Confronting Colonialism

Confronting Colonialism

How will we defend our present and our future? Native peoples across the continent faced this question as they struggled to protect their homelands, lives, and cultures from Euro-American colonization. In the East—the stronghold of the United States—both citizens and governments pressured Indigenous nations to cede their territories and move west.

To challenge US aggression, Native leaders drew on all available resources, including spiritual powers. Yet spirituality, too, was in flux. Many Native cultures did not distinguish between sacred and secular realms. Among them, no word existed for "religion," for how could one term embrace an all-encompassing way of life and worldview? But Christian evangelizing and the ongoing loss of homelands tested longstanding beliefs and practices. In the crucible of colonization, an already vibrant spiritual universe diversified further. Multiple ways of being religious emerged and new alliances formed.

When Americans targeted remaining Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) lands in the early 1800s and Potawatomi lands in the 1830s, religion helped shape community members’ responses.

John Kaionhes Fadden
The First Grand Council

“It is our fixed and determined purpose to live and die on our present seats. It is sealed to us by the bones of our fathers. They obtained it by their blood. Our bones shall be beside theirs. It is the heritage of the Almighty. He gave it to us. He it is who must take it from us.”

—Six Nations to the President of the United States, 1818

Robert Walter Weir (1803–1889)
Sagoyewatha, or “Red Jacket” (ca. 1758–1830), 1828
Oil on canvas
New-York Historical Society, Gift of Winthrop Chanler, 1893.1

The People of the Longhouse

The Longhouse is much more than a communal dwelling made of bark. It is also the central symbol for the Haudenosaunee: the confederacy of nations that the French called the Iroquois. These six nations include the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca, and Tuscarora. The Longhouse metaphor of “families living together” expresses the values of mutual responsibility and support that sustain this multifamily home.

The symbolic Longhouse shown in this painting stretches across the traditional Haudenosaunee homelands, spanning east to west from the Hudson River to Niagara in what is now the state of New York. Within its boundaries lie countless culturally significant places, linked together as parts of an interdependent spiritual community. According to Haudenosaunee belief, all the humans, animals, and plants residing under the Longhouse “roof” were assigned a purpose by the Creator.

Sanford Plummer (Seneca, 1905-1974)
Founders of the League, ca. 1930s
Watercolor on paper, 20 × 28 in.
Collection of The Newark Museum of Art 62.79, Gift of the International Business Machines
Corporation, 1962

George Catlin (1796–1872)
Process of excavation, Lockport, 1825
New York Public Library

Land Crisis: Erie Canal

Plans for the Erie Canal cut right through the heart of Haudenosaunee lands. Where the Haudenosaunee saw a living landscape that sustained their survival, New York politicians and businessmen saw opportunities for development and the easiest route to the West. An early canal proposal characterized the territory as “waste and unappropriated lands” ripe for the state’s taking.

New York State Surveyor General Simeon DeWitt used these surveying tools to plot the canal. Planners knew they were boring through Native land. This map shows the canal winding through places named after Haudenosaunee communities, including Onondaga Lake, Oneida Creek, and the Seneca River.

In 1817, the Ogden Land Company began construction. Supporters championed the canal as a sign of American progress that would facilitate travel and commerce. Haudenosaunee communities viewed it as a threat to their lands and ways of life. They petitioned against private and public attempts to remove them from their homes along the canal’s route.

Elias Valentine
Map and profile of the proposed canal from Lake Erie to Hudson River in the State of New York, 1817
Patricia D. Klingenstein Library, New-York Historical Society

Surveyor’s kit owned by Simeon DeWitt
Albany Institute of History and Art, bequest of Sarah Walsh DeWitt, 1924.1.21

Spiritual Crisis: Erie Canal

The land crisis sparked by the Erie Canal precipitated a spiritual crisis for many Haudenosaunee people. Which beliefs and practices would protect them? How could they sustain their culture if they lost the places that anchored and shaped it?

To safeguard the future of the Longhouse, people turned to several different sources of spiritual power.

Traditional Practices
Red Jacket (1758–1830)

The Seneca leader Sagoyewatha or Red Jacket defended traditional Haudenosaunee practices. He distrusted Christian missionaries, regarding them as accomplices of the whites who were stealing their lands.

His words to one New England missionary were published in the broadside shown here. “You have got our country but are not satisfied; you want to force your religion upon us. You say there is but one way to worship and serve the Great Spirit. If there is but one religion, why do you white people differ so much about it? Why not all agreed, as you can all read the book?”

