FIGHTING TO BE HEARD.
BLACK SEMINOLES SUE FOR A PLACE IN HISTORY.
By Ron Jackson for the Sunday Oklahoman (Nov. 7, 1999), pp.1 & 15-A
U.S.-Seminole Treaty of 1866
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"Article 2 ... And inasmuch as there are among the Seminoles many persons of African descent and blood, who have no interest or property in the soil, and no recognized civil rights, it is stipulated that hereafter these persons and their descendants, and such other of the same race as shall be permitted by said nation to settle there, shall have and enjoy all the rights of native citizens, and the laws of said nation shall be equally binding upon all persons of whatever race or color, who may be adopted as...citizens or members of said tribe."
In the days of the flintlock rifle, when American soldiers invaded their homeland, they fought with legendary prowess from the Spanish Florida swamps to preserve their freedom.
They have fought slavery.
They have fought removal.
They have fought segregation.
Throughout history, they have fought for all the reasons that prompt reasonable people to risk their lives liberty, justice, home and family. Seemingly all who hear of their past are inspired by their deeds or awed by their passion and resolve.
Yet few know who they are, where they came from or how they came to be. So they fight for recognition, too. They fight to be heard: I To be seen. To be counted among the human race.
This is the saga of the Seminole people of African descent.
Known as Black Seminoles, Seminole Freedmen or Estelusti, today they are scattered mostly throughout Oklahoma and Florida, some 2,500 strong. They are rich in history. Some can trace their roots back to Africa's West Coast, others to the Florida Everglades or the Mexican state of Coahuila.
Still others can trace their ancestry to runaway slaves, to free blacks and to Indian grandfathers and grandmothers.
None can trace back to a time of peace.
Constant warfare
Somehow, time has failed to grant them anything other than conflict. These days, the fight comes in the form of an ongoing lawsuit filed in 1996 against the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs. The lawsuit is attempting to correct what the Black Seminoles say is a 133-year-old wrong in which the U.S. government continues to define them as separate, not equal members of the Seminole Nation.
Historical records give a different definition.
In an 1866 treaty with the Seminoles, U.S. negotiators declared that all people among the tribe with African blood, "shall have and enjoy all the rights of native citizens, and the laws of said nation shall be equally binding upon all persons of whatever race or color."
The Bureau of Indian Affairs has not abided by such words. For nearly 100 years, the government has refused to legally recognize Black Seminoles as equal members of the Seminole Nation.
In doing so, the government has denied Black Seminoles millions of dollars worth of benefits, such as medical care, eyeglasses, housing and clothing---common benefits enjoyed by every Seminole Indian. Mostly, the government has denied Black Seminoles recognition of their cultural identity.
Opinions vary as to why the government ruled that way. Some say it represents racism by the government; others bewildered.
Black Seminoles are represented on the tribal council and have the right to vote in elections. Numerous Black Seminoles are themselves the offspring of mixed-blood marriages.
"Most aren't in it for the benefits," said Jan Velie, a Norman attorney who represents the Black Seminoles. "They're in it because they are being told by the U.S. government who they are. ... If they don't fight for being Seminole, they're letting down their ancestors."
Inspired by the case, Velie took the case pro bono four months out of law school in 1994. The job didn't come easy, though. He first had to gain the trust of the two bands of Black Seminoles people who have grown to trust only each other.
Velie, a Native American studies major at the University of California, Berkeley, had to sell himself to the two leery Freedmen bands as they sat and listened in an old wooden church in Seminole County. Once done, Velie and his younger brother, Will, waited impatiently outside while a debate raged inside. Will was attending law school at the time.
The late Lawrence Cudjoe, a respected elder, stood in the church. Cudjoe, who once barnstormed with the Harlem Globetrotters, said, "These guys are too young to be racists."
The Velies were hired.
To date, they have not received any money for their representation.
"This isn't about money," Velie said. "A case like this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I have considered it an honor to represent these people. "
Much pain seen
People like Sylvia Davis are why.
Davis, 46, is one of two leaders of the Dosar-Barkus Black Seminole band. Her fifth -great-grandparents died in the Second Seminole War, and her fourth-great-grandfather, Scipio Davis, led his family on the ensuing Trail of Tears.
In her lifetime, she has seen her own pain. She sees it every time she looks into her father's eyes. Roosevelt Davis Sr., 75, lives on the last remaining 20 acres from the family's original 160acre-land allotment received after removal from Florida. The rest of the land, says Davis, was stolen from her family years ago by "non Indian people" during a time of segregation.
"They were tricked out of the land," Davis said. "They were very trusting people."
Trust must now be earned.
And in 1995, Davis knew where she and other Black Seminoles stood with the federal government. The Bureau of Indian Affairs denied her son, Donnell---then 12---- clothing assistance because he was not what the agency termed "Seminole by blood."
Benefits are issued by the Bureau of Indian Affairs only to those who possess Certificate Degree of Indian Blood cards. The agency says Black Seminoles don't qualify
In 1995, more than 300 Black Seminoles marched on the agency offices in Wewoka in protest. All applied for certification cards.
