Muscogee Nation opened enrollment Thursday for Native Advantage, the first tribally owned Medicare Advantage plan in the U.S.

Muscogee Nation wholly owns the plan, which will serve all Medicare-eligible Oklahomans living in the 11 counties that make up the Muscogee reservation.

Shawn Terry, Muscogee Nation secretary of health, said the program allows tribal and non-tribal citizens alike to receive healthcare close to home.

“Many of the national Medicare Advantage plans were keeping our patients and our citizens away from our own facilities. They were moving them away from their own doctors,” Terry said. “We decided that if they were not going to work with us, if they were going to hurt our patients … we were going to do this ourselves.”

The Native Advantage website lists all eligibility requirements. Participants must have Medicare Part A and B and be over the age of 65.

The website also includes a list of providers depending on location. It notes tribal facilities are still limited to tribal citizens.

“We are not a faceless corporate insurer,” the website reads. “We are an Oklahoma-rooted organization that understands the unique healthcare challenges and strengths of our rural and urban communities alike.”

Enrollment closes on Dec. 7.

Hello everyone! I’m a highschool senior currently and I’m planning on going into vet studies for a doctorate of veterinary medicine, primarily focusing on conservation work at places like raptor centers or zoos! I was wondering if anyone had any good recommendations for schools I could apply to that have a good indigenous population on campus? I’d like to meet other tribal kids while I’m in college and hopefully form some connections! Also, schools that offer scholarships for tribal students or minority/underprivileged students are ones I’m looking for, too! Vet school is going to be expensive, so I’m looking for as much helpful money as I can get.

I'm reading Singing for a Spirit by Vine Deloria, Jr. and I thought you guys might like to see this photo of Standing Rock from the 1890s

Aho, she:kon, and a hearty “hey how are ya!?” cousins.

The saga of the south Tip brother continues. You know the story so far. Frybread survivor. All-Skate legend. Volvo arsonist. Ketchup chip disney princess. The man who wears another man’s tear-away pants. Co-architect of the fifty-eight dollar cauldron. Roasted by the Three Sisters and wearer of the Sticker.

So this past Monday was Thanksgiving here in Canada. But down south, for some of my American cousins, depending on the state, the city, and who you ask, it was Columbus Day.

Cousins. Crack a Bepsi. Get comfortable. Because I am about to talk SO much shit about this man.

Monday afternoon, I’m at kokum’s for Thanksgiving dinner. Turkey’s in, kitchen’s full, Leonard’s in the corner “supervising the potatoes,” which means eating them before they’re mashed… Like they’re apples. Fucking guy. My phone buzzes. It’s my cousin from over the river in New York State.

“happy columbus day buddeh, lol”

Then a GIF of Columbus waving from a boat.

Cousins, I put down my book. I went out on the porch. And I called him, and I started a rant that by the end had the whole family on the porch with me, Leonard included, still holding a half eaten potatoapple.

Christopher Columbus: A Résumé of Shithouse-ery

Let’s look at this man’s accomplishments, cousins. Let’s give him a fair hearing. Let’s do a performance review.

Navigation: He was trying to get to India. He hit the Caribbean. He was off by an ENTIRE HALF OF THE MOTHER FUCKING PLANET. And then, and this is the part that I can honestly kinda respect (given my own track record), he refused to admit it. Went to his grave insisting he’d found Asia. That’s like a guy who won’t ask google for directions even though the sign says “Welcome to Ohio” and was on a trip to Toronto.

Geography: People love to say “everyone thought the earth was flat and Columbus proved it was round.” No, cousins. Educated people knew the earth was round. They’d known for almost two thousand years. What Columbus did was get the SIZE wrong, you see. He thought the planet was way smaller than it is. The experts told him he’d run out of food long before he ever reached Asia. They were right, of course. The only reason he and his crew didn’t starve at sea is that there was a whole massive inhabited double continent in the way. Our ancestors saved this man’s life by existing. And how did he say thanks? Oh we’ll get to that.

Naming: Because he thought he was in India, he called the people here “Indians.” Cousins. Five hundred years. We’ve been carrying around a nickname from a guy who failed geography. That’s like getting your nickname from a substitute teacher who’s reading the wrong attendance sheet and then being stuck with it forever. To be fair, Indian food is fucking rad. I’m ok sharing the title with them as long as I get Biryani access out of the deal. 

