What Can You Teach Me? Intergenerational Community Arts in the Baltimore Lumbee Community

Intergenerational community arts programming is an effective vehicle for strengthening community infrastructure and ensuring community sustenance. It serves to preserve community culture, knowledge and traditions. Though challenging, it can lead to greater respect, understanding and compassion among generations.

Over the course of my experience working as a community artist in my own Native American community in Baltimore, I have witnessed this to be true. I offer a case study from my work and some ideas regarding best practices for fostering intergenerational relationships through community art.

Understanding Our Community

To set the stage for the story of how the young people and the seniors of Baltimore’s Native American community came together, some background information on our community is in order.

The majority of Native Americans living in Baltimore are members of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina. Most of them were either born in Lumbee Tribal Territory (in North Carolina) and moved to Baltimore or they are descended from people who did. The majority of those who moved from North Carolina to Baltimore are now senior citizens. Many among the youngest generation of Baltimore Lumbees know nothing but Baltimore. They have grown up surrounded by concrete and city lights. (For additional background information on the Baltimore Lumbee community, see my 2008 article for CAN, “The Community Artist from the Community.”)

Lumbees, in many instances and especially outside of Tribal Territory, face a struggle over their Native American identity. I do not refer to an internal struggle that would mean confusion or doubt within oneself about whether or not one is truly Native American. To be sure, Lumbees are very proud of their heritage as Indian people. We know who we are, even if at times there may be a kind of disconnect from culture for some of us who were born and raised outside of Tribal Territory. Rather, I refer to the fact that there is a struggle for recognition of Lumbee as Native people on the part of other groups (including the federal government). For the most part, this is because Lumbees are the result of the mixing of several tribes over hundreds of years. Just as most Native American groups (especially those located within the eastern United States), do not, as a rule, resemble the stereotypical Native Americans depicted in so many Westerns on TV, neither do Lumbees. In our tribe, it is not uncommon to encounter any complexion or color and texture of hair.

While Lumbees in Lumbee country certainly know how to “pick out (or recognize) a Lum,” in a diverse community outside of Tribal Territory, a Lumbee may be perceived by an outsider as belonging to any number of other ethnic groups.

One tribal characteristic of Lumbees in North Carolina has been described by anthropologist Karen Blu as our “meanness” as a people, or our tenacity in sticking together. This characteristic is amplified in the Baltimore Lumbee community, in part as a result of this struggle.[1]

My Background: An insider’s ability to be a link

I am Native American, from Southeast Baltimore, a member of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina. My mother is Lumbee and my father is White, of Swiss ancestry. I am a graduate of Maryland Institute College of Art and I am a practicing, professional community artist.

I am also the liaison for the Native American (Indian Education) Program of the Baltimore City Public School System. Basically, that means that I am a special counselor or advocate for Native American students. In my capacity as a community artist, I have the privilege of being a current Open Society Institute Baltimore Community Fellow. This fellowship gives me the opportunity to work full-time on developing and implementing an After School Art Program for Native American young people in Baltimore, which is my focus to date.

There are definite advantages and disadvantages to working as a community artist working in my own community. I do believe that one of the greatest advantages is that, as an insider, I already possess in-depth knowledge of the history, unique culture and biases of the different sects of my community — in this case, the seniors and the young people. One of the first goals for an outsider community artist attempting to serve as the link between generations or groups would be to become educated about these factors. The best way to learn, I believe, is to pass a lot of time with the different groups in their respective environments as an observer, and when possible, as a participant.

As an insider, I was not exempt from this process, maybe only able to get my foot in the door a little quicker. Even as a community member, I’m innately a part of some different sects and I have to contend with issues that exist/arise as a result constantly. For example, I am a young person, I am a woman, etc. All of these factors must be taken into consideration.

The way the Native American senior citizens and young people came together in our community was almost serendipitous. The story that follows speaks to three vehicles that worked as catalysts in the process; they are breaking bread, gardening and making art. It is my belief that these vehicles can be applied universally, and could be made to work well with in almost every instance. By fostering relationships between the two “anchor” generations of a community, community infrastructure is strengthened and community sustenance is ensured. Ultimately community culture, knowledge and traditions are preserved.

A Story That Starts with a Story

In my role as the liaison for the Native American Program of the Baltimore City Public School System, I had gathered the Native American students at Patterson High School together for a meeting one day.

If there was lingering chatter in the room we were borrowing, it soon stopped as the teenage Lumbee students began not only to hear but to really listen to the recording of a story told by one of our community’s elders. I had interviewed my uncle John Walker for my graduate thesis project, which I called “Lumbee Legends.” He chose to share with me the story of how he got “saved,” or when he dedicated his life to Jesus Christ. I brought the recording to our meeting as a conversation starter for an oral-history project the young people I was working with were about to undertake.

