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Comment on Restoring Native Health Through Food and Land by Emily Halapatz

Дата публикации: 25-06-2026 22:08:47

A wonderful article! I am heartened to hear about Danielle Antelope and FAST Blackfeet, little by little restoring their native food system with a comprehensive approach. And I do hope the Western food system wakes up soon!
Emily

Основное содержимое страницы с новостью.

On the Blackfeet Reservation, Danielle Antelope uses the power of storytelling and Indigenous foodways to undo generations of harm.

Danielle Antelope, executive director of FAST Blackfeet, on Blackfeet land. (Photo credit: Mariah Gladstone)

Danielle Antelope, co-director of FAST Blackfeet, on Blackfeet land. (Photo credit: Mariah Gladstone)

Photograph by Mariah Gladstone (Blackfeet-Cherokee)

Okii nistoo Astanski nitaniko Danielle Antelope. Nitsitupi Aasitta. Nitsitapi Amskapi Piikuni. My name is Comes-in-Singing. I am called Danielle Antelope. I am from the foot of the Rockies in Browning, Montana, and I’m Amskapi Piikani, which is misnamed Blackfeet.

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I’m born and raised on the Blackfeet Rez. I grew up very different than a lot of people, and I’m fortunate for it. I grew up having picnics and harvesting trips out on the land, roasting kidney and sweetbreads over the fire, and having peppermint tea that we’d just all harvested the night before and dried out in the sun while we fished all day. That’s when I felt the most surrounded by love and connection, being out on the land.

Now I’m the co-director of FAST Blackfeet, which stands for Food Access Sustainability Team. We’re a nonprofit organization focused on food security, nutrition education, and food sovereignty.

One of the key things we do here is provide access to traditional foods by going out on the land. Recently I led a workshop called Little Harvesters, and we took a bunch of kids out to learn about dandelion. We taught them how the leaves are like spinach for the Blackfeet—so high in iron—and about how Popeye loves spinach and how it makes them strong. We showed them how to identify dandelion. It looks like the sun when it’s bloomed, and then when it switches to a puffball of seeds, it’s the moon, and when you blow it, the seeds look like the stars. So if the kids could identify a dandelion as a sun or a moon, they could start looking for the leaves around that area, the ones with “lion’s teeth” on the edges.

“One of the key things we do here is provide access to traditional foods by going out on the land.”

We talked to the kids about different ways you could eat the leaves—like a kale chip, raw in salads, in smoothies, or sautéed, like spinach. It wasn’t just the kids that I was focused on, though, it was the parents too, and making it all feel attainable.

The reason why peppermint tea and kidney feel so good to me is because those are the foods that my family ate for generations, it’s connected to my genes. When we have those opportunities for our community members, it brings back good connections. Those kids are all going to remember dandelions, that’s for sure.

My Family’s Story

A few days ago I did a presentation here in the community about the change in our Indigenous food systems, and the best way to relate that history was to tell it through my family’s story. As soon as I said, “My mom’s Ella Wall, and she’s worked at the bus garage for 20-plus years,” and  “My grandma is Theresa Wall. I grew up going on plant trips with her,” people locked in and started to listen, because now I was relatable to them—they could recognize who I came from. They all wanted to hear, because the story I was going to tell was going to be very similar to their family stories.

We think about the change in our food system as if it’s in the dinosaur days, I told them, and it’s not, it’s three generations back.

My great-grandmother was Annie Mad Plume Wall, who gave me my name Comes-in-Singing and went on plant trips with us in my childhood. She was born in a tipi in 1914 and raised by her grandmother on the land with the language, with the seasonality, with the connection to our food system and our plants. Diabetes did not exist in her generation.

Then she got taken to boarding school. We have a picture in my family that is a visual of when culture, identity, and food and health changed for us. It shows my great-grandmother when she came back from the school in 1930. Her hair is cut and she’s wearing a buttoned-up shirt and a skirt with tights and flats, while her grandmother standing next to her is still in traditional regalia and moccasins.

