Oceti Sakowin is not a protest camp, it is a prayer camp. The camp is constructed on holy ground. Each day begins with a call to prayer. Each action of resistance is based in prayer.
The Indigenous lead movement at Standing Rock is grounded in spirituality and the actual ground. There is a connectedness at Oceti Sakowin that focuses on the kin-dom, in which the earth and the animals and the people all rely upon each other.
Oceti Sakowin felt like God’s promise of a city on a hill, where all things are made new. Yet the camp is not on a hill, it is in a valley. Many hills surround the valley. The violent presence of militarized police dominates the hills.
It’s an overwhelming picture: The sacred encircled by violence. Sacred ground trampled by white supremacy. Sacred water penetrated by greed. Sacred people injured by inhumane grasping of power.
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I participated in a non-violent direct action at the Bismarck mall on Black Friday. A group of 40-50 water protectors planned to stand in a circle and pray. As soon as we walked into the mall, we were overwhelmed by the police presence. At least 30 police officers were on high alert, waiting for “disruptive and dangerous” protestors.
We formed our circle. We said nothing. We did not block the walkways. We had gathered for prayer.
The police shouted, “You must leave! You cannot do this here.”
“We are trying to pray,” we responded.
“This is private property, we don’t allow religious activity here!” shouted the head of mall security. (How ironic in the midst of Christmas decorations.)
“We just want to pray,” we said.
“Leave now or be arrested!” The police presence intensified.
Then, the officers began ripping people out of the circle. The woman directly next to me was yanked away. “I’m not resisting arrest!” she cried.
Water protectors were thrown to the ground. Our group started to back away, hands in the air. The police pushed us. “Get out of here now!” they screamed.
If we fell to the ground while being pushed, we were arrested. Water protectors were arrested for videoing the officers and not moving away fast enough. I saw four officers tackle an Indigenous man in the corner. He was silent.
We were trying to pray. We were there to pray for the water.
And they met us with violence.
While I was expecting brutality at the hands of the police, I wasn’t expecting to hear such violence coming from the mouths of onlookers.
The Bismarck shoppers cheered the police. They shouted things like, “Arrest them all and beat them!” I was told to get a job and was accused of being a professionally paid protestor. We were scolded for scaring the children.
We were trying to pray. We were there to pray for the water.
What scares me the most is that people were watching what happened. They saw us join hands. They saw us calmly ask to pray. They saw the police brutalize us. And yet, we were condemned and police brutality was cheered.
How can this happen? How can people shopping for Christmas presents denounce peaceful prayer and applaud violent hostility?
How can the police spray humans with antifreeze filled water in frigid temperatures? How can executives willingly poison sacred land and water?
Holiday shoppers were furious that our prayer circle interrupted their Christmas festivities, yet they forgot that powerfully violent state and religious authorities once nailed a peaceful protestor to a tree.
The sacred encircled by violence. It’s an old story that is continuously retold in new, tragic ways.
We must change the narrative, and the only way to change the narrative is to allow our eyes to see the sacred. Indigenous people are sacred. The ground is sacred. The water is sacred. Your neighbor is sacred. You are sacred.
Take that which has been desecrated and breathe your sacred breath into it. Use your sacred body and your sacred voice to protect.
Change the narrative. Extinguish the violence by protecting the sacred. Be a sacred protector.
Brittany lives in Charlottesville, VA with her wife Lindsay and their skeptical dog Eliza. She enjoys dancing, deconstructing destructive dominions of dominance, and alliterations. Above all else, Brittany tries to keep it real.
Twitter: @brittanydare