Interior Secretary Deb Haaland, Laguna Pueblo, met with tribal leaders representing a dozen Indigenous nations last weekend in a move that could expand protections for land around The Grand Canyon, permanently safeguarding the region from future uranium mining.

The proposed Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni Grand Canyon National Monument would convert 1.1 million acres of public land surrounding Grand Canyon National Park into a National Monument, providing significant protections to tribal water sources, delicate ecosystems, and cultural sites, while curtailing the impacts of uranium mining — a proposal tribes in the area have been fighting for since 1985. Baaj Nwaavjo means “where tribes roam” in the Havasupai language, I’tah Kukveni translates to “our footprints” in Hopi.

The region has high concentrations of uranium and mining has been a feature of the landscape since the 1950s. When mining first began in the area, uranium was used primarily for nuclear weapons. Today, uranium from the Grand Canyon is used for nuclear energy plants and power reactors in submarines and naval ships. 

In 2012, then-Interior Secretary, Ken Salazar, placed a 20-year ban on uranium mining on more than a million acres of federal lands near the Grand Canyon in order to protect surface water from radioactive dust and mining waste. Without increased federal protections, tribal leaders say mining claims can be made at the end of the 20-year-ban, re-opening the Grand Canyon to uranium exploration.

According to the Center for Biological Diversity, mining in the area disturbs underground vertical rock formations called “breccia pipes” — formations that often hold hydrothermal fluid or extremely hot water heated by the earth’s mantle and filled with various gasses, minerals and salts, including uranium. When disturbed, those breccia pipes can release their contents into aquifers and eventually, larger water systems.

In 2016, the Pinyon Plain Mine pierced an aquifer flooding mineshafts, and draining groundwater supplies. Between 2016 and 2021, the Grand Canyon Trust estimated that more than 48 million gallons of water had flooded Pinyon’s mineshafts, and the National Parks Conservation Association has consistently reported uranium levels in that water exceeding federal toxicity limits by more than 300 percent.

When ingested, uranium can cause bone and liver cancer, damage kidneys, and affect body processes like autoimmune and reproductive functions.

In 2016, tribal leaders brought the Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni proposal to the Obama administration, but were rejected. Now, the Grand Canyon Tribal Coalition, made up of 12 tribes with ties to the area, hope Secretary Haaland will encourage the Biden administration to protect the region.

“We can’t wait until the accident happens,” said Carletta Tilousi, a Havasupai elder and member of the White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council. “We are trying to prevent the catastrophe before it happens.”

The Havasupai reservation is an eight mile hike below the rim of the Grand Canyon and one of the most isolated communities in the United States.

But Tillousi says that while stopping uranium mining will be a major goal of the proposal, ongoing contamination issues must be addressed. The Pinyon Plain Mine continues to contaminate the Havasupai’s sole water supply, the Havasu Creek. Pinyon has been operating since 1986, and while the 2012 uranium mining ban stopped the construction of new mines, Pinyon is exempt due to its pre-approval. As of 2020, 30 million gallons of groundwater tainted with high levels of uranium and arsenic have been pumped out of the mines flooded shaft and dumped in an uncovered pond.

“We’re a small tribe, our tribe is made up of 765 people,” said Tillousi. “We need to protect our village and homes.”

This article was first published in Grist.

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After three years of congested trailheads, crowded restaurants and packed hotels, Montana tourism officials say this summer might be a little calmer as the state’s pandemic-fueled travel boom starts to level out into something closer to normal. 

While the state remains a popular tourist destination — especially places like Glacier and Yellowstone national parks — advance hotel reservations are slightly down this year in destinations like the Flathead Valley. Officials attribute that to a number of factors, including rising costs and the end of the COVID-19 emergency, which means people have more travel options than they did just a few summers ago. 

“I think it’s because the rest of the world is opening up,” said Julie Mullins, executive director of Explore Whitefish. “The pandemic made people want to be outside, and so places like Whitefish and Glacier National Park saw a huge increase in visitation because of that. But now people feel more comfortable going to cities, and they can travel internationally again.” 

Mullins said that in the summer of 2019, Whitefish’s hotel occupancy rate (calculated by dividing the total number of occupied rooms by the total number of rooms available) ranged between 75% and 85%. In 2021, the occupancy rate in June, July and August ranged from 80% to 85%. In 2022, it dropped slightly to pre-pandemic levels of 70% to 80%. Mullins said that trend will likely continue this year. 

Short-term rental reservations, like Airbnb and Vrbo, are also down slightly, Mullins said. Since the pandemic, the number of homes available for short-term rentals in the 59937 zip code (Whitefish and the immediate surrounding area) has skyrocketed, from 2,100 in 2019 to 3,300 in 2022.

“It’s still going to be a great summer, but I think it will be flat,” she said. 

“The pandemic made people want to be outside, and so places like Whitefish and Glacier National Park saw a huge increase in visitation because of that. But now people feel more comfortable going to cities, and they can travel internationally again.”

Julie Mullins, executive director, Explore Whitefish

Daryl Schliem, CEO of the Bozeman Area Chamber of Commerce, said a similar story is developing in Gallatin County. As in the Flathead, Bozeman area hotel occupancy rates spiked in 2021 and 2022 when outdoor recreation remained a major draw for tourism and Montana was high on people’s list of destinations. 

Data from Bozeman’s airport reflected that as well. Right before the pandemic, Bozeman Yellowstone International Airport saw nearly 800,000 passengers annually. That dropped to below 500,000 once the pandemic hit, but quickly rebounded in 2021 and 2022, hitting well over 1 million boardings. This year, the growth is expected to continue but not at the same rate, with an estimated 1.2 million enplanements for 2023, according to data from the airport. 

Schliem said he expects tourism to continue to grow in the state by 4% or 5% annually. That’s not the type of growth that was seen over the last few years, but is on par with what the state experienced before 2020. 

In 2022, 12.5 million nonresidents came to the state, spending more than $5.8 billion, according to the University of Montana’s Institute for Tourism and Recreation Research. Tourism supports 43,900 jobs in the state, and 1 in 13 Montana workers are supported by out-of-state travelers. 

The national parks were a big driver of visitation in recent years, with Glacier hitting more than 3 million visitors in 2021 and 2.9 million in 2022. Yellowstone hit 4.8 million in 2021 and 3.2 million in 2022 (despite parts of the park being closed due to flooding). 

While American travelers begin to look elsewhere for their vacations, Schliem said he thinks the number of international travelers to Montana will start to increase as travel restrictions are eliminated. 

“I don’t think we’ll see a full recovery of international travel this year, but I think it will make up for the Americans who are going elsewhere,” he said. 

One part of the state that isn’t expecting a ton of change is Missoula. Barbara Neilan, executive director of Destination Missoula Convention & Visitors Bureau, said the Garden City didn’t see the same spike that places like Bozeman and the Flathead saw over the last few years. Neilan said that’s probably because Missoula isn’t as well tied to iconic outdoor recreation destinations such as Glacier and Yellowstone. In 2018 and 2019, Missoula’s annual average hotel occupancy was at 64%. But in 2022, it was at 61%. During the summer months, that occupancy rate can be between 84% and 88% and Neilan expects similar numbers this year. 

The post Is Montana’s pandemic tourism boom over? appeared first on Montana Free Press.

The Oklahoma Legislature on Thursday overrode Gov. Kevin Stitt’s veto of a bill that would allow students to wear Native American regalia during high school and college graduations.

The state House and Senate easily cleared the two-thirds threshold needed to uphold the measure, which takes effect July 1 and had strong support from many Oklahoma-based tribes and Native American citizens.

It would allow any student at a public school, including colleges, universities and technology centers, to wear tribal regalia such as traditional garments, jewelry or other adornments during official graduation ceremonies. Weapons such as a bow and arrow, tomahawk or war hammer are specifically prohibited.

