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The Magazine

Interview with Rebecca Nagle

Journalist, Writer, and Supporter of DBIWP

Photo Credit: Brittany Bendabout

Rebecca Nagle (pronouns: she/her) is a Two-Spirit/Queer citizen of Cherokee Nation. She has received several awards for her journalism and is a Peabody Award nominee. Her recent book, titled By the Fire We Carry: The Generations-Long Fight for Justice on Native Land, is a national bestseller and finalist for several book prizes, including the National Book Critics Circle Prize and the Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Nonfiction, and winner of the Oklahoma Historical Society’s E. E. Dale Award. By the Fire We Carry tells the story of the ongoing fight for sovereignty and tribal land in Oklahoma through legal means and Indigenous resistance, intertwined with a murder that ultimately resulted in the Supreme Court ruling in favor of Native rights to the land. It is on the Best Books of the Year (2024) list for The New Yorker, Publishers Weekly, NPR, Esquire, Barnes & Noble and Kirkus. She is sharing a copy of her book with DBIWP and graciously agreed to an interview.

Q. I want to ask you about the relationships that connect you to DBIWP programming.

I know Jen [Jen Deerinwater, Executive Director of Crushing Colonialism]. We’re both citizens of Cherokee Nation. And when I lived in Baltimore, the Baltimore/DC Native community is pretty connected. And so I would go down to DC for different powwows or community gatherings, and vice versa . . . and there was a time where we organized for Two-Spirits to march in the Baltimore Pride Parade, and we’re doing some organizing of Two-Spirit people in the DMV [the local term for the National Capital region of Washington, DC/Maryland/Virginia]. And so I knew Jen through that. And [I] have been following what Crushing Colonialism has been up to and all of the good work that you have been doing. And then [I] also learned about DBIWP . . . I’m really excited about the festival.

Q. What would be important about an event such as DBIWP?

I think what’s really important is that often in the context of LGBTQ advocacy, or just general mainstream LGBTQ advocacy, Native people get left out. I think erasure is one of the primary ways that anti-Indigenous racism functions in the United States, and so when it comes to TV, culture, the media, K–12 education, over and over again, Native people are just left out. I think you see the same thing happen when it comes to critical discussions about contemporary issues. So when we’re talking about what is it to be LGBTQ in the United States in 2025, Native people are often left out of those conversations. But we have unique histories, unique cultures, unique strengths, and unique challenges that really need to be recognized. So I think it’s really important that during world pride, there’s space set aside for Native folks.

Q. Has your perspective on DBIWP and events like this shifted over time or within the current political context?

Unfortunately, with what is happening with the Trump administration and our country’s movement towards authoritarianism, as with many prior authoritarian regimes, a lot of that movement is based on building out scapegoats. And I don’t think I’m the only person saying that. But during the election, and now that Trump has come to power, I think the primary scapegoats are immigrants and trans people. coming together to also center the most vulnerable members of our community.

Q. Could you share your reflections on the significance of DBIWP through the lens of your work?

I’m a journalist and a writer, and I tend to focus on legal issues that impact tribes and tribal sovereignty. And I do long form journalism. I just did a book. And do in depth reporting on cases and things like that. But I have done some reporting specifically about Native LGBTQ issues. It’s something that’s different that I think a lot of people don’t think about. I think that there’s a misunderstanding that tribes have less homophobia and less transphobia. And I think that that was true historically, prior to colonization. But colonization had a really big and negative impact on our community. And sometimes in Native communities, because of that impact of colonization, the homophobia and the transphobia can be even stronger in Native communities, and we have a lot of work to do to undo the impacts of colonization, and even to reclaim some of those traditional knowledge bases that we had where Two-Spirit people were even celebrated. But also, we’re important

It’s not just about the celebration, but we’re recognizing important members of our community, and oftentimes even had specific roles. So I think that there can be a lack of understanding, sometimes with non-Native people, where there can be an excitement or an interest in some of those traditional teachings that maybe are less homophobic or less transphobic without an understanding of where Native people and Native communities are at now. And so, I do some advocacy. I’m on the board of an emerging and growing and developing new Two-Spirit national organization. And we’ve done some surveys and some listening in the Native community, and one of the big things that we’re hearing are people talking about access to things like ceremony and access to community and feeling really isolated as LGBTQ people in their Native communities. So I think there’s just still a lot of work to do that is tribally specific. That’s specific to tribes and tribal citizens that often gets left out of the mainstream Native or mainstream LGBTQ conversations.

