Seattle urban Natives look to have a neighborhood to call their own

Just the beginning

Building a Native neighborhood that is informed by the urban Native population in a mindful way takes time and resources. The Na’ah Illahee Fund supported Tevuk’s role through a $37,000 grant from the Equitable Development Initiative at Seattle’s Office of Planning & Community Development — a grant that will end in July. The original contract was intended only for six months, but the process of building a survey, dispersing it during a pandemic, getting people to share their perspectives, analyzing results and then writing a report has been more than a six-month job.

Tevuk is the only paid employee for this project, and he has worked two other jobs while in this role. All other sləp̓iləbəxʷ group members volunteered their time and insight in creating the survey and getting the word out. Efforts to get responses included having tables at events such as the annual University of Washington Spring Powwow and putting up flyers and posters all around town.

A Social Justice Fund NW grant awarded to the Na’ah Illahee Fund will pay for Tevuk’s work to finalize the report by September.

The report is just the beginning. Next comes a feasibility study to determine how much money would be needed to start building the project. Tevuk believes that at least three full-time paid positions will be needed for this work, but she worries that might not be possible.

“There is a stereotype that people think that we get free money, where we’re taken care of because of the treaties and then they don’t want to donate,” Tevuk said. “These are issues with philanthropy that are unique to Native communities.”

Tevuk’s concerns aren’t unfounded. According to a report by Seattle Urban Native Nonprofits, less than 1% of philanthropic funds are awarded to Native-led nonprofit organizations, despite Native people being 2% of the population and among communities of greatest need. She also pointed out that many organizations are competing for the same city funding, and philanthropic misconceptions make things even more difficult.

One third of Little Earth’s program funding and most of its staff support comes from the county government. City and state grants also fund the program’s operation, but it has dealt with some of the same misconceptions that Tevuk raised. People assume Little Earth is like a reservation with some federally funding and land, but this is not the case, according to Bealieu.

While Little Earth is not a federally recognized reservation, for the urban Natives who were displaced it feels like the closest thing to traditional living among other Native people that they can get in the middle of the city

“We’re not just like a community,” said Latisha Icemen, Red Lake Band of Ojibwe and youth empowerment director of Little Earth. “We’re like family.”

The need for community support and the feeling of family was mentioned over and over in the Seattle survey.

“For urban Natives, it’s hard to feel like you belong to a community if you don’t have any family here. You feel very alone,” a survey respondent said. In order to accomplish this, there has to be a foundation of trust that Seattle’s urban natives can do the work, said Tevuk, who has high hopes that this is just the beginning of something greater.