Cheryl Suzack. Indigenous Women's Writing and the Cultural Study of Law. Toronto:
University of Toronto Press, 2017. 208 pp. ISBN: 978-1442628588.
https://utorontopress.com/us/indigenous-women-s-writing-and-the-cultural-study-of-law-2.
As
an Indigenous attorney, I work within the boundaries of the law. Even when
crafting unique and novel legal arguments, I am still situated in the dominant
society's discourse about law, rights, and governance. The principles of
precedent and stare decisis still
hold great weight in the approach of the legal profession to social problems. Thus,
I am challenged and intrigued by Cheryl Suzack's Indigenous Women's Writing and the Cultural Study of Law. Suzack's
approach to legal principles and indigenous feminisms offers liberating and
forward-thinking approach to justice for Native women. By exploring how Indigenous
women articulate conceptions of justice in storytelling, Suzack transcends the
typical critiques of anti-Indian jurisprudence and offers a fresh perspective
on landmark judicial decisions. As such, her project touches on a wide variety
of academic disciplines and activist communities. This monograph should be
required reading for anyone interested in gender and law.
As
Suzack explains in Chapter 2, "Literary texts question legal appropriations by
articulating the gender injustice that follows from legal reasoning..." (49). Thus,
Suzack uses literary analysis to present cogent critiques of four cases. Suzack's
project is divided into four main chapters, each with a focus on one court case
and a corresponding novel authored by an indigenous woman. By juxtaposing the
judicial decision-making with the fictional texts, Suzack offers novel ways to
critique the judicial decision that often aren't part of typical legal
critique. The pairings and alignments are illuminating. Even those already
intimately familiar with the cases will find themselves challenged to re-think
their common assumptions.
In
Chapter 1, Gendering the Politics of Tribal
Sovereignty, Suzack tackles one of the thorniest United States Indian law
cases of the 20th century – Santa Clara Pueblo v. Martinez (1978). The Martinez case is widely celebrated as a victory for tribal nations
in the United States, because it articulated a clear principle of tribal
sovereignty and preserved the right of tribal nations to make citizenship
decisions without federal interference. For many Native women, however, the
substantive result of the decision is devastating. Julia Martinez was a citizen
of the Santa Clara Pueblo who challenged the Pueblo's patrilineal rules for
citizenship. Her children, fathered by her Navajo husband, were denied
citizenship in the Pueblo because they did not have a Santa Clara father. In
her appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court, Martinez argued that the Pueblo
citizenship law violated her (and her children's) constitutional rights to due
process and equal protection. The Supreme Court rejected her arguments, holding
that tribal nations cannot be sued in federal court for alleged violations of
the Indian Civil Rights Act. The Court also noted that issues such as "tribal
custom and tradition" (e.g. citizenship laws) should fall under the exclusive
purview of tribal nations. In many Federal Indian law
texts, this case is represented as a rare "victory" for tribal nations and that
concludes the story. Suzack, through her critical reading of Leslie Marmon
Silko's 1977 novel Ceremony, problematizes
the outcome of the Martinez case through
the lens of a "dignity-based consciousness" (21) for Indigenous women. Because
the Martinez decision prioritizes
tribal sovereignty over gender discrimination, many Native women's voices on
the outcome have largely been silenced. A major theme in Silko's Ceremony concerns the "legally enforced
social disposability" (36) of Native women. Silko's novel beautifully articulates
how the disenfranchisement of Indigenous women presents a direct threat to the
existence of tribal nations. By exploring Silko's prose, Suzack is able to push
back against dominant narrative that Martinez
was the correct result because it purported to protect tribal sovereignty. Suzack
challenges us to understand Martinez as
a case that failed Native women which, in turn, has significant implications
for tribal survivance. This insight encourages the reader to think critically
about the interconnection between Native women and tribal sovereignty. Instead
of adopting the mainstream "tribal sovereignty above all else" discourse, Suzack
skillfully argues that recognition of Native women is not something to be
sacrificed on the federal altar. In doing so, she encourages the reader to remember
that recognition and dignity of Native women is the foundation of tribal
sovereignty and self-determination.
