On July 16, 2023, the Leech Lake Band of Ojibwe tribal council approved the continued use of Native-themed mascots by Deer River Schools and Grand Rapids Area Schools in Minnesota. This decision came after a lengthy three-year process shaped by evolving state laws and fierce national discussions surrounding the use of Native imagery in public education.
The design at the center of this approval features a spear and feather, symbols long associated with Deer River Schools. Under new regulations in Minnesota, school districts wishing to retain Native-related logos needed to secure tribal approval. A legislative amendment this year simplified the requirements, now demanding consent solely from the school’s primary tribal partner and its American Indian Parent Advisory Committee, rather than seeking approval from all federally recognized tribes in the state.
This issue sparked wide-ranging discussions on cultural sovereignty, free expression, and the legacy of historical trauma. It captured national attention, igniting polarizing responses across the political spectrum. One notable tweet from user @EricLDaugh proclaimed, “I’m sure the Native Americans are saying the same thing about your racist [expletive],” echoing broader frustrations towards reactionary movements either for or against the use of Native iconography devoid of tribal input. This sentiment encapsulates the fundamental question at hand: who truly has the right to define what honors or offends Indigenous peoples?
Faron Jackson Sr., Chairman of the Leech Lake Band, provided a clear stance: “This decision reflects the value of collaboration and honors the intent of the law, which rightly recognizes tribal sovereignty and the importance of local relationships.” Jackson explained how the tribe felt the mascot’s imagery celebrated tradition rather than detracted from it.
Superintendent Pat Rendle of Deer River Schools recognized the confusion and tension inherent in the legal process. He stated, “It happened fast, and it was really confusing. In the end, it turned out exactly the way it should have to begin with.” This resolution has also spared the district an estimated $300,000 in potential expenses associated with replacing signage, uniforms, and branding were the mascots to be removed.
The controversy surrounding Native American mascots has persisted for decades. In 2001, the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights urged an end to their use in non-Native schools, asserting they “reinforce misconceptions and negative stereotypes.” Research from the American Psychological Association corroborated these concerns, linking the usage of such mascots to decreased self-esteem and mental health challenges among Native youth.
Meanwhile, some Native organizations, such as the Native American Guardians Association and various tribal councils, contest a blanket ban on mascots. They argue that it can lead to cultural erasure, especially when conducted without direct tribal consent. Under the previous administration, the U.S. Department of Education investigated whether state-level bans on Native mascots discriminated against schools trying to honor Indigenous groups.
“This isn’t about triggering anyone on either side,” remarked a tribal education committee member involved in the Deer River deliberations. “It’s about context, about whether the imagery reflects an authentic relationship or a stereotype.”
This layered nuance—historical, legal, and cultural—is often lost in online discussions. A particularly inflammatory post by a public figure, which remarked that “We didn’t kill enough Indians,” after a professor discussed decolonization, sparked significant outrage and was ultimately censored for violating platform rules. Cherokee Nation Chief Chuck Hoskin Jr. denounced these remarks as “heartless” and “vicious.” Such statements can further entrench opposition to what some view as performative progressivism, a perspective some Native leaders argue silences Indigenous voices rather than amplifying them.
Local control, with direct tribal involvement, is gaining traction as a potential solution to disputes over mascots. Minnesota lawmakers revised their law not only to streamline the process but also due to pressure from school districts struggling to get approval from multiple tribes for one mascot. The newly amended law requires consent only from the primary tribal partner and the Indian Parent Advisory Committee for the district, thus reducing bureaucratic obstacles and returning authority to local Native communities.
However, not all districts will benefit from the leniency extended to Deer River. In New York, a 2022 directive mandated the removal of Native mascots statewide by 2025, and state officials have denied waiver requests even from districts supported by tribal entities. This situation has led to federal civil rights complaints, raising concerns that unyielding bans might infringe upon tribal rights just as much as the negative portrayal of Indigenous imagery.
As of 2020, around 1,900 K-12 schools across the nation still utilized Native mascots, although that number has dwindled due to legal challenges, financial pressures from sponsors, and heightened student activism. Notably, the Washington NFL team retired its “Redskins” name in 2020, followed by the Cleveland team’s subsequent rebranding to “Guardians” in 2021. School boards in several states have encountered lawsuits or state-imposed mandates requiring changes regardless of tribal perspectives.
The Leech Lake Band’s decision in Minnesota serves as a fresh model—one that acknowledges tribal sovereignty while considering local relationships and historical significance. This middle ground may not appease all activists advocating for the complete removal of Native imagery from public settings. Nonetheless, it maintains that honoring the input from tribes isn’t inherently disrespectful.
This resolution has tangible impacts. Without approval, Deer River and Grand Rapids Schools would have faced considerable expenses and potential community rifts. With consent, they retain their established identities in a manner that reflects both respect and pride. As one parent in Deer River expressed at a school board meeting, “It’s not about holding onto the past. It’s about who we are and who we stand with now.”
The future of Native mascots in Minnesota and beyond hinges on critical questions: Who gets represented? Who holds the authority to decide? And, crucially, are their voices truly heard—not just in the digital realm but at the tables where policies are shaped? For Deer River, this path was forged through obstacles, deliberations, and the essential approval from the Leech Lake Band. It stands out as a rare instance where local voices resonated amidst the din of national outrage.
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