Written while employed on Alcatraz Island by the Golden Gate National Parks Conservancy, October 2022

Alcatraz in a New Light: Reflections on the Indigenous Peoples’ Day Sunrise Gathering

In August 2022, I started working on Alcatraz in the museum gift store, selling snow globes and replicas of tin cups. I ended up in this position when I least expected to, and didn’t anticipate staying long. But the beauty of the island has been enough to make it one of the most exciting jobs I’ve ever had: Be it foggy or clear, windy or still, the cement cellhouse and crumpling ruins of the old guard apartments are a spectacle to behold, complemented by the colorful gardens upkept by Parks Conservancy staff and circled by the island’s robust bird populations. I have so enjoyed the beauty of this environmentally and historically rich place, and when I learned about the biannual Indigenous People’s Day Sunrise Gathering in October, I jumped at the opportunity to attend. Not only did I yearn to see dawn from the rock, but also to witness such an important piece of the island’s history come to life so vividly in real time.

The Indigenous People’s Day Sunrise Gathering, an event organized by the International Indian Treaty Council, commemorates the 1969-71 occupation of the island by the Indians of All Tribes. Each year, on Indigenous People’s Day and Thanksgiving Day, hundreds of people ferry to the island under the thick blanket of night to listen to readings and to see Indigenous Nations dancers perform and sing songs around a ceremonial fire as the sun rises over the bay. This Indigenous Peoples’ Day, I was one of those hundreds.

I ride the ferry five days a week to get to work but I have never seen the vessel as alive as it was that October morning. When I arrived at the pier at 3:30 a.m., a crowd of people were already gathered at Alcatraz Landing, eagerly awaiting admittance. Though bundled up in the cold of the early morning, it was easy for me to spot that many were clad in tribal attire, either patterned ponchos thrown over sweatshirts or colorful layered skirts peeking out beneath padded windbreakers. Despite the obscene hour and the frigidity of the Embarcadero in autumn, there were smiling faces, laughter, and singing. I bought a ticket and stood in line to board the first boat, which departed at 4:30 a.m.

Rather than boarding to the sound of shuffling feet and idle chatter, I stepped into the boat to find it pulsing with the rhythmic sound of drums. Seating had been cleared to make room for a group of drummers, who sat in a cluster and played in unison, eyes closed, complementing the percussion with pulsating vocalization. A crowd was gathered around them, singing along, heads bopping. The boat was packed. I made my way to the top deck, which was open to the air, and as the boat departed, cutting through wind and water, I could feel the beat of the drums below through my shoes.

When we arrived at the dock, Alcatraz loomed magnificently above us, and a hush fell over the ferry. The drums ceased to beat; chatter quieted to an awed silence. All heads on the top deck looked upwards at the island, the red paint that marks the occupation’s history there nearly shining through the misty morning, and in the silence of the onlookers was a touching respect, a quiet pride.

How incredibly special to return to this place, to take off into the night to the rock in the Bay, just as the Indians of All Tribes had done five decades ago, in the early morning hours on November 20th, 1969. So much had come from the occupation; Alcatraz holds such profound significance to Indigenous people’s continuing struggle for recognition and justice. This was clear from the reactions of the ferry’s passengers when we arrived that morning, more than a few wiping a tear from their eye as the deckhands tossed rope and secured the ramp to let us off the boat.

The crowd walked together to the island’s Parade Ground, the beating drums leading the procession. There, the fire was already burning, and a circle formed around it, people of all ages opting to sit or stand—so long as the flame was visible, any seat was a good one. Above the fire, the lighthouse and the remains of the Warden’s House towered on the cliffside, the sweeping lighthouse beam keeping rhythm with the drums. The ceremony began, a mix of readings, dedications, shared memories, and many song and dance performances. It was around 5:15 a.m. when the ceremony began – they kept on through the slowly lightening morning, thanking Morning Star at every pause, until the sun arose on the east side of the bay’s fog and night had again become day.

In Alcatraz’s Red Power Exhibit, located in the spacious New Industries Building, the stories of the 1969 occupation are told thorough artifacts, video interviews, photographs, and written mementos. My first week working on the island, I was instructed to walk through the exhibit, to read and see all that the collection had to offer. It is an incredibly moving exhibit; the pain of their sufferings evident in the bold strokes of their art, the determination of their protests made clear by the voices who play on the looping news reels, and the joy of their successes present in their smiles, photographed in black and white as they stand before the old guard quarters, the red painted words above them welcoming their people home. The exhibit does well to tell their stories and express the importance of the 1969 occupation, but attending the sunrise gathering brought those stories and that importance to life.

When I’m working at the Alcatraz Dock Gift Store, I’m a short distance away from the podium where NPS Park Rangers give an orientation speech to arriving visitors. I hear the speech every thirty minutes or so, often enough that I feel confident I could give it myself. The people shuffle down the boat ramp and form a circle around the Ranger, who narrates an introduction to the island. Sometimes, they will begin by telling the story of the Indigenous people on Alcatraz, the occupation they bravely led in pursuit of their rightful claims to the land. The Rangers tell the visitors, many of whom are there to see the cellhouse, hear stories of prisoners, and take photos of the infamous dummy heads, that Alcatraz wouldn’t be what it is today without the bravery and persistence of Indigenous people.

The Rangers commend the Indians of All Tribes and emphasize the importance of their history on the island, and as the visitors stand and listen, their eyes drifting upwards to the big sign that once read “United States Property,” but is now slathered in red paint to scream, “Indian Land – United Indian Property,” we hope that their appreciation for Alcatraz Island includes a respect for the people who had the land first, fought for it when it’d been taken away, and now gather to celebrate the triumph of a culture that cannot be squashed nor stolen.