Speaking with Friends About Indian Boarding Schools

A Native Perspective

Unlike many Friends, I don’t have a clear memory of learning the history of Indian boarding schools. There was no memorable sit-down during my childhood when I was introduced to the more than one-hundred-year period when the United States government, in partnership with religious organizations, placed thousands of Native children in these schools. 

As a Native person, I suspect that isn’t unusual. My knowledge of the era isn’t a passive observation about a shameful moment in American history. The memory of Indian boarding schools lives within me. These schools were and are a part of my community’s history, an imprint so painful that many people can’t acknowledge it. But whether or not it is acknowledged, the impact of these schools is impossible to ignore. 

While this is my experience, I know it is not true for the vast majority of Friends (Quakers and non-Native allies alike). In my job as a lobbyist for Friends Committee on National Legislation (FCNL) and in my personal life as an attender of Friends Meeting of Washington (D.C.), I am fortunate to regularly meet Friends who have various types of engagement with boarding schools. Many of the Friends I work with have spent years learning about the history of these schools. Still, I meet many more who have little to no knowledge about them or who don’t know about the extent of Quaker involvement in creating the Indian boarding school system. 

When I meet someone who doesn’t know much about these schools, the conversation might go a few ways. They’ll react with disbelief that they didn’t know about the system, with sadness for what happened, or with guilt for what past Quakers have done. All of these reactions are perfectly normal. I have also observed many Friends get stuck in their reaction and have a hard time seeing the next step. They feel as though there’s nothing to do about this history, but without an alliance with Friends, Native communities are left to shoulder the burden of this history alone. 

Yes, the history of these schools is shameful. Yes, it may almost feel unreal that this happened. But allowing shame to cloud our judgment or slow our feet is another consequence of a culture that divides us by race instead of uniting us in action. As a Native Friend, I seek comfort in the words of Joan Baez, who said, “Action is the antidote to despair.”

I’ve encountered people who will become future advocates at their initial entry point of despair. Many common threads exist in these conversations. I want to express some of the feelings I have as a Native person and as a Friend. I’m offering my perspective on the discernment that I wish Friends had gained when they’d spoken with me about Indian boarding schools. Understanding requires frankness about my exchanges, and I hope my perspective can be enlightening. I acknowledge that my perspective is not the perspective of the entire Native community. These thoughts are meant to begin a conversation, not undermine the feelings or perspectives other Native Friends may have. May this offer some insight into how Friends can discuss the Indian boarding school system with people like me in their community who have experience of it, as well as with other Native people with whom they seek to build relationships.

What follows is a series of queries that I hope non-Native friends can ask themselves before coming into conversation with a Native person about boarding schools. Rather than the intent of these queries being to silence opinion or thought, they are meant to encourage relationship building and genuine community between Friends, Native people, and allies. 

Query 1: Am I considering the impact of my questions on Native people? Am I allowing them to step back when necessary? 

I have been asked by Friends many times about my family’s or community’s experience with Indian boarding schools. On several occasions, this happened almost immediately after I introduced myself and my work. I appreciate the curiosity of these Friends, who are often hoping to empathize with me. There’s a difference, however, between being curious about my experiences and treating me as a curiosity. I encourage Friends to go slowly on this topic. Boarding schools are an incredibly difficult subject for Native people to speak about. 

There are almost no words to describe the impact that these schools have had on Native people, but scientists have shown some of the consequences with data. Survivors of these schools passed their trauma to their children, who are at increased risk of depression. These schools also had a cumulative effect. A study in Canada found that the descendants of families where multiple generations went to boarding school experience high rates of trauma. 

Outside of the data, some of the people who attended these schools have spoken about their experiences publicly. In 2022, survivors and tribal leaders testified in front of the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs. I encourage everyone to listen to what they have to say, with the warning that their testimony may be difficult to experience. In my current position at FCNL, as lead lobbyist for Native American affairs, I work with both survivors and descendants of these schools who have founded an organization called the National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition (NABS). NABS not only lobbies for federal legislation that would investigate the boarding school system, but they also collect testimony from survivors across the country. The stories I hear from them have brought me to tears many times. 

As a lobbyist, I have partly elected to answer questions about the Indian boarding school system. It’s my responsibility to speak to Congress about legislation that would address this history. Central to my role is building bridges between organizations like NABS and Quaker organizations. Still, I often don’t feel comfortable speaking about the personal dimensions of this issue. When speaking with Native people, Friends need to understand that it is painful to speak about the system of these schools. I hope Friends can feel comfortable asking questions but also know that sometimes the answer to a question may be: “There is too much hurt for me to speak.” 

When I meet someone who doesn’t know much about these schools, they’ll react with disbelief, sadness for what happened, or guilt for what past Quakers have done. I have also observed Friends get stuck in their reaction. They feel as though there’s nothing to do about this history, but without an alliance with Friends, Native communities are left to shoulder the burden of this history alone.

Query 2: Am I holding the complexity of the Indian boarding school system in a way that still honors the lived experience of Native people? Am I defending what doesn’t need to be defended? 

I put it mildly when I say that the legacy of boarding schools is complex. All children who attended these schools suffered the imposition of a culture, religion, and language that was not their own. Not all children were impacted the same way. One of the only student accounts of a child who attended a Quaker boarding school comes from Zitkala-Ša, a Yankton Dakota author, composer, and activist. In her 1921 book American Indian Stories, she recounts experiencing physical abuse, forced labor, and a years-long separation from her family. Paradoxically, she also excelled academically, later taught at Carlisle Indian Industrial School (the largest and perhaps most infamous Indian boarding school), and became the first Native American to compose an opera. 