In 1819, the Ogden Land Company met with Red Jacket and other Seneca leaders to pressure them into selling land. Red Jacket spoke for the group when he refused, insisting that all white men, including the preacher and schoolmaster, leave their reservations.

Charles Bird King (1785–1862)
Red Jacket, 1836–1844
Facsimile
Patricia D. Klingenstein Library, New-York Historical Society

Red Jacket
Indian speech delivered before a Gentleman Missionary from Massachusetts, 1805
Patricia D. Klingenstein Library, New-York Historical Society

Christianity
Reverend Eleazer Williams (1788–1858)

Protestant missionaries had long worked among the Haudenosaunee. When the Erie Canal broke ground in the center of the Oneida homeland, many Oneida Christians rallied around Eleazer Williams, an Episcopalian missionary of Mohawk descent. Williams envisioned an “Indian empire” in the West. He advised his Oneida followers to migrate west in order to protect themselves from the white population and practice Christianity how they saw fit. Between 1820 and 1838, about half of the Oneidas relocated to a new reservation near present-day Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Williams preached captivating sermons and enjoyed singing hymns—a mode of worship that resonated with Indigenous traditions. He also contributed to this prayer book, which was written in a “reformed Mohawk orthography” for speakers of Mohawk and Oneida. Its contents include prayers, services, and thanksgivings drawn from the Book of Common Prayer.

Protestant missionizing among the Haudenosaunee continued even after most Oneidas moved west. These communion vessels were used in a Presbyterian mission near the Allegany Seneca Nation reservation.

George Catlin (1796–1872)
Eleazer Williams, 1832
Facsimile
Wisconsin Historical Society, WHI-3021

Communion set used at the Presbyterian Mission, Old Town, Allegany Seneca Nation reservation, ca. 1840
Courtesy of the New York State Museum, Albany, NY, H-1993.14.1

Rev. Solomon Davis
A Prayer Book in the Language of the Six Nations of Indians, 1837
Patricia D. Klingenstein Library, New-York Historical Society

Longhouse Philosophy
Handsome Lake (1735–1815)

In the summer of 1818, spiritual revival swept through the Haudenosaunee council assembled at the Tonawanda Seneca reservation. Years before, the Seneca prophet Handsome Lake stood inside this same longhouse and preached a message of moral and social reform. He revealed his visions in which the Creator sent instructions for revitalizing Ongwehonweka:a, “the way of life of the original human beings.”

At the 1818 council, followers of the late prophet revived Handsome Lake’s teachings to unite their community. The book by a visiting Protestant minister displayed here documents an oration from council participant John Sky, who “recapitulated the moral truths delivered by the prophet.”

Handsome Lake’s Longhouse philosophy of living sought to help adherents move forward despite poverty, cultural disruption, and land loss. Some of his instructions overlapped with the counsel of Christian missionaries, but he distinguished his Gaiwi:yo (“Good Word”) from the Christian Gospel. His message emphasized longstanding beliefs about the sanctity of family and the value of positive relationships, generosity, and hospitality. It also sanctioned forms of worship important to Haudenosaunee identity, including the Midwinter Ceremony, the Strawberry Festival, and traditional thanksgiving dances.

Ernest Smith (Tonawanda Seneca, 1907–1975)
Handsome Lake Preaching His Code at the Tonawanda Longhouse, 1936
Watercolor
Courtesy of the Rochester Museum & Science Center, Rochester, NY

Rev. Timothy Alden
An account of sundry missions performed among the Senecas and Munsees, 1827
Patricia D. Klingenstein Library, New-York Historical Society

Bridging Traditions
Caroline Gahano Parker Mt. Pleasant (ca. 1826–1892)

Caroline Parker was an artist whose life bridged multiple spiritual traditions. Born Tonawanda Seneca and married into the Tuscarora community, Parker followed prophet Handsome Lake’s Longhouse philosophy and also was a member of the Tuscarora Baptist Church. She balanced creative adaptations of Euro-American customs with the preservation of her Haudenosaunee heritage.