Uncle John was 73 years old at the time. He has a unique, quavering, emotion-filled voice and a thick Lumbee accent. He suffered a stroke several years ago and now cries easily as a result.

The students, who were not informed ahead of time about what they would be hearing, were asked afterwards to guess about some aspects of the identity of the speaker. Our open-ended discussion questions were, “What did you hear? Who do you think the speaker was? Where was the speaker from? Who do you think the speaker was talking to? How old is the speaker? What race do you think the speaker is? How do you know?”

They conjectured as a group that the speaker was an older, Indian man from North Carolina. They said they could tell because of the quavery voice and the “country” accent.

Two generations working in the Native American Community Garden at the Baltimore Indian Center. Pictured: Carl Locklear, Lumbee, Foster Grandparent; Aniysha Barnes, Lumbee. Photo by Ashley Minner Click here to enlarge

Other than the fact that Uncle John is a very compelling speaker, what made the young people pay such close attention to his story? There was no person literally before them to demand their attention or respect. Some students later commented that Uncle John’s “country” accent was too difficult for them to follow, and they couldn’t understand entire parts of the story. And the story was about becoming a Christian, which can and often does elicit adverse reactions from audiences of mixed religious affiliation.

Perhaps the students were especially interested in the story because they sensed a cultural bond with the speaker. Those who knew what a Lumbee accent sounds like recognized it. Those who knew the Indian neighborhood in Baltimore heard familiar street names in the story.

A guest linguist was also in attendance at our meeting. Following the story and our discussion, she passed out to the students copies of a Lumbee/English Dictionary, which is, in and of itself, something of a joke. Lumbees speak English, although a thick Lumbee accent is almost like a dialect of English. (There are actually tales of outsiders to our community visiting South Broadway Baptist, the Native American church in Baltimore, and believing that members were speaking a different language or even in tongues.) The linguist went through some ways that certain English words are pronounced in different parts of the country. Remarkably (to them), the students pronounce many words with Lumbee influence.

These are young people who were born into the most diverse section of Baltimore; many are bi- or multiracial; many have been raised in part by non-Lumbee family members; and many “know-that-they-know-that-they-know” they are Native, yet struggle to find connection between themselves and their Native culture. They find it difficult to believe they are really and innately a part of something that seems so foreign, even though on this day they came to realize that even in the most basic practice of their being, they are definitely tied to their tribe.

This language epiphany and the general fascination with Uncle John’s story are what led to a relationship between this group of young, Native American people and the Native American Senior Citizens of the Baltimore American Indian Center.

The Native American Senior Citizens

“The Seniors,” as they are called, come together every Thursday at lunchtime to eat and “talk junk.” The Seniors Program is one of the oldest and longest-running programs of the Baltimore American Indian Center, which was established in 1968. The Seniors are a self-sufficient group. They are not funded by any outside source. The “president” of the Seniors, is also the cook. He cooks and the Seniors pay monthly dues to come and eat. Lunch is generally served at 12 noon, but folks start to come in much earlier and sometimes don’t leave until around 2 p.m. The meals are usually made up of Carolina Indian favorites like fried pork chops, fish, collard greens, cabbage, fried cornbread, lima beans, banana pudding, etc.

The Seniors own their own building on Lombard Street. They purchase all of their own supplies. It is a well-known fact that the Seniors do not like for their things to be touched or moved without permission. Usually the fear of Seniors’ retaliation is enough to deter most people who might want to touch or move Seniors property, or borrow the Seniors space, from asking to do so.

After hearing Uncle John’s story, the young people expressed a strong desire to experience some “Lumbee Speakers” firsthand. It was decided that the obvious first step we should take would be to visit the Seniors as a group for lunch one Thursday.

Breaking Bread

First, consider food. Food is like the great denominator of people. Everyone eats, everyone must eat to live. Everyone experiences hunger. People have been breaking bread together since the beginning of our time on earth to signify trust, friendship, loyalty, partnership, etc.

In the case of the Native American Senior Citizens, eating together is a way to sustain culture. They continue to prepare and share the foods of our people. They pray, talk, joke and reminisce together as Native people with a common bond. And while some people eat just to live, on Thursdays our Seniors eat to live and then continue to eat because it tastes good. It is a well-known fact that unless our church has a fundraiser or it’s Pow Wow time, 1633 E. Lombard St. is the only place to buy a meal like the ones the Seniors have in Baltimore.