Awaiting them were five different police agencies.
"I feel as though I am a legal member of the tribe," Davis said. "And as an active member of the tribal council, I feel very deeply I'm entitled to whatever the Indians are entitled."
From that 1995 day in Wewoka, all were officially denied their certification cards by the agency.
"A lot of people won't ask for the benefits," Will Velie said. "It's the fact the government won't recognize their Indian-ness." ~
So what followed was the 1996 lawsuit filed by the Black Seminoles in Washington, D.C.
"Not a day doesn't go by that II don't think about my ancestors," Sylvia Davis said. . "Sometimes I place myself back in History and think about the hard times they had to suffer through. A lot of them died at an early age. A lot of them died on the Trail of Tears."
Death. with meaning
Davis and other Black Seminoles are determined to ensure they didn't die in' vain. Like the Black Seminoles, the 1996 lawsuit refuses to go away without a fight.
The suit was eventually transferred to Oklahoma where it sat dormant for two years. Finally, in 1998, Federal District Judge Vicki Miles-LaGrange--President Clinton appointee [to the federal bench] reviewed the case.
Miles-LaGrange dismissed the case on grounds that the Seminole Nation---not a defendant---was an "indispensable" party.
The Black Seminoles were stunned.
The Velies quickly moved to appeal, aided by co-counsel Frank Velie from a New York law firm. The dispute, they argued, was not with the Seminole Nation, but with the. U.S. government, which. doles out the federal assistance.
In September, their tenacity was rewarded: The 10th Circuit Court of Appeals in Denver ruled Miles-LaGrange was wrong to dismiss the lawsuit. The court instructed her to "determine whether, in equity and good conscience" the suit' can proceed without the Seminole Nation as.. a defendant. The court also ruled the tribe couldn't be sued in federal court because of its sovereign immunity.
The Velie brothers blame the Dawes Rolls, completed in 1899, for the confusion.
The Dawes Rolls arbitrarily segregated the "Indians and Blacks" when issuing land allotments. ':'\
The aftershock of that decision continues to jar the Black Seminoles.
In the 1990s, the U.S. Indian Claims Commission awarded the Seminole Nation $16 million for Florida land ceded in the 1823Treaty of Camp Moultrie. A dispute between the Oklahoma and Florida Seminoles immediately arose over how to split the money, which was frozen in a trust fund. ."
By 1991, the interest from the judgment fund had ballooned to $52 million when the U.S. government ordered the money paid. Oklahoma Seminoles. received 75 per-cent, $39 million, while the Florida Seminoles, fewer in number, received 25 per-cent, $13 million.
Black Seminoles were excluded from the judgment.
Thus, they once again find themselves locked in another fight, this time for justice, recognition and the legacy of their forefathers.
It's the type of cause that has drawn people like Wayne Thompson.
Thompson, owner of an Oklahoma City consulting firm and a registered lobbyist, is a Vietnam veteran and a former member of the Black Panthers Liberation: Army. He joined the struggle about two years ago after meeting with Lena Shaw, the leader of the Bruner Black Seminole band who persuaded the articulate lobbyist to join the fight.
"There is an issue of justice and equity," said Thompson, 53. "Justice---I believe in that, no matter who you are. I love this country. I don't always like our government, but I love this country. I believe justice is the glue that holds this country together, for the poor white kid in Kentucky or the poor Latino kid in Texas.
"And without justice, it's the very thing that tears at the fabric of this country."
Thompson also works for nothing more than the' cause.
"Underlying everything is the fact these folks want to be recognized as Seminoles of African descent," Thompson said. It's a cultural issue. They want to be recorded in history.
"You know, this is the kind of thing that inspired. people to walk into fierce dogs for and face bullets for...the type of thing I'm attracted to."
Back to court
Where is the lawsuit now? Back in the court of Miles-LaGrange. The Velie brothers recently submitted. a request for counsel with Miles-LaGrange to review' evidence, but don't expect a meeting until next year.
The judge could settle the dispute once and for all. If she rules against the Black Seminoles, however, the case could be headed for the Supreme Court.
Hope among the Black Seminoles is high.
"I think this has had a positive impact for the Seminoles of African descent," Thompson said. "Finally, there's the realization that their heritage, their culture, and their history has some definition. People are feeling redeemed. Not that they are better than anyone, but that this is justice. "
"We have a lot of problems still to deal with ... but this is a light that shines in the darkness."
For Davis, it's a light that shines on her soul.
"For generations, we have been a forgotten tribe of people," Davis said. "Now, we are no longer a forgotten. People. Now, everyone is learning about who we are. That's a blessing.
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The Cudjoes
Forefather prepared family for challenge
By Ron Jackson for Sunday Oklahoman (Nov. 7, 1999. Sec. A)
Tiny, white dots speckle the man's photograph in the yellowed newspaper article. Creases cut through his face, but not his eyes.