Both influences are present in Parker’s clothing designs. The outfit she wears in the photo—featuring this skirt—takes the style of ceremonial Longhouse dress, even as additions like the white lace collar reference contemporary Victorian fashions. The skirt’s “celestial tree” motif is a quintessential Haudenosaunee pattern. Bold colors and symbolic beadwork evoke the feminine powers of Sky Woman, a major figure in the Haudenosaunee creation story. When worn during ceremonial dances, Parker’s skirt became a “visual prayer” in motion.*

Caroline Parker’s textile art illustrates how affiliating with Christianity did not necessarily mean losing traditional spirituality or culture. Haudenosaunee peoples could adopt diverse beliefs, philosophies, or perspectives and still remain united as inhabitants of one Longhouse.

*Description from textile historian Deborah Holler

Caroline Parker (Tonawanda Seneca, ca. 1826–1892)
Skirt, 1849
Courtesy of the New York State Museum, Albany, NY, E-36664

Daguerreotype of Caroline Parker, ca. 1849
Courtesy of the Rochester Museum & Science Center, Rochester, NY, Gift of John R. and Eileen K. Reidman, Acc. 2021.01.01

The Canal's Impact

The Erie Canal opened on October 26, 1825. By connecting New York City to the Great Lakes, it accelerated US expansion. It also sparked a commercial boom and land rush onto Indigenous lands.

A century later, Seneca artist Ernest Smith captured this moment in his painting Progress. The Native people in the foreground scan the encroaching steamers and freshly built cabins, bracing for a new influx of white Americans on their already drastically reduced land base. Dispossession cost the Haudenosaunee more than 99% of their homelands.

Haudenosaunee did more than observe, however. They sought redress for illegal treaties, sustained commitments to spiritual beliefs and practices, and insisted on defining and defending their futures. Even Progress is part of this story of resilience, as described below in “Busting the Myth.”

Ernest Smith (Tonawanda Seneca, 1907–1975)
Progress, 1935
Watercolor
Courtesy of the Rochester Museum & Science Center, Rochester, NY

Celebrating the Canal

New York City leaders hailed the canal’s opening by distributing gold medals to prominent Americans. This one went to Andrew Jackson, the soon-to-be US president who signed into law the Indian Removal Act of 1830.

The medals were presented in gift boxes made from lumber carried aboard the Seneca Chief, the first boat to enter the finished canal. The boat’s naming reflected settlers' appropriation of Native names and cultures, even as their actions fragmented Haudenosaunee homelands and communities.

Erie Canal celebration medal, 1826
New-York Historical Society, Gift of Miss G. Wilbour, 1932.68ab

Erie Canal medal box, 1825
New-York Historical Society, INV.840ab

Busting the Myth

Ernest Smith (Seneca) reproduced his painting Progress from a 19th-century print featured in several period atlases. The original image conveyed the then-common idea that Native people would soon disappear. Canal promoter and New York Governor DeWitt Clinton predicted this outcome in an 1811 address to the New-York Historical Society. “Before the passing away of the present generation,” he declared, “not a single Iroquois will be seen in this State.”

By recreating this scene in the 1930s, Smith gave an old image new meaning and proved the “vanishing Indian” myth false. He painted Progress as part of an arts revival movement led by Arthur C. Parker—a Seneca anthropologist, director of what is now the Rochester Museum and Science Center, and great-nephew of Caroline Parker. Between 1935 and 1941, the Seneca Arts Project supported the work of Smith and over 100 other Native artists in New York State. This group included Sanford Plummer, whose Founders of the League began this section.

Threat to Potawatomi Homelands

The Erie Canal gave Easterners a quick, easy route to the West. Aspiring settlers followed the canal straight into the Great Lakes homelands of the Potawatomi and other Native nations. This onslaught of white newcomers in the 1820s disrupted food supplies and cultural practices, sparked violent encounters, and introduced fatal diseases. Leaders such as Leopold Pokagon or Sakekwinik struggled to contain the damage.

Then, in 1830, President Andrew Jackson signed the Indian Removal Act. This new law sanctioned ongoing efforts to push Native peoples west of the Mississippi. Pokagon learned that even the Baptist missionary living in his community supported Jackson’s removal program. In response, Pokagon cut ties with white Protestants in search of a more favorable religious and political alliance.

Leopold Pokagon (Sakekwinik)

Leopold Pokagon (ca. 1775–1841) was one of the leaders who guided Potawatomi village life in the western Great Lakes region. The Potawatomi organized themselves into small, independent bands. Pokagon’s was located near the southern rim of Lake Michigan.

