Living in Two Worlds

LAC DU FLAMBEAU, Wisconsin — In life, many people find themselves at the crossroads of multiple identities through their beliefs, culture, heritage, and history.  

Often, these factors can lead to a struggle in defining personal identity and what it means to be an individual but also part of a larger human family.

The tribal members of the Ojibwe Nation shoulder these identities as they make their way through the modern world. 

Four members of the Lac Du Flambeau Band of Lake Superior Chippewa Indians were asked about how their individual identities have been shaped. 

These are their experiences.  

The Blood of His Ancestors 

Tom Maulson, who became the tribal figurehead of the Wisconsin spearfishing wars of the mid-eighties and early nineties, is no stranger to the hate of others who share his land. He has fought to preserve his identity and heritage since he was a young man. 

“The fishing rod created so much hate, yet they forget about what the white man did killing our grandmas and grandpas,” said Maulson. 

“Not only are we Anishinaabe people, but we also have white blood in us, so you’re still our relatives too.” 

Maulson’s father was a white man, and his mother was a full-blooded Oijbwe woman, and all her relatives were Anishinaabe people. His father hailed from Berlin, Wisconsin, where he worked in the quarries. 

“As a kid, I remember going to my grandfather’s home to have a big feast on Sundays,” said Maulson. 

“He would say ‘here comes my little Indians’ and that was great. He said that because he loved us and respected who my dad married.” 

“So, I wish I could say ‘here comes all my little white people,’ who come to Waaswaaganing Lac du Flambeau, but these people who come here know nothing about us.” 

Between boarding schools, churches, and governmental provisions, the native community has endured a long history of indoctrination, assimilation, and theft. Maulson believes it’s important to acknowledge who put them in those positions of suffering. 

“American Congress stole our Indian lands, boarding schools got paid off the backs of our people while beating the Indian out of them, and churches were brought to us that do nothing because we have our own religion,” said Maulson. 

While the former tribal president is someone who describes himself as a modern-day Indian, who doesn’t wear a lot of buck skin or moccasins. He wants his children and grandchildren to understand that they are Anishinaabe Indian people, that have white friends, relatives, and people of other colors in their lives. 

“You have to be proud of your heritage, and I’m proud of my white grandpa, what he did and how hard he worked ” said Maulson. 

Investing in His Son’s Education 

The traditional native stories, while they are being told in schools now, were once banned on Indian reservations. In boarding schools, they would not let Indians speak their native language or participate in their form of traditional worship.  

It’s believed, by many natives, that these practices of suppression at boarding schools are still embedded in the communities’ DNA and affecting children today. 

That’s why when TJ Maulson, a relative of the former tribal chairman, made the decision to send his sons to a parochial school, it was extremely difficult for him. 

“It still has a sour taste in my mouth that they go there,” said Maulson. 

Maulson teases his son a about being brainwashed because he talks about God and Jesus, and he begins to worry that his son is losing his cultural way because he spends so much time in school learning their way. 

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m losing my son, but at the same time my son does everything I do,” said Maulson. 

“He comes to work with me. I educate him on ethics and religion, and he recently helped cut my hair to mourn the loss of my grandmother.” 

He noted that he ultimately sent his children there because he wants them to achieve in life. 

“Sometimes you have to go where successful people are and if u want your children to be successful you have to put them in those places,” said Maulson. 

“It’s hard because there’s so much hate around here, and I feel guilty by association.” 

Defining Her Religious Faith 

Ann Hartzheim, a tribal member and schoolteacher, who was raised Catholic by her mother, has maintained her faith despite the history of religious persecutions in the Native community.  

“Sometimes it can be tough living here and living those two lives,” said Hartzheim.  

“The difference between me and somebody else is that I love Jesus, and that’s been all my life.” 

Native American religious beliefs have been influenced by the assimilation act and a long history of missionaries going into the Ojibwe tribe as well as others to try and make them Christian people. Native Americans were viewed as pagans and perceived as not truly believing in anything because they don’t worship a monotheistic God. 

“As I grow older, I’ve learned that the traditionalist view is everything out in nature, and that’s why they pray to being multiple gods,” said Hartzheim. 

“Although the natives believe in a creator, it’s not necessarily God to them, and in my interpretation, the creator is the same being as God.” 

At times Hartzheim says she receives flack for her beliefs by her people and notes it can be difficult when some friends and relatives question her beliefs, but she doesn’t question theirs.  

“It can be confusing at times because sometimes I think the creation story for Ojibwe can be farfetched, but I would never say that to anybody, but at the same time I get told I believe in a God that’s not real,” said Hartzheim. 

“In the end I believe you have to believe in something and, If I’m in a bind and I’m in trouble, I pray to God and Jesus that’s just who I am.” 

Hartzheim recalls how when she was a kid, all her friends were at church of some kind whether they were in Catholic, Protestant, or Bible school. She said that’s the way it was until members of our community pushed harder to bring back our traditional culture. 

“My mother is very much Catholic, and she does not stray,” says Hartzheim.  

“I was raised 100% Roman Catholic. Some of my friends and coworkers who were raised Catholic with me have gone on to be traditionalists.  

Hartzheim says there have been traditionalists who have come into our schools, and she’s had clashes with them in that way, as they don’t respect that she chooses to be Catholic. Even though her beliefs differ from the traditionalist view, she still believes in everything that the Ojibwe tribe has endured and where they’re at today. 

At Hartzheim’s church, Native American ways are often intertwined within the Catholic mass. 

“Our culture is beautiful, and the way our beliefs are expressed are amazing,” said Hartzheim 

“Every other day in my school, we have an Ojibwe language teacher who comes in and tells stories, a lot of them oral, and I love those stories.” 

Returning to the Classroom 

Like many in his tribe, Tom’s son, Fred Maulson, works off the reservation to help build up and make his tribe better. He fights hard for his family, but at times the struggle occurs within his own community.  

“We’ve gone off to school and seen life beyond what we have here,” said Maulson.  

“For some, to bring that experience back is somewhat foreign and not the norm. We can be resented and looked down upon by our own people for an education. it’s a difficult road.” 

Maulson, now works as a Native American mentor at Lakeland Union, his former high school. He tells his students that he doesn’t have a lot of fond memories of when he went to school there but strives to have them experience a different outcome. 

He describes the resentment that’s starting to spring up with the barricaded roads as similar to what he experienced during the fishing wars that took place when he was in high school. The result of these conflicts pits non-natives against natives and resurfaces wounds of past tension. 

“That’s the struggle I have with the white world, why does it take a tragedy or drama to be embedded in our community,” said Maulson. 

Where he now works as a mentor, a classroom next door to him, Maulson had a science teacher in high school who was at the boat landing throwing rocks at himself and other natives during the fishing wars the night before he had to go to his class the next day.  

“Imagine how you would feel if you had a professor that was mocking you, calling you every name in the book and then the next day to do a paper for him,” said Maulson. 

“My dad is an elder but for the younger generation of Ann, TJ and I, we call it living two worlds.”