As President Donald Trump’s second administration reshapes the country’s moral and legal landscape, questions of personhood—who is afforded dignity, protection, and rights—have become central to American life.
In such moments, what it means to be a human being becomes both a moral question and a political one. Western science tells us that we are human because we are Homo sapiens, a bipedal species of primate mammal. Civil society tells us we are human because we perform citizenship in ways it recognizes and rewards. The law tells us we are human because we possess rights granted, revoked, or withheld by the state. My ancestors believed that being human meant so much more.
For my people, the Oceti Sakowin(Seven Council Fires of the Great Sioux Nation), our ultimate goal in life was to become ikce wicasa—which translates to “common people,” or just “human beings.” Long before we were identified as members of a given tribal nation or labeled Native American, American Indian, or even Indigenous, we called ourselves human beings.
At its core, embodying ikce wicasa is an acknowledgment that no one is superior or inferior to anyone else. It’s a vision of equality that stands in stark contrast to the hierarchies so often celebrated, implicitly or explicitly, on the Fourth of July across the United States.
Ikce wicasa is a reminder that our worth is derived from our place as part of the whole and how we contribute to the greater good—not from material wealth or idiosyncratic pursuits that require the exploitation or subjugation of others. It’s about nurturing our connections to one another and the Universe, and recognizing through humility that being truly ikce wicasanecessitates conducting ourselves in this manner regardless of whether we will be rewarded for it. It is simply who we are.
Our traditional system of justice was based upon ikcewicasa tawoope, or “natural, human law.” Oceti Sakowin laws were based on a value system that prized Wowaunsila (empathy), Wacanteognake (generosity), Wayuonihan (respectfulness), Wowacintanka(perseverance), Wowahwala (humility), Woohitika (courage), Woksape(wisdom), and Woaktunje (clemency) above all. These laws mandated that we acknowledge the humanity in others, and brought us into balance with the community and world we live in. We thrived as a Native Nation for millennia because of it.
One aspect of ikce wicasa tawoope that is lacking in today’s socio-political landscape was highlighted in a speech to the United Nations given by the late Birgil Kills Straight (Tokala Tokeya Ku), a venerated Oglala Lakota elder and U.S. Army veteran. “We see people doing things with their minds rather than through the heart,” he said. “We see the opposite in the world around us, accumulation of wealth, greed, hatred, an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, disrespect, kill and destroy what is not understood.”
Kills Straight was a descendant of Iron Hail, a survivor of the Wounded Knee Massacre. He was also one of the original 15 Sitanka Wokiksuye (Bigfoot Memorial Ride) horse riders who traversed from the Standing Rock Reservation to the site of the Wounded Knee Massacre on the Pine Ridge Reservation each December, in remembrance of the anniversary of the assassination of Chief Sitting Bull (Tatanka Iyotake) and Wounded Knee. He was renowned in traditional circles, but lesser known in mainstream society, because he was ikce wicasa.In his speech, and throughout his life, Kills Straight addressed the importance of human rights.
Despite the work of people like Kills Straight, human rights abuses persist. We are reminded every day of arbitrary arrests and detentions, extrajudicial killings, discrimination, sexual violence, the denial of humanitarian aid, forced labor or being made to work in unsafe conditions, violations of privacy and freedom of expression, and genocide.
People are systematically disrespected, degraded, erased, demeaned, and subjected to cruel or inhumane treatment or violence. We see it in misogynistic laws denying women the basic human right of deciding what happens to their own bodies. It manifests in hate crimes, when people of color are lynched or members of the LGBTQIA+ community are beaten and murdered just for being who they are. Last month, Minnesota Rep. Melissa Hortman, a Democratic speaker and lawmaker who served as the state’s 61st speaker of the house, was shot dead in her home in a politically motivated assassination.
“The erosion of our shared humanity is inevitable when hate finds its way into political strategy, cruelty gets baked into public policy, and dehumanization grows rampant and unchecked across social media platforms.”
Ruth H. Burns, writer
The erosion of our shared humanity is inevitable when hate finds its way into political strategy, cruelty gets baked into public policy, and dehumanization grows rampant and unchecked across social media platforms.
For the Oceti Sakowin, this is not new. Our understanding of ikce wicasa gained urgency the moment settlers arrived and colonization stripped us of our humanity. We spoke unfamiliar languages, looked and dressed differently, and were not Christians, so we were treated as less-than-human. We were deceived and lied to. Our lands and our children were stolen because, we were told, we were not civilized. We were slaughtered and barely survived genocide. It’s easier to kill people when you have no empathy for them, and don’t view them as human. Because we have suffered dehumanization, those of us who aspire to be ikce wicasa recognize the vulnerability it creates, and reclaim our humanity by affirming the humanity of others.
You do not have to be Oceti Sakowin, or even Native, to be ikce wicasa. Anyone may take the path of the ikce wicasa to reclaim their humanity. There are millions of Americans who are ikce wicasa and they don’t even know it. These people get up every day to do the necessary work to keep society functioning: provide for their families, love their children, look out for a neighbor. They hope, pray, and sacrifice for the greater good, and do right in private because of who they are. These people are the silent majority. They are everywhere, but you may not see them out front. They are busy, being ikce wicasa. Real, common, decent human beings, thinking with their hearts.
There is much wrong with the world, and great trouble brewing in the United States. But if there is anyone who will save it, who will offer humanity and our fading planet some respite, it will not be the billionaire who elevates himself above the masses he despises as he hides behind the tall walls of his tech fortress. It will be the ikce wicasa, the common person, who leads the charge for change. This is the promise we keep.
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