Van Sanden
Portrait of Leopold Pokagon (ca. 1775–1841), 1838
Oil on canvas
From the collection of The History Museum, South Bend, Indiana

Catholic Allies

Leopold Pokagon’s band of Potawatomi lived in the St. Joseph River Valley—marked “Pocagan’s Village” at the bottom of this map. In 1830, Pokagon left home to journey to Detroit. His mission? To request a "black robe" (Catholic priest) for his community. Pokagon needed allies and hoped Catholic leaders within the new Diocese of Cincinnati would help him oppose removal.

Pokagon’s quest was successful. Impressed with his sincerity and eager to regain influence among a people once welcoming to French Jesuits, diocesan leaders agreed to send Father Stephen Badin to establish a mission at Pokagon’s village.

Badin earned Pokagon’s trust. Many Pokagon Potawatomi—including Pokagon and his wife Elizabeth Topinabee (Ketesse)—embraced the Catholic faith. Prayer books like this one allowed the community to read prayers, psalms, and devotions in their own language.

Indian land cessions in the United States, Michigan
Library of Congress, Geography and Map Division

Reverend Stephen Theodore Badin
Catholic Historical Research Center of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia

Catholic prayer book, 1858
Facsimile
Center for History and Culture, Pokagon Band, Dowagiac, 2020.10.1

A Religious Exemption

In 1833, Leopold Pokagon joined 6,000 other Potawatomi in Chicago to negotiate the Treaty of Chicago. US officials wanted the Potawatomi to cede their lands and move west of the Mississippi. Pokagon helped negotiate an amendment to the treaty. The amendment permitted his band to remain in Michigan “on account of their religious creed.”

This map depicts Chicago in the year of the treaty. It visualizes Native people pushed to the margins, a future envisioned by the Indian Removal Act. Pokagon won an exemption from removal by claiming a shared Christianity with the colonizers. But within a handful of years, other Potawatomi were driven from their homelands. An 1838 forced march to Kansas is known as the “Trail of Death.”

Despite the confident projections portrayed in this map, resistance from leaders like Pokagon slowed the speed of “Indian Removal.” Pokagon's decision to ally with Catholic missionaries who supported his goals was just one example.

Lawrence C. Earle
The Last Council of the Pottawatomies, 1833, 1900
Chicago History Museum, ICHi-062506

A map of Chicago, incorporated as a town, August 5, 1833,
1933 Map reproduction courtesy of the Norman B. Leventhal Map & Education Center at the Boston Public Library

Staying in Place

Pokagon suspected that Christianity alone would not protect his people from removal. In 1836, he bought 874 acres of land north of his original village, in what is now Silver Creek Township, and moved there with his band. In 1840, federal troops attempted to remove all remaining Potawatomi from the state, disregarding the Pokagon Band’s exemption. This time, Pokagon received support from Michigan Supreme Court justice Epaphroditus Ransom, who confirmed the band’s right to stay largely because Pokagon’s land purchase was legally protected as private property.

One legacy of the Pokagon Band’s ability to stay in place is the ongoing tradition of black ash basketmaking. Black ash trees are native to the swampy areas of the Great Lakes. Properly harvesting the wood requires specific environmental knowledge. These trees do not grow in the western climate where the US government sent many Potawatomi. Pokagon Band members have helped their western relatives maintain this important part of their culture.

Potawatomi basket makers, late 19th century
Courtesy Willard Library

Black Ash Basketmaking

The largest basket shown here dates to the 19th century. Contemporary basket maker Jamie Chapman made the others for this exhibition, weaving them with strips of black ash wood.

The strawberry basket—representing love and connection—is traditionally gifted on special occasions. Strawberries (e'démenen, or “heart berries”) are sacred fruits to many Woodlands Indigenous nations, including the Potawatomi. Making baskets in the strawberry’s likeness honors this gift from the Creator.

Basketmaking can be a deeply spiritual practice. Some Potawatomi basket makers and caretakers recognize black ash baskets as living members of the community, each possessing its own spirit. Elders and artisans who teach basketry to younger generations sometimes use the opportunity to pass on Potawatomi beliefs, prayers, songs, and other traditions.

Jamie Chapman (Pokagon Potawatomi)
Strawberry basket, black & white diamond basket, and snowflake basket, 2023
New-York Historical Society Purchase

Unidentified maker
Black ash basket, 19th century
From the collection of Dr. John N. Low, Ph.D., citizen of the Pokagon Band of Potawatomis, Associate Professor at the Ohio State University and Director of the Newark Earthworks Center

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