Q. Can you speak on the ways that being a citizen of the Cherokee Nation, has impacted the work that you do: the journalism, the activism, all of these pieces?

Absolutely. Quite a lot. My writing really focuses on tribal sovereignty and Federal Indian law. And so what I choose to write about and what I focus on is really impacted by that. Then, beyond that, I’m lucky. There’s a long history in my tribe, especially with the Cherokee Phoenix, of Native journalism, and Native writing, and so I think often about not only how my identity motivates my work, but how my work is situated within a long tradition of Indigenous journalism and history and scholarship, and intellectual thought and activism, and I’m just really humbled to be a small part of that.

Q. And have you experienced supports for that? For the work that you’re doing within Indigenous community?

Yeah, absolutely. I’ve had some recognition here, locally in Oklahoma. Within my tribe and among Native journalists and organizations. But often the coolest thing that I experience is people in my community coming up to me and saying that my podcast or my book helped them understand something that they didn’t understand. I think these court cases and these legal issues can be really opaque, and actually the opaqueness and the way that the law and Supreme Court cases can be hard to understand is one way that inequity works. The people whose lives these laws have a big impact on don’t even really understand what they are or how they work. And so one of my big goals as a journalist is to make those complicated and opaque systems understandable. It shouldn’t be that you have to have a law degree to understand how the law impacts your life; it impacts all of us. That, for me, is the biggest affirmation; running into people being “Oh, my gosh, I learned so much from your podcast,” other tribal citizens who feel they learned things, because that’s really my goal is that piece of public education.

Q. I’m wondering if you’ve had support for your work through the Queer community specifically.

Personally, I’ve been attending Two-Spirit events since I was in my mid-twenties. So there’s Two-Spirit gatherings and powwows and different places where the Native LGBTQ community comes together, and those have been really really important for my personal development.

I remember the first time I went to a Two-Spirit gathering, I didn’t even know I needed this space, but I needed it so much. And yeah, those spaces for me—just on an emotional level and a spiritual level—are very healing and really important. And so, the ways that our communities come together and take care of each other is really really important.

Q. Have you found that also within the broader LGBTQ community?

My experience with the non-Native LGBTQ community has been mixed. I think there have been some aspects of my work, and who I am as a person, where I have felt really supported in that community. And there have been times that I have felt really erased as a Native person. Or just dealing with people. I remember I was at a Queer dance party, and this drunk white Lady wanted to tell me about the racist craft she did at Summer Camp when she was a kid. And I was like what? Why am I supposed to be listening to this right now? And so stuff that is part of the experience.

And I had an experience that I think is similar to a lot of Native people. I didn’t grow up on my reservation, but I grew up in a more conservative area close to the reservation, and I went to an East coast city and then was “Oh, it’s so much easier to be Queer here.” But then other aspects of my identity were harder in those places, and I think that that’s a really common experience for Native LGBTQ. People who might be in more conservative parts of the country go to those cities for Queer community or, especially for our trans relatives, for safety. And then not find a community that is affirming of the other aspects of our identity. So I would say my experience is mixed.

Q. I’m hoping you can talk about more of the themes in your work.

I’ve hosted two seasons of a podcast called This Land. The first season was about a Supreme Court case that resulted in the largest restoration of tribal land in US history called McGirt. It affirmed a bunch of reservations here in Eastern Oklahoma and centered around the status of the Muskogee Reservation, and it actually started as a murder in 1999. 

And my book By the Fire We Carry also covers that same case, and it intersperses with the story of how this murder went all the way to the Supreme Court. It goes back and forth in history and talks about our tribes, removal from our homelands in the southeast to what is now Oklahoma, and then how Oklahoma was illegally created on top of that treaty territory. And so my work really focuses on the law, these court cases, but also themes of Indigenous resistance, and how Indigenous people have fought back and helped shape those laws. And I also write a lot about what all of that means for us, democracy, and what that means for our histories—and what these legacies mean for our country.

Q. And if you had one take home message for IndigiQueer or Two-Spirit folks who are going to be attending DBIWP. What would it be?

I would always just say that there’s community out there, and that sometimes the first or second, or even third place that we look for community can let us down, and that those experiences can be really hard when we don’t feel fully seen or accepted, but that there’s community out there that is ready to love you and accept you.

Q. And if you had any messages for the allies who might be attending DBIWP?

There’s a lot of work that we have to do to make our LGBTQ spaces more inclusive of Native people. And so coming to something like this is a good first step, and we should continue to talk about what other things we can do moving forward.

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