catfish
01-08-2003, 05:24 PM
Scorned group looks to prove Native American roots, heritage
By Monica Whitaker / Tennessean Staff Writer
They have legends of life in the woods, fading photos of dark-faced men with bright blue eyes. They have promises from genetic researchers who think they can prove their origins. Tomorrow, they will have the attention of Tennessee's Commission of Indian Affairs.
The people who call themselves Melungeon can only hope it is enough.
After generations of shame and secrets, this group of tangled extractions will ask the state to use their lineage to help residents prove Native American roots. They want no legal tribal status, just an acknowledgment of their bloodline.
If the state relaxes rules of recognition, people able to trace back through Melungeon relatives could qualify as "Indian" in Tennessee.
The title is a coveted one. For more than a decade, residents who consider themselves Native Americans have fought with some members of federally recognized tribes for the right to use that word.
A list of state-recognized Indians lists fewer than 100 names. Only those people and their direct relatives qualify as Indians for some federally funded business contracts set aside for minorities and scholarships for minority students.
It is also a struggle of pride for an uncounted people, Melungeon activists say. They were scorned for centuries, and now it is time to be heard.
With no government records and scant written history, the Melungeons begin what Cherokee genealogist Charles Grayfox calls an "impossible task."
They are, some historians say, descendants of Turkish, North African or Portugese men, laborers brought to America by Spanish ships more than 300 years ago.
The Turkish term "melun can" and Arabic phrase "malun jinn" mean "accursed soul" and "outcast." The slurred words became an epithet among white settlers in the 1800s.
Theories suggest the swarthy workers escaped or were abandoned inland where they interbred with Native Americans. Some hid their roots and took a low-profile place among white Europeans. Others sought shelter in the Appalachian ranges.
What emerged from the East Tennessee hills of Hancock County during the past 100 years were stories and legends, and people with distinct features -- brown skin, black hair and piercing blue-green eyes.
They were not welcome.
"Our people weren't accepted by the whites and we weren't accepted by the native people either," said Eddie Nickens, a member of a the Commission on Indian Affairs, who plans to step down from the dais to help make the Melungeon presentation tomorrow.
Nickens counts himself among those Melungeons of Native American and Portugese descent, and among a growing number who want to prove their history.
Within Native American circles, dozens of groups are clamoring to win some kind of official recognition. Like the others, the Melungeons have been dismissed as "wannabes" by many members of established Southeastern tribes: the Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek and Seminole.
Over the last 10 years, the stand-off over who is and isn't Indian fractured these groups.
New appointments to the governor-selected Commission of Indian Affairs have given hope to the Melungeons and other unrecognized groups.
"We've finally got some people on there that are willing to help the people in Middle Tennessee. The old commissioners considered us wannabes," Nickens said. "The only thing we want to be is left alone."
Nickens says he has documentation of his Melungeon heritage that shows Indian descent.
Tracing the genealogy of the thousands who consider themselves Melungeon will be a long, expensive task, said Brent Kennedy, a college administrator from Wise, Va.
Kennedy spent years crippled by a mysterious ailment that swelled his legs and tore the end off each breath. It was his own research that unearthed the word "Melungeon" in his family after doctors finally identified his malady, a disease common among Mediterranean and Middle Eastern people.
Since then, Kennedy paid thousands of dollars to undergo DNA testing, which confirmed his research.
More of those tests are needed to trace medical histories and historical hypotheses about the Melungeons, many members of a national Melungeon group say.
But the group, now scattered across the country and tied together through Internet sites and a national organization, cannot agree on its next move.
Leaders of the organization say they have found geneticists willing to perform genetic tests. Yet many who call themselves Melungeon fear test results could be used to persecute them or their families in the future.
And even if they prove Native American and Middle Eastern extraction, such tests would not prove the group was ever a social unit that could be considered any sort of tribe, said Mack Lipsey.
Lipsey, a retired dean of graduate students at Tennessee State University, began traveling to Hancock County in the 1970s, when the word "Melungeon" was taboo, a whispered insult. He has heard the stories of clandestine Melungeon burials and of dusky men who minted silver coins in the mountains.
None of it has ever been proven, he said.
"There's no documentation, no information," he said. "The people never referred to themselves as Melungeons."
Nickens and others know their critics, but continue undaunted. If they are never officially recognized, at least the people who now call themselves Melungeon should know something of their history, they insist.
