"F--K YOU, this is still Mexico," says a popular LED-illuminated sign appearing in car windows on California highways.
The sign refers to the fact that much of the American Southwest belonged to Mexico until the U.S. siezed it in 1846.
Now some Mexicans want the land back. As a Comanche Indian, I have a problem with that.
We Comanches pushed the Spaniards out of Texas and eastern New Mexico over 200 years ago. Neither Spaniards nor Mexicans ever managed to return.
Comanches used to ride across the Rio Grande every fall to attack Mexican villages, killing, scalping, plundering and carrying off captives and livestock.
"Upwards of ten thousand head of horses and mules have already been carried off," wrote one English eyewitness. "...everywhere the people have been killed or captured... ranchos barricaded, and the inhabitants afraid to venture out of their doors."
The truth is, Mexicans were helpless against us. So where did they get this idea that they used to own our land?
One of their arguments is that the American Southwest is really "Aztlan," the original Aztec homeland. They say that some distant ancestors of the Aztecs wandered through here in prehistoric times. Well, even if that's true, what does it prove?
According to the CIA World Factbook 2000, 30 percent of Mexicans are Indian, 60 percent mestizo (part Indian, part Spanish) 9 percent white and 1 percent other.
Of that 90 percent who are fully or partly Indian, some no doubt have Aztec ancestors. But how many? And which ones? Nobody knows. Spaniards and Indians have been intermarrying for almost 500 years in Mexico, and the Aztecs were just one tribe out of many.
No matter. Aztec is in. On the website of the Nation of Aztlan, members of the so-called Revolutionary Council are listed with Aztec names such as Cuahtemoc and Moctezuma.
All this reminds of my trip to Mexico in 1993. I was one of thirty American Indian Ambassadors sent down under a Kellogg fellowship program for Indian leadership training. It was a fascinating trip. But, to this day, I'm still wondering what the point of it was.
The group leaders -- most of whom were white -- kept telling us we had to build solidarity with Mexico's "indigenous" people. But we couldn't see the purpose. We were American Indians. What did we have to do with Mexico?
One day in Cuerna Vaca we listened to an elderly gent with few teeth, who was introduced as a shaman, but resembled a homeless man from New York's Lower East Side.
While he extolled unity of all indigenous peoples everywhere, the black bark incense he kept burning drove me out of the room coughing and choking.
In Mexico City, we saw a troupe of "Aztec" dancers. I'm afraid we didn't connect with them either. Actually, we felt kind of sorry for them. No one was watching their dance, and, to be honest, it wasn't that great. A lot of slow-motion arm waving, and not much legwork or rhythm. They'd never cut it at a Comanche pow-wow.
Someone told me this troupe had learned these "authentic" Aztec dances from American Indians somewhere up in Texas. Hmmm.
Don't get me wrong. I like Mexican people just fine. But I sure don't like Mexicans calling my land "Aztlan" and saying it belongs to them.
Another thing I don't like is people burning the American flag, as a mob of violent Mexican demonstrators did Last Fourth of July outside a veterans' cemetery in Los Angeles.
"Mexicans have every right to be here," said Augustine Cebeda of the militant Brown Berets de Aztlan. "This land was stolen from us."
Well, I guess the Mexicans can try to take it back if they want. But we Comanches remember how they fared the last time around. It wasn't anything to brag about.
If push comes to shove, I'll be standing with the Anglos this time. One thing whites and Indians have in common: We respect the American flag.
Go to any pow-wow, and watch how those Indians honor the flag. At the annual Red Earth festival here in Oklahoma City, the vets step in first, in uniform, carrying Old Glory proudly, its pole surmounted by the head of a real bald eagle. It's enough to send chills down your spine.
Those Mexican radicals can call themselves "Aztecs" if they want. But they're not going to connect with me by burning bark incense.
And they're sure not going to connect with me by burning my flag.
Originally published at FrontPageMagazine.com | March 23, 2001
David Horowitz's anti-reparations campaign has proved that freedom of speech exists only for liberals on campus.
I learned that lesson the hard way. My conservative views cost me my job as an adjunct professor of psychology and humanities at Oklahoma State University, Oklahoma City.
You'd think that being a Comanche Indian might have counted for something in today's "multiculturalist" academy. However, some people seem to feel that "the only good Indian is a liberal Indian," as noted in one of my previous columns.
My troubles began in 1998, when a bright, 19-year-old student named Gretchen Kiefer created a literary journal called The Raven Anthology, through a campus club I was sponsoring. The persecution started with the first issue.
Gretchen was ordered not to mention the school in her journal. She was barred from using state money, even though it was mandated for use by school clubs.
One article in particular seemed to annoy the powers-that-be. It was written by Mike Brake -- who is speechwriter and spokesman for Republican governor Frank Keating, as well as an OSU-OKC faculty member.
"We can't have any more articles like that," Vice Provost of Student Affairs Pam Davenport told Gretchen. "I don’t want any faculty involved."
What was wrong with Mike's article? It argued that Oklahoma's conservative values should become a model for the rest of the country. Is that bad?
As the second issue took shape, former Arts and Sciences head Sharon Wright zeroed in on an article of mine about race and fashion.
