Mount Rushmore Is Not My Monument

The Black Hills Protest: A Call for Justice and Restoration

I find myself glued to my laptop screen on July 3, 2020, watching a Facebook Live stream of a protest unfolding at Mount Rushmore. As cars speed by and honk in support, my heart swells with a mix of emotions. The activists boldly display banners with the words “LAND BACK,” a powerful statement of reclaiming what was taken from them. Despite being miles away in Rapid City, South Dakota, I feel a deep sense of pride and solidarity with my relatives who are fighting for justice and restoration of their land.

The protest, organized by Očéti Šakówiŋ activists, aimed to disrupt Donald Trump’s presidential rally at Mount Rushmore on the eve of the Fourth of July. The demonstration harkened back to similar actions in the early 1970s when protesters camped at the base of the monument and demanded the return of the Black Hills to the Očéti Šakówiŋ tribes. The monument, carved into the face of Tȟuŋkášila Šákpe, or Six Grandfathers, has long been a symbol of settler-colonial oppression on Indigenous land.

The history of Mount Rushmore is deeply intertwined with the theft of Indigenous land and the erasure of Native cultures. Constructed over 14 years by sculptor Gutzon Borglum, the monument pays tribute to figures like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, who were responsible for the displacement and subjugation of Native peoples. For decades, tribal communities have called for the removal of this symbol of colonial conquest and the return of the Black Hills to their rightful owners.

Visiting Mount Rushmore has always been a conflicting experience for me. While some see it as a patriotic landmark, I view it as a painful reminder of the atrocities committed against Indigenous peoples. On a recent visit in 2022, I felt a sense of unease as I witnessed tourists flocking to the site, oblivious to its dark history. I encourage my companions to express their defiance by flipping the monument a symbolic gesture, a small act of resistance against the ongoing legacy of settler colonialism.

Despite efforts to incorporate Indigenous perspectives into the narrative of Mount Rushmore, the monument remains a contentious symbol of conquest and domination. While some tribal members perform traditional dances at the site, others work within the National Park Service to ensure that Native voices are heard. However, the presence of politicians like Kristi Noem, who perpetuate harmful policies against Indigenous communities, underscores the ongoing struggle for justice and sovereignty.

If Mount Rushmore were to disappear tomorrow, tribal communities would continue to thrive and persevere. The Black Hills hold a sacred significance for Indigenous peoples, serving as a place of prayer, storytelling, and connection to the land. As we look towards the future, I envision a time when Mount Rushmore’s oppressive legacy is a distant memory, and the resilience of the Očéti Šakówiŋ people endures. In another 100 years, we may look back and ask, “Rushmore, who?”