
‘A land that our ancestors walked': L.A. County tribe wins land back for the first time
On paper, it was a relatively ordinary transaction (except maybe for the $0 price tag); however, for the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians based in Los Angeles and Orange counties, it was anything but: For the first time in centuries, a piece of their ancestral territory belongs to them.
'There were books when my daughters were in grammar school and high school that stated we were extinct,' said Art Morales, an elder and historian in the tribe. To Morales, persevering through that long, painful history is what makes the agreement so significant: The tribe is 'basically on the map now.'
The lot, previously owned by the Presbytery of San Gabriel — a unit of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), one of the largest Presbyterian denominations in the U.S. — hosts offices, a kitchen and a community space, as well as an outdoor patio and green space.
Now, under the ownership of the tribe, led by the Gabrieleno Tongva Tribal Council, the space will host cultural ceremonies, government meetings, programming for tribal youth and a community food bank.
Unlike tribes with federal recognition, the hundreds without it have no direct legal means to negotiate with the U.S. government for reservations. Instead, they often set up nonprofit organizations to acquire land through agreements with private organizations or states.
In California, many tribes have found it difficult to secure federal recognition. They had to survive through three different occupying governments: Spain, Mexico and the U.S.
The U.S. government negotiated numerous agreements with California tribes that it has repeatedly failed to uphold — often because the state got in the way. In the late 19th century, a federal effort to send surveyors throughout the state to create reservations for California mission tribes began in San Diego but lost steam by the time it reached Los Angeles.
The result is that even to this day, tribes without land — including the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians until this July — have had to find a venue (often local parks) and get all the proper permissions and permits any time they wanted to hold a public gathering.
'Everything is very labor-intensive on our part just so that we can actually engage in our culture,' said Kimberly Johnson, secretary for the tribe. 'This breaks that barrier, and folks know they can go at any time and be together. I think, right now, people need each other more than anything.'
Long before the lot was a community center, it sat in Siban'gna.
Siban'gna was a village of the First Peoples in the region. Nestled along the river, it was home to a few hundred individuals. Dome-shaped homes covered in tule, called ki, dotted the landscape.
In 1771, Spanish priests tasked with establishing church footholds in the region decided to build what would become the San Gabriel Mission near the village. 'When the padres came through … they used the words 'a land of abundance.' They use words like 'water flowing' and 'food' and 'happiness,'' said Johnson.
To execute the mission project, they exerted control of the Native communities and forced Indigenous people — many of whose descendants now refer to themselves as Gabrieleno, a term derived from the mission — into labor to construct and maintain the mission.
After the United States took over in the 19th century, it began using a different method of control: Red-lining maps made it impossible for residents in low-rated areas to obtain mortgages and discouraged businesses from investing in the areas where Indigenous people lived.
Indeed, the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians' newly recovered land received the lowest possible rating at the time. In the assessment, the neighborhood was described as 'a menace to this whole section,' noting 'pressure is being exerted to confine the population and keep it from infiltrating into other districts.'
Now, over 250 years after the Spanish first settled in current-day Los Angeles, the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians — one of several Gabrieleno tribes acknowledged by the state — has finally gained a toehold back.
'To be able to connect to a land that our ancestors walked is very powerful,' said Johnson. 'The land that we lived on — and had a village on — that we worked on, we were then told, 'It's illegal for you to own that land.' So to see it come full circle back to us again, it's very healing.'
When the Presbytery of San Gabriel began exploring options for the former community center site, Mona Recalde, who runs community outreach for the tribe and is deeply involved with the church, asked whether it would consider a land return.
'When Mona asked … for just about everybody in the Presbyterian, it was an instantaneous recognition of how much sense this made,' said Wendy Tajima, executive presbyter, or spiritual leader, of the church.
For Tajima, it seemed like a way to make good on the promise of land acknowledgment — the church, instead of just paying lip service to past land grabs, could actually ameliorate some of the harm Christian institutions like the mission caused in the past.
The tribe hopes other religious institutions (including the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel just down the street) will follow the presbytery's lead.
