know because our children feel safe enough to sing.
The post REPORTER’S NOTEBOOK: ‘Safe enough to sing’ appeared first on ICT.
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