Native Americans

01/08/2026

Today My Birthday No body wish me !🥺

12/29/2025

Hope ur day went well beaders an bead lovers.

12/28/2025

My daughter and I in our parkas I made.

12/24/2025

In 1888, four Apache scouts stood as living symbols of resilience, adaptation, and the complex relationships between Native American tribes and the U.S. military. Dressed in a mix of military-issued gear and traditional clothing, these men served as trackers, interpreters, and guides—bringing unmatched knowledge of the rugged Southwestern terrain to the U.S. Army during the Indian Wars.
The men are dressed in a combination of traditional Apache clothing and items that reflect interaction with American culture, such as hats and possibly some elements of their shirts. The presence of rifles suggests their role as warriors or scouts, a common occupation for Apache men during the Apache Wars period in the American Southwest.

Apache scouts were recruited from various Apache bands, including the Chiricahua, Mescalero, and White Mountain groups. Their tracking skills, endurance, and deep familiarity with the land made them indispensable in military campaigns, particularly in the harsh deserts and mountains of Arizona and New Mexico. While some served willingly, others joined out of survival or necessity amid the pressures of reservation life and shifting alliances.

The photograph offers a glimpse into the appearance and material culture of the Apache people during a significant period of their history, marked by conflict and adaptation. These types of images are important historical records, providing visual documentation of Native American individuals and communities from a time of great change and struggle.

Today, the photograph of these four scouts in 1888 reflects a pivotal and often painful chapter in Native American history. It captures the tension of men caught between two worlds—serving an army that had once been their enemy, yet using their talents to assert agency and protect what remained of their people and land. Their faces and stances tell stories of strength, loyalty, and the burdens of history.

12/24/2025

Totally agree!!!...

12/23/2025

Quanah Parker was the last Chief of the Commanches and never lost a battle to the white man. His tribe roamed over the area where Pampas stands. He was never captured by the Army, but decided to surrender and lead his tribe into the white man's culture, only when he saw that there was no alternative.
His was the last tribe in the Staked Plains to come into the reservation system.
Quanah, meaning "fragrant," was born about 1850, son of Comanche Chief Peta Nocona and Cynthia Ann Parker, a white girl taken captive during the 1836 raid on Parker's Fort, Texas. Cynthia Ann Parker was recaptured, along with her daughter, during an 1860 raid on the Pease River in northwest Texas. She had spent 24 years among the Comanche, however, and thus never readjusted to living with the whites again.
She died in Anderson County, Texas, in 1864 shortly after the death of her daughter, Prairie Flower. Ironically, Cynthia Ann's son would adjust remarkably well to living among the white men. But first he would lead a bloody war against them.
Quanah and the Quahada Comanche, of whom his father, Peta Nocona had been chief, refused to accept the provisions of the 1867 Treaty of Medicine Lodge, which confined the southern Plains Indians to a reservation, promising to clothe the Indians and turn them into farmers in imitation of the white settlers.
Knowing of past lies and deceptive treaties of the "White man", Quanah decided to remain on the warpath, raiding in Texas and Mexico and out maneuvering Army Colonel Ronald S. Mackenzie and others. He was almost killed during the attack on buffalo hunters at Adobe Walls in the Texas Panhandle in 1874. The U.S. Army was relentless in its Red River campaign of 1874-75. Quanah's allies, the Quahada were weary and starving.
Mackenzie sent Jacob J. Sturm, a physician and post interpreter, to solicit the Quahada's surrender. Sturm found Quanah, whom he called "a young man of much influence with his people," and pleaded his case. Quanah rode to a mesa, where he saw a wolf come toward him, howl and trot away to the northeast. Overhead, an eagle "glided lazily and then whipped his wings in the direction of Fort Sill," in the words of Jacob Sturm. This was a sign, Quanah thought, and on June 2, 1875, he and his band surrendered at Fort Sill in present-day Oklahoma

12/22/2025

𝐖𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝟏,𝟎𝟎𝟎 Tags 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 native forever 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬.