Stitt, a Cherokee Nation citizen who has feuded with many Oklahoma-based tribes throughout his two terms in office, vetoed the bill earlier this month, saying at the time that the decision should be up to individual districts.

“In other words, if schools want to allow their students to wear tribal regalia at graduation, good on them,” Stitt wrote in his veto message. “But if schools prefer for their students to wear only traditional cap and gown, the Legislature shouldn’t stand in their way.”

Stitt also suggested the bill would allow other groups to “demand special favor to wear whatever they please at a formal ceremony.”

Lawmakers also overrode vetoes of several other measures, including one adding experts on Native health to a wellness council and another allowing for the existence of the Oklahoma Educational Television Authority, the state’s Public Broadcasting Service affiliate.

Cherokee Nation Principal Chief Chuck Hoskin Jr. thanked the Legislature on Thursday.

“I hope Governor Stitt hears the message that his blanket hostility to tribes is a dead end,” Hoskin said in a statement. “The majority of Oklahomans believe in respecting the rights of Native Americans and working together with the sovereign tribes who share this land.”

Kamryn Yanchick, a citizen of the Seminole Nation of Oklahoma, was denied the opportunity to wear a decorated cap with a beaded pattern when she graduated from her high school in 2018.

Being able to “unapologetically express yourself and take pride in your culture at a celebration without having to ask a non-Native person for permission to do so is really significant,” said Yanchick, who is now a Native American policy advocate.

A Native former student sued Broken Arrow Public Schools and two employees earlier this month after she was forced to remove an eagle feather from her graduation cap prior to her high school commencement ceremony.

The post Oklahoma Legislature overrides governor’s veto of tribal regalia bill appeared first on Buffalo’s Fire.

This story is being co-published with The Imprint, a national nonprofit news outlet covering child welfare and youth justice.

When two aunties visit parents in need, there is no scolding, shame or surveillance. Instead, they set themselves to the immediate tasks at hand on these southern California reservations — at times simply pitching in to fold a pile of laundry, or patting a baby to sleep with Kumeyaay lullabies.

Then there are the variety of lessons with mom and dad to nurture safe parenting that fold in traditional Indigenous teachings. Establishing family routines and healthy diets are taught alongside lessons in burning sage for cleansing, growing herbal medicines in a family’s backyard, and making basic introductions in a child’s Native language. 

“As a home-based program, if both of the aunties come in, it’s not necessarily a reprimand,” said auntie Elizabeth “Lizzie” Lycett. “It’s, ‘Let me take care of the child over here, so you can have your class.’”

Since its formal inception in 2019, My Two Aunties has assisted hundreds of Indigenous families in California’s San Diego, Imperial and Riverside counties. From its base on the Rincon Indian Reservation, the small program with a staff of three is among the many ongoing efforts in Indian Country to keep children out of foster care and ensure Indigenous families remain safe and intact.

Beyond parenting support, the aunties seek to repair intergenerational trauma that can result in substance abuse, domestic violence and unsafe environments for children. They equip parents with cultural tools through “Indigenous Ways Of Knowing” that they may have missed out on due to their own childhoods in foster and adoptive homes. The goals are to reduce family separation, build parents’ trust in social services and help members of tribal communities heal.

My Two Aunties partners with nine local tribes, the local Indian Health Council and San Diego County, and is funded by California’s Office of Child Abuse Prevention and the Department of Social Services. 

The key component is the “aunties,” whose role “builds upon the strengths of family legacies, patterns, and kinship traditions that have endured since time immemorial,” the My Two Aunties’ program guide states. In contrast to the fear instilled by county social workers going into the homes of parents under threat of child removal, Lycett describes her work as an abundance of acceptance and understanding. Some home visits require just one auntie; others, two.

“When you have one auntie, everything is fine and dandy,” Lycett said with a grin. “But if two come into the door, you better duck for cover.” 

Lycett, 28 and fellow auntie Cori Biggs, 63, are descended from the San Pasqual Band of Mission Indians. Lycett has an associate degree in sociology and is studying for a bachelor’s degree in the sociology field. She has been trained in the well-regarded Family Spirit program since 2019. Biggs has a master’s degree in social work.

They aim to build relationships between children, parents and their tribes to combat the cultural erasure that happens when a child is taken from their tribal home. So in addition to training in case management, mandated reporting protocols and developing safety plans, they’re also versed in local languages, legends and Native history, including the impacts of colonization.

Aunties’ responsibilities include supporting parents at risk for abusing substances, working with pregnant moms and guiding families for one year after a child’s birth. 

“WHENEVER WE’RE WORKING WITH THESE FAMILIES, THEY HAVE TO BE THE LEADER.”

— LIZZIE LYCETT, MY TWO AUNTIES

Lycett said “our first and foremost priority is the safety of our families,” and she and Biggs are mandated reporters of child abuse and neglect. If concerning issues arise that require a call to the child protection hotline, program staff may contact CPS, or encourage direct witnesses to do so. Aunties do not make foster care recommendations, however — that determination is made following an investigation by a tribal or county social worker. 

Clients were not interviewed for this article to maintain their privacy, but feedback the program has received shows family members’ appreciation for the guidance and support. “Raising a Native baby to be proud of being Native is a huge thing,” one parent said in a survey response. “That’s something that I really wanted and the main reason I wanted to be in this program.”

Former director Karan Thorne —  a member of the Rincon Band of Luiseño Indians — retired last year after a three-decade journey to develop My Two Aunties. Thorne said that unlike the typical approach of social workers, the aunties focus on strengths within the household: “Instead of ‘What’s wrong with you?’ they ask: ‘What’s strong with you?’” 

She said generations to come are being positively impacted.

“I’m seeing such great change with these pregnant women, and a lot of the babies have tribal names now,” Thorne said. “To me, that says they’re proud of their culture and where their kids are coming from.”

At a recent National Indian Child Welfare Association conference highlighting noteworthy practices across the country, the nonprofit Indian Health Council described the program as “well received” among the members it serves as a tribal health organization. “In our community it takes trust to build a relationship,” a representative said. “It appears our Aunties are able to make that connection.”

Art Martinez of the Chumash tribe is a consulting psychologist who has worked on its curriculum and evaluations. He said the strength of My Two Aunties lies in the people it serves.

“In our ways, we never had child removal,” Martinez said. “We never had prisons, we never had jails. Why? Because we worked off a very basic understanding of living an honorable life in the way we were meant to be and the way we were meant to represent our own families.”

Martinez said he sees the program’s current caseload growing and shifting — from parents who are required by the court to participate, to parents who want to participate to reconnect with their cultural and spiritual pasts.

“IF BOTH OF THE AUNTIES COME IN, IT’S NOT NECESSARILY A REPRIMAND. IT’S, ‘LET ME TAKE CARE OF THE CHILD OVER HERE, SO YOU CAN HAVE YOUR CLASS.’”

— LIZZIE LYCETT, MY TWO AUNTIES

The My Two Aunties curriculum begins with lessons structured around the growth of an acorn into an oak tree. 

Lessons in the roots that strengthen families and communities involve practicing patience and staying grounded in tradition. The course evolves through teachings about a balanced diet and healthy relationships, and ends in a final class symbolized by a drawing of a towering oak. The tree is surrounded by a forest fed by the knowledge of elders, ancestral medicine and spiritual practice.

The aunties’ caseloads have grown steadily over the past four years, including parents who voluntarily seek their support and services, and those referred by physicians. Clients of the child welfare system arrive at different stages — some parents are under investigation for child maltreatment, some have children placed in foster homes, and others are in the final stages of reunification. Each family receives between one and 12 visits, depending on the level of need. 

In 2022, the program served 97 families and held 411 parenting classes. Those numbers have grown from 2021, when the program assisted 73 families and provided 133 parenting classes. 

