Explore the vast range of titles available.

This is the biography of Sherman Coolidge, Arapaho survivor of the Indian Wars, witness to the maladministration of the reservation system, mediator between Native and white worlds, and ultimate defender of Native rights and heritage.

The Carlisle Indian School (1879-1918) was an audacious educational experiment. Capt. Richard Henry Pratt, the school's founder and first superintendent, persuaded the federal government that training Native children to accept the white man's ways and values would be more efficient than fighting deadly battles. The result was that the last Indian war would be waged against Native children in the classroom.More than 10,500 children from virtually every Native nation in the United States were taken from their homes and transported to Pennsylvania. Carlisle provided a blueprint for the federal Indian school system that was established across the United States and served as a model for many residential schools in Canada. The Carlisle experiment initiated patterns of dislocation and rupture far deeper and more profound and enduring than its initiators ever grasped.Carlisle Indian Industrial Schooloffers varied perspectives on the school by interweaving the voices of students' descendants, poets, and activists with cutting-edge research by Native and non-Native scholars. These contributions reveal the continuing impact and vitality of historical and collective memory, as well as the complex and enduring legacies of a school that still touches the lives of many Native Americans.

What might be gained from reading Native literatures from global rather than exclusively local perspectives of Indigenous struggle? InTrans-Indigenous, Chadwick Allen proposes methodologies for a global Native literary studies based on focused comparisons of diverse texts, contexts, and traditions in order to foreground the richness of Indigenous self-representation and the complexity of Indigenous agency. Through demonstrations of distinct forms of juxtaposition-across historical periods and geographical borders, across tribes and nations, across the Indigenous-settler binary, across genre and media-Allen reclaims aspects of the Indigenous archive from North America, Hawaii, Aotearoa New Zealand, and Australia that have been largely left out of the scholarly conversation. He engages systems of Indigenous aesthetics-such as the pictographic discourse of Plains Indian winter counts, the semiotics of Navajo weaving, and Maori carving traditions, as well as Indigenous technologies like large-scale North American earthworks and Polynesian ocean-voyagingwaka-for the interpretation of contemporary Indigenous texts. The result is a provocative reorienting of the call for Native intellectual, artistic, and literary sovereignty that fully prioritizes the global Indigenous.

When Alisse Portnoy recovered petitions from the early 1830s that nearly 1,500 women sent to the U.S. Congress to protest the forced removal of Native Americans in the South, she found the first instance of women's national, collective political activism in American history. In this groundbreaking study, Portnoy links antebellum Indian removal debates with crucial, simultaneous debates about African Americans--abolition of slavery and African colonization--revealing ways European American women negotiated prohibitions to make their voices heard. Situating the debates within contemporary, competing ideas about race, religion, and nation, Portnoy examines the means by which women argued for a \"right to speak\" on national policy. Women's participation in the debates was constrained not only by gender but also by how these women--and the men with whom they lived and worshipped--imagined Native and African Americans as the objects of their advocacy and by what they believed were the most benevolent ways to aid the oppressed groups. Cogently argued and engagingly written, this is the first study to fully integrate women's, Native American, and African American rights debates.

The Indian Removal Act of 1830 displaces over 100,000 Cherokee from their lands east of the Mississippi.

In this sweeping work of memoir and commentary, leading cultural critic Paul Chaat Smith illustrates with dry wit and brutal honesty the contradictions of life in \"the Indian business.\"Raised in suburban Maryland and Oklahoma, Smith dove head first into the political radicalism of the 1970s, working with the American Indian Movement until it dissolved into dysfunction and infighting. Afterward he lived in New York, the city of choice for political exiles, and eventually arrived in Washington, D.C., at the newly minted National Museum of the American Indian (\"a bad idea whose time has come\") as a curator. In his journey from fighting activist to federal employee, Smith tells us he has discovered at least two things: there is no one true representation of the American Indian experience, and even the best of intentions sometimes ends in catastrophe.Everything You Know about Indians Is Wrongis a highly entertaining and, at times, searing critique of the deeply disputed role of American Indians in the United States. In \"A Place Called Irony,\" Smith whizzes through his early life, showing us the ironic pop culture signposts that marked this Native American's coming of age in suburbia: \"We would order Chinese food and slap a favorite video into the machine-the Grammy Awards or a Reagan press conference-and argue about Cyndi Lauper or who should coach the Knicks.\" In \"Lost in Translation,\" Smith explores why American Indians are so often misunderstood and misrepresented in today's media: \"We're lousy television.\" In \"Every Picture Tells a Story,\" Smith remembers his Comanche grandfather as he muses on the images of American Indians as \"a half-remembered presence, both comforting and dangerous, lurking just below the surface.\"Smith walks this tightrope between comforting and dangerous, offering unrepentant skepticism and, ultimately, empathy. \"This book is calledEverything You Know about Indians Is Wrong, but it's a book title, folks, not to be taken literally. Of course I don't mean everything, just most things. And 'you' really means we, as in all of us.\"