Acknowledging the real harms of Indian boarding schools does not mean that we must be simplistic or paint with a broad brush. In her work, Paula Palmer and the Toward Right Relationship project collected many letters from Quaker teachers. These letters show the complexity of emotions that these teachers felt. They believed they were doing the right thing, and many were extremely dedicated to their students. Being honest about the history of these schools doesn’t mean one is claiming that Quaker teachers, missionaries, or meetings held explicitly genocidal intent. 

But recognizing that complexity doesn’t mean waving away the real consequences of these schools. I have been in conversation with Quakers who say to me that these schools were the “best option” for Native children or that “Quakers had no other choice but to force children to attend.” I’ve been told by Friends that “educating children isn’t abuse” and that “these children were better off in school than with their families.” These statements shut down the conversation. When someone says these things to me, I often have a physical reaction. I feel my heart rate speed up and my breathing become heavier; I struggle to maintain composure. 

Any conversation must start with a fundamental acknowledgement: that forcibly removing children from their families and placing them in boarding schools was wrong. We can acknowledge that despite their circumstances, some children thrived. We can acknowledge that many of the actors in this system felt they were doing the right thing and that missionaries and teachers made real sacrifices for their students. None of that negates the universal reality of the boarding school era: there is no excuse for the forcible separation of children as young as four from their families, their homes, their language, and their land on the basis of race. Yes, the boarding school system was complex, but to build bridges between people of faith and Native communities, we must do so in the light of truth. 

Query 3: Am I allowing my fear to slow my feet? Am I committed to action in alliance with Native communities? 

Far and away, the most common worry I hear from Friends is that they don’t know what to do to help Native communities. They don’t think they themselves are the right people to help. They may be aware of the history of boarding schools, but they don’t have personal relationships with Native people. I’ve encountered several Friends who are worried about overstepping. I understand this fear. Given the fraught history of relationships between Indigenous people and Friends, how can Friends who are allies be sure they are doing the right thing? 

What I challenge Friends to do is to start by taking the first step. Native people have been speaking out about the boarding school system for decades. It’s time that faith communities join them. At FCNL, we’ve been working to pass the Truth and Healing Commission on Indian Boarding School Policies Act in the U.S. Senate for five years. FCNL has been through pitfalls, missteps, and learning moments. Through FCNL’s work with NABS and other Native-led organizations, we’ve also learned that being an ally, even an imperfect one, is what leads to real relationships. 

Native communities have dealt with the burden of the boarding school system alone. Quakers and other faith groups whose history is deeply intertwined with the system have said nothing for too long. I’m not saying that every Quaker needs to become an activist, although many are! But there are steps that make sense for everyone. Your meeting could write a minute endorsing a truth and healing commission. You could write to your legislators and ask them to cosponsor legislation. Some meetings have even made efforts to introduce themselves to their local Native communities. The history of assimilation in the United States has worked by making Quakers and Native people see themselves as separate groups with nothing in common. Healing our communities from this false dichotomy begins with little steps taken together. 

Sometimes the work isn’t easy. Many Native people might not be interested in developing relationships with Quakers. It might be too painful for them. But openings do exist; I’ve had the honor of meeting so many Friends whose work has yielded real change. Reconciliation is not something that comes quickly. It’s a long road, and Friends must be brave enough to take the first step. 

Acknowledging the real harms of Indian boarding schools does not mean that we must be simplistic or paint with a broad brush. . . . Being honest about the history of these schools doesn’t mean one is claiming that Quaker teachers, missionaries, or meetings held explicitly genocidal intent. 

Query 4: What possibilities does the future hold? What joy comes from reconciliation? 

The final thing I want Friends to bring to conversations with Native people is hope for the future. In one of my first conversations with a Friend as a member of FCNL’s Advocacy Corps (a program for young adults that introduces them to lobbying), the Friend told me that they felt sorry for what had been done to my people, because we would’ve been so beautiful if it hadn’t happened. Their words shocked me: It was news to me that Native people weren’t beautiful! 

I understand the sentiment of those miscommunicated words. In mainstream news, the public doesn’t often hear about Native people. When we do, it’s usually about the past or the struggles that Native communities face. But Native people have flourished despite hardship. As Nick Tilsen, Oglala Lakota activist and founder of NDN Collective, has said, “I think the best days of my people are in front of me.” While the work ahead of us is difficult, the joys of reconciliation are real. Healing the relationship between Native communities and people of faith will take work, but the end is worth it. 

Conclusion 

I hope my thoughts are helpful to Friends who have been wrestling with the difficulties of the past. Know that they were made in the spirit of love and the desire for genuine relationship building. I hope Friends find the queries useful in conversations with Native people, Friends, and allies. I also hope that I have inspired Friends to take the first small step toward advocating for healing and justice for all those who were involved in the Indian boarding school system. I hope to see you at a Quaker gathering or in my work with FCNL and look forward to our conversation! 

When I think of the future, it’s a world where Native people and people of faith work together for the benefit of all. This is not a world where Friends are defensive about the past or scared to say the wrong things. It’s a world where Friends step boldly into the truth. It’s a future that I wait for with great anticipation. I hope you will join me. Yakoke fehna hoke.