The young people were also interested in interviewing the Seniors and recording their oral histories. They thought of and wrote down the questions they would ask ahead of time. The young people also discussed some ground rules for visiting the Seniors so that they could exhibit behavior that would help the Seniors see that they appreciated being invited to lunch and would be making a conscious effort to be respectful.

The young people also prepared for their meeting with the Seniors by creating an “icebreaker” activity that promised to be easy and at an appropriate comfort level for both the young people and Seniors to participate. They made up a game of “Human Bingo.” This game consists of a Bingo Board where the different squares are made up of written facts that apply to people who will be playing the game. For example, some squares on the Human Bingo Board were, “I am a member of the Lumbee Tribe of N.C.,” “I am a good dancer,” “I have been to a Pow Wow” and “My last name is Locklear.” Each young person contributed a fact about him/herself to be included on the Bingo board, and they sent me on a mission to the Seniors to collect facts about them. To play, the young people would carry their Human Bingo Board from Senior to Senior on the day of their visit asking if one of the fact squares applied to them. When they found a fact that did apply to a particular person, they would have the person sign the square, and so advance to collect enough squares to achieve B-I-N-G-O! Part of the fun in this game is in that some facts will apply to multiple people, and the people then find that they have things in common and begin to talk to each other. It is a good idea to have a prize as a motivating factor in the game, and in our activity, the prize was $10 cash to the first young person to get B-I-N-G-O!

The young people came to visit the Seniors on the first Thursday of their spring break. This, in and of itself, speaks to their dedication in wanting to visit. The Seniors, who are typically a loud bunch, apparently did not know what to expect from their young visitors and were silent as they entered the room. After asking the Lord’s blessing on the food, as is our tradition, the president of the Seniors invited the young people to get in line to fix their plates along with the members of the Seniors. The young people sat mostly together, while the Seniors kept their usual seats. The room was unusually quiet as the young people stared down at their plates of collard greens, fried cornbread and chicken. Finally, one of the Seniors laughed, watching one young girl and asked “Betchu never had Indian food like that before, huh?” Another young person spoke up, “I have, my grandmom makes that at home!” At once, it seemed like all of the Seniors and young people broke into chatter over the food. “Do you know what this is? We eat this down home.” “My grandmom says that too!” ”You know, you favor so-and-so, what’s your last name young’n?” “It’s good, ain’t it!?”

It was good.

When lunch was over, our Human Bingo game started. I believe it was discovered that almost everyone in the room that day had a Locklear in the family and also that we had quite a few good dancers among us. Most important, bonds were formed across generations. When the time came to begin interviewing, many of the young people already had a Senior in mind. One off-comment that I remember came from a young girl who called the Senior she was interviewing her “old person,” to which that Senior took some offense. The comment could have been taken in an endearing way, but at the same time the Senior saw the need to remind all of the young people about being respectful. They quickly reminded each other too, and the incident ended in laughter all around.

Many of the young people asked the question in their interviews “What was it like for you growing up?” One of the Seniors started to answer, “Well, it was kind of tough…” The young person interviewer quickly interjected, “It’s kind of tough for me, too…”

Lunch ended that day with hugs, thank yous and an open invitation for the young people to visit the Seniors any Thursday as long as they warned that they were coming ahead of time, so that the president would know how much food to prepare. It should also be noted that since that day, the Seniors building and kitchen has been available for any youth activity hosted by the Baltimore American Indian Center or the Native American Program of City Schools. Because this relationship was forged, a void was filled in the resources our community had to offer Native American young people: a space to be in.

Gardening

Some months before this first lunch together, a request for proposals was issued by the Parks and People Foundation for Neighborhood Greening Grants. The young people, who by that time had been involved in several clean-up days at the Baltimore American Indian Center, had expressed an interest in doing something with the small, bare yard out front that was created during renovation. The Center was funded in the full amount of $1,000 (“a WHOLE THOUSAND DOLLARS!” — participating young person) to create The Native Community Garden in the space. We had proposed that the project would be stewarded by the Native American Senior Citizens and the young people of the community, although the young people had not asked who of the Seniors would be willing to share their expertise and lend a hand. They knew that they wanted to plant crops traditionally farmed by Lumbees in North Carolina, especially the kind that would produce food.

The following Thursday, I was sent by the young people to enlist help from the Seniors during lunch. While some of the Seniors smiled and said they might want to help later on, and at least one Senior yelled “NO!” because “why would [he] want to go work in a garden when [he] left hard work in the fields of North Carolina 30 years ago?!” (He laughed when he said that.) One Senior in particular saw an opportunity to “do something for the children.” Carl “Mr. Charlie” Locklear promised not only to help us with the garden at the Center, but to bring all of the young people out to his house, in a part of the county that is somewhat like “our part of North Carolina,” so that they could have the experience of being there and playing in his back yard also.