"Knowing your full heritage makes you a little more sensitive to the rest of the world," Kennedy said. "The greatest end resolve we could have is to say, 'Now we know. Let's get on with the business of being Americans.' "
By Monica Whitaker / Tennessean Staff Writer
They have legends of life in the woods, fading photos of dark-faced men with bright blue eyes. They have promises from genetic researchers who think they can prove their origins. Tomorrow, they will have the attention of Tennessee's Commission of Indian Affairs.
The people who call themselves Melungeon can only hope it is enough.
After generations of shame and secrets, this group of tangled extractions will ask the state to use their lineage to help residents prove Native American roots. They want no legal tribal status, just an acknowledgment of their bloodline.
If the state relaxes rules of recognition, people able to trace back through Melungeon relatives could qualify as "Indian" in Tennessee.
The title is a coveted one. For more than a decade, residents who consider themselves Native Americans have fought with some members of federally recognized tribes for the right to use that word.
A list of state-recognized Indians lists fewer than 100 names. Only those people and their direct relatives qualify as Indians for some federally funded business contracts set aside for minorities and scholarships for minority students.
It is also a struggle of pride for an uncounted people, Melungeon activists say. They were scorned for centuries, and now it is time to be heard.
With no government records and scant written history, the Melungeons begin what Cherokee genealogist Charles Grayfox calls an "impossible task."
They are, some historians say, descendants of Turkish, North African or Portugese men, laborers brought to America by Spanish ships more than 300 years ago.
The Turkish term "melun can" and Arabic phrase "malun jinn" mean "accursed soul" and "outcast." The slurred words became an epithet among white settlers in the 1800s.
Theories suggest the swarthy workers escaped or were abandoned inland where they interbred with Native Americans. Some hid their roots and took a low-profile place among white Europeans. Others sought shelter in the Appalachian ranges.
What emerged from the East Tennessee hills of Hancock County during the past 100 years were stories and legends, and people with distinct features -- brown skin, black hair and piercing blue-green eyes.
They were not welcome.
"Our people weren't accepted by the whites and we weren't accepted by the native people either," said Eddie Nickens, a member of a the Commission on Indian Affairs, who plans to step down from the dais to help make the Melungeon presentation tomorrow.
Nickens counts himself among those Melungeons of Native American and Portugese descent, and among a growing number who want to prove their history.
Within Native American circles, dozens of groups are clamoring to win some kind of official recognition. Like the others, the Melungeons have been dismissed as "wannabes" by many members of established Southeastern tribes: the Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek and Seminole.
Over the last 10 years, the stand-off over who is and isn't Indian fractured these groups.
New appointments to the governor-selected Commission of Indian Affairs have given hope to the Melungeons and other unrecognized groups.
"We've finally got some people on there that are willing to help the people in Middle Tennessee. The old commissioners considered us wannabes," Nickens said. "The only thing we want to be is left alone."
Nickens says he has documentation of his Melungeon heritage that shows Indian descent.
Tracing the genealogy of the thousands who consider themselves Melungeon will be a long, expensive task, said Brent Kennedy, a college administrator from Wise, Va.
Kennedy spent years crippled by a mysterious ailment that swelled his legs and tore the end off each breath. It was his own research that unearthed the word "Melungeon" in his family after doctors finally identified his malady, a disease common among Mediterranean and Middle Eastern people.
Since then, Kennedy paid thousands of dollars to undergo DNA testing, which confirmed his research.
More of those tests are needed to trace medical histories and historical hypotheses about the Melungeons, many members of a national Melungeon group say.
But the group, now scattered across the country and tied together through Internet sites and a national organization, cannot agree on its next move.
Leaders of the organization say they have found geneticists willing to perform genetic tests. Yet many who call themselves Melungeon fear test results could be used to persecute them or their families in the future.
And even if they prove Native American and Middle Eastern extraction, such tests would not prove the group was ever a social unit that could be considered any sort of tribe, said Mack Lipsey.
Lipsey, a retired dean of graduate students at Tennessee State University, began traveling to Hancock County in the 1970s, when the word "Melungeon" was taboo, a whispered insult. He has heard the stories of clandestine Melungeon burials and of dusky men who minted silver coins in the mountains.
None of it has ever been proven, he said.
"There's no documentation, no information," he said. "The people never referred to themselves as Melungeons."
Nickens and others know their critics, but continue undaunted. If they are never officially recognized, at least the people who now call themselves Melungeon should know something of their history, they insist.
"Knowing your full heritage makes you a little more sensitive to the rest of the world," Kennedy said. "The greatest end resolve we could have is to say, 'Now we know. Let's get on with the business of being Americans.' "