Discovery: He “discovered” a place where millions of people already lived. You can’t discover somebody’s house while they’re sitting on the porch, cousins. That right there is a home invasion. Plus, the Norse had already been here around 500 years earlier anyway. Leif Erikson showed up, looked around, got his ass kicked, and went home. Honestly, the most respectful European visit on record… Excluding that one Scottish guy I bumped into a few years back at a Tim Hortons who bought me a tea after giving him some local tips on things to do. Nice fella. Anyways….

Geography Part Two: Cousins, Columbus never even set foot in what is now the United States. Not once. The Caribbean. Central America. The coast of South America. That’s it. He has a federal holiday in a country he never visited. I’ve been to Buffalo more times than Columbus has been to America. Give ME a holiday. We can have cake. 

Management: Spain made him governor of Hispaniola. And he ran it so brutally, with so much cruelty against our cousins, the Taíno people, that in 1500, Spain arrested him and sent him home in chains.

Let that sink in. In the 1490s. The SPANISH. During the INQUISITION. Looked at this man and said “woah, okay, buddy, that’s too much.”

Cousins, you have to work hard to get HR complaints from the Spanish crown in 1500.

The Corn Maze Parallel: And here’s what gets me, personally. I got lost in a corn maze for three and a half hours. I got a sticker that says “I GOT LOST IN THE MAZE!” with a cartoon scarecrow.

Columbus got lost for his ENTIRE CAREER and got a federal (cakeless) holiday, statues, a capital city, a university, and a bunch of streets.

Where’s his sticker, cousins? He’s the original “I GOT LOST IN THE MAZE.” I want a statue of Columbus with a big yellow sticker on his chest. Cartoon scarecrow. Thumbs up. That’s the only monument I’ll accept.

My cousin on the phone was crying laughing. Leonard ate his potato in agreement. And kokum, from the screen door, said the thing that ended it:

“He got lost and then he just stayed. That’s a rude houseguest.”

Cousins. Five hundred years of history. Summed up. I swear: Kokums should write the textbooks. That's a hill I'll die on.

The Question

So we go back inside, and we eat. Good dinner. Kokum’s turkey. Somebody’s three sisters soup. Leonard’s potatoes, what was left of them. Leonard, for some reason, had a plate full of shredded cheese and nothing else. Fucking guy.

And Dax, my little nephew, nine going on thirty, sharp as a skinning knife, puts his fork down and says:

“Uncle. What would it be like if Columbus never came? What if nobody came?”

Cousins, the whole table got quiet (it didn’t really, but let’s pretend.)

And I had a choice. I could give him the safe answer. Or I could do what I do best: tell a story with a lot more confidence than I’ve earned.

Ohhhhh you know what I did.

There’s a name for this, by the way. Indigenous futurism. Our writers and artists have been doing it for years. Imagining futures where we’re not just surviving, but where we’re everywhere, in the stars, in the cities, running the show. I’m no expert, cousins. But I’ve got a captive audience, a full stomach, and a nine-year-old who asked.

So I leaned back, and I said:

“Okay, nephew. Close your eyes. Welcome to Turtle Island. The year is 2026. The Leafs, believe it or not, still suck.”

Turtle Island, 2026

Picture it.

You wake up in a longhouse. But not the old kind. This one’s a kilometre long, made of solar glass and cedar, glowing amber in the morning sun. Your whole clan lives here. Three hundred people. Your kokum is on the top floor. Your aunties are down the hall. You will never in your life be more than a thirty-second walk from someone who will feed you and someone who will roast you. Usually the same person.

Out the window, you see Cahokia. The great city on the Mississippi. Back in the 1200s, by some estimates, it was bigger than London. Now? Left to flourish, it’s a megacity. Mound-scrapers. Pyramids of earth two hundred storeys tall, terraced, covered in gardens. Not ugly glass towers that cook the birds. Living hills you can climb.

You go outside. The streets are quiet because nobody drives. Transit runs along the old trade routes. The ones our ancestors walked and paddled for thousands of years, moving copper from the Great Lakes, shells from the Gulf, obsidian from the mountains. Now they’re mag-lev lines shaped like canoes. You can get from the Atlantic to the Pacific in four hours and the snack cart has bannock.