“Plant knowledge was the magic; that’s what kept her connected.”

Even though she was forced to learn the language and cut off from family and culture, my great-grandmother protected her plant knowledge. Sometimes I imagine it, her being in boarding school and studying the plants because she knew her grandma on the other side of the boarding school fence was also looking at the same plants.

Plant knowledge was the magic; that’s what kept her connected. And she passed that down to our next generations. Even if she couldn’t pass down language or dancing or ceremony, she passed down what she knew was safe for us to learn, something that we could keep within our family.

Her daughter, my grandma Theresa Wall, grew up on rations from the government. This was decades after the U.S. had issued an order to massacre the buffalo, our primary food source, to starve the Indians so they would comply with reservation boundaries. I remember my grandmas saying they’d dump out the government flour because it had bugs, and it was purposeful, the government wanted to make them sick.

My Grandma Theresa was angry, very angry, because she had diabetes. She would tell the doctor, You did this to us, this is what you wanted, as she was getting ready to go to surgery to get amputations higher and higher up her leg. As a kid, I didn’t understand what she meant—how did this doctor we never met before do this to her?

It wasn’t until I grew up and learned about the change in our food system that I was like, Ah, she’s grouping him with all the people that did this to our food system, that colonized our land. And I saw how the foods she had to eat because she couldn’t go out and harvest and hunt affected her health. She had nine kids, and eight of them have diabetes, now including my mom.

My mom, Ella Wall, was born in 1974, and she says she’s the frozen-pizza generation. She had to survive being a single mom with four kids, navigating a food-insecure world with pizzas and chicken patties and chicken nuggets and burritos.

My generation gets to be the rebellious-advocate generation. One of the key reasons I went back in my family story was for my kids, so they wouldn’t have to ask me the same things I asked my mom, who felt guilty by the end of my questions and said, “I’m so sorry that I didn’t do anything sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that diabetes was being passed down like this, due to lack of changing the way that we eat.”

I tell people that in Indian Country, you cannot say, “You should be healthy, you should be walking, you should be eating salads, you should be eating white chicken meat.” Because then you create this stigma, and this idea that we should be like the people who get to be the healthy population.

Instead, you tell them that the government purposely tried to get us to be sick, that they want us to be sick—but we’re actually really healthy people, and if we go back on the land and we’re picking berries or learning how to harvest buffalo and moving our bodies, we’re getting healthy foods that go back into our homes.

Foods with omega-6 cause inflammation, and because we have so much heart disease and arthritis in our communities, we really need to eat omega-3 foods again, and that’s our fish, our wild game, and our buffalo that’s back on the land. They are absolutely superior to beef and pork and chicken, which are all non-traditional proteins. Eating traditional foods again, harvesting on the land, makes people feel like they’re sticking it to the man.

Our Purpose at FAST Blackfeet

I joined FAST Blackfeet when I was transferring from Blackfeet Community College to Montana State University, where I got a degree in sustainable food and bioenergy systems. I served as a board member for four years while I was going to school. I was the only crazy student who would do homework and then a board meeting and then go home and take care of my kid and make dinner.

Being a board member helped me implement my experience. For example, when my mom applied for food stamps when raising all of us, she missed the income eligibility by $7. That’s one of the main reasons we do a need-based food pantry here. You don’t have to prove that you’re poor enough to need support.

The food insecurity rate on the Blackfeet Reservation is 69 percent, which means at the grocery store our people pick cheaper foods, which are less nutrient-dense. So we prioritize healthy and culturally relevant foods in our pantry, including buffalo meat from our Growing Health Program. When we do a buffalo harvest, we ask for all the premium cuts-—and that’s because we want people to feel the luxury of going home with a buffalo steak and remembering that this is who we are.

“We prioritize healthy and culturally relevant foods in our pantry, including buffalo meat from our Buffalo Program.”