During the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, families picked up workbooks and other material at outdoor drive-through sites, and dozens of mothers received pre- and post-natal check-ins through video conferencing. But new opportunities were created as well, and the program continues to connect with families through virtual visits.

“It’s an option that has proven to be very convenient for our families and sometimes increases the chances that they will participate in the program,” current director Nancy Spence said.

The work of relying on traditional teachings to reduce the number of tribal families separated by foster care began over 20 years ago in this community. At the time, the consortium of tribes served by the Indian Health Council’s Tribal Family Services had nearly 500 children in local child welfare systems. 

Indian Health Council data show there are currently 30 children in out-of-home care among the populations served by the agency serves, who include members of nine federally recognized tribes in San Diego, Imperial and Riverside counties.

My Two Aunties is a key contributor to the low numbers in recent years, according to the organization. 

After publishing its 2022 evaluation report, the program is now working on its next robust set of findings. The measures that are being examined by Martinez and Jeremy Braithwaite of the Tribal Law and Policy Institute focus on the program’s ability to strengthen families: “How did families’ participation in various aspects of the program build/enhance/restore cultural resilience and how did they see this contributing to stronger, healthier families?” Braithwaite noted in an email. The evaluation centers on Indigenous Ways of Knowing methods, which the researcher described as “both culturally and scientifically rigorous.”

A final report on outcomes-to-date is forthcoming. But state data already show why the program is urgently needed in these southern California counties.

Native children make up roughly 600 of the more than 52,000 children in foster care in the state, or just 1.3%. But like Black children, they are, relative to their population size, the most likely to be reported as subjects of maltreatment and to enter foster care, according to state data.

“WHEN MY CLIENTS DON’T REUNIFY, I TELL THEM TO GET THAT ROOM READY ANYWAY. BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH HE’S IN FOSTER CARE, HE’S GOING TO AGE OUT AND COME HOME, SO YOU HAVE TO BE READY.”

— KARAN THORNE, FORMER DIRECTOR, MY TWO AUNTIES

The aunties’ care of these children’s families stands in stark contrast with the approach of county child welfare agencies — and it is more broadly defined. Some work is preventive — such as parents who have a family member with substance use disorder and need support “to ensure both the resiliency of the family and the family’s place in a Native community of wellness,” the program’s description states. 

Others, even after losing their custody rights to their children, remain in the program — parents who’ve had their rights terminated are still treated as care-worthy.

“When my clients don’t reunify, I tell them to get that room ready anyway,” said former director Thorne. “Because even though he’s in foster care, he’s going to age out and come home so you have to be ready.” 

The care is distinct in other ways as well. The aunties address and acknowledge the struggles Indigenous parents face that is a result of colonization, misrepresentation and social worker bias. Thorne said skepticism about Indigenous peoples’ ability to care for themselves and their families leads to the disproportionate numbers of child removals in Native communities. That includes conflating child neglect with poverty, in tribal communities, where as many as one-third live below the federal income level. 

“You have to get to that root cause of what’s really happening with these families,” Thorne said, noting that too often, children are removed because of “conditions that non-Native social workers didn’t feel were right.”

Under the 1978 Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA) and state law in California, child welfare agencies must make extra efforts to avoid the separation of Native families. To address historic injustice, that means making “active” — not simply “reasonable” — efforts to provide services to parents and to avoid placing children away from kin. That work is another central goal of My Two Aunties.

“ICWA says social workers have to use active efforts to help reunify families,” Thorne said. “We’re doing the active efforts to prevent those removals.”

The distrust parents have toward child welfare agencies in low-income and communities of color is not an exceptional experience in California or among tribal members. Lycett has seen it first-hand. In her initial home visits, she routinely encounters tension that must be overcome before she can earn a family’s trust. Some of her clients have a deep-seated fear of social workers taking away their children, and they’ve been left to feel powerless.

“With historical trauma and generational trauma, these families view social services as the Big Bad Wolf,” Lycett said. “Whenever we’re working with these families, they have to be the leader.”

To counter the mistrust, the My Two Aunties model is anchored in storytelling: “native cosmologies or ways of knowing related to the seasons, nature, familial kinship relations, spirits or trickster figures.” These oral traditions “carry the weight of wisdom passed on through countless generations,” the program description states, imparting “important lessons about how one should act in the world.”

“RAISING A NATIVE BABY TO BE PROUD OF BEING NATIVE IS A HUGE THING. THAT’S SOMETHING THAT I REALLY WANTED AND THE MAIN REASON I WANTED TO BE IN THIS PROGRAM.”

— PARENT SURVEY RESPONSE

To that end, the program’s Cultural Family Life Skills Discussion Guide curriculum draws on the storytelling traditions of southern California tribes. Life lessons are taught through an array of human and animal characters. A lesson in humility, for example, involves Turkey Vulture — whose now-bald head was scorched after Coyote tricked it into putting its head in a fire pit.

A version of the widely told Legend of the Three Sisters is another theme. In it, three sisters are going through the forest when they pass a river, and hear infant cries. As they get closer to the river, they see babies in the water.

The first sister jumps in immediately to save them. Thorne said this represents the Indian Health Council’s work with families navigating dependency courts. The second sister jumps in next, helping kids swim ashore. This sister represents foster care prevention skills — the work coaching families to heath and wellness through culturally-relevant lessons and values. The third sister goes upstream to keep any future children from falling into the river, which represents their prevention services. 

When parents are finishing their My Two Aunties visits, they fill out a Personal Reflection Tool worksheet. 

The document features a giant tree in the shape of a woman’s form, with deep roots beneath her feet and powerful branches for limbs. Around the tree are words for parents to pick from that span the emotional spectrum: Alone. Shame. Uncertain. Supported. Grateful. Rejuvenated. Positive. Stressed. Parents circle four or five primary emotions they are experiencing.

Filling out this worksheet began as a tool for evaluators to gather insights on the program’s impact, tracking any changes over time. But it has since become a routine part of aunties’ visits. Of the dozen parents who participated in the latest evaluation, eight consented to their worksheet responses being used. None circled the words “alone,” “shame,” or “scared.”

One mother described moving from initial feelings of insecurity to empowerment. She reported feeling more motivated and happier as visits progressed. And she was learning to look toward the future with optimism.

Reflecting on the Mighty Oak lesson of the day, she acknowledged ongoing struggles, circling: “tired” and “stressed.”  But she circled three hopeful words and phrases as well: “okay,” “I got this” and “positive.” 

One of the auntie’s responses is noted in the evaluation.

“I was happy there were more positives than negatives,” she stated, “which shows the client is learning how to find hope and look forward to a better future for her and her family.”

This story is the first in an ongoing series by The Imprint examining tribal child welfare best practices and the steps Indigenous communities are taking to heal from and limit the use of foster care.

The post <strong>Protecting Children and Healing Families, One Native Auntie at a Time</strong> appeared first on Buffalo’s Fire.

Alisha Kaluhiokalani spent most of her first year at Hawaii’s only women’s prison alone in a 6-by-8 foot cell.

She fought, broke the rules, and lashed out at everyone around her. Because of that, she was frequently sent to “lock” – what everyone at the Women’s Community Correctional Center called solitary confinement.

On a rare afternoon in the prison yard Kaluhiokalani heard a mellow, hollow sound. “What was that?” she whispered to herself.

She looked across the yard and saw a prison staff member playing the ukulele.

“You play?” he asked.

She nodded, taking the instrument and starting to strum. She sang “I Kona,” a traditional Hawaiian song loved by her father.

“You want to continue to play that?” the man asked her.

“Yes,” she said.

“Stay out of lock.”

So she did.

It was the ukulele, a Hawaiian language class, and her encounter with the man in the yard more than 20 years ago that changed Kaluhiokalani’s educational trajectory.

‘Not Knowing Who You Are’

Native Hawaiians like Kaluhiokalani are disproportionately locked up in the Hawaii criminal justice system, making up only 20% of the general population but 40% of people in prison. Similar imbalances are true for Indigenous people across the country.