The buffalo are back, cousins. Thirty million of them. Wildlife corridors run right through the cities. You’re late for school because a herd is crossing the road and you have to wait. Your teacher accepts this. Everybody’s teacher accepts this. “Buffalo” is an excused absence.

Your school teaches in four languages. Your nation’s, your neighbour’s, the trade language, and one you pick for fun. Nobody’s learning their grandmother’s language from an app with a cartoon owl, because nobody ever had to stop speaking it.

The farms are vertical. Three Sisters towers. Corn on the top, beans climbing up through, squash spilling over every balcony. The whole city smells like it’s in the middle of cooking soup. 

The economy runs on the potlatch principle. Status isn’t measured by what you’ve got. It’s measured by what you give away. The richest guy in the world isn’t some dickhead with the most rockets. The dragon sitting on a mound of hoarded treasure. It’s the one who threw the biggest feast and fed the most people. Billionaires exist in this world, nephew, but they’re considered deeply, publicly embarrassing. Like a guy at the gathering who brings a pie and eats the whole thing himself in the truck like a tit. 

Leonard quietly: “oh, you saw that, eh?”

“Sure did, fella. Was it good?”

“Yup.”

Anyways…The government is the Confederacy. Our Confederacy. The Great Law of Peace, spread across the whole continent. Hundreds of nations, one council fire. And every single decision has to pass one test: how will this affect the next seven generations? Not the next quarter. Not the next election. Not the shareholder. Seven generations. Every law, every dam, every new road, someone stands up and says “and what about the kids two hundred years from now?” and everybody has to answer.

And the clan mothers choose the leaders. And if a leader does a bad job? They take his horns. Publicly. Gone. Fart. Back to being a regular jabroni. Imagine the accountability, nephew. Imagine politicians who are scared of their kokums. That’s the whole system. That’s it. That’s the secret.

The national sport is lacrosse. The Creator’s Game. Played in massive stadiums, two hundred players a side on the old rules, games that last three days and end with everybody eating together, both teams. The Medicine Game, nephew. Healing through a sport. There’s a professional league. There’s a World Cup. The Europeans have a team. They’re not very good. They’re trying, though. They’ve got a guy named Kevin who hugs the opposing players and just hopes everyone is having fun. Atta boy, Kev.

Hockey still exists, cousins. And the Leafs still haven’t won since 1967. Some curses are older and more esoteric than colonization.

And yes, eventually, the Europeans come. As visitors. Tourists, cousins. They have to ask permission at the border. They have to come correct. They bring gifts. They sit at the fire. They listen first. And there’s a visitor centre right at the coast with a big sign, in every language, that says three words:

“Ask an elder.”

Scone dog, in this world, is a sovereign citizen of the Rez Dog Nation (oh man, that’s my next band name. Dibs). He has his own seat on council. He has never once attended a meeting. He considers this a statement.

And Bepsi, cousins? Bepsi exists. Of course it does. It’s sacred. 

When I finished, the table was quiet.

Dax’s eyes were open. He’d been listening so hard he forgot to close them.

Leonard wiped his eye. “Mag-lev canoes, cuz,” he whispered. “I could build that.” He could absolutely not build that. He will try. Fuck it, I’ll help.

Mom was at the end of the table. She hadn’t said anything the whole time. And then she said, quietly:

“Yeah, that’s a nice dream.”

And cousins, it is a dream. We can’t go back. The ships came. The schools happened. The losses happened. Reality and history are fixed and all consuming. I get it

But here’s the part I told Dax, and here’s what I’m telling you:

Indigenous futurism isn’t about the past that didn’t happen. It’s not historical fiction… It’s about the future that still can.

Look around that table. Shit, look around this subreddit! The language is coming back, kid by kid, word by word. Kokums are teaching recipes they were never supposed to be able to pass on. Lacrosse is going back to the Olympics. The buffalo herds are growing. There are kids, right now, today, in that longhouse I described, except it’s a rez high school, a library book club, a beat-up community centre with a haunted storage room. They’re the seven generations. They’re who the ancestors were planning for. My Leafs somehow fucked up a Marchenko hattrick and lost in OT.

Columbus got lost… We didn’t. Columbus is dead and gone. We’re not.

We’ve always known exactly where we are. We’re home.