"You will offend the blacks!" she warned me.
My article showcased the book Hair Raising by African-American writer Noliwe Rooks, which examines the pain black women suffer in a society obsessed with "white" beauty. Better than any book I've read, it gives people who aren't black a sense of how it really feels to be black.
"Gretchen is the editor," I responded. It was her decision to run the piece or pull it. My refusal to undermine Gretchen's authority was seen as defiant.
Right around that time, the Indian jokes started, often in the form of ribbing about the Raven controversy.
"Don’t you know never to trust the White Man?" my colleagues would laugh. "You know whatever you have, we’ll take it."
One time I got on the elevator with my supervisor, Dennis Smith, lead humanities instructor, and another faculty member. I was limping with a foot injury.
"Hey, Yeagley, isn't there some kind of Indian sh-t you can put on that?" said Dennis. "I mean, some buffalo sh-t or some concoction to heal it?"
I don't think they consciously meant to offend. But it was funny how the jokes only started after I had fallen from grace.
The fact is, they knew me. They knew I was tough and conservative, and wouldn't sue them or make an issue of their jokes. Had I been a black liberal -- or even a liberal Indian -- I'm sure they would have watched their p's and q's better.
In the end, they killed The Raven. Gretchen transferred to another school. And I was told that my job was hanging by a thread. I was barred from involvement in any more student activities.
"Just come to school, teach your classes, then go home," said Dennis. "Don't show your face in that administration building."
Before long, I started a national campaign to have patriotism taught in public schools. My proposal won the personal support of Governor Keating.
When David Horowitz's website FrontPageMagazine.com ran a story about my campaign, my phone started ringing off the hook with requests to appear on talk shows.
That was the last straw for OSU-OKC. I was warned not to mention the school name in articles or interviews, except with a disclaimer stating that my views were independent.
Talk show hosts trying to reach me complained that the school was not forthcoming with my number.
"This is it," said Tim Faltyn, the new head of Arts and Sciences. "I can't protect you anymore. The administration has decided to let you go."
The final ax fell in a meeting with Dennis, my supervisor. "Yeagley, you're creating a lot of bad PR with this patriotism thing," he said. My contract would not be renewed in May. I was dismissed after five years on the job.
That's how OSU-OKC lost the one and only American Indian faculty member it ever had. For all the talk about "diversity" on today’s campuses, I guess some things are considered more important. Such as silencing conservative voices.
Originally published at FrontPageMagazine.com | March 23, 2001
Since I have been writing these columns about warriorship and patriotism, I've been amazed at the number of supportive letters I have received from American Indian veterans of the United States armed forces. Patriotism is alive and well in Indian country, especially among vets.
Even so, there are some who claim that a Comanche patriot such as myself is a contradiction. How can a Comanche -- or any Indian -- love the nation that conquered his people?
"Comanche Patriot?" writes Efiza Jackson. "The Comanches are a Sovereign Nation. Where is Dr. Yeagley's loyalty? He should teach a course on Comanche Treason."
Then there's Bishkoko from Norwalk, CT, who says he is half Choctaw and half black.
"What kind of nonsense could I expect from a Comanche ignorant enough to try to teach patriotism in American schools?" he writes. "Of all 'races,' Indians have the highest percentage of service in the armed forces. Less than 20 years after the end of the Indian wars, Choctaw code talkers helped this pathetic country to victory in World War I. What did this great country do in return? It split up Oklahoma Choctaw lands…"
Bishkoko seems to imply that Indian vets were nothing but fools who got taken for a ride.
I take that rather personally. I was not able to serve myself (I tried, but failed the physical, due to a childhood illness). But I'm mighty proud of my relatives who did.
Take my uncle, Raymond C. Portillo, retired Lieutenant Colonel of the United States Marine Corps and a full-blooded Comanche. He led the 2nd Battalion, 1st Regiment onto the beaches of Okinawa in World War II. He got the Bronze Star, a Presidential Unit Citation Medal, an American Defense Medal, an American Campaign Medal, an Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal, a National Defense Medal, two campaign stars (Guadalcanal and Okinawa), and more.
Bishkoko may call my uncle Raymond a fool. But I wouldn't recommend that he say it to my uncle's face.
He probably shouldn't say it to my Aunt Edna Mae Portillo's face either. She is a retired U.S. Navy Lieutenant.
Then there's my great, great grandpa, Bad Eagle, the only full-blooded Comanche known to serve in the Mexican Army! (He was born in 1839 and died 1906). He was captured down in Mexico, as a young Comanche raider. Later, he was legally adopted by one Capitán Portillo and became a Mexican army reconnaissance officer.
After that, he was "re-captured" by Comanches, and became a band headman of a Kweharena nuhmanuhkan or "chief" of a quahadi (Antelope) clan, his own people.
Finally, he was a professional guide for Dr. Jacob J. Sturm, M.D. Sturm was interpreter in the 1870's for a U.S. Army post called Fort Sill, in Lawton, OK. Bad Eagle (then called Tu-vi-ai), Wild Horse, and Wat-i-bi, were all Comanche "diplomats."
