When it comes to championing the health of Indigenous children in the United States, few pieces of legislation possess the profound significance of the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA). It is not merely a dry legal document, but a lifeline of cultural health for Indigenous nations and countless children in the foster care system.
In the coming weeks, the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) is expected to release their decision on Haaland vs Brackeen, a case that challenges the constitutionality of the ICWA. The plaintiffs, a non-Indigenous Texan couple named Chad and Jennifer Brackeen, claim that the ICWA’s preference for placing Indigenous children with foster-parents from their tribal nations discriminates against non-Indigenous individuals who wish to adopt Indigenous children.
Yaqui youth in Tucson, Arizona
Proponents of the ICWA, which include 486 tribal nations, assert the law’s preference for Indigenous families promotes cultural well-being and is based on the political status of tribes, rather than the social construct of race. According to the Native American Rights Fund (NARF), “The ICWA does this by upholding family integrity and stability and by keeping Indian children connected to their community and culture. The ICWA also reaffirms the inherent rights of tribal nations to be involved in child welfare matters involving their citizens.”
Samantha Maltais, a member of the Aquinnah Wampanoag tribe, ICWA advocate, and a current third-year at Harvard Law School, shares this perspective. “Tribes have been and always will be sovereign nations. Their status as such pre-dates America’s founding and it’s earliest formulations of what race is. To misunderstand this truth not only threatens the welfare of Native children today, but could also undermine the ways we write federal Indian laws and policies for future generations to come,” she said.
When the ICWA was enacted in 1978, it aimed to address a troubling reality: between 25% and 35% of Native children in the U.S. were being taken from their homes by the child welfare system. What’s more, a staggering 85% of these children were placed outside of their tribal communities, irrespective of the availability of suitable Indigenous relatives. This glaring disparity did not stem from neglect or lack of love within Indigenous communities. Instead, it was a result of deeply entrenched systemic issues rooted in historical trauma, poverty, and social inequities. To tribal nations, this pattern represented a continuation of cultural assimilation, inflicting harm upon their children. Numerous studies have supported their concerns, revealing that Native children adopted by non-Indigenous foster parents fare worse psychologically compared to their white counterparts, experiencing higher rates of suicide, depression, and alcoholism.
Yaqui youth poses in front of Yaqui Nation flag
When it comes to parenting, no one is blaming non-Native families for their lack of knowledge about Indigenous culture or disconnection from Indigenous kinship networks. They may not know the first thing about frybread, who to go to for Indigenous bling or the importance of not whistling at night. And let’s face it, they might not understand all the jokes in the FX show Reservation Dogs. But while these quirks and cultural references may seem lighthearted, they underscore a deeper truth—the cultural disconnectedness and mental health challenges that Indigenous children may experience just by virtue of being raised in non-Indigenous families.
Imagine for a moment the plight of an Indigenous child caught in the turbulent currents of foster care, their fate hanging in the balance of a system that often fails to understand or honor their unique cultural needs. Picture the ache in their hearts as they are uprooted from the warmth of their ceremonies, torn away from the comforting embrace of grandparents, aunts, uncles and extended family members who embody the very essence of love and stability. These familial bonds are not mere titles or labels but lifelines—anchors that ground them in their heritage, traditions and ways of being. For many Indigenous children, these extended family structures are not only accepted but celebrated, with aunts, uncles, older siblings, and grandparents traditionally assuming the role of parents. Yet, in the unfamiliar terrain of the child welfare system, this fundamental Indigenous understanding is often lost or dismissed.
As we delve deeper into the impact of the ICWA, let us not forget that cultural disconnectedness can be a painful wound, leaving scars that reverberate through generations. It is not just the loss of fry bread recipes or the absence of bedtime stories about elusive creatures like Bigfoot. It is the loss of ancestral knowledge, languages, and the collective memory that grounds Indigenous young people in their past, present and future. When children are separated from their cultural heritage, a void is created—an emptiness that cannot be filled by well-intentioned non-Indigenous families. It is a wound that impacts not only their sense of self but also their mental, emotional and physical well-being. As the Native American Rights Fund (NARF) highlights, “In keeping them [Indigenous children] connected to their extended family and cultural identity, the positive outcomes are far-reaching and include higher self-esteem.”
In this discussion, we also cannot overlook the historical context and the enduring repercussions of policies that systematically removed Indigenous children from their communities. For over a century, Indigenous children endured the trauma of being forcibly taken from their families and sent to government-run boarding schools, where they faced abuse, assimilation, loss of language and death. This dark history and the fact that Indigenous children remain disproportionately represented in the child welfare system, casts a shadow on the continued need for legislation like the ICWA.
To truly understand the positive potential of the ICWA, allow me to share the story of a resilient 10-year-old Dakota girl who found herself navigating the foster care system. Separated from her tribal community, she was abruptly uprooted from the warmth of sacred ceremonies and the loving embrace of her kin. It was a heart-wrenching experience that left her yearning for the cultural connections and sense of belonging that had been integral to her upbringing. “I felt like I lost my community,” she said.
However, the provisions of the ICWA intervened, allowing her extended family to step in as foster parents. With unwavering love and support, they provided her with a nurturing home, ensuring that she remained firmly anchored to her tribal heritage. Through the protective embrace of the ICWA, her cultural identity was preserved and her well-being was nurtured.
Echo Hawk highlights the broad significance of these stories, stating, “The Indian Child Welfare Act has been the gold standard of child welfare policy since 1978 because it puts best practice into law by protecting identity, familial network, and sense of belonging—things that all children need,” she said.
The importance of identity cannot be overstated, especially given the alarming rates of Indigenous youth suicide in the U.S. A recent report by the United Nations on “Indigenous determinants of health” highlights the significance of cultural identity in safeguarding the mental health of Indigenous youth. For Indigenous foster children, the ICWA plays a vital role in fostering a healthy cultural identity that enhances their mental well-being.
“Connection to family and identity is so important in Native culture, and the benefits have been well documented and researched,” noted Echo Hawk.
So, let us not simply appreciate the ICWA as a piece of legislation, a legal framework, or a collection of statistics. Let us feel it in our hearts—the weight of responsibility and the urgency of action. The Indian Child Welfare Act’s impact on Indigenous child health cannot be overstated. It is a lifeline that offers the promise of a brighter future—a future where Indigenous children can grow, thrive, and reclaim their rightful place within their communities.