12/21/2025

Cherokee Women: Equal Partners in Society Cherokee women enjoyed equal status with men in their society. They were eligible for the title of War Women and participated in councils as equals. This led Adair, an Irishman who traded with the Cherokee from 1736-1743, to accuse the Cherokee of having a "petticoat government". The Cherokee people followed a matrilineal system, where children grew up in their mother's house. An uncle from the mother's side taught boys essential skills like hunting and fishing. Women owned the houses and furnishings. Marriages were carefully negotiated, but women could initiate divorce by placing their spouse's belongings outside. Cherokee women worked hard, caring for children, cooking, tending to the house, tanning skins, weaving baskets, and cultivating fields. Men assisted with some household chores like sewing but focused primarily on hunting. Cherokee girls learned various skills, including warfare, healing, basket weaving, storytelling, trade, and dance. They became mothers, wives, and custodians of their heritage. The Cherokee people's ability to adapt was largely attributed to the women, who formed the core of their society.

12/21/2025

She Fought an Empire While Carrying Life Inside Her
Solitude entered this world through violence.
It is believed she was born after her mother was r***d by a White sailor aboard a slave ship crossing the Atlantic from Africa — a crime so common it was rarely named, so brutal it shaped generations. That child was sold into slavery in Guadeloupe, marked from birth by a system that claimed her body did not belong to her.
They called her “La Mulâtresse.”
A label meant to reduce her to bloodlines and brutality. A word rooted in degradation, used to remind her that she was born of r**e and captivity. But Solitude would not live — or die — as a label.
She lived as resistance.
At first, she was enslaved. Then, in 1794, the impossible happened. Inspired by the Haitian Revolution, France abolished slavery in its colonies. For a brief, fragile moment, Solitude tasted freedom. She lived as a free woman in a land that had once claimed ownership over her breath.
But freedom frightened empires.
By 1802, plantation owners in Guadeloupe were desperate. Without enslaved labor, their wealth was collapsing. They begged Napoleon Bonaparte to intervene — and he answered by sending a massive military force to the island, determined to reimpose slavery by blood and fire.
Solitude was pregnant when the call to resist came.
And still — she joined.
She stood beside Louis Delgrès, a leader of mixed African and European descent, and followed him into open rebellion against the French army. Cannons. Muskets. Soldiers trained for conquest. Against them stood former enslaved people, fighting not for territory, but for the right to remain human.
Despite the weight of pregnancy, Solitude fought fearlessly — through skirmishes, retreats, hunger, and loss. She did not step back. She did not surrender. She advanced until the rebels were finally outnumbered and cornered.
When defeat became inevitable, Delgrès and his fighters chose one final act of defiance.
They refused to be recaptured.
In a last bow to freedom, they blew up their own gunpowder reserves, killing invading French troops — and many of themselves. It was a su***de mission, a declaration that life in chains was worse than death.
Solitude survived the explosion.
The French captured her.
Because she was pregnant, they delayed her ex*****on. She was imprisoned — carrying life inside her while awaiting death. On November 28, 1802, she gave birth. And the very next day, November 29, Solitude was hanged by the French state.
She died one day after becoming a mother.
An empire feared a pregnant Black woman enough to kill her.
For centuries, her story was nearly erased — passed down in fragments, whispers, and memory. But Solitude endured.
On May 10, 2022, more than two hundred years after her ex*****on, Paris unveiled its first-ever statue of a Black woman.
It was Solitude.
Cast in bronze. Standing tall. No chains. No labels. No silence.
She reminds the world that resistance is not always loud — sometimes it is carried in the body, in the womb, in the refusal to kneel even when death is certain.
Solitude did not live to see freedom restored.
But she made sure it was never forgotten.
Rest in Power.

12/21/2025

The best for everybody

12/19/2025

12/02/2025