One of the things that we learned from my mom, when we dropped off our first beautiful box of great healthy pantry foods at her house, was that one of the food traumas in her generation was not being able to cook scratch foods. She looked at the box and said, “To be honest, my girl, I wouldn’t know how to cook that buffalo meat, or that beet, or those sweet potatoes.” So our dietitian on staff started doing recipes for all the pantry foods.

The nutrition education team does samples, too, and it’s always featuring the hard ingredient in the pantry.

If people are skipping the beets or they’re skipping the lentils or the chickpeas, we’ll make a recipe with it, so it’ll smell like food when they come in. Then they’re more likely to grab a sample and it eliminates that barrier to cooking it and liking it.

Seeing our dietitian is different from seeing one outside our community. Ours meets with you and your family and tells you about all three of our programs: the food pantry, the nutrition education program and all the cooking classes and nutrition lessons coming up, and the growing health program, where we do buffalo harvests and on the land workshops, teaching people how to harvest plants—plus all kinds of garden workshops.

She gives you produce vouchers too, $80 a month, and $30 in buffalo vouchers, for use at any grocery store on the reservation. The three programs together are supposed to provide people with food, teach people about that food, and show people where food comes from.

When my mom missed food stamps by $7, she had no place to go. Now our community has all of these resources.

It’s such a good feeling to see people go through all three of our programs—to  start in the food pantry and then see a signup for a cooking class and do that, and then decide to do the gardening or go on the land or come to a buffalo harvest. Actually our office manager, nutrition education specialist, growing health program manager, outreach specialist, and co-director all participated in the programs here at FAST Blackfeet before they joined the staff. I’m so grateful for it, because they work with so much more intention and purposefulness.

When you show up to a tea blending class, you’re caring for your community, when you donate your kill to the pantry, you’re caring for your community. Those are all Blackfeet ways we’ve practiced for millennia, and it’s really special that FAST Blackfeet gets to be this incubation place for that, and it’s only going to expand.

Because of this work, I’ve seen my siblings and my mom changing the way that they eat and the way that they think about health. My own kids are foodies and have been exposed to traditional foods early. They love smoothies, and to make them I keep a supply of frozen sarvisberries (serviceberries) that we harvest through the season; it’s the main berry that everyone knows in our area still.

My kids are really good about eating dandelion leaves out in the field, too. I’ll tell them that they have to at least eat three, because three is enough for them to have their bitter food for the day. One of the things that we eliminate out of the American diet are bitter foods. We like really sweet and salty foods, but bitter foods help us release toxins.

The kids in this community get exposed to knowledge so much sooner now. At FAST Blackfeet, we can think up something cool, like the Little Harvesters class, and then throw it on. We are a community-built organization for the community.

A Better Food System

If we stop buying spinach, and we actually start to have dandelion greens in our grocery stores and have people out harvesting dandelion greens, we then enhance our relationship to the land. And we should be excited about having region-based food systems.

This is why the sustainable food system major matched me so well—because it loops back around to Native people. On the first day of class, we were talking about yields and sustainability, and that we are now in a time of high yield, low sustainability, and the future of the food system relies on us being high yield, high sustainability.

By the end of that class, we were discussing how we have to go back to the practices of this land, we have to go back to the ways that foods naturally grow here, and we will have to rely on the knowledge of the tribal people of each of those areas. And I was like, Holy Smokes. That day I knew that I was in the right place, because I was like, they know, they’re teaching it in class, that the survival of the food system relies on changing the goddang food system across the board. And on recognizing that what you did was wrong, and that there’s still time to do it the right way. We just need more leadership that thinks like that.

Food sovereignty is really the ability to feed ourselves in a healthy and sustainable way, and when tribal nations have that again, then we’ll get to be examples of sustainable, balanced, in-tune food systems for when the Western food system is ready to wake up.

Danielle-Antelope-mug-1-150x150.jpg

Danielle is a member of the Blackfeet Nation and Eastern Shoshone Nation. She was born and raised in Browning, Montana. Read more >

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