Chapter
Two, The Legal Silencing of Indigenous
Women, considers the decision of Racine v. Woods, a Canadian case, alongside
Beatrice Culleton Mosioner's fictional autobiography, In Search of April Raintree, both published in 1983. Racine v. Woods is a troubling case
about child custody, in which an Indigenous woman, Linda Jean Woods,
permanently lost custody of her seven-year-old daughter in part because of
perceptions of Woods' "bad choices" and "false consciousness." Racine
v. Woods represents a disconcerting approach to tribal custody decisions
because the Canadian Court elevated the abstract "best interests of the child"
over the fundamental importance of raising Indigenous children within
Indigenous communities. Mosioner's autobiographical character, April, likewise suffers
through several of the common tribulations of Indigenous women and girls –
including out-adoption, foster care and sexual assault. Suzack draws parallels
between April and the litigant Linda Jean Woods, exploring how the Western
legal system simultaneously exploits and dismisses their testimonies as
Indigenous women. For both Woods and April, Western courts "create the
conditions of social segregation" by cruelly separating families and denying
the collective rights of Indigenous women. Suzack's masterful treatment of this
topic illustrates the ways that colonial violence continues to be ubiquitous in
the courts of the conqueror.
Chapter
Three, Colonial Governmentality and
Gender Violence, combines a somewhat lesser-known
case, Minnesota v. Zay Zah (1977) with Louise Erdrich's 1998 novel The Antelope Wife. Building on the
themes from prior chapters, Suzack artfully explores how land dispossession has
cogent gender implications that are often ignored in mainstream legal
discourse. Minnesota v. Zay Zah in
the dominant narrative, represented a victory for a
tribal citizen whose ancestor's allotment had been illegally forfeited to the
state of Minnesota. Embedded within the litigation, however, the question of
blood quantum was central – because the United States government had attempted
to craft different rules for "full-bloods" and "mixed-blood" Indians. Blood quantum was created by the colonial government as a primary
way to separate bodies from land. As Suzack notes, the case illuminated
the "failure of the federal government to safeguard Indigenous peoples' land rights..." and exposed
the widespread, outright theft of Indian lands in the early 20th century.
Suzack's connection of the case to Erdrich's novel is not as strong as the
first two chapters (in part because gender is not a direct component of the Zay Zah case), but does allow her to
explore how dispossession (in all its forms) disparately affects Indigenous
women. The Antelope Wife tells the story
of a family of Ojibwa women who are physically and psychologically displaced
through colonial violence over the course of many decades, which nearly severs
their familial and social ties. Like colonial blood quantum rules, violence
committed against Indigenous women threatens the very fabric of tribal societies
by denying Indigenous people their rightful cultural inheritance. The journey
of the characters in the novel to regain cultural continuity form the basis for
Suzack's poignant assertion that "...it is only through acceptance and
integration rather than separation and denial that women are able to recover a
sense of their inheritances and intergenerational community relations." (97).
The
final chapter, Land Claims, Identity
Claims continues the discussion of the White Earth experience by exploring
how a failed challenge to the 1986 White Earth Land Settlement Act (WELSA)
spearheaded by acclaimed Native activist Winona LaDuke, represented the
continuation of colonial entanglements with land and law. Chapter 4 is not as cohesive
as the prior three chapters, in part because Suzack uses this chapter to more fully
explicate what she means by an "indigenous standpoint" feminist perspective (a
section which is well-crafted and argued). The legal text centered in this
chapter is the 1991 Manypenny v. United
States case that denied a challenge to the WELSA, which Suzack situates
alongside LaDuke's novel Last Standing
Woman. This pairing is perhaps the most cogent in the book because LaDuke
was a primary plaintiff in the Manypenny case. Manypenny
represents, for many a complete failure of the federal justice system to
remedy the historical injustices done to the White Earth people. Instead of
returning the stolen land to the rightful heirs of the allottees, WELSA
authorized nominal payments for the stolen land in order to settle the legal
uncertainty that arose in the aftermath of the Zay Zah case. The Manypenny plaintiffs
sought to challenge the legal framework established by WELSA by seeking to
recover the disputed land instead of accepting payment, but their claims were
denied. Last Standing Woman introduces
gender into the story of dispossession by developing female characters who, despite being victims of horrific violence, establish
community connections through a shared vision of collective responsibility for
the land. By employing a trans-historical narrative, LaDuke artfully
establishes White Earth as a sacred homeland – not a mere "remnant of the
treaty process". The novel thus
serves as the literary antidote to the Manypenny
decision. It also offers a
vision of contemporary movement-building through "mutual
respect and cultural obligation."
Early
in Chapter 2, Suzack presents a profoundly provocative question: "To what
extent can Indigenous women turn to law to fulfill their expectations of
justice when law and its social consequences have been the source of their disentitlement
and oppression?" (51). As an
Indigenous feminist lawyer trained in the American legal system, this question
is unsettling. But after reading Suzack's finely crafted monograph, I am left
with a sense of hope and gratitude for what Indigenous feminist literature can
teach us about the quest for justice, which often takes place far from the
courthouse doors.
Sarah Deer, University of Kansas