Dax seemed to agree with this and added “Scony would be a terrible councilor.” Dax went back to his turkey. 

He’s right. 

Pour one out for Christopher Columbus, the most confidently lost man in human history. May he wear his sticker in the afterlife. And drop your Indigenous futurism in the comments, cousins. Tell me your Turtle Island. What do the cities look like? What does your nation’s flag look like on the moon? Dream big.

Mvto, relatives. Know where you are. Know where you’re going. And never let a man who can’t read a map tell you that you’ve been discovered.

P.S. Check out our cousin Waubgeshig Rice’s novel Moon of the Turning Leaves. Book two of his Moon series. What comes after the collapse if we had it our way.  

P.P.S. I got a call from the Library Books club boys. Their hockey coach is out this weekend and they need a fill in. Asked if I could step in. I gotta dig out a suit….

Past Stories:

\[Corn Maize](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/uLgab09Dad)

\[Orange Shirt Day](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/YuSBWc7u9y)

\[Haunded House](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/Y3nzSkXkX9)

\[Book Club](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/8zfS1Ynb1N)

\[Library day](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/RDZgTERPoH)

\[Sweat Lodge\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/xwTSCsSchp)

\[Hot Tub\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/pUjxilwFEN) 

\[Kokum\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/l0hahrR4Hx) 

\[Babysitting\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/WHcCWUd3UV)

\[Yard Sale\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/nRZ4eM8Slm) 

\[Bingo Night\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/QEo67nIq2m) 

\[Disney Princess\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/dcziW5TdrG) 

\[Tim's Arsonist\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/IBAixKep6i) 

\[Career Change\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/QKwnSaRXjI) 

\[Foraging\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/kqwVUxJRPu) 

\[Frybread Follow-up\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/E6wbMUSolj)

\[Frybread\](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/bnqjnRA97k)

Alaska and New Mexico are the two states with the highest percentage of Native American population, and not coincidentally the places where people are most likely to be murdered by the police.

Edit: 5 states with the highest fatal police shootings are 5 states with the highest Native population

https://worldpopulationreview.com/state-rankings/native-american-population

Was always curious

Hello! I'm an artist (Mexikah/Nahua) and I'm working on an Indigenous version of this painting for next month but wish to celebrate and honor various Indigenous peoples and communities by representing various native foods. I'd love to hear your take on what special dishes or beverages from your culture you'd love to share with special friends and loved ones.

Also, if you're curious, you can find my work here: https://www.instagram.com/missingcosmonaut/

Hè friends,

Something I've noticed on the sub recently - that is extremely close to my heart - has been folks talking about how loss is so prevalent in our communities. The way we experience it is so deep, yet often so unacknowledged, save in quiet vulnerable moments or occasional comment sections. This is what I want to talk to you about today, cousins. And at the end, I invite any survivor or family member for an honoring. TW: Suicide, murder, missing people, sexual violence, human tr*ffic*ing.

Without putting my life story out in a public space, I will simplify by saying that all of the above has personally applied to me in some way. Caring for the ways we need to heal from all of it has become a passion, a reason I chose my career even, and entwined with every bit of cultural medicine that I weave throughout the community here. A community with so many beautiful people, but also riddled with creeps and threats that are hard to discern until one is in far too deep. It's isolating to do the work, and we need each other on a grander scale to accomplish it. This much, I know to be true.

There are similarities and differences in the way MMIP happens throughout Turtle Island. On the rez, East vs West, Canadá vs USA, near the border vs far from it, rural vs city. But across the board, it is still an epidemic. Natives being hurt by non-Natives and Natives being hurt by Natives. Even some MMIP advocates I've seen sell out, or rig their systems.

So ​​my bones beg for something pure. Just honoring. No capitalism. Just representation. No compromise. Peace. Real, honest, reach-through-the-ether peace that our people have earned on all sides of the veil.

After years of doing advocacy in this realm, I want to change the way I'm engaging with representing the movement in my own community. Have thought long and hard about this. I don't want to do just an awareness piece, or only send money far away when there are problems without organizations right here, or focus on people being harmed in one region. And what really drives me, is I am sick and tired of people being left out when they shouldn't be. MMIP have a chair right next to the one where our relatives whom have died by suicide sit, next to the boarding schools, right next to the chair where survivors sit. This table is round, and collective grief deserves shared space with honored nuance. I want this movement to live and breathe through our actions, for all those who are lost, for those who returned, through a memorial I'm helping come to life.