Among other states with significant overrepresentation of Indigenous people are Alaska, Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming and Utah, according to a recent report by the nonprofit Prison Policy Initiative. Native women in particular have higher incarceration rates than the general population.

Native Hawaiians are more likely to struggle with addiction, drop out of school and go to prison. Many feel alienated from Western education systems, Kaluhiokalani said, and that their cultural identity has been suppressed in the wake of historical losses of land and language.

“They call that the ‘eha … the hurt, and not knowing who you are,” she said.

That was something she has struggled with personally. She has often felt like a screw up given the life she has lived, she said. There have been times in her life when she had a hard time seeing herself as anything other than an addict or a prisoner.

Kaluhiokalani became pregnant with her first child at 17. She finished her GED before the baby was born by taking classes at night. Her boyfriend, Jacob, enlisted in the National Guard, and over the next few years they had three more children. During that time, they both struggled with addiction and cycled in and out of jail. She went to prison for the first time on drug-related charges at the age of 23.

In prison, shortly after that first year in solitary, Kaluhiokalani enrolled in her first college class, Hawaiian 101.

“That was a tipping point,” she said.

Being able to learn her language taught her about her identity, helped her see that there was a place for her in higher education. After that, she started working in the prison’s education department and created informal Hawaiian culture classes for her peers.

“I full-force dedicated myself to my culture, to helping people,” Kaluhiokalani said.

All higher education in prison has been shown to reduce recidivism, but incorporating culture into college programs can empower incarcerated Native Hawaiians in different ways, said Ardis Eschenberg, chancellor of Windward Community College.

“Pushing back on the narratives of colonization and racism through Hawaiian studies,” she said, “fights the very systems that have led to our unjust incarceration outcomes and underscores the agency and value of our students in education, community and society.”

A Lack of Programs

Despite the benefits, there are few college programs in the United States that specifically target Indigenous people in prison. Windward Community College’s Pu‘uhonua program is an exception. It’s the only higher education institution in Hawaii offering culturally focused classes in prison, and one of only two offering degree programs.

Last fall, the college started an associate’s degree in Hawaiian studies at Halawa Correctional Facility, a medium-security men’s prison. The college was selected for a federal program known as Second Chance Pell, which has provided federal financial aid to people in prison on a pilot basis since 2015.

Eschenberg said that their focus on cultural education for incarcerated Indigenous students is part of Windward’s mission as a Native Hawaiian-serving institution. Almost 43% of their students on campus are Native Hawaiian, the highest in the University of Hawaii system.

For Native Hawaiians, learning about their culture is “validating them in a society where so much of Hawaiian existence has been invalidated in history,” Eschenberg said. And cultural education, she adds, benefits everyone.

“There’s robust research that shows that even outside of Native Hawaiian studies, ethnic studies courses in general helped to build resilience and success for students.”

Windward has also offered a psycho-social developmental studies certificate with coursework in sociology, psychology, and social work at the women’s prison since 2016. They offer Hawaiian studies classes as electives, and focus on the Hawaiian context for the other coursework, Eschenberg said.

In addition, Windward faculty teach Hawaiian music-related coursework, such as ukulele and slack-key guitar, at the Hawaii Youth Correctional Facility. The students earn both high school and college credit.

The college’s prison education program has primarily been funded by a five-year U.S. Education Department grant for Native Hawaiian-serving institutions that runs out this year. The expansion of Pell Grant eligibility for people in prison in July will help sustain the Pu‘uhonua program going forward. Eschenberg said that Pell dollars will help pay for instructor salaries for courses taught inside, but there are still costs not covered by federal financial aid.

Eschenberg had hoped that the Hawaii Legislature would approve a bill appropriating state funding for staff positions, such as academic counselors and coordinators, to support the Pu`uhonua program because those positions aren’t covered by Pell Grants. The bill stalled in the Legislature in April. Eschenberg said she’s currently applying for two federal grants to secure the necessary funding to keep the program running.

Elsewhere, other college-in-prison programs also have started to provide more opportunities for people to focus on their own cultures. In California, San Francisco State University last year created an ethnic studies certificate in state juvenile facilities. Portland State University’s prison education program also recently received a national grant to offer humanities courses focused on identity, including Indigenous Nations Studies, at Oregon’s only women’s prison.

While more programs in the United States are offering ethnic studies classes, few of those courses focus on Native people. Full degrees like Windward’s Hawaiian studies program specifically focused on Indigenous language and culture are even rarer, said Mneesha Gellman, political scientist and director of the Emerson Prison Initiative, which offers a bachelor’s degree in Massachusetts. Gellman’s research focuses on Indigenous language access and education.

Much of the cultural learning that currently occurs in prisons is informal education offered through community groups, prison arts organizations, or classes organized by incarcerated people. Those are valuable, Gellman said, but more academic programs should incorporate culturally relevant curriculum into traditional degree pathways.

Having culturally relevant content makes higher education in general more relatable to Indigenous students, she added, so they are more likely to go after a degree in the first place. And that in turn helps them get the credentials they need to get jobs when they leave prison.

A Wake-Up Call

While Kaluhiokalani’s path through education has had plenty of detours, a connection to her culture has resonated throughout. When she thinks about her elementary school years, she remembers the kupuna – Native Hawaiian elders – who would visit her school to share their cultural knowledge.

“Everything that I learned, I held on to …I loved to sing, play the ukulele, and dance hula.”

Kaluhiokalani grew up in Honolulu less than a mile from Waikiki beach, where she learned to surf.

She associates Waikiki with her father, Montgomery “Buttons” Kaluhiokalani, who was one of the top young surfers in the United States in the 1970s. As a young teenager, she would hang out with him at the beach and smoke pot. Buttons, too, struggled with addiction throughout his life.

“I was a surfer, party animal, like my dad,” she said.

Kaluhiokalani was in and out of prison for most of her 20s and early 30s. Her father’s death in 2013 was a wake-up call, she said, for her to do things differently when she got out.

In 2017, Kaluhiokalani was released for the last time. A few years later, she ran into a woman she had been incarcerated with who encouraged her to enroll in college. She immediately signed up at Windward when she found out there was free tuition for Native Hawaiians and she could pursue an associate’s degree in Hawaiian studies. She wanted to use what she learned in her classes to use Native Hawaiian practices to help others in the criminal justice system.

The Hawaiian language class, and the ukulele in the prison yard, started Kaluhiokalani on a 20-year journey. She earned an associate’s degree last year from Windward and then, this month, she crossed the stage to receive her bachelor’s degree in social work from the University of Hawaii Manoa.

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This story was co-published by Honolulu Civil Beat.

Gov. Greg Gianforte announced Wednesday that he had signed a bill banning Chinese-owned social media platform TikTok over concerns its data-sharing practices jeopardize user privacy and national security.

The ban, which the governor’s office said was the first of its kind in the nation, is set to take effect Jan. 1, 2024, unless it is blocked in court.

“The Chinese Communist Party using TikTok to spy on Americans, violate their privacy, and collect their personal, private, and sensitive information is well-documented,” Gianforte said in a statement. “Today, Montana takes the most decisive action of any state to protect Montanans’ private data and sensitive personal information from being harvested by the Chinese Communist Party.”

The company, owned by ByteDance, and the American Civil Liberties Union have said they intend to challenge the law, Senate Bill 419, as a violation of constitutionally protected free speech.

“With this ban, Governor Gianforte and the Montana legislature have trampled on the free speech of hundreds of thousands of Montanans who use the app to express themselves, gather information, and run their small business in the name of anti-Chinese sentiment,” ACLU of Montana Policy Director Keegan Medrano said in a statement.

A TikTok representative also criticized the law in a statement Wednesday.