Bishkoko might dismiss all these people as fools. But what has he ever done to compare with them? What does he understand of their pride and bravery or their feelings for the flag?
On one subject, Bishkoko is correct. Indians are vastly overrepresented in the armed forces, relative to their numbers. The United States Department of Defense recently stated that there are some 190,000 American Indian veterans, representing "the highest record of service per capita when compared to other ethnic groups."
(Ouch! I'm not sure I like that term "ethnic group." Makes us sound like just another bunch of immigrants, when in fact, this is our homeland. Oh well. It's the thought that counts).
Anyway, the American Indian Veterans Memorial Organization is raising $4 million for a monument in Phoenix, Arizona, at the old Phoenix Indian School, to honor Indian vets. The city and state are in full support.
Why do so many Indians serve?
Part of it, I'll have to admit, is that some Indians just like fighting. We are warriors by nature. To a certain extent, one enemy is as good as another. That certainly seems to be the case in my clan.
But, more importantly, we love the land. We are close to this "American" earth. Our deepest spiritual affections are bound up with this specific landscape, this "purple mountain majesty," and that ineffably sublime American Eagle. Our bones are buried here. This is truly our home. Nobody will ever fight for this land like an Indian.
That is a big part of our value to America. We love this place more than anyone else, and always will. I think white people understand and appreciate that. Too bad Bishkoko doesn't.
Originally published at FrontPageMagazine.com | March 15, 2001
We Indians are supposed to hate the white man. Everyone tells me this. I've heard it from whites, blacks and even from Indians.
Well, folks, I hate to disappoint you, but I like white people just fine. To tell the truth, I rather admire them and their fascinating history.
Oh, I know what you're thinking. "Yeagley! How can you say that? How can you admire a people who slaughtered your ancestors, gave smallpox to those left alive, herded them onto reservations, made them all drunks, and -- as the final indignity -- sold their turquoise mines to the Japanese?"
Well, the way I figure it, anyone who could whip our Indian behinds like the white man did deserves our highest respect. And anyone who can whip a Comanche (my tribe) deserves the Medal of Honor.
I admire a man who can beat me. I dare say, deep inside all Indians -- at least those who are still warriors at heart -- there is a special admiration for the white man.
When the Comanches first encountered the white man, his behavior didn't shock them. They saw that he took what he wanted by force. And they understood. Because the Comanches did the same to their weaker neighbors.
If my ancestors had been strong enough, they would have taken the white man's land, instead of the other way around. And they wouldn't have felt guilty about it afterwards. You wouldn't have seen any defeated white people getting affirmative action from Comanches.
When one general surrenders to another, they salute each other. It doesn't mean that there's no bitterness between them. It just means that a warrior respects his foe.
White people understand this, because they too come from a warrior culture. The white man has great respect for the Indian. I'm not saying he always treats us the way we want to be treated. But he respects us for putting up a good fight.
Have you ever noticed how cowboy-and-Indian movies always focus on the same tribes? It's either the Sioux, the Apaches or the Comanches. White people remember those tribes, because they fought hard and were the last to surrender.
Why does the U.S. military have helicopters named "Apache" and "Comanche" -- but none that are named "Arikara" or "Ojibwa?" They name their weapons systems after the fiercest tribes, because they want some of that fierceness to rub off.
Back in the 1930s, the warrior spirit was still strong in Indians and white men alike. At that time, the Oceti Sakowin Hunkpapa Sioux elders of Standing Rock honored the University of North Dakota by giving them permission to use the name "Fighting Sioux" for their sports teams.
At that time, many old people, both whites and Indians, still remembered the last wars. Wounded Knee was more recent for them than World War II is for us.
Yet they saluted each other, warrior to warrior. Because one fighting people understands another.
Today, the leftists tell us that the "Fighting Sioux" name is an insult to Indians, and we must demand that the university change it. I guess that goes for the Apache and Comanche helicopters too.
I've written other columns on this issue. Everyone knows where I stand. I'm with the Sioux elders, who believe that a warrior can respect and honor his foe.
Some people get it. Some don't.
Keith Rushing doesn't. He's a black man from Hampton, VA, who wrote to me February 22, in response to my February 13 column, "Don't Walk the Black Mans Path." Mr. Rushing was "shocked" by my attitude.
"I'm sure you realize that the reference to the 'Fighting Sioux' is akin to calling Native Americans wild Indians," he lectured me. "i'm a black man but I've never quite understood why white-owned athletic teams have this fantasy about fierce Indian warriors when they unfortunately decimated so many Indian people. There's some sick irony involved there."
In Mr. Rushing's view, the "fierce Indian warrior" is nothing but a white "fantasy." We were not warriors, he implies, but poor, defenseless victims who were "decimated" without putting up a fight.
Mr. Rushing seems to feel that there is more honor in being pathetic. Perhaps he feels we should think of ourselves as alcoholic, diabetic, suicidal and unemployed. No thank you.
The white man may have taken my land. But he took it like a warrior, fair and square. Yes, he treated my people harshly. But he never denied their bravery, never besmirched their memory as warriors.
But you did, Mr. Rushing. You did.
Originally published at FrontPageMagazine.com | March 7, 2001