The church and the tribe held a ceremony commemorating the agreement at the tribe's new Gabrieleno Tongva Tribal Center at Siban'gna on Aug. 2.
As Presbyterian ceremonies gave way to the Gabrielenos', an emotional Tajima couldn't help but feel the tribe's deep-rooted connection to the land rekindling in real time.
When the tribe 'started to burn the sage … that's when it hit me,' she said. 'This was a public witness of the first time that they could practice their traditions. They could be who they are and not have to ask anybody else.'
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Los Angeles Times
3 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
‘A land that our ancestors walked': L.A. County tribe wins land back for the first time
On July 10, a church signed the deeds transferring a half-acre of land hosting a community center in the heart of San Gabriel — less than a mile down the road from the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel — to an Indigenous tribe's nonprofit. On paper, it was a relatively ordinary transaction (except maybe for the $0 price tag); however, for the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians based in Los Angeles and Orange counties, it was anything but: For the first time in centuries, a piece of their ancestral territory belongs to them. 'There were books when my daughters were in grammar school and high school that stated we were extinct,' said Art Morales, an elder and historian in the tribe. To Morales, persevering through that long, painful history is what makes the agreement so significant: The tribe is 'basically on the map now.' The lot, previously owned by the Presbytery of San Gabriel — a unit of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), one of the largest Presbyterian denominations in the U.S. — hosts offices, a kitchen and a community space, as well as an outdoor patio and green space. Now, under the ownership of the tribe, led by the Gabrieleno Tongva Tribal Council, the space will host cultural ceremonies, government meetings, programming for tribal youth and a community food bank. Unlike tribes with federal recognition, the hundreds without it have no direct legal means to negotiate with the U.S. government for reservations. Instead, they often set up nonprofit organizations to acquire land through agreements with private organizations or states. In California, many tribes have found it difficult to secure federal recognition. They had to survive through three different occupying governments: Spain, Mexico and the U.S. The U.S. government negotiated numerous agreements with California tribes that it has repeatedly failed to uphold — often because the state got in the way. In the late 19th century, a federal effort to send surveyors throughout the state to create reservations for California mission tribes began in San Diego but lost steam by the time it reached Los Angeles. The result is that even to this day, tribes without land — including the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians until this July — have had to find a venue (often local parks) and get all the proper permissions and permits any time they wanted to hold a public gathering. 'Everything is very labor-intensive on our part just so that we can actually engage in our culture,' said Kimberly Johnson, secretary for the tribe. 'This breaks that barrier, and folks know they can go at any time and be together. I think, right now, people need each other more than anything.' Long before the lot was a community center, it sat in Siban'gna. Siban'gna was a village of the First Peoples in the region. Nestled along the river, it was home to a few hundred individuals. Dome-shaped homes covered in tule, called ki, dotted the landscape. In 1771, Spanish priests tasked with establishing church footholds in the region decided to build what would become the San Gabriel Mission near the village. 'When the padres came through … they used the words 'a land of abundance.' They use words like 'water flowing' and 'food' and 'happiness,'' said Johnson. To execute the mission project, they exerted control of the Native communities and forced Indigenous people — many of whose descendants now refer to themselves as Gabrieleno, a term derived from the mission — into labor to construct and maintain the mission. After the United States took over in the 19th century, it began using a different method of control: Red-lining maps made it impossible for residents in low-rated areas to obtain mortgages and discouraged businesses from investing in the areas where Indigenous people lived. Indeed, the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians' newly recovered land received the lowest possible rating at the time. In the assessment, the neighborhood was described as 'a menace to this whole section,' noting 'pressure is being exerted to confine the population and keep it from infiltrating into other districts.' Now, over 250 years after the Spanish first settled in current-day Los Angeles, the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians — one of several Gabrieleno tribes acknowledged by the state — has finally gained a toehold back. 'To be able to connect to a land that our ancestors walked is very powerful,' said Johnson. 'The land that we lived on — and had a village on — that we worked on, we were then told, 'It's illegal for you to own that land.' So to see it come full circle back to us again, it's very healing.' When the Presbytery of San Gabriel began exploring options for the former community center site, Mona Recalde, who runs community outreach for the tribe and is deeply involved with the church, asked whether it would consider a land return. 'When Mona asked … for just about everybody in the Presbyterian, it was an instantaneous recognition of how much sense this made,' said Wendy Tajima, executive presbyter, or spiritual leader, of the church. For Tajima, it seemed like a way to make good on the promise of land acknowledgment — the church, instead of just paying lip service to past land grabs, could actually ameliorate some of the harm Christian institutions like the mission caused in the past. The tribe hopes other religious institutions (including the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel just down the street) will follow the presbytery's lead. The church and the tribe held a ceremony commemorating the agreement at the tribe's new Gabrieleno Tongva Tribal Center at Siban'gna on Aug. 2. As Presbyterian ceremonies gave way to the Gabrielenos', an emotional Tajima couldn't help but feel the tribe's deep-rooted connection to the land rekindling in real time. When the tribe 'started to burn the sage … that's when it hit me,' she said. 'This was a public witness of the first time that they could practice their traditions. They could be who they are and not have to ask anybody else.'


