The Magazine

A digital illustration depicts the Kichwa celebration of Inti Raymi beneath a dark, moonlit sky. In the foreground, a woman wearing a white embroidered blouse, gold earrings and necklaces, red bracelets, and dark sunglasses plays a harmonica. Beside her stands a dancer wearing a vibrant purple ceremonial mask with yellow features, a long red tongue, and a colorful headdress, wrapped in a deep blue poncho with a long black braid draped over one shoulder. Soft ribbons of green and purple light swirl around the figures, suggesting movement, music, and spiritual energy. In the background, the silhouette of a mountain and tall grasses frame the scene, evoking the Andean landscape and the ceremonial atmosphere of Inti Raymi.

September 2, 2026

Intywan Punllayanchik: We Rise With the Sun Inti Raymi: A Living Celebration of Kichwa Memory, Identity, and Continuity

Every June for a whole week, I dance under the moon and watch the sun come out. My heartbeat aligns to the rhythm of the earth; my feet stomp to each beat.

Winona Nelson, an Indigenous artist, carefully stitches beadwork onto an embroidery hoop while holding a needle and thread. Wearing glasses and concentrating on the piece, the artist works on a floral design that combines painted imagery with intricate beadwork, highlighting the precision and craftsmanship of the process.

September 2, 2026

Beading My Way Home

Beadwork is a longstanding artistic tradition of the Ojibwe people. Our love of style and flair goes back a long time.

A turquoise beaded belt featuring colorful geometric Kiowa-inspired designs and a rainbow-striped center is displayed on a white table. Below it are the artist registration form and a blue First Place ribbon from the Hunting Horse Kiowa Art Show, recognizing the belt in the Contemporary Style category.

September 2, 2026

Joy Tonepahhote: Carrying On the Kiowa Beadwork Tradition

Award-winning Kiowa bead artist Joy Tonepahhote (Kiowa name Autoimah, “woman with a good heart”) has had her work exhibited at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian and other museums across the “United States.”

An elderly man sits in the living room of his home, dressed in traditional attire and surrounded by family heirlooms and decorative objects. On a wooden table in front of him are two pairs of handcrafted silver footwear—a pair of silver nagras and a pair of ornate silver wedding sandals—highlighting the enduring cultural significance of these traditional crafts. A glass display cabinet filled with ceramics and antiques stands behind him, while patterned cushions and floral curtains frame the warmly decorated room.

September 2, 2026

The Last Keepers of a Silver Legacy

Naseem Jahan, a resident of Lakhnau (a city in northern India renowned for its centuries-old crafts, Nawabi culture, rich history, and celebrated cuisine), owns almost nothing that the world would consider valuable.

Indigenous Ulama player known as “Nu” stands barefoot on the bleachers beside a playing field, holding a heavy rubber ball. He wears traditional playing attire, including a protective hip wrap and loincloth, and looks directly at the camera as a chain-link fence and the Ulama field stretch out behind him.

September 2, 2026

Ullamaliztli: The Hip Ball Game Indigenous Sports as Refuge

Long before modern sports filled stadiums, Indigenous Peoples across the Americas developed games that carried history, ceremony, and community traditions from one generation to the next.

An Elder Maasai woman sits outdoors on the red earth of Northern Tanzania creating traditional Maasai beadwork called Engoti. She wears traditional Maasai clothing while carefully threading beads by hand. Small containers of beads and tools are placed beside her.

September 2, 2026

Growing Up Maasai in a Changing World

Before I knew the meaning of tradition, I was already living it. Growing up on the plains of Mount Kilimanjaro in Northern Tanzania, I learned through my mother’s songs, the voices of my Elders, and the stories that shaped me as a Maasai girl.

A woman stands smiling to the right of her open closet, displaying a selection of colorful vintage dresses. She is wearing a two-tone turquoise Muʻumuʻu with darker blue flowers printed on a light blue base. The dress has puffed sleeves and buttons down the front. She is wearing a necklace made of purple sea urchin spikes, a woven brown hat with a brown and blue feathered lei wrapped around the brim, and a mix of gold, jade, pearl, and lauhala bracelets down her arms. Her hair is pinned up, and she is wearing button earrings made of Niʻihau shells. There is a lamp on the other side of the closet covered in a bright pinkish-red crochet. A circular mirror hangs behind, with hooks under it, displaying her necklace collection.

September 2, 2026

Lole o ka Lā: Hawaiian Resilience Through Fashion

“…and this is my lole o ka lā!” The refrain echoes throughout Hawaiʻi’s expanding social media presence as more and more young Native Hawaiians take to Instagram and TikTok to show off their #LoleOKaLā (outfit of the day) for the annual Merrie Monarch Festival

September 2, 2026

What Survival Looks Like Now: Indigenous Traditions as Living Practice, Not Preservation

There is a particular kind of violence that comes with being spoken of only in the past tense. For generations, Indigenous cultures across the “United States” and beyond have been described by outsiders as “vanishing,” deemed as artifacts to be salvaged before they disappear entirely.

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