In The Shadow of Wounded Knee


  • Photographer
    Aaron Huey
  • Prize
    2nd Place / Editorial/Photo Essay and Feature Story
  • Date of Photograph
    Published Aug 2012

The Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, located 75 miles south east of the Black Hills in South Dakota, is sometimes referred to as Prisoner of War Camp #344, and is now the home of the Oglala Lakota. Sadly, Pine Ridge is now the quintessential example of the failure of the U.S. reservation system, with staggering statistics on everything from violent crime to education. The unemployment rate is nearly 90% and the life expectancy for men is 48, roughly the same as Afghanistan and Somalia. After 150 years of broken promises, the Oglala Lakota people Pine Ridge are nurturing their tribal customs, language, and beliefs. A rare, intimate portrait shows their resilience in the face of hardship.

Story

On December 29th, 1890, the US 7th Cavalry surrounded a Sioux encampment at Wounded Knee Creek in South Dakota and massacred Chief Spotted Elk and 300 prisoners of war. For the so-called "battle," 20 Congressional Medals of Honor for Valor were awarded. More than for any battle in World War One, World War Two, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq or Afghanistan.
The Wounded Knee massacre was considered the end of the Indian wars.
Today the Oglala Lakota live in the shadow of Wounded Knee In American Prisoner of War Camp #344, now known as the the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.
I started photographing on Pine Ride in 2005 as part of a superficial story about poverty in America. In beginning it was just statistics: 90% unemployment, a %70 school dropout rate, and a male life expectancy of 47, roughly the same as Afghanistan and Somalia.
Over time it became clear to me that those statistics came from a deep historical wound. And then it became a story about a prisoner of war camp, a story about genocide, a story about stolen lands.
7 years after beginning this project, the story and my relationships there are more complex than ever. Today the story has evolved to be about my family, the people who call me brother and nephew and uncle.
I stumbled into something sacred on the Reservation. It took my eyes a long time to see that, but my heart knew it right away. I don’t know which part was the ceremony. I think, maybe, it was the whole thing.

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