The recent Hulu docuseries “Vow of Silence: The Assassination of Annie Mae (Pictou Aquash)," which chronicles the work of a Canadian-born Mi’kmaq activist in the Indian Movement of the 1970s, reminded me of my Apache research. Anna (Annie) Mae, who was killed at the age of 30, said, “I’m not going to stop fighting for my country until I die, and then my kids will take over.” My family had a similar saying, “We would rather die here than live where we do not belong.”

I do not wish to ignite or revive the violence associated with the Movement, nor do I seek to establish a new school of thought or ‘ism.’ Instead, I aim to introduce the reader to the resilience of Indigenous Peoples. Annie Mae’s dedication parallels my people’s fight for tribal recognition by the United States. It is essential to understand that the struggle for sovereignty is not a pursuit of dependency but rather a battle against erasure—deeply rooted in identity, self-determination, and honoring historical agreements. 

Commonly known as part of the more prominent Chiricahua Apache tribe, my people, the Gila Apache, are unique. We refer to ourselves as Gila Ndé, mobile local groups located in southeastern Arizona, southwestern New Mexico, and northern Mexico, identified by the Spanish as Apaches de Xila (Gila) and later by Mexican officials as Gileño Apache or simply Gileños. On July 22, 1777, Commandant-Inspector Don Hugo O’Conor, an Irishman from Dublin, reported to his superiors about the threat we posed to the defenses of Northern New Spain. He noted that the Chiricahua referred to themselves as “Sigilande” [Tse-Gila-Ndé], a name that encompasses my ancestral homeland—the Gila. Our traditional Gileño voice/accent [bizhíí] (which includes the Gileño, Mogollon, and Mimbreño local groups) resembles that of the Chiricahua. Yet, our naming patterns mimic the Western Apache language [N’dee biyáti’]. We defined ourselves with a distinct identity, using our own unique dialect and kinship.

Professor Willem J. de Reuse, a researcher focusing on Native American languages, distinguishes the old Gila Ndé bizhíí by studying extensive collections of Spanish documents detailing peaceful and hostile Apache interactions since the late 16th century. The evidence suggests that the Gila variant and the older Chiricahua dialect are not identical but that Gila Ndé bizhíí falls directly between Western Apache and Chiricahua. Reuse’s evidence is based on the work of linguist and anthropologist Harry Hoijer. In the early 1930s, Hoijer gathered and later published texts in the older proper Chiricahua Apache dialect. Chiricahua proper differs slightly from the modern Mescalero-Chiricahua language [Ndé bizaa].

Indé, N’dee, or Ndé, meaning “Apache person or people” in our Southern Athabaskan language, is not a term used in treaties with the United States. The term “Apache,” commonly used by the U.S., connects families who received permanent reservations. However, some families like mine, who never received a permanent reservation in our homelands and remained mobile, are unacknowledged by the U.S. government’s definition of an American Indian tribe. In census data, even members of acknowledged tribes are often perceived as members of a reservation or an ethnic group rather than those of a sovereign nation. Indigenous unity is crucial, but under federal law, tribes must be accepted as nations, not reservations or ethnic minorities. 

This shared resilience is evident in my family history, beginning with my 4th great-uncle, ‘Neri’ or Nerio “Negrito” Maturino, who took part in negotiating peace and sovereignty through treaty-making efforts. Negrito played a significant role in the history of the groups identified as “Mogoyonero and Gileño Apache.” He and two others acted as agents of the Mogollon and Gila Apache by traveling south and signing a treaty with the Department of Sonora, Mexico, on June 4, 1843, in Guaymas. This treaty was part of our efforts to promote understanding and good faith, mainly reflecting our family's desire to end hostilities with Sonora. 

My family history confirms that our political relationship with Chihuahua, Durango (formerly Nueva Vizcaya), and Sonora was often inconsistent. Ralph A. Smith wrote about my Mogollon Apache ancestors, stating, “Their plunder road pushed deeper into Mexico than any of the five major Apache war trails that crossed the present international boundary.” A year later, Smith’s article, “Indians in American-Mexican Relations Before the War of 1846,” noted, “As Apache raiders, the Mogolloneros held a primacy in distance traveled... southward and southeastward to the middle and upper Conchos (River)... and even Durango." We traveled from Negrito Creek, which runs through Reserve, New Mexico [Tse Gote’l (Flat Top Mesa)], to locations in the municipality of Indé, Durango, covering a distance twice that of the 350 miles described by archaeologist Stephen H. Lekson for the annual subsistence round of the Mimbreños/Warm Springs bands of Apache [Chíhéne]. Like others, my family learned to navigate the international and jurisdictional boundaries via Carretas Ridge, a mountain corridor in the Sierra Madres, to evade our pursuers.

After the Mexican-American War (1846-1848), the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo required the U.S. to stop the Apache from invading Mexican territory or capturing Mexican citizens. This task was nearly impossible. The traditionally mobile Gila Apache local groups were not invited to the negotiating table for the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. Despite Colonel Sumner of the U.S. Army strongly urging the return of New Mexico to the “Mexicans and Indians,” the U.S. and my family negotiated a separate peace treaty.

