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Terri Yellowhammer, 57,
stands at Lake Nokomis in south Minneapolis. She was recently
appointed a judge in Minnesotas 4th Judicial District
by Gov. Tim Walz. (photo by Christine T. Nguyen - MPR News)
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Throughout November, MPR News is featuring
Indigenous Minnesotans making history to celebrate Native American
Heritage Month.
Terri Yellowhammer, 57, wants increased visibility for Native Americans.
And as a judge, she hopes that her people know the courts are for
them and that Native youth can picture themselves on the bench,
too.
She grew up in north Minneapolis. Yellowhammer is a member of the
Standing Rock Sioux Tribe with heritage in the White Earth Nation
on her mothers side. She says her parents instilled her Native
identity in her at a very young age, and that shes never been
afraid to be heard.
This drew her to a career practicing law on behalf of Native American
communities before being appointed
as a judge in Minnesotas 4th Judicial District by Gov. Tim
Walz. Prior to this, she served as an assistant state attorney general
and as an attorney at the Indian Child Welfare Law Center, among
other things.
As Hennepin Countys American Indian community relations development
manager, Yellowhammer worked to bring
flags from Ojibwe and Dakota nations into the Hennepin County
Juvenile Justice Center courtroom. Its an effort to make the
juvenile courtrooms a less scary place. She also hopes it gives
families some comfort and some feeling of being seen and of
having a voice when they come through the system, because the legal
system has not always been a place of justice historically for us.
Editor's note: The following interview has been edited for length
and clarity.
What does it mean to be an Indigenous Minnesotan right now?
What it means to me is to see a renaissance of sorts in terms of
our visibility. What has been particularly frustrating and enraging
at times for me is being statistically insignificant, [which] is
what I've been told [Native Americans] are when it comes to data
collection.
I worked for the state for several years, where data collection
is really important. It's key to our work as it really is
in every field. And to have the worst disparities and poor public
determinants of health, and then to be told there's not enough of
us to sample or to get sufficient data really felt like a slap in
the face. Because we are the first Minnesotans, before it was Minnesota.
To have our tribes, the 11 federally recognized tribes here in
Minnesota, have more power means more voice. More voice means more
visibility. More visibility means that our people can get the services
that they need. Hopefully, they can be listened to [and] they can
be seen. I can't stress that enough. When you have been victims
of genocide [and] when you have survived genocide, to feel like
you are unwanted [and] to feel like you are a reminder of what I
think, historically, people want to forget is really demeaning,
disrespectful and dehumanizing. So visibility is key to reversing
those things. That's what that means to me.
What figures have shaped you?
I'd have to say my parents first and foremost. My dad is Walter
Yellowhammer. He grew up in Fort Yates, which is the North Dakota
side of the Standing Rock reservation. My mother grew up in Ponsford
[and] Pine Point, Minn., and on the White Earth Reservation. They
were on relocation, the government program that tried to assimilate
us into greater society. We moved around the country a lot.
Their resilience and their adaptability having come from
their tribal communities to essentially a foreign culture
is remarkable. I'm not saying it was easy or that we didn't have
the same struggles that so many Native families have had and continue
to have in terms of poverty, in terms of the lack of connection
to getting good paying jobs and things like that. They embody that
sort of quiet strength.
Also I was never, ever made to feel embarrassed or ashamed of being
an American Indian. In fact, it was the opposite. They instilled
in me a pride. They made sure that I knew who I was, who I am, what
my tribes are, who my relatives are. For that, I am so grateful.
Because I've never felt invisible. That's what led me to law. I
don't mind arguing a point, or making sure that I'm heard.
But aside from my parents, there's a robust community of Native
people from different tribes here in Minneapolis and St. Paul. I
have so much respect for current and past leaders, some very strong
women that I'm happy to call my friends. Like Sandy
White Hawk, a Sicangu Lakota woman adoptee who does remarkable
work. And Doreen
Day, who is an Anishinaabe woman who has some gifts with singing
and traditions. These are just a couple of the people that I look
to. They're my teachers, and they're my friends, so I'm very grateful.
What's your vision for the future generations of Indigenous
people in Minnesota?
My vision is that we will be in more positions of leadership, of
authority, of making sure that our community and other historically
marginalized people have what we need. That we see ourselves in
these positions of leadership. Becoming a judge, one of the most
important things for me is representation. I want to have that little
Native girl or boy come into my courtroom, maybe with their parent,
and see me on the bench and picture themselves in my place. That
is a powerful legacy and a powerful hope. And that's what we need.
That's my vision.
Who do you see as a changemaker in your community, and inspires
you?
That's a tough one because there are many. There are language warriors.
There's been a revitalization in the last 15 to 20 years, although
it has gone on longer than that. These young people who are learning
their tribal languages and their gifts of their tribal languages.
I think they're changemakers.
I also think there are garden warriors, or people that are looking
to grow our traditional foods because food is medicine. I remember
when I was taking a Dakota language [class], one of my teachers
told me, It's important for you to know the food that you
eat, because it isn't just about the words that we speak.
It's about our bodies. It's about remembering, and our genetic blueprint
and our makeup. What has always been there. So anything that goes
towards making us more of who we are and who we're meant to be,
anyone who does that really is a changemaker.
Where are we and why is it significant to you?
We're at Lake Nokomis in south Minneapolis, and Nokomis means grandmother
in Anishinaabe. Water is life. Water is sacred. We all share in
this precious resource, Native and non-Native. I am always so happy
when I see families or people walking by themselves or in pairs
and groups, picnicking, swimming, using and enjoying this vital
resource. That's why I love Minneapolis. We value that.
Changemakers series
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