Boston Globe
4 days ago
- Boston Globe
BPS English learners face limited bilingual education options
BPS is slowly rolling out an expansion to its multilingual and bilingual program, but it hasn't been enough to keep up with the district's growing immigrant population. About a third of BPS's 48,000-student population are English learners, and half of pre-K and kindergarten students entering the district are. Most are being placed in an English immersion program under the district's new inclusion model. The growth of the bilingual programs will be incremental, and only five new teachers being added for the next school year districtwide. The new bilingual programs are aimed at younger students, and are only available in a select number of schools; 220 students in kindergarten and first grade this coming school year will be placed in a dual language program, considered among researchers to be the gold standard of bilingual education for which students are taught in both English and the students' native languages. However, many students like Camila, who arrived to Boston without speaking English and who would benefit the most from bilingual instruction, generally don't get access to these classrooms. Related : Advertisement By the 2032-22 school year, BPS plans to add a total of 40 teachers and 1,060 students in multilingual or bilingual classrooms, which would be able to serve a fraction of the current EL population. Advertisement Manuel Ramirez, BPS director of bilingual programs under Office of Multicultural and Multilingual Education, said the new program expansions are specifically designated to areas where the district identified the most need for home language inclusion. 'We're working in collaboration with communities so that students not only have greater access districtwide, but are also having their specific needs addressed,' Ramirez said. Advocates say the district's current programs are not well equipped to teach students from different language backgrounds, and students' academic progress is suffering as a result. Only over a quarter of EL and former EL students met or exceeded In late 2023, the majority the BPS task force created to advise the School Committee on how to best serve the needs of students learning English The current program 'is tragic because it is failing so many of the large proportion of EL students in Boston,' Mudd said. Advertisement Still, Joelle Gamere, chief of multilingual office said while just a handful of bilingual classrooms and teachers will be added to the district, it's much more of an investment than in years past. 'In the last 18 months, we've expanded on bilingual education more so than we've done in the last 40 years,' Gamere said. Jackelyn Elias started teaching in Blackstone nine years ago for the English learner program, and will now lead the new bilingual program at Blackstone. Elias said she is translating the kinder program into Spanish before the beginning of the school year. The bilingual program for kindergarten at Blackstone will teach phonetics, learning centers, and beginner reading in Spanish. Each year, the program will expand to the following grade, so the same students can continue to learn in the bilingual program. In third grade, the classroom will then switch from teaching mostly in Spanish, to half English instruction and half Spanish instruction. Elias said she is excited about the expansion and about teaching kids in Spanish, which she said will help bilingual students get ahead. 'We're just trying to form a strong program, we're working very hard on trying to learn what we need for students,' Elias said. In 2010, Department of Justice officials found BPS was violating the rights of thousands of English learners and failed to provide English learners with specialized instruction, setting up an agreement to monitor the school's progress, which just Advertisement Next year, seven BPS schools in the K-12 level will have some sort of bilingual program available to a few students, most classrooms will be for kindergarteners. In Quincy, for example, the school will offer math in Mandarin. For Ordoñez, Camila's transition to Blackstone had some positives, particularly the support in Spanish she received. Camila was awarded for a story she wrote in English, and finished Blackstone as a top student. Still, as Ordoñez couldn't find more language supports in BPS upper grades for her daughter's grade level next year, she is moving Camila out of the district and into a neighborhood charter school, which also doesn't have a bilingual program. Erik Berg, president of the Boston Teachers Union said there is a need for more teachers in the district specifically trained in bilingual education, and new programs should consider the wide variety of students' backgrounds and needs, especially during the landscape of the Trump administration and the deportation of families that may need these programs. 'It is critical that in rolling out any new program that the school community and language community are included on the planning,' Berg said. 'And that they take time to be thoughtful and provide parents with a plan that won't disrupt student learning.' Maria Probert can be reached at

Business Insider
5 days ago
- Business Insider
I moved from the US to Spain and fell in love. Despite the difficult language barrier, we're still together 2 years later.