“Governor Gianforte has signed a bill that infringes on the First Amendment rights of the people of Montana by unlawfully banning TikTok, a platform that empowers hundreds of thousands of people across the state,” said TikTok spokesperson Brooke Oberwetter. “We want to reassure Montanans that they can continue using TikTok to express themselves, earn a living, and find community as we continue working to defend the rights of our users inside and outside of Montana.”

The law will bar ByteDance from allowing “the operation of tiktok by the company or users” inside Montana’s “territorial jurisdiction” as long as the platform is owned by a company based in China or another country designated a “foreign adversary” by the federal government.

The law will also make it illegal for companies like Apple and Google to let their users download the platform’s app from their respective app stores. It does not include provisions that would allow the state to prosecute individual Montanans for circumventing the ban.

The law will be enforced by the Montana Department of Justice, which has the power to levy fines of up to $10,000 a day for violations.

Gianforte, a Republican, had previously signaled he would sign the bill in an email exchange where his office suggested amendments that would have expanded the bill’s scope to to apply to all social media platforms that allow users’ personal data to be provided to nations the federal government designates as “foreign adversaries.” Those revisions were nearly identical to an amendment brought by Democrats while the bill was debated on the House floor, where they were resisted by Republican supporters of the ban who argued the changes would make the bill “unworkable.”

The governor also issued a memo Wednesday directing state agencies to ban the use of other China- and Russia-based social media apps on state devices and networks. That ban, effective June 1, will cover ByteDance apps CapCut and Lemon8 in addition to TikTok, as well as Tencent’s WeChat, Pinduoduo’s Temu and Russia-based Telegram Messenger.

“One of government’s chief responsibilities is to keep its citizens – and their personal, private, sensitive information and data – safe and secure,” Gianforte wrote in that memo. “Foreign adversaries’ collection and use of Montanans’ personal information and data from social media applications infringe on Montanans’ constitutionally guaranteed individual right to privacy.”

The post Gianforte signs TikTok ban appeared first on Montana Free Press.

Montana Gov. Greg Gianforte has signed into law a bill that bars the state from considering climate impacts in its analysis of large projects such as coal mines and power plants. 

House Bill 971 was among the most controversial energy- and environment-related proposals before the Legislature this session, drawing more than 1,000 comments, 95% of which expressed opposition to the measure. HB 971 bars state regulators like the Montana Department of Environmental Quality from including analyses of greenhouse gas emissions and climate impacts, both within and outside Montana’s borders, when conducting comprehensive reviews of large projects. It builds off of a decade-old law barring the state from including “actual or potential impacts that are regional, national, or global in nature” in environmental reviews. 

Gianforte signed HB 971 into law May 10 over opposition from climate and environmental groups that had argued that the measure hinders the state’s ability to respond to the crisis of our time: the atmosphere-warming emissions of greenhouse gases that are shrinking the state’s snowpack, reducing summer and fall streamflows, and contributing to catastrophic flooding and longer, more intense wildfire seasons. Opponents had also argued that the majority of Montanans believe in human-caused climate change and want meaningful climate action. 

Results from a 2022 “Conservation in the West” poll of 416 registered voters in Montana bear this out. Three-fifths of those polled said there is enough evidence of climate change to support action and called for a transition to renewable energy.  

Anne Hedges with the Montana Environmental Information Center said the Legislature is “hiding its head in the sand” by passing bills like HB 971, and she anticipates it will be the subject of a constitutional lawsuit.

“Climate change is real, it matters, the climate is part of our environment, and we cannot ignore the changes that are occurring. Ignoring it doesn’t make it better. It will only make things worse and make it more difficult and expensive to deal with later.”

Anne Hedges, Montana Environmental Information Center’s director of policy and legislative affairs

“Climate change is real, it matters, the climate is part of our environment, and we cannot ignore the changes that are occurring,” Hedges said. “Ignoring it doesn’t make it better. It will only make things worse and make it more difficult and expensive to deal with later.”

“Our families are already suffering from an increase in the number of sweltering summer days, longer wildfire and smoke seasons, and historic drought,” Winona Bateman, executive director of Families for a Livable Climate, wrote in an email to Montana Free Press. “I am not sure how Gov. Gianforte imagines we will do our part to address these growing impacts, or pay for them, if we’re not working to eliminate the root cause. Why would we wait for federal regulations to be part of the solution?”

Proponents of the measure, including its sponsor, Rep. Josh Kassmier, R-Fort Benton, argued that by pushing back on a recent ruling revoking a NorthWestern Energy gas plant permit, HB 971 underscores that it’s lawmakers, not judges, who set policy. Other proponents, including the Treasure State Resources Association and the Montana Petroleum Association, asserted that HB 971 protects state agencies from an “unworkable” mandate to measure greenhouse gas emissions and that any such regulation properly belongs under federal regulatory frameworks such as the Clean Air Act.

Gianforte spokesperson Kaitlin Price echoed this assessment in a statement to Montana Free Press.

“House Bill 971 re-established the longstanding, bipartisan policy that analysis conducted pursuant to the Montana Environmental Policy Act does not include analysis of greenhouse gas emissions,” Price said. “The bill would allow evaluation of GHGs if it is required under federal law or if Congress amends the Clean Air Act to include carbon dioxide as a regulated pollutant.”

During a committee hearing on the bill last month, Sen. Jen Gross, D-Billings, asked Kassmier if he believes humans cause climate change.

“House Bill 971 re-established the longstanding, bipartisan policy that analysis conducted pursuant to the Montana Environmental Policy Act does not include analysis of greenhouse gas emissions.”

Gov. Greg Gianforte spokesperson Kaitlin Price

“I’m not a scientist, so I’m not going to answer that,” he replied.

For his part, Gianforte told Montana Free Press in a 2021 interview that he does believe in human-caused climate change. He said “American ingenuity” can help mitigate it and argued for the government to remove friction in the marketplace.. 

The bill also comes as a Helena judge is weighing a case brought by 16 youth plaintiffs asking the judicial branch to require the state to measure and regulate greenhouse gas emissions. That lawsuit, Held vs. Montana, is set for a 10-day hearing that will start June 12.

It also comes as the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency considers a rule that would expand regulations dealing with power plants’ emissions of greenhouse gasses. If passed, the rule would require power plants like the coal-fired plant in Colstrip to capture 90% of its carbon emissions by 2038.

The post Gianforte signs bill banning state agencies from analyzing climate impacts  appeared first on Montana Free Press.

Given that Montana’s top two industries are agriculture and recreation, it should come as no surprise that Montanans are quick to engage with policies seeking changes to the water and open space that are foundational to both. 

How proposals to change water rights, stream access and conservation funding were received by policymakers the past four months illuminates entrenched sources of tension — between developer and agricultural interests, between federal and state wildlife managers, and even between Montana Gov. Greg Gianforte, a Republican, and members of his own party. Here are three takeaways from the 2023 legislative session informed by bills that passed, bills that failed and funding fights that remain unresolved.

PROPOSALS SEEKING TO CHANGE STREAM ACCESS, PERMANENT CONSERVATION EASEMENTS AND EXEMPT WELLS FLOUNDER

Three proposals seeking to change what might be euphemistically called “sensitive pieces of code” failed to find favor this session, suggesting Montanans’ continued — and impassioned — engagement with public land access and water rights issues.

One failed measure, Senate Bill 357, sought to prohibit the state from acquiring permanent easements, which the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks use to support wildlife habitat and public access initiatives. After garnering opposition from a diverse set of stakeholders, ranging from timber companies and agricultural associations to conservation organizations and hunting advocacy groups, the Senate Fish and Game Committee tabled the bill over the wishes of its chair (and SB 357 sponsor), Steve Hinebauche, R-Wibaux, who had argued that “forever is a long time” and that a proliferation of perpetual easements could impede the construction of infrastructure such as roads and transmission lines. Opponents of SB 357 countered that those who enter into easement agreements do so willingly and that conservation easements support the wildlife, recreational opportunities and open spaces many Montanans treasure.