That being said, firstly, this invitation goes out to:

Families and relatives of ​Indigenous people whom have been lost, went missing, or were killed. This includes POW, KIA, and foster or adoptive children who were displaced away from their real or rightful families in culture and not returned.

Indigenous survivors of HT, severe GBV, abduction/entrapment, boarding school survivors, former POWs, and people whom have had near-deaths at the hand of racially-charged abuse or crime.

Families of and next-of-kin for Indigenous people who passed away by suicide, including "suspicious" suicides or overdoses that were not properly investigated.

The invitation itself:

To include either yourself (survivors) or your loved one(s) in the memorial being created. It will be a physical, traveling memorial, for culture-based educational spaces. How you/your family would like to be included, is up to you.

A picture with a name, the tribe, year/date, and anything else that feels right is welcome.

If preferred, people can share their stories as well. They will be printed. They can be authored, or anonymous.

For people who want a representation for themselves or their family member(s) to be completely anonymous but don't want to write, we can choose another meaningful representation. I'm happy to talk and help explore what that might look like.

We aren't doing the face-on-a-red-dress method, unless that is explicitly what the family member wants. All due respect to the projects which hold space in that way. Because this memorial has a bit larger of a scope, we are doing more of a banner. ​Every survivior or family member will get to review and approve how their part of the memorial is being represented. We will accomodate whichever number of people are to be included, there is no limit, and will adapt the memorial accordingly. Survivors and family members will get to see and give feedback as this grows. It will be a community, not a static installment. There will be a clear structure between the MMIP, survivors and suicides representations, so each cause can simultaneously have space to breathe and be unified. It will be a place where people can leave flowers, sing a song, gain an understanding, celebrate a life, grieve, and offer tobacco. It will be a place that grows with the needs of survivors and families, and can be here *or* there, walking with us rather than gathering dust. I hope you see the vision, too.

For all people interested, if desired, I will make myself available for a call so you can get to know me. I want to do this for people simply because it is deserved. You deserve to feel comfortable on all levels, when engaging with the memory of your loved one or survivorship, and it's my honor to meet you where you're at on this difficult journey.

If you would like to be honored, or have your family member honored, please send me a message so I can give you my contact privately. Or comment and I can message you.

Ahi wanishi, ok oney elhakeya awenik.

Thank you so much, and be well, my kinsfolk.​

​

Tansii relatives. I've got a guest speaker coming in at work and I'm not sure about Coast Salish protocol around giving medicine in addition to their fee for the day. My Métis instinct says give tobacco as well, but I want to get it right. Marsee and have a great day.

Be the story behind the story!

Red Nation International Film Festival, recognized as the largest Native and Indigenous film festival in the world, is looking for volunteers. Their 31st edition takes place November 8-15 at the AMC the Grove. 

Volunteers can help out for as little or as many shifts as they would like. Perks include a VIP Pass to watch all the movies**, attend Q&A's, and participate in other industry programming.**

There are going to be networking opportunities, as most of the filmmakers are attending in person.

They'll also get hands-on experience at an international film festival while supporting Native and Indigenous storytelling. Parking is paid for and a special volunteer T-shirt included.

Here is the film schedule, and if they are interested in volunteering, they can email: [Careers@RedNation.com](mailto:Careers@RedNation.com) 

More info about volunteering here. 

Thank you so much for reading this post. Hope to meet some of you in person!

I am Gitxsan and Métis so I wasn't brought up using dream catchers. However where I work recently brought in a lovely Elder to teach us all to make dream catchers and gifted us some teaching around them.

I've recently moved houses and I've been having a couple crazy nightmares in the new house, most recent being last night. I smudged everything out today and I've got my windows open (even smudged my cats for good measure 🤣) and I got my melgwas and cedar on my bedside table now for protection.

I took the dream catcher down from where I had it, hanging over the head part of our bed and I smudged it off outside. It got me thinking, is there a better spot I should put it? Is over the head part okay?

I'm hoping to ask some of my colleagues tomorrow as they are from other Nations and have a lot more teachings than me but I'm really hoping to sleep tonight too so if anyone knows pls let me know 😭😭