Negrito, Mangus Colorado (Mangas Coloradas), Capitán Simón, and three others, all referred to as "chiefs" acting on behalf of the Apache Nation of Indians, situated and living within the limits of the United States," signed the Treaty of Santa Fe, between the Apache and the U.S., which was ratified on March 25, 1853. The late historian Donald E. Worchester noted that the Apache “land of the Mimbreños, Mogollones, Pinaleños, and Chiricahuas” south of the Gila River in Arizona and New Mexico was annexed to the U.S. through the Gadsden Purchase the following year.

Two decades earlier, Chief Justice John Marshall ruled that Native Americans were “domestic dependent nations” in Cherokee Nation v. Georgia. He determined that the federal government should protect Native Americans’ rights to maintain a certain level of sovereignty and self-governance as dependent entities. Marshall argued that tribes and the U.S. government should share a relationship similar to that of a ward and a guardian. This ruling prevented states like Georgia from imposing laws on Native Americans. Eight years earlier, Justice Marshall, in Johnson v. McIntosh, opined that Native Americans had the right to occupy their lands. Unfortunately for the Gila, the U.S. government had dissolved the Tularosa Valley Indian Agency north of Reserve, New Mexico, in 1874, preventing us from officially occupying our Mogollon Mountains [Nadàh’za’í (Mescal Mountain)] as a recognized tribe. 

Despite Justice Marshall's legal framework for tribal sovereignty, the Gila experience illustrates the limitations of these protections in practice. In addition to losing the Tularosa Valley reservation, the U.S. closed our Chiricahua Apache Indian Agency in southeastern Arizona in 1876. This was followed by the closure of the Southern Apache Indian Agency at the Warm Springs near modern Monticello, New Mexico, in 1877. By 1881, the U.S. returned the Gila Apache Indian Reservation in present-day Gila, New Mexico, which was promised in 1861 to the public domain in 1882. 

All these decisions prevented the Gila Apache from having a permanent reservation in our homeland. The U.S. preferred that we reside on the San Carlos Apache reservation, which was neither our land nor supported by Justice Marshall’s ruling on occupancy. Those who resisted being relocated to San Carlos and who persisted in our traditional residences [gotahyú] were later inaccurately identified as Mexican nationals or even Anglos (White) in U.S. censuses. This struggle for a homeland resonates with the broader fight for Indigenous self-determination in the Americas, a cause championed by Annie Mae during her involvement in the American Indian Movement.

As an Indigenous person from North America, Annie Mae refused to honor contemporary national borders. She opposed the relegation of tribes to ward status and advocated for independence for all tribes through the American Indian Movement. She championed Indigenous self-determination instead of dependency on the U.S. government. It is important to note that, contrary to popular rhetoric, many Native American reservations resemble the economies of Third-World countries. 

Annie Mae's leadership during the 1972 Trail of Broken Treaties emphasized the need for U.S. authorities to address harmful federal Indian policies that disrupted Native tribes. When I analyze the potential for bias in the federal acknowledgment process for unrecognized Native American tribes in terms of Chief Justice John Marshall’s opinion, I challenge the reluctance to support unrecognized tribes due to concerns about financial responsibilities and the return of Indigenous homelands. This possibility of inaccurate judgment highlights the importance of global frameworks such as the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), which promotes honoring treaties with Indigenous nations.

In 2012, the UNDRIP aimed to enhance standards for the survival, dignity, and well-being of Indigenous Peoples worldwide. A decade later, the UN General Assembly resolution adopted the use of capital letters in the term "Indigenous Peoples" in official documents when referring to Indigenous individuals, children, and women, among others. Annie Mae’s vision aligned with global calls for Indigenous self-determination and the protection of cultural identities. The Gila Apache fight for recognition parallels Annie Mae’s and the UNDRIP framework.

Indigenous movements worldwide, such as the Nación N’dee/N’nee/Ndé (Apache Nation in Mexico), have significantly shaped the global sovereignty and collective rights discourse. This year, the Nación N’dee/N’nee/Ndé gained recognition from the Mexican government, a milestone I witnessed firsthand during one of the latest gatherings in Casas Grandes, Chihuahua, where I had the opportunity to present on my family’s history. During the event, I met some Mexican government officials who assessed and supported the recognition efforts of the N’dee/N’nee/Ndé. This global milestone in Indigenous recognition highlights the enduring legacy of activists like Annie Mae, whose sacrifices continue to inspire collective action.

Reflecting on the legacy of Indigenous activists, I think of Annie Mae Pictou Aquash, who sacrificed her life for her beliefs and role in the Indian Movement. Her tragic fate highlights the serious risks faced by Indigenous activists today. It serves as a sobering reminder of the ongoing challenges that non-federally recognized tribes confront as they strive against systemic erasure.

I celebrate Annie Mae’s contributions to Indigenous sovereignty. The Mogollon (Bedonkohe band) Apache Geronimo had the following message dictated: “It is my land, my home, my father’s land, to which I now ask to be allowed to return. I want to spend my last days there and be buried among those mountains.”  I encourage readers to view tribal federal acknowledgment efforts not as a quest for material things but for freedom, opportunities, and liberty. I advocate for recognizing Indigenous Peoples’ sovereignty as a matter of justice, not charity. Let Annie Mae and Geronimo’s words inspire collective action to honor treaties, protect cultural identities, and support non-federally recognized tribes with evidence of identity in their fight for a presence in their homelands. – Thank You [‘Ixéhe].