Another proposal to change Montana law dealing with easements — in this instance, rights of way that have been historically used by the public, but never codified on a deed — had a swift rise and an equally swift fall this session. With little in the way of public notice, the Senate Judiciary Committee held a hearing on and passed Senate Bill 497, which sought to do two things: establish that a landowner can use the presence of government signs over a five-year period to void prescriptive easement claims, and prevent groups who sue over easement issues from recovering attorneys fees.

In the midst of the transmittal break crunch, SB 497 failed in the Senate, 14-36. Sen. Jeff Welborn, R-Dillon, argued that it doesn’t work well to meddle with a “sensitive piece of code” like Montana’s Stream Access Law without bringing stakeholders along, especially in the “11th hour.” 

Finally, a real estate- and building industry-backed proposal to expand a loophole in water law dealing with groundwater wells failed to overcome an outpouring of opposition. Agricultural groups leery of House Bill 642’s potential to reduce other users’ access to water opposed the measure, as did environmental groups concerned about its capacity to degrade water quality and facilitate residential sprawl. Proponents had argued the revisions would help expand the state’s tight housing supply and introduce more clarity and lawmaker input to the Montana Water Use Act, which has been subject to judicial scrutiny in recent years.

Given the makeup of this Legislature, lawmakers probably could have passed a more moderate proposal, some onlookers suggested.

“Proponents of that bill probably could have passed something, but I think they went way too far,” Montana Environmental Information Center Deputy Director Derf Johson said. “House Natural Resources is probably the most pro-development committee in the Legislature [and even they] wouldn’t let that move forward.”

LAWMAKERS TANGO WITH FEDERAL GOVERNMENT OVER GRIZZLY MANAGEMENT

In the natural resource realm, nothing seems to spotlight the tension between federal and state regulations as brightly as endangered species management. Threatened or endangered  species are subject to federal protections that limit states’ ability to set population targets, establish hunting seasons and permit habitat-altering timber sales or mining projects. During the 2023 session, lawmakers engaged in a careful dance with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which is taking a close look at the recovery of grizzly bears and Montana wildlife laws as it considers removing federal protections. 

In February, USFWS Director Martha Williams wrote a letter to FWP Director Henry Worsech highlighting state laws that might work counter to Montana’s efforts to assume control over grizzlies. She wrote that the 2023 legislative session “presents a good opportunity” to address those concerns.

The Legislature took Williams’ recommendation to heart. Though lawmakers ultimately decided to shelve a proposal titled “require management of delisted grizzly bears at sustainable levels,” they did pass Senate Bill 295, “Revising Laws to Accommodate Grizzly Delisting.” That bill directs the state to “manage grizzly bear populations at levels necessary to maintain delisted status,” by sticking to an established mortality threshold. SB 295 critics note that it makes it legal, post-delisting, for a rancher to obtain a permit to kill a bear “threatening” livestock without specifying the behavior that constitutes “threatening.”

Mindful of Williams’ recommendations — and Gov. Greg Gianforte’s explicit desire to resume state management of grizzlies — the Legislature balked at passing predator hunting measures sponsored by Rep. Paul Fielder, R-Thompson Falls. Fielder had attempted to write seasons for trapping wolves and pursuing black bears with hounds into state law. He also sought to override the Fish and Wildlife Commission’s ability to disallow neck snares. All three proposals narrowly failed the GOP-supermajority in the House, largely due to concerns that they would lead to preventable grizzly bear deaths.

THE  FIGHT OVER HABITAT MONTANA FUNDING IS ONGOING 

One of the Legislature’s biggest fights concerning land management —  where marijuana tax revenues should be allocated — remains unresolved. Gianforte and backers of a bill that garnered the approval of 86% of lawmakers remain locked in a tense separation-of-powers tussle over a bill that would establish a fund to support habitat and conservation initiatives.

Marijuana tax allocation had been a long-simmering fight this session, but it hit a fever pitch during the Legislature’s final week. 

A variety of different visions for the marijuana taxes emerged this session as policymakers garnered clarity on just how much money is at stake: more than $50 million annually. Some legislators, such as Rep. Marta Bergtolio, R-Montana City, suggested that the Legislature should cut the allocations for conservation and recreation programs codified in law last session and funnel more money toward law enforcement and the Department of Justice. Others, such as Rep. Bill Mercer, R-Billings, and House Appropriations Chair Rep. Llew Jones, R-Conrad, called for the bulk of collections to go toward the General Fund so lawmakers have an opportunity to allocate the funds toward the state’s most pressing needs on a session-by-session basis. But Senate Bill 442, the proposal that garnered the most support among both lawmakers and public commenters, seeks to divide those revenues between county road construction and maintenance, conservation and recreation initiatives, and programming for addiction treatment and veterans. A sizable chunk would go toward the General Fund as well.

That proposal might have garnered widespread support from the legislative branch, but it didn’t align with the priorities of the governor, who has argued that funding for wildlife habitat is in good shape while other state responsibilities remain underfunded. The Bertoglio bill Gianforte favored died somewhat early, and an attempt to reincorporate much of it in a late-session “generally revise marijuana laws” bill floundered. Then, the day after the Senate issued its final vote on SB 442, Gianforte made good on his pledge to Republican leadership to veto it, rejecting the proposal with a swiftness that Sen. Minority Leader Pat Flowers, D-Belgrade, described as “curious.”

Now there’s a question as to whether lawmakers should have a final opportunity to weigh in on SB 442 by voting to override the veto. That question hinges on whether the Legislature was technically in session — the governor’s office maintains the veto was issued before the Senate moved to adjourn — and whether lawmakers were given sufficient notice of the veto. In letters and petitions to Jacobsen and Gianforte, Lang and other SB 442 backers such as the Montana Association of Counties, Wild Montana and Montana Backcountry Hunters and Anglers, have argued a veto override poll is justified by the circumstances since the governor’s veto was not clear when the Senate voted to adjourn. 

On May 10, Wild Montana sent a letter to Gianforte urging his cooperation with the veto override process. In it, they argue that the constitution and state law make “crystal-clear” that the Legislature should have the final say in this instance and there is no legal support for stripping that power from the Legislature with “creative timing.”

Secretary of State Christi Jacobsen appears to be disinclined to get into the middle of the debate. In an email to Montana Free Press, Secretary of State spokesperson Richie Melby said his office “plays a ministerial role only” for the executive and legislative branches and “bills vetoed during the legislative session are not returned to the Secretary of State’s Office.”

“I have lots of questions,” Sen. Lang told MTFP. “I still question whether it was legally vetoed.”

The post Three takeaways from lawmakers’ approach to natural resources management appeared first on Montana Free Press.

Tommy Orange, a renowned debut literary author, recently participated in Q&A at the Belle Mehus Auditorium in Bismarck, where he addressed urban Native identity, young adult readers, a new book in the works, and plans to bring his novel “There There” to TV.

The age of the Internet, mixed-race identities, and intensified racism have changed the landscape for everyone today, said Orange. “People are thinking about things in ways that we never did before.” Young Native readers, in particular, have gravitated to “There There” because many feel seen for the first time in a literary work.

Orange said he never read a full novel until he was around 24 because he didn’t see himself in the stories. “Part of that is not identifying with all the lives that were being written that I was required to read.”

The Q&A sponsored by Humanities North Dakota featured two prominent Native creatives on April 28. Novelist Mona Susan Power, a Standing Rock Sioux citizen, led the stage conversation with Orange, a citizen of the Cheyenne and Arapaho. Both Power and Orange are PEN/Hemingway Award winners for their first-book debuts.

Each writer also has a new book soon to be published. Power’s long-awaited book “A Council of Dolls,” goes on sale in August. Readers anxiously awaiting Orange’s new book “Wandering Stars” can expect it in March 2024.