When I moved from the US to Spain to build a new life, I hoped to find someone to share it with. I mostly dated men who spoke both English and Spanish, but never felt a true connection — until one night at a Latin dance event when I was paired with my now-boyfriend. There was an instant spark, and we started dating even though he only speaks Spanish and I have an intermediate level of Spanish. Together, we've made our way through awkward first dates and some frustrating interactions When we started dating, I worried that certain language dynamics, specific to the region we live in, would hinder our communication. We live in the region of Andalucia, specifically in a city called Jaén, where locals are known for speaking fast, shortening words and not pronouncing the "s" in them, and using unique phrases that can't always be translated into English. However, the more time we spent together, the more we adjusted to each other's needs. My boyfriend learned to speak slowly and fully pronounce his words, and I focused on learning more Andalucian phrases. For the first couple of dates, we stuck to topics I was comfortable speaking about, such as work, interests, hobbies, and why I moved to Spain. We discovered that we had similar tastes in music and hobbies, which strengthened our connection. After several months, conversations became longer, laughter was constant, and we eventually decided to make things official. However, becoming a couple only made the language differences more apparent. I naturally speak slowly, especially in Spanish, since I often translate in my head before responding. Because of my slower pace and my boyfriend's inherent way of speaking fast, he'll sometimes finish my sentences for me and often mispredict what I was going to say. At first, this frustrated me. I felt like I didn't have the space to fully express myself. The language barrier became even more noticeable when we hung out with his friends. They're incredibly welcoming, but don't speak English. Though I can follow most conversations, there are moments when I get completely lost. During one get-together, we were at his friend's house for paella, a traditional Spanish dish. His friends were reminiscing about their teenage years and joked about how my boyfriend always wore a "chándal," or sweatsuit. I didn't know the word at the time, so even though I understood the setup, the punchlines weren't landing for me. I chuckled along, but I felt insecure because I didn't fully understand the conversation. When we spend time with my friends, the dynamic shifts. During my birthday dinner last year, my group of friends and I started off speaking Spanish, but slowly drifted into English. There were moments when we were laughing and swapping jokes that my boyfriend couldn't follow. Later that night, he told me he didn't mind, but he did feel left out. The important thing is that, throughout all of these moments and misunderstandings, we've been able to openly talk about how we feel and figure out how best to move forward as a couple. We've become great listeners and stronger communicators So, yes — I fell in love with someone who doesn't speak English, and I've never been happier. Although these language gaps have contributed to awkward moments, they've also made us more aware of each other's feelings. We are more patient with one another and intentionally communicate with one another rather than just saying whatever is on our minds. In the beginning, I felt pressure to speak perfect Spanish and rarely admitted when I was lost. But letting go of my ego and embracing vulnerability helped us grow closer. We listen to each other to understand versus respond. I know he loves me for who I am, not just how I present myself. And as my Spanish improves and he picks up more English, I believe our bond will only deepen.