Despite their hostility to other tribes, the Chickasaw traded extensively with the English throughout the 18th century and signed a treaty with the newly formed United States in 1786. In 1837 the U.S. government decided to remove the Chickasaw to Indian Territory, where an agreement had been reached to settle them on Choctaw lands and to give them Choctaw citizenship. In 1855 a new arrangement was made granting them their own land within Indian Territory, on land formerly part of the Choctaw Nation. The capitol of this new Chickasaw Nation was named in honor of the late great Chickasaw chief, Tishomingo, who had died on the journey west in 1838 at the age of 102.
The governments of the two nations were suspended during the Civil War and re-established in 1866. The governments of all the Indian Territory tribes were dissolved in 1906 prior to the entry of Indian Territory into the United States as part of Oklahoma. The Chickasaw Tribal Protective Association was formed in 1929.
The population of the Chickasaw Tribe was 2290 in 1780, down from an estimated 3300 at the beginning of the 18th century. In 1890 there were 6400 Chicksaw, and 5350 still lived on the Chicksaw reservation in Oklahoma in 1944. In 1985 the Ardmore Agency of the Chickasaw tribe in Oklahoma had a population of 9020.
During the Civil War, both (Choctaw and Chickasaw) nations allied themselves with the Confederate States of America, and formed military units that fought with the Confederacy in Arkansas and Indian Territory.
It is our belief that Nancy's family came along to Tennessee on the Trail of Tears, but we haven't proof of that as the records are so askew. We do know for a fact that one of our native ancestors fought in the "white man's war" for the south and died in battle in 1865.
It's a difficult task to join family when they didn't have any last name to go by. We finally found Nancy on the Dawes Rolls (they usually only list by head of household). We knew Elijah's name, but he was listed with two other women, and we didn't know which one was Gramma Eula's rightful mother.
It has taken me 10 years of genealogy research for the Native American portion of my family, and it has been an emotional journey. I still have about 50 years of missing information, as the courthouse burned in Oklahoma and the native records are destroyed. Hmmmm!! I have often "wondered" about that, but it's most likely my suspicious nature and not some "whiteman's witchery". One can hope.
My native ancestors were granted land in Texas, and up until the early 1960's they held the land rights. Somewhere along the way the land was taken back, and an oil refinery now sits where my family once held land. Most of my ancestors have passed now, but those that remain (except myself, my sister and brother) still reside in Tishimingo, Oklahoma and some surrounding areas, Enid, Oney, Wannette, Purcell, and Oklahoma City. Some are buried in Potter's field in Oklahoma City.
Now that the new 1930 census is released, I plan to work from there back in time to see if I can make the connection I am missing. Part of my family is listed on the rolls. I am not, nor was my mother. But as my family liked to say, "It's not how much blood you are, it's that you are." And knowing my heritage is enough for me....
Mom, my brother Dave, me, and my sister Pam
Mom was nicknamed Squee by her brothers and sisters. Born in Oney,
Oklahoma in 1935, she moved to California in 1955.
My Gramma Jessie and Chickasaw Great Gramma Eula
by
Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
if you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."
It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
When all else
falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
© Oriah Mountain Dreamer, from the book The Invitation
published by HarperSanFrancisco, 1999 All rights reserved.