Young gardeners, young vegetables from the Native American Community Garden. Pictured: Ebony Gray, Lumbee; Kiyia Johnson, Lumbee; Karrien Johnson, Lumbee; and India Jones, Lumbee. Photo by Ashley Minner Click here to enlarge

At Mr. Charlie’s house, the young people ran around, swung on a tire swing, rode a tractor and built raised beds for their garden at the Indian Center. Later, when we had our first planting day at the Center, Mr. Charlie and about 15 young people (many of them very young) moved an entire dump truck load of dirt from the city street into our garden space by wheelbarrow to fill the raised beds they had made. Mr. Charlie showed them how to do everything, being careful to let all the young people try their hand at every task on their own.

Other members of the Seniors stopped through the Indian Center as they worked over the course of that first summer. Sister Becky, who is also the grandmom and great-grandmom of two of the young people who were participating one day, sat down with all of the young people on the steps inside of the building and told stories of picking cotton in her youth. Another one of the Senior women, Ms. Minnie Maynor, commented that as a young person, she didn’t have shoes to wear in the fields she worked with her family. When she complained to her mother that the sun and hot ground were burning her feet, her mother told her to hide her feet under a bush and keep working. Ms. Minnie laughed as she told this story, and the young people listened with their faces aghast in sympathy and disbelief at how life could have been so hard.

More than a few of the Seniors have been involved with the young people in the garden since that time, especially the gentlemen who yelled “NO!” on that first day I relayed the request for help. Not only do they teach young people of our community agricultural traditions of our tribe(s), they help them to make the connection between the ground and their bellies. This ultimately leads to better nutrition and increased ability to care for oneself in preparing food. The young people take their knowledge and their vegetables back to their families; many times their families come to the garden. This strengthens the entire community.

Decidedly, dirt is another denominator of people. There is truly something visceral about playing in it; it’s like a reunion with one’s primordial substance. Moving dirt, adding water — essentially fostering life in a garden — is a phenomenological experience that gives one a sense of one’s physical being in direct relation to the basic elements of the world we live in. Seeing everyone’s hands covered in the same muck does something to break down barriers between us. Moreover, bonding between people over good, hard work is almost a given. And when the work is done, the people who have done the work own the results together.

Making Art

There is a mural on the wall of our original building at the Baltimore American Indian Center that is owned by the whole community, but it was first owned by the people who painted it together. Their names are painted to one side of the image where they can be read unto this day. The wall, which is part of the original Baltimore American Indian Center building, faces the Native Community Garden. Young people in the garden ask questions about this mural. A few of the young people continually point out the names of their mothers and cousins who worked on the mural in 1980.

The Native Community Garden has also attracted a lot of attention since our first day of work, now three years ago. People comment on how beautiful it is, sometimes they want to know who is responsible for the project. The young people have planned to place a sign in the garden for the past two years to explain. This year, they decided that they want to incorporate their garden sign into their own mural and names on the low wall on the other side of the garden that faces the old mural.

The Seniors, several of whom serve on the board of directors of the Baltimore American Indian Center, are very agreeable to the idea. In fact, they are anxious to see it come to life. A conversation is currently taking place among the young people, the Seniors and the Native community at large about what the content of the mural should be. The young people know that they want their names in the mural, facing the names of the artists who worked on the opposite wall. They also want images of the plants they plant in their garden, and images that represent their culture(s). The Seniors have said that they want the same things.

The Seniors, probably more so than many of the young people, state that they are not artists and do not feel capable of painting a good-looking mural, while they continually praise the artistic talents of the young people. The young people have already suggested that the mural be completed in a paint-by-number way so that everyone in the community who wants to help paint will be able to do so without feeling so intimidated. Through the garden in Baltimore, the young people have experienced very small versions of the agricultural feats that have been accomplished in Tribal Territory for hundreds of years. The Seniors have seen and done it all when it comes to planting fields and harvesting crops. They are being called upon by the young people for this knowledge.

Together, the two groups are discussing what specific imagery to include in the mural. The young people will develop a proposal using ideas generated by their group and by the Seniors. This proposal will be put forth in a community meeting at the Baltimore American Indian Center for final approval.

The process of painting or creating anything visual together is not unlike breaking bread or gardening in its capacity to unite people. When the mural is complete, the people who have done the work, young and old, will own the results together. It will be the visual embodiment of a relationship between the two anchor generations of our community and of the exchange of knowledge and culture that has taken/is taking place across generations.

