Copyright 2011 Carolyn Gage Introduction to Little Sister The situation for Native American women that led

to the writing of Little Sister is so serious, I am including extensive excerpts from Native American Women and Violence, published in the spring of 2011 in the National Organization for Women Times: Native American women experience the highest rate of violence of any group in the United States. A report released by the Department of Justice, American Indians and Crime, found that Native American women suffer violent crime at a rate three and a half times greater than the national average. National researchers estimate that this number is actually much higher than has been captured by statistics; according to the Department of Justice over 70% of sexual assaults are never reported. As women of color, Native Americans experience not only sexual violence, but also institutionalized racism. Alex Wilson, a researcher for the Native American group Indigenous Perspectives, found a high level of tension between law enforcement and Native American women, who report numerous encounters where the police treated the women as if they were not telling the truth. In a reservation community, Wilson said, 911 would dispatch police to a scene of domestic violence, but police would call the victim by cell phone and decide himself when or if he should go to the victims home. Often the women would wait for an hour and other times the abuser would answer when the police called, and would say everything was fine, and there was no need for them to come. Native women who called police for help were often revictimized by the police. Native American women also stand a high risk of losing their children in instances of physical and sexual abuse. The women often will stay with abusive husbands in order to keep their children

In addition to domestic abuse, Native American women also experience the highest levels of sexual and domestic abuse of any group. A report from the American Indian Womens Chemical Health Project found that three-fourths of Native American women have experienced some type of sexual assault in their lives. However, most remain silent due to cultural barriers, a high level of mistrust for white dominated agencies, fear of familial alienation, and a history of inactivity by state and tribal agencies to prosecute crimes committed against them Police and courts tend to ignore cases of violence involving Native American women due to alleged confusion between federal and tribal jurisdiction. Law enforcement and attorneys often are not schooled to deal with the cross-over in dealing between jurisdictions. Eileen Hudon, a sexual abuse counselor from the Minnesota Indian Women's Resource Center, said there is a basic ignorance in the whole justice system. This causes blatant violations of the rights of Native American women. Technically, cases involving a non-Native American perpetrator and Native American victim fall under federal jurisdiction. According to the Department of Justice, 70% or more of violence experienced by Native American women is committed by persons not of the same race. The problem of violence against Native American women is exacerbated by federal apathy in law enforcement and the courts, and minimal funding for shelters, counseling, and education in Native American communities Federal, tribal and state institutions have not made stopping violence against Native American women a priority issue, says NOW National Board Member and Native American woman, Genevieve James Re-authorization of the Violence Against Women Act has appropriated over $4 million dollars to go toward improving services to Native American women who have experienced domestic violence, sexual assault and stalking. However, crimes committed against Native American women still continue to be marginalized if the United States Attorneys do not feel pressure to prosecute these crimes fairly.
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NOW is urging that United States Attorney's offices develop statistics on crimes committed against Native American women and make them public. NOW also encourages activists, chapters and states to contact the United States Attorney General's Office and insist that battery, rape, sexual assault, and gender-based violence committed against Native American women be prosecuted to the fullest extent by the law. For more information concerning violence against Native American women, contact: Mending the Sacred Hoop 202 East Superior Street Duluth, MN 55802 (218)-722-2781 Minnesota Indian Women's Resource Center 2300 15th Avenue South Minneapolis, MN 55404 (612)-728-2000. During a three-month residency in New Mexico, I attended twelvestep meeting as part of my recovery, and there I heard first-hand stories from Native American women about the violence in their lives. I also learned how tribal courts are restricted by federal law, sometimes unable to sentence a perpetrator for more than a year. I became aware of the intergenerational PTSD in indigenous populations. At this time, I became aware of the Chiricahua warrior Lozen, and I began to research her life and the experience of her people before and during captivity. As a playwright whose work foregrounds not only violence against women, but also the lesbian butch, or masculine woman, I began to conceive the idea of writing a play about Lozen.

At the same time, I was aware that this was not my story and not my culture and I also was seeing how under-documented Two Spirit women are in comparison with their male counterparts. Some of this is a function of male domination in academia and especially in the field of Queer Studies. But also, there appears to be less historical documentation of female-born Two Spirit figures. In the case of Lozen, this has been attributed to a protective attitude on the part of those who had known her. They were fearful that white people might misinterpret her non-traditional participation in male activities as a sign of promiscuity. It was my experience in New Mexico that there was a powerful tension between the traditional Catholic beliefs about the sinfulness of homosexuality and the traditional indigenous belief about the sacredness of the Two Spirit identity. A friend of mine let me know in no uncertain terms that I had no right to even attempt a story with its roots in a white written history, and no right in any way to overlay any kind of lesbian interpretation upon a historical indigenous identity. I set the project aside for three years, but it continued to nag at me, and so I finally wrote Little Sister. It was my intention to celebrate a Native lesbian couple, to explore the tension between the dreamer/sacred worker and the enforcer of laws, to write about the intergenerational trauma that has been and continues to be inflicted on and passed down in Native American populations, and to explore the healing potential in reclaiming a Two Spirit warrior like Lozen. I was very mindful of how shared histories of oppression with perpetrators, who have themselves been victims, can complicate the narrative. Little Sister confronts an aspect of homophobia that is rarely dealt with in literature. This is the belief that the butch is the real lesbian, and that her fem partner is a heterosexual who is either temporarily confused or in the thrall of the butch. Non-butch lesbians are not always willing to acknowledge the depth of this specifically butch oppression.

Finally, I wanted to write about the child who has been victimized by child sexual abuse. In the words of African American author Toni Cade Bambara, The issue is salvation. Like Bambara, I want to create stories that save lives. I understand that the name Onawah means wide-awake one, and the story of Little Sister is about the price of reclaiming the abused child because there is always a price. It is a story about the women who refused the adult costbenefit analysis that leads to the perpetuation of abuse.