When I was a child, my father would take me on weekend excursions to Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs. With its ethereal sandstone rock formations, countless hiking trails and dense vegetation, the park is a premiere spot for an afternoon outing.
Little did we know, however, that for the past three decades, American Indian powwows were as forbidden in the tourist-spangled public park as open bottles of booze.
The controversy dates back to the 1970s, when affluent homeowners living in close proximity to the natural wonder of towering multicolored columns complained to the city about loud drumming, trampled grass and downed trees. As a result, area Indians resorted to hosting their traditional gatherings of food, dance and jubilation in the gymnasiums of nearby high schools.
“The city asked the Indians not to come back to the park,” said Sabrena Forest, an educator and member of the Mohawk Nation. “They said, ‘Go do your powwow somewhere else.’ “
That was until recently, when more than 2,000 American Indians from varying nations converged once again, after 32 years, on the Colorado Springs park to celebrate their return with the Garden of the Gods Powwow and Indian Market.
“The city of Colorado Springs opened dialogue,” Forest said. “They worked with native groups, brought in elders. . . . They wanted the oral history of the place.”
James Ramirez, a Southern Ute and Aztec and president of the Colorado Springs Indian Center, cited the fervent desire for unity and peace between the city and the American Indian community as the catalyst behind the powwow.
“It’s a new day and age,” he said. “We all want to work in harmony with one another for the greater cause.”
History tells that the first colonist to lay eyes on the area said the majestic location would be a perfect place for a pub for passing pioneers when “the country grew up.” His companion was quick to suggest that the site, instead, was better still for gods to assemble; hence the name.
American Indian burials have been documented in the park. When the Garden of the Gods visitors center opened 15 years ago, many American Indians felt that it was a desecration of an indigenous sacred location.
“They began bulldozing and disturbing ancient sites,” said Forest. She said the city added insult to injury in the ’70s when they charged Indians exorbitant, unrealistic permit fees and demanded the First Nation community pay for the reseeding of the trampled grass.
An Anglo man recently asked me why it is that when an American Indian bone or pottery is unearthed, some in the indigenous community are quick to label it a “sacred site.” I told him it is because we hold everything sacred. But some places are more sacred to us than most, especially if burials or ceremonies were held at the location. I asked him: “Would you appreciate someone erecting a building atop your family’s burial plot?” He responded with a definitive “no.”
Garden of the Gods has been and will always remain a sacred location, not just for the Southern Utes or the Ute Mountain Utes — Colorado’s first residents — but also for the innumerable other tribes that traditionally ventured to the sacred area to host celebrations and ceremonies for mourning and births.
And so the first settler’s words resonate with me — that the garden would be a marvelous place for throngs of people once the nation “grew up.” Now, 32 years after the city of Colorado Springs demanded the Indians go away, it appears some people are beginning to finally, and at long last, grow up.
Simon Moya-Smith is a political science graduate from the University of Colorado Denver and a reporter/blogger. He writes for .
