From a distance the teardrop-shaped peninsula looks just like any other bit of the famed Hamptons shoreline. Thick woods crowd down to the water’s edge and, through the trees, houses and roads can be glimpsed. But this land is not part of the Hamptons, neither is it really part of the United States anymore. This patch – in the middle of the playground of Manhattan’s social elite – is proudly and fiercely Native American country. Almost four centuries since its first contact with the white man and after a 32-year court battle that has just ended in victory, the tiny Shinnecock tribe has now been formally recognized by America’s federal government. The decision means that the Shinnecock, numbering some 1,300 members, many of whom live in deep poverty compared with their wealthy neighbours, can apply for federal funding to build schools, health centres and set up their own police force. It means its tiny 750-acre reservation is now a semi-sovereign nation within the US, just like much bigger and more famous reservations in the west. In order to qualify, the Shinnecock literally had to prove that it existed, submitting thousands of pages of tribal records. “Why do we need federal recognition to show we are who we are?” said Shinnecock leader Lance Gumbs as he sat in his office in the community centre. “It’s a humiliating, degrading and insensitive process. Why do Indian people have to go through that? No other peoples are treated like that.” Many believe that the lengthy and painful process that the Shinnecock has been forced to go through is explained by the tribe’s position bang in the middle of the Hamptons, the string of Long Island towns where rich New Yorkers come to party away the summers. The difference between Shinnecock land and the rest of the Hamptons is jarring. The reservation, signalled by a line of stalls selling cheap cigarettes, sits side by side with the town of Southampton, heart of the Hamptons scene. On the reservation, some roads are dusty and unpaved. The houses are sometimes ramshackle. Unemployment can be a problem for many Shinnecock members. Outside the reservation, on the streets of Southampton, stretch limos and black Lexuses prowl down streets lined with shops selling Ralph Lauren and Diane von Furstenberg. A real estate agent on Southampton’s main street happily advertises a local house going for $12.2 million. Historically – and indeed pretty much since Europeans first arrived in the area in the 1600s – the Shinnecock has been on the retreat. It lost land steadily as more and more Europeans began to farm its traditional territory, eventually leading to an agreement in 1703 that saw it confined to a broad swath of land around Southampton under a 1,000-year lease. However, in 1859 the pressure of development saw that deal scrapped by the settlers and the Shinnecock reduced to its current tiny holding. For years, tribal members then eked out a living working on white farms or helping local fishermen and whalers.
Now that is all set to change as a key part of federal recognition allows the Shinnecock to do the one thing that has changed Native American fortunes more than anything else in the last 100 years: build a casino. Gumbs now sees real power finally in Shinnecock hands. “We are going after everything we are entitled to,” he said. “I am not a big fan of Southampton. They were happy as long as we were the good little Indians in the corner. Well, that’s changed now.” Some of the Shinnecock feel that federal recognition – and the prospect of a casino – might be the beginning of a wider Shinnecock resurgence. In the white land grab of 1859, an area of land called the Shinnecock Hills was taken. Many Shinnecock held it to be sacred ground. It is now full of rich houses and the famous Shinnecock Hills golf club, with total real estate worth more than a billion dollars. The Shinnecock tribe has sued to get it back.
Source: © Guardian News & Media 2010 First published in The Observer, 11/07/10