It’s the sequel to “There There,” a book published in 2018 that quickly rose as a favorite among literary critics. It won the American Book Award in 2019 and was a Pulitzer Prize finalist for fiction.

Orange’s fictive writing deftly addresses myriad issues embodied in Native communities. In “There There,” a dozen characters’ lives converge at a powwow in Oakland that ends in tragedy. The stories tend to elicit sadness among readers in the United States and overseas, Orange said. A reader in Copenhagen, Denmark, told Orange he really liked the book, but then asked: “Why did you choose to write such miserable lives?”

The comment took Orange aback. “It hurts me because I’m writing about people that resemble me and my family and my community,” he told the Belle Mehus audience. “And I would never think of our lives that way.”

The captivating writing grabbed the attention of HBO producers. The media conglomerate quickly bought the TV rights to “There There” after publication. Filmmaker Sterlin Harjo was set to adapt it to the screen. But the project was later dropped. “Somewhere during the pandemic, the thread got lost,” said Orange.

“And this is before Reservation Dogs and Rutherford Falls before there was this sort of proof that people care about these shows, that the shows will be good, that there’s big talented acting pools to pick from,” Orange said.

The lost thread, however, has been picked up again, this time by NBC Universal. Orange said he had prerequisites that needed to be met before signing over his ownership rights. He wanted a Native director, Native writers, and a Native cast to bring “There There” to life.

He joined the process of picking writers for the adaptation. Tazbah Chavez was selected to be lead writer. From this point, Orange said his work is done. The TV writers are free to interpret the book as they see fit.

“I don’t need a whole lot of my vision in it,” he said. “I’m not tied to it. My work is in the book. So, I’m open to new forms and interpretations.”

The post ‘There There’: NBC Universal owns rights to Tommy Orange’s award-winning novel appeared first on Buffalo’s Fire.

In the wake of the 2023 Legislature, the Montana Republican Party on Wednesday celebrated a stack of new laws restricting abortion and reproductive health care, setting up a likely clash with the state’s nearly 25-year-old court ruling that broadly permits abortion as a private medical choice.

Though Gov. Greg Gianforte spoke approvingly about a list of 10 bills carried by Republican lawmakers this session, he only signed five into law during a ceremony at the Capitol. Those included a ban on abortions after 24 weeks of pregnancy unless to save the life of the mother and another that interprets Montana’s constitutional right to privacy in state law as not including a right to abortion. He said he looks forward to signing the other bills — including a blanket restriction on the most common type of abortion after the first trimester — after they are finalized by legislative staff and leadership and transmitted to his office.

“Thank you for protecting life, for protecting our children, for promoting stronger families. Thank you for giving a voice to the voiceless. Thank you for uniting in our shared belief that every human life is precious and must be protected,” Gianforte told the crowd filled with lawmakers and anti-abortion advocates.

The advancement of the longstanding conservative agenda comes less than a year after the U.S. Supreme Court eliminated federal protections for abortion. In the months that followed the order in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Center, voters in many states rejected further regulations on abortion and failed to deliver Republicans a decisive majority in Congress during the 2022 midterm elections — electoral outcomes national analysts have linked to blowback over the fall of Roe v. Wade.

Abortion in Montana has for decades remained legal under the unanimous 1999 Montana Supreme Court ruling in Armstrong v. State. That precedent helped block Republican-backed legislation passed in 2021 from taking effect while litigation continues.

Attempting to chip away at the Armstrong ruling and curb abortion in myriad ways has remained a key priority for conservatives this session. Flanked by the governor and Republican legislators, anti-abortion advocate Jeff Laszloffy, president of the Montana Family Foundation, said this session was “the most pro-life legislative session in the history of the state of Montana” and that more work is still in store.

“With regard to the pro-life issue, as this governor is fond of saying, we are now directionally correct. But that’s just a start,” Laszloffy said. “We will not rest until the Armstrong decision is overturned, until every life is protected from the moment of conception. And until the scourge of abortion is lifted forever from the great state of Montana.”

The avalanche of bills, far more than those introduced last session, was met with full-throated opposition from reproductive rights advocates and Democrats. Opponents, including some people who testified publicly about their own abortions, argued the bills are out of step with what most Montanans want — appeals that failed to flip many Republican votes.

“Montanans take care of one another. We believe that living a life with dignity means that we can make private and personal decisions without government interference,” said Nicole Smith, executive director of Blue Mountain Clinic in Missoula, in a statement after the governor’s bill signing. “The 68th legislative session passed laws that seek to take away our fundamental rights. If implemented, these bills will directly harm our friends, families, and neighbors. We will continue standing up for what we know to be right, good, and moral.”

A SHIFTING LEGAL LANDSCAPE

Unless blocked by courts, the bills signed by the governor on Wednesday and those still waiting in the wings will add restrictions to abortion providers and curtail procedures at different stages of pregnancy. Together, the full slate of legislation will ban the most common procedure for abortions after 15 weeks of pregnancy; prohibit abortions after 24 weeks of pregnancy; bar any public funds including Medicaid from covering abortions except in rare circumstances; require parental notification for abortions sought by minors; mandate licensing for abortion clinics; adopt a narrowed version of the “born-alive” referendum Montana voters rejected in November; and codify an interpretation that the state’s constitutional right to privacy does not include the right to access an abortion.

Another bill, House Bill 786, adds reporting requirements for the prescription of abortion medication, and has already become law after Gianforte signed it in late April. The law will take effect on Oct. 1 of this year.

The bills signed on Wednesday include House Bill 303, a medical conscience bill that requires health care providers to opt-in to participating in abortions and allows them to abstain from offering other health care services; Senate Bill 154, the statutory interpretation of the Montana Constitution’s right to privacy; House Bill 575, which presumes viability at 24 weeks and prohibits procedures after that, and House Bill 625, which requires medical providers to offer life-saving care to newborn infants born after an abortion.

Supporters of the last bill say it explicitly allows parents to refuse procedures that are not reasonable, including those that “temporarily prolong the act of dying when death is imminent,” a feature of the debate over LR-131 last fall. Opponents reject that the revised language helps protect the rights of parents who are grieving pregnancy complications.

Several pieces of legislation, including HB 575 and HB 625, are set to take effect upon becoming law. As of Wednesday afternoon, no lawsuits attempting to block the policies had been announced.

Critics of the bills say many appear patently unconstitutional because of Montana’s legal precedent under the Armstrong decision. The immediate effective dates, they say, will likely jumpstart lawsuits for months to come.

“We have that procreative right of privacy and we have the right to make those decisions outside the Roe v. Wade decision,” said Robin Turner, a lobbyist who opposed the bills on behalf of the ACLU of Montana and the Montana Coalitions Against Domestic and Sexual Violence. “What this really does is create litigation … By having the bills go into immediate effect, it does call the question much sooner.”

Attorneys representing Planned Parenthood of Montana attempted in mid-April to temporarily block the enforcement of the 15-week restriction. At the time, the bill had passed both chambers of the Legislature but had not yet been passed to the governor’s office for his signature or veto.

Hours after that filing was submitted, Helena District Court Judge Kathy Seely rejected the motion for a temporary restraining order, adding a handwritten note near her signature.

“No bill has been signed. Thus, no ‘law’ to enjoin today,” she wrote. “Denied as premature.”

Plaintiffs have said they are prepared to resubmit their motion to block the law as soon as possible after the governor’s signature. University of Montana law professor Anna Conley said that timeline leaves room for the law to take effect until a court says otherwise.

“The law will be in effect unless it is enjoined by a court, either as a temporary restraining order … or as a preliminary injunction,” said Conley in an April emailed statement. “If a court denies a motion for a temporary restraining order or preliminary injunction, the court’s denial can be appealed to the Montana Supreme Court.”