Challenges in Intergenerational Community Arts Programming

A challenge that comes with any type of community arts programming or even any kind of social-justice work is the confrontation of stereotypes. In intergenerational community arts programming, the main stereotypes we encountered in my community were based in “ageism.”

The dictionary definition of “ageism” is “discrimination based on age, especially prejudice against the elderly.”[2] It is interesting that this definition does not cover prejudice against the young, which is also common. The variety of ageism that is most prevalent in our community is “adultism,” which is defined as “behaviors and attitudes based on the assumption that adults are better than young people, and entitled to act upon young people without their agreement.”[3]

These two definitions sound very harsh. In fact, the manifestations of ageism and adultism that we encountered in our community seemed to be unconscious, and therefore unintentional on the part of the Seniors and the young people.

The two main ways we witnessed ageism and adultism were in limited expectations about the abilities of members of either group, and limited acknowledgement that every individual is an “expert in their own life,” regardless of age or any other factor. For example, the young people at first had verbalized their doubts about whether or not the Seniors could do physical work in a garden. This assumption was dissolved as soon as the young people saw the Seniors in action, just as many assumptions were also dissolved as the Seniors and the young people got to be acquainted. A real relationship seems to be the best answer to limited expectations.

The Seniors also say many things that are considered to be classic examples of adultism, such as: “You’re so smart for 15!” “You are too old for that!” or “You’re not old enough!” “What do you know? You haven’t experienced anything!” and “It’s just a stage. You’ll outgrow it.” John Bell, the man who coined the term “adultism,” says that “for the most part, the adult world considers this treatment of young people as acceptable because we were treated in much the same way, and internalized the idea that ‘that’s the way you treat kids.’”] The Seniors, as many adults, have internalized this idea to the point that they do not realize how any of these sayings could possibly be perceived as being offensive to young people. In many cases, they mean to say something positive and likewise, in many cases, it is received in a positive way — but not always.

Again, the best answer to this seems to be a real relationship between the two groups. Respect for elders is a strong tenet of Lumbee and other Native cultures represented in our community. It is very difficult for a young person to “call out” an elder for doing anything that they perceive as being negative. Perhaps it is easiest to gently remind all participants that everyone is “an expert in their own life,” which is generally well received and understood if done in a caring way. It is good to strategize with young people ahead of time about what specific gentle reminders they might use.

Ultimately, because a positive relationship has been forged between the Seniors and the young people in our community, members of neither group desire to offend members of the other. They love each other because they know each other. This love constitutes a bridge over generations, that is allowing our stories, foods, ways of speaking, and traditions to survive. Moreover, because these relationships exist as mutual assets in the lives of the Seniors and the young people in our community, both groups will live longer and already experience a better quality of life.

In Conclusion

Most recently, the Native American After School Art Program (NAASAP) has been established as a program of Fusion Partnerships. After School Community Art programming with an emphasis on intergenerational relationships is now offered to the Native American young people of Baltimore three days a week after school. Three Foster Grandparents (members of the Native American Senior Citizens Group) contribute on a regular basis. A team of participating young people and Seniors have written a grant together and were funded in the full amount to continue their intergenerational programming in the areas of agriculture, culture, oral history and community art. The team calls its programming the “Native American Living Legacy” project. They “know that [our] young people will have a better quality of life now and in the future if they have a solid grounding in their personal and cultural identities, their tribal history, and the knowledge that they are a rich legacy to be carried on.”[4]

If you put a community artist, a group of young people and a group of elders together and engage them together in a positive activity, the young people and the elders will become personally acquainted, and will almost certainly establish greater levels of trust, respect and understanding for one another. By fostering relationships between the two “anchor” generations of a community, community infrastructure will be strengthened and community sustenance will be ensured. Ultimately community culture, knowledge and traditions are preserved.

This essay is part of the Community Arts Convening & Research Project, 2009-10, funded by a Nathan Cummings Foundation grant to the Maryland Institute College of Art.  The essay was reviewed and selected by the project's Editorial Board: Stephani Woodson, Arizona State University; Amalia Mesa-Bains, California State University Monterey Bay; Paul Teruel, Columbia College Chicago; Marina Gutierrez, Cooper Union; Jan Cohen-Cruz, Imagining America; Ken Krafchek, Maryland Institute College of Art; Lori Hager, University of Oregon; and Sonia BasSheva Mañjon, Wesleyan University.

Ashley Minner is a community artist who is active in the Baltimore Lumbee community. She works as a liaison for the Native American Program (Indian Education) of the Baltimore City Public School System. She also runs the Native American After School Program (NAASP) in which art programming and community organizing are implemented to help Native young people affirm their identities as Native Americans, as individuals and as citizens.