The eyes stare back clearly, almost mesmerizing in their strength. This is how Witty Cudjoe's picture appears in a 1935 Wewoka Times article. When Wilburt Cudjoe looks at the old photograph he sees his grandfather--a man he spent countless hours with as a child. Even more so, he sees a hero. Witty Cudjoe was 105 years old at the time of the interview, or so he guessed. He didn't know when. or where he was born, just someplace on "Deep Fork." Based on his remembrance one can assume he was born around 1830. Witty Cudjoe, a Black Seminole, recalled life among the Seminole Indians in Florida. He remembered the last days of the Second Seminole War and how his grandfather fought for freedom against the invading U.S. Army. He also recalled the long migration of Seminole to Indian Territory. Years later, he returned to the east to fight in the Civil War. "I was on Jeff Davis's side for freedom," the article quoted Witty, meaning he fought under Confederate President Jefferson Davis for a "freedom" not widely understood today. Witty Cudjoe also lived to see Wewoka's founding and the beginning of his days as a Baptist missionary. He quite possibly also saw well into the future, far beyond his death in 1946 at the reported age of 116. Cudjoe, who supposedly couldn't read or write, became a big advocate of education in his old age."I think he knew all his grandsons had gone to school and finished high school," Wilburt Cudjoe said. "He knew we were being educated. He wanted that. He was a pretty wise guy."
Wilburt Cudjoe, 75, believes his grandfather wanted his descendants prepared far the struggles that awaited them. Witty Cudjoe contemned slavery, racism and segregation. Did he sense his descendants would face similar challenges? If so, he was right.Black Seminoles like Wilburt Cudjoe still fight segregation---the type created by the U.S. government. To this day, the U.S. Bureau of' Indian Affairs does not define Black Seminoles---or Black Freedmen---as equal members of the Seminole Nation.
Wilburt Cudjoe says the definition has robbed Black Seminoles of millions in benefits, and the recognition of their cultural identity. "We are Seminoles," Wilburt Cudjoe says flatly with a smile. "The real story hasn't came out yet, but it’s starting to came to light." Wilburt Cudjoe is doing his part. He has been far the past 53 years. During World War II, he and five of his brothers fought far the United States at the same time. There were Harold, Lance and Lawrence [twins who moved to OKC and became very popular basketball coaches. Larry Cudjoe's son attended UCO and became an Omega.] , Wilburt, Alvin and Freeland. Commadore, the youngest brother, served in the Korean War. Wilburt Cudjoe was among the first blacks to join the U.S. Navy, where he proudly served in the Pacific until 1946.At the conclusion .of the war, the Cudjoe brothers came home to yet another war.
Seminole Freedmen were trying to organize their ranks in an effort to receive equal status as Seminole Indians. All six brothers volunteered for "the struggle." The fight continues today in the courts. So do the memories of yesterday's scars. Much .of Witty Cudjoe's land from his government allotment, as well as his mother's, was taken under questionable circumstances. Still, he found the heart to give. "My grandfather once leased 10 acres of his own land to the Seminole School Board," Wilburt Cudjoe said. "They used the land to build a grade school." Despite the contribution, children of Seminole Freedmen had to attend separate schools. Wilburt Cudjoe smiles, "My grandfather must have been a good man to do that." Through the years, the Cudjoes have more than merely endured. They have excelled. Wilburt Cudjoe earned a degree at Langston University and spent 27 years as a teacher and principal at Boley State School for Boys--then a school for wards of the State.In 1947, he married Freezonia Ward, who also went on to graduate from Langston University. Together, they had two daughters, Fredia Patrice and Mildred Janet. Today, both work as teachers.
Alvin Cudjoe worked as an English professor. He is now a retired postal worker.Harold Cudjoe is a retired science teacher, while Commodore is a retired maintenance worker far Oklahoma City Public Schools.
The twins, Lance and Lawrence Cudjoe, earned recognition as basketball standouts at Langston University. They later barnstormed with the Harlem Globetrotters before settling into education careers.
Lawrence Cudjoe became a noted basketball coach at Douglass High School and then finished his career at Langston. Lance Cudjoe coached basketball in Oklahoma City and then worked as an administrator over Oklahoma City junior high schools. Both died in 1994.
Six years before their deaths, the twins traveled to Africa's West Coast where they were received with honors as long-lost brothers of the African Cudjoe clans. "My grandfather had a strong will and vision about things," Wilburt Cudjoe said. "And this is why he wanted us to become educated. We are a family of educators and we love helping people, not just Black Seminoles." Through education, Cudjoe concludes, will come the truth about the struggle of the black Seminoles. Then, and only then, will arrive the justice his people have sought for as long as he can remember. It's a justice that eluded his grandfather, his father and three of his deceased brothers. "I know they're all proud of us," Wilburt Cudjoe said. "Even though they're not here, their spirit is here with us. I think about them every day, and when I get visions or dreams about them I know we're still in contact. A lot of people might not want to hear that, but it's true." A grin invites the inquiring mind to delve further. Yet, he will only offer a teaser. 'The true story will come out about the struggle," Wilburt Cudjoe says. "I believe it will happen. I might not be here when it happens, but it will happen." His eyes say so.###