Ultimately, it is the state’s high court that will have to deliberate on the many legal challenges to the Armstrong ruling. The Montana Supreme Court last year upheld a district court ruling that blocked Republican abortion restrictions from taking effect while litigation continued but has not squarely weighed in on Armstrong in the years since the unanimous opinion was issued.

“It’s going to be very uncertain until courts start ruling,” said University of Montana law professor Craig Cowie in a written response to questions from MTFP. “Courts may stay the laws or allow them to go into effect (depending both on their views of the challenges to the laws about abortion and the changes to the laws about ordering injunctions). The Supreme Court may also rule on the stays, but ultimately we won’t know for sure until the Supreme Court answers the question on Armstrong.”

‘YOU DON’T KNOW MY SITUATION’

Caught within the legal and political gridlock are patients, families and providers evaluating how the new slate of bills would impact their lives. Montanans with personal stories about abortions have attended committee hearings and shared their experiences publicly, spurred on by restrictions in other states and, for some, the prospect of patients losing access in Montana.

In November, the same month newly elected lawmakers were imagining their futures in Helena, Bozeman resident Anne Angus and her husband were in mourning. Weeks earlier, Angus, 33, had received a new diagnosis about her pregnancy. Her baby had Eagle-Barrett syndrome, a rare condition affecting the urinary tract, abdomen, kidneys and lungs that can range in severity. Angus said her medical team identified the diagnosis as on the serious side of the spectrum around the 24-week mark of her pregnancy.

“They gave us the best-case scenario, which was a lifetime of, honestly, what I felt were experimental surgeries, very painful experimental surgeries,”

Angus, a data scientist who testified about her story at the Legislature this year, said in an April interview with Montana Free Press that her doctors, after more evaluation, suggested the family consider termination. In the middle of what she called a “very wanted” pregnancy, Angus was not prepared to pivot. After further consultations with specialists, she said, the medical reality of what her son was facing began to sink in.

“We made the decision there. Obviously, that night was rough,” Angus said. A week earlier she had bought an infant onesie printed with teddy bears — after leaving the hospital, she said, “I just stayed up all night crying, thinking he’s never going to wear that.”

Angus terminated her pregnancy two weeks later in November at an out-of-state clinic, partly because the procedure was beyond the scope of practice for abortion clinics in Montana. The experience broadened her perspective on reproductive rights, she said, and affirmed her belief that the government shouldn’t create blanket restrictions on highly personal circumstances.

“Now I understand, oh, pregnancy follows its own timeline. Pregnancy follows its own road,” Angus told Montana Free Press.

To the lawmakers supporting legislation that would override such personal decisions, Angus said she wishes they could understand her perspective.

“You’re never going to love my kid more than I do,” she said. “… There’s nothing shameful about doing what you think is most loving in a horrible situation,” she said.

Looking at the bills that have advanced through the session, Angus described being “terrified” about trying to become pregnant again. If she again needs to terminate the pregnancy for medical reasons, she said, she’s afraid of how Montana’s laws would restrict her options, including the bill that prohibits dilation and evacuation procedures.

“I’m looking at drive times to Washington and Colorado because if that passes, if I have an acute medical event, I’m not going to be able to get care here because [dilation and evacuation] is the safest, most effective way to terminate a pregnancy if you need to,” Angus said. “I’m not going to wait until I’m in septic shock to get care. I’m going to drive seven hours to Washington or nine hours to Colorado. It sucks I have to think about that, but I do.”

Two other Montanans who spoke to MTFP about their abortions noted other pieces of legislation that struck them as egregious infringements on reproductive rights, including the prohibitions on Medicaid and other public funding for abortions. One of those bills, House Bill 544, mimics a state health department rule that has been temporarily enjoined by a district court judge. Another, House Bill 862, seeks to implement the federal Hyde Amendment in state law, allowing Montana Medicaid funds to pay for abortion only in the cases of rape, incest or to prevent the pregnant person from dying.

Ali, another Bozeman resident who asked MTFP to withhold her last name to protect her privacy, said the Medicaid prohibitions would function as a sharp restriction on abortion for low-income patients. Ali said she was able to pay the roughly $800 for her abortion in 2021 out of her own pocket, without private insurance coverage, but that that option is not available to many people.

“I think that that’s one of the most devastating things we’ve done this session,” Ali said. “It’s obviously going to affect low-income people and people of color more than anybody else. And I think that’s a real shame that that has been passed this session. I think it’s going to do some serious harm.”

Above all, Ali said, the restrictions pushed by Republicans seem to conflict with what most Montanans want — a recent poll by the Public Religion Research Institute showed that 64% of state residents say abortion should be legal in all or most cases. The thought of spending years in court fighting restrictions at the state and national level, Ali said, is exhausting.

“There is just sort of like a general level of exhaustion that comes from feeling continually disappointed and nervous about what my options are going to be surrounding reproductive health care,” she said. “Historically, because of our Constitution, this has felt like a safer place to be. And I hope that that doesn’t continue to be sort of eroded and encroached on. It’s more or less a waste of people’s time to push legislation through that isn’t in line with our Constitution.”

‘WE DO FEEL THAT STRONG ABOUT IT’

Despite pushback from voters in other states over the last year indicating popular support for abortion rights, Republicans in Montana’s Legislature rarely voted against restrictions this session. Some of those who did, including Sen. Wendy McKamey, R-Great Falls, and Sen. Jeff Welborn, R-Dillon, indicated they saw privacy as a foundational right and that certain abortion bills risked government overreach.

Two other lawmakers from the majority party who asked for anonymity to discuss party politics said they didn’t agree with the full slate of abortion bills, attributing the focus on the issue to particularly devout Christian lawmakers who made it a priority. Regardless, both legislators said they couldn’t risk undermining their own bills or relationships with others in their party by voting against abortion restrictions.

Some sponsors of the bills framed their efforts as aligned with the Republican Party platform and fundamental to their personal prerogatives about protecting life before birth.

“I think it’s sad that the message is about the woman’s body and not the little girl whose body is inside that woman’s body,” said Rep. Lola Sheldon-Galloway, R-Great Falls, in an April interview. “… Even if Montana voted [in favor of abortion access] it’ll still be in our platform. And the day it isn’t there’ll be a lot of people that leave the Republican Party and do something else because we do feel that strong about it.”

Sheldon-Galloway, who sponsored HB 575 to limit abortion after 24 weeks and several other proposals, said she understands most Montanans don’t want a total ban on abortion — a reason she pointed to for why Republicans didn’t push a fetal personhood bill this session intended to outlaw abortion entirely. Instead, she said, she attempted to narrowly tailor her legislation while still protecting the unborn. In the case of HB 575, for example, Sheldon-Galloway did not include an exception for rape or incest victims, a personal sticking point she referenced with MTFP.

“People say I’m not being compassionate to people that, you know, got raped,” Sheldon-Galloway said. “To me, killing a child and being raped is two things that you have to live with for the rest of your life. I really believe in the Lord Jesus Christ healing and by giving birth to that child, he’ll heal you from the rape trauma. And through his grace, maybe even erase it from your memory. And I’ve seen that happen, too.”

Speaking at the May bill signing, Republican lawmakers and Gianforte framed the cumulative list of bills as a strong effort to protect life, children and families. The governor elaborated on that vision by referencing his proposed child tax credit, which lawmakers failed to advance, and the successfully passed $5,000 tax credit for adoptive parents. Both policies, he said, would help people who are considering abortions.

“Ultimately, every child deserves a loving home. Too often we lose unborn children because their parents don’t feel ready to welcome their child into the world with the support they need and deserve. Adoption, not abortion, is often the answer,” Gianforte said. “We will always support life because that’s the outcome we all strive for.”

Editor’s note: This article was updated on Wednesday, May 3, to correct bill descriptions of House Bill 303 and House Bill 625.

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