Las Vegas — a city renowned for high-stakes gambles, radiant lights and the enduring mantra of “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” Yet, beneath this spectacle lies a pulsating Indigenous community that is often overlooked.
As a newcomer to this sprawling urban jungle, I wrestled with the dichotomy of remaining faithful to my traditional values while acclimating to an unfamiliar milieu. Doubts gnawed at me — would I uncover a community in this city that mirrored the rhythm of my heritage?
City life introduced itself as a baptism by fire — a sudden medical emergency within my first week without an Indian Health Service (IHS) hospital or clinic in the area. It involved a painstaking four-hour trek back to Arizona. Fortunately, I have family members who were willing to drive me; many others aren’t as lucky or able to make the long journey back to their homelands. This accentuated the dire need for a visible, supportive and recognized Indigenous community in Las Vegas — one that could avert such instances for others while fostering a sense of kinship and safety.
In the quest to find other Natives, I confronted roadblocks — not knowing where to start. Limited transportation and a gnawing lack of confidence further limited my ability to connect with my community. No ceremony or event in Las Vegas could truly satiate my longing for the unique sense of belonging found only in my home community.
I found myself unable to recognize Indigenous individuals in the environment around me. Feeling discouraged, I stopped actively seeking my community and started seeking connections with others outside of it.
I was forced to attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for most of my life, so I felt a sense of relief and freedom when I no longer had to go. Ironically, after moving away from home, I found myself seeking unexpected refuge in the church, where I began to forge new friendships in the singles ward among people my age who shared my preference for avoiding parties and drinking. To my delight, I made friends who accepted and respected me for who I was without imposing their religious practices on me. However, I was still missing that connection with my Native community.
At UNLV, I identified with those experiencing the disorientation of being far from home. During this phase, my pursuit of my community receded into the background as I grappled with my evolving identity. A weekend visit from my mother brought an unexpected shift.
Wandering through the city, we were lured by the hypnotic beat of drums at UNLV’s annual powwow. Like a siren’s song, it guided us to our community nestled amidst the city’s bustle. This pivotal moment sparked my mother to jest, “My people are calling me.” The entrancing beat reignited my resolve to maintain my traditional practices, fueling my quest to reconnect with my community.
Months later, a fortuitous Twitter post advertised a position for a community organizer at Native Voters Alliance Nevada (NVAN). This role aligned perfectly with my journey, providing an opportunity to connect and support others facing similar challenges. My time with NVAN has been enlightening, uncovering more resources within months than I had in my previous two years in the city.
Indeed, an Indigenous community exists here, like stars sprinkled across the vast Las Vegas sky, with an estimated 50,000 urban Natives. Our task at NVAN is to gather these disparate stars into a constellation — a unified, visible community. Our mission is to raise NVAN’s profile, facilitate access to essential resources and cultivate a collective voice to empower our community.
With a unified community, we can provide mutual guidance through foreign lands. Although not home for some, Las Vegas can offer a sanctuary. We can turn to our Indigenous community, learning from those who call this place home. This will allow people to appreciate and maintain their cultural practices, ensuring these valuable traditions aren’t lost. We are responsible for passing these teachings onto our youth, preserving them for future generations.
As we journey to build and fortify our community while safeguarding our priceless teachings for future generations, the amplification of NVAN’s role becomes paramount. We stand as a beacon for those who may feel unanchored from their homelands.
Empowered with the knowledge and tools to guide individuals to indispensable resources and programs, we provide essential information about IHS hospital and clinic locations, including the necessary documentation. Our commitment to echoing the voice of our community is unequivocal, demonstrated by the successful orchestration of the Moving Forward Together Fallon Powwow. We heard, understood and actualized their aspirations.
Our dedication is not ephemeral — we persistently maintain vigilance toward the community’s needs, poised and ready to act responsively. We can create a vibrant gathering place, a hub for sharing wisdom and forging bonds — a sanctuary where every voice in our community has room to breathe and resonates powerfully. Every echo of our shared history and aspirations reverberates, amplifying our collective identity.
Jizhoni Witherspoon, Diné, is the community organizer for the Native Voters Alliance Nevada.
