fbpx
facebook app symbol  twitter  linkedin  instagram 1
 

Opinion. Today, we remember the one hundred and thirty-three winters ago, on December 29, 1890, when innocent Lakota men, women, and children were massacred by the U.S. 7th Cavalry Regiment near Wounded Knee Creek on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Some estimates place the death toll close to 300, underscoring the horrific scale of this tragedy.

The massacre occurred under the pretense of disarming the Lakota, who had already suffered profound losses due to U.S. policies, broken treaties, and forced relocations. That December, the Great Plains were covered in heavy snowfall, adding to the grim and unforgiving conditions. The Lakota ancestors who were killed were left lying in the brutal, frigid environment of the reservation until a burial party arrived days later to place their frozen bodies in a mass grave. 

Never miss Indian Country’s biggest stories and breaking news. Sign up to get our reporting sent straight to your inbox every weekday morning. 

A haunting photograph of Chief Big Foot’s frozen and contorted body has since become a powerful symbol for American Indians, a stark reminder of the atrocities endured by their ancestors.

Some survivors of the massacre were taken to the Episcopal mission in Pine Ridge, where they received care. In time, they shared oral histories of the events that unfolded that day, passing down the stories of their trauma and resilience to future generations. These accounts form the foundation of our understanding of what happened, preserving the memory of those who suffered and died.

One poignant detail from that dark chapter in American history has remained etched in my mind since I first read these words from Dee Brown’s Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: “It was the fourth day after Christmas in the Year of our Lord 1890, when the first torn and bleeding bodies were carried into the candlelit church. Those who were conscious could see Christmas greenery hanging from the open rafters. Across the chancel front above the pulpit was strung a crudely lettered banner: Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men.

There was no peace on earth for the Lakota that day. Instead, there was unimaginable violence and suffering, compounded by the bitter irony of that banner hanging above the pulpit. It stands as a chilling reminder of the cruelty and Christian hypocrisy faced by Indigenous peoples during this era.

Adding insult to injury, some 20 U.S. Cavalry soldiers were awarded Medals of Honor for their actions during the massacre. These commendations, meant to recognize acts of heroism, instead glorified the slaughter of innocent Lakota men, women, and children. This grotesque distortion of justice is an affront to the memory of those who perished and to humanity itself.

Today, there is a growing movement to rectify this historical wrong. The “Remove the Stain Act,” that lingers in Congress, aims to strip those soldiers of their Medals of Honor, a long-overdue step toward acknowledging the truth of what happened at Wounded Knee. Passing this legislation would be a meaningful act of justice, albeit symbolic, for the Lakota people and all American Indians.

The Wounded Knee Massacre is not only a historical tragedy but also a symbol for all American Indians of the injustices inflicted upon their ancestors. It marks the end of the American Indian Wars, yet it also signifies a moment when Indigenous peoples were largely erased from mainstream American history. After Wounded Knee, many history books fell silent about the continued struggles and resilience of Native peoples, as if they no longer existed.

But we do exist. Native Americans have endured and persevered for generations since Wounded Knee. Despite the systemic efforts to erase our culture, language, and identity, we have survived. It is our responsibility as descendants to honor our ancestors by remembering their sacrifices and by building a better future for ourselves and the generations to come. We are taught to prepare for the next seven generations, ensuring that their lives are enriched by the lessons of the past and the resilience of our people.

As we work toward a brighter future, we must never forget the ancestors we lost 132 winters ago on December 29, 1890. Their memory fuels our determination to preserve our culture, advocate for justice, and ensure that the stories of our people are never forgotten. By remembering Wounded Knee, we honor their lives and reaffirm our commitment to a legacy of strength, survival, and hope.

Thayék gde nwéndëmen - We are all related.

 

More Stories Like This

Double Down on What Works: Invest in Native CDFIs, Don’t Eliminate Them
The Big Ugly Bill Attacks Tribes, Our Lands, and Our Rights
Native Mascots Don't Honor Our Ancestors. They Harm Our Children.
Modernizing the Path to Homeownership in Indian Country
The Future is Bright for Cherokee Nation Health Services at Claremore

Help us tell the stories that could save Native languages and food traditions

At a critical moment for Indian Country, Native News Online is embarking on our most ambitious reporting project yet: "Cultivating Culture," a three-year investigation into two forces shaping Native community survival—food sovereignty and language revitalization.

The devastating impact of COVID-19 accelerated the loss of Native elders and with them, irreplaceable cultural knowledge. Yet across tribal communities, innovative leaders are fighting back, reclaiming traditional food systems and breathing new life into Native languages. These aren't just cultural preservation efforts—they're powerful pathways to community health, healing, and resilience.

Our dedicated reporting team will spend three years documenting these stories through on-the-ground reporting in 18 tribal communities, producing over 200 in-depth stories, 18 podcast episodes, and multimedia content that amplifies Indigenous voices. We'll show policymakers, funders, and allies how cultural restoration directly impacts physical and mental wellness while celebrating successful models of sovereignty and self-determination.

This isn't corporate media parachuting into Indian Country for a quick story. This is sustained, relationship-based journalism by Native reporters who understand these communities. It's "Warrior Journalism"—fearless reporting that serves the 5.5 million readers who depend on us for news that mainstream media often ignores.

We need your help right now. While we've secured partial funding, we're still $450,000 short of our three-year budget. Our immediate goal is $25,000 this month to keep this critical work moving forward—funding reporter salaries, travel to remote communities, photography, and the deep reporting these stories deserve.

Every dollar directly supports Indigenous journalists telling Indigenous stories. Whether it's $5 or $50, your contribution ensures these vital narratives of resilience, innovation, and hope don't disappear into silence.

Levi headshotThe stakes couldn't be higher. Native languages are being lost at an alarming rate. Food insecurity plagues many tribal communities. But solutions are emerging, and these stories need to be told.

Support independent Native journalism. Fund the stories that matter.

Levi Rickert (Potawatomi), Editor & Publisher

 
 
About The Author
Levi Rickert
Author: Levi RickertEmail: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
Levi "Calm Before the Storm" Rickert (Prairie Band Potawatomi Nation) is the founder, publisher and editor of Native News Online. Rickert was awarded Best Column 2021 Native Media Award for the print/online category by the Native American Journalists Association. He serves on the advisory board of the Multicultural Media Correspondents Association. He can be reached at [email protected].