An Introduction

The Bodewadmi (Potawatomi), Ojibwe (Chippewa), and the Odawa (Ottawa) were once one people, called the Nishnabe, or Original People. Together, the three groups were known as the Three Fires Council, in which each group functioned to serve the Nishnabe as a whole. The Ojibwe were the keepers of the medicine and the Odawa were the keepers of the trade. The Bodewadmi were the keepers of the fire, and the word Potawatomi means “People of the Place of the Fire.”

The Nishnabe originally lived along the Eastern Seaboard, occupying the area from present-day New Brunswick, Canada to the state of Maine. It was during this time that the Nishnabe were visited by seven prophets. Each prophet spoke of a prophecy that would manifest in time. It is from this time forward that the Nishnabe refer to the prophecies as the Seven Fires.

The first six fires described the Nishnabe’s migration from the Atlantic Coast to the Great Lakes Region, and the critical loss of power within their religious medicine society, the Medewiwin Lodge. What they foretold has been interpreted as contact with the Europeans and the devastation that would soon follow: war, loss of lands, religious conversion, forced assimilation, and the rise of boarding schools.

The seventh prophet was the last to visit the Nishnabe. He was noticeably different from the others. He was youthful, vibrant, and spoke with an air of confidence. In the seventh fire, he told of a new people who would come forward to retrace the steps of their elders, gathering all that had been left on the trail for them. He explained that the new people would take what they had gathered and rebuild the old ways of their culture.

We are in the seventh fire. What we have gathered along the trail can be seen within our Cultural Heritage Center and other tribal programs, where we see how the old way of life has shaped the way we live today. This knowledge gathered is a tool used to teach our young ones not only what it means to be Bodewadmi, or Potawatomi, but also Nishnabe.

-“…since time immemorial…”: Timeline History of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation

            The assimilation of indigenous people into Euro-American culture has had the effect of diminishing the physical, cultural, and rhetorical presence of Native Americans throughout American history. Today, the Native essence primarily exists in echoes of generations past—the mixed-blood descendants of the former sovereigns of American soil. With European imperialism perpetually stomping out the traces of Indian history and culture, contemporary mixed-blood Natives often wind up in some sort of identity quagmire; where ethnic dualism exists, one identity may easily overcome the other, and sadly, the identity of the colonizers often becomes the only identity an individual can express (knowingly or unknowingly) to society—and themselves. How can Indians identify themselves as such when all they know of the world, culture, and language exists within the framework of colonization? Can a mixed-blood, white Native American stake any claim in the old ways of their people?

Even I have struggled with the task of identifying myself as Citizen Potawatomi within the confines of Euro-American culture.  The Indian part of me has always been lurking in the background of my projected identity, only coming forward within the closed spaces of strictly Potawatomi attendance and ceremony. When I look in the mirror I see a white woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, and no matter how closely I inspect my face, I can’t see any physical manifestation of Indian ancestry. When I speak, English shapes my worldview: I don’t know Potawatomi. When I try to study Potawatomi, I can’t seem to leave English behind, and I become frustrated with the structure of Potawatomi language, wondering how many consonants can possibly be strung together in one word before a vowel is needed. Is the Indian part of me buried so deeply in the past that I have no right to try to retrieve it?

When I spoke to my father of my conflicting thoughts on my identity as a Potawatomi and a descendant of Europeans, he shook his head and told me that this confusion was necessary: I was supposed to question my identity as a Potawatomi. He said, “Haven’t you heard the story of the seven fires? The prophecies of the Potawatomi?” At this point I hadn’t, and when I told him so, he smiled and continued, “There are seven prophecies, called the seven fires, that were given to the Nishnabe a long time ago. The first six fires told us of the coming of the Europeans and that the Nishnabe would lose their way. But the last fire, the seventh fire, said that a new generation of Potawatomi, of Nishnabe, would seek to revive the old ways and direct the people, who had been lost, back to the original path. You are a part of the seventh fire.” He allowed me to understand something about my heritage that I’d overlooked: that Indian part of me, somewhere in the background of my identity, lingered there for a reason—to come forward in the light of the seventh fire.