By Amy Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Judith Ruiz-Branch for Wisconsin News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Patty Loew attended five screenings of a new film this year. She wasn't joining box office masses at Wicked or Inside Out 2, but Bad River: A Story of Defiance.

The independent documentary, directed by Mary Mazzio and released in March, drew in masses of its own. AMC Theatres put it up on select big screens across the United States. Peacock started streaming it last month.

The documentary highlights longstanding issues facing the Bad River Band of Lake Superior Chippewa in northern Wisconsin. Loew 'Waswaagonokwe' (Torch Light on the Water Woman) is a citizen.

She and other Band members are interviewed in the film, which explores tragic boarding school histories and how members of the Band have faced violence and racism.

The documentary heavily focuses on the Line 5 dispute between the Band and Canadian energy company Enbridge. Loew, who recently retired as director of the Center for Native American and Indigenous Research at Northwestern University (among many other titles), addresses it in the film.

"My little tribe is standing up and saying, 'We're protecting the water, not just for us. We're protecting water for the planet.'"

Behind the Struggle

As it stands, 12 miles of a crude oil and natural gas pipeline run through Bad River land, constructed in 1953. In 2017, Bad River's tribal council voted against renewing the company's rights to use their land. It led to years of protests and activism when Enbridge refused to leave. Last summer, a federal judge gave Enbridge three years to shut down the pipeline on the reservation.

That reservation includes just under 40 miles of Lake Superior shoreline, thousands of wetland acres, and hundreds of miles of streams, rivers, and tributaries.

The documentary shows its beauty. Think grandiose drone shots and stunning water imagery.

"Bad River is where I go when I need my batteries recharged, when I need time to reflect, when I just need to get back in touch with things that make me happy," Loew says.

Last month, the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources issued construction permits for Line 5 to reroute 41 miles south of the reservation and exit Bad River lands by 2026.

But Loew and other Band members who are interviewed in the film say that isn't enough to protect Mashiiziibii land and nearby areas from a potential pipeline burst. They want it shut down.

Enbridge lawyers and the U.S. government say they can't, citing a 1977 energy treaty with the Canadian government. But Bad River citizens say Ojibwe treaties, which established reservations and land rights, predate that by over 100 years.

"If such a rupture were to occur, nearly one million gallons of oil would spill into the river, flowing into Lake Superior and devastating the wild rice beds and fishing populations central to the Band's way of life," stated 30 Midwestern Native Nations in a letter to the White House in February.

There have been over 20 spills along the Line 5's 645-mile route since 1968, including over 14,000 gallons in Bad River land in 1972.

Despite the continued debate, Loew has hope.

"The right thing will eventually happen," she says.

"I think everyone-whether you live in a red or a blue state, or whether you are Native or non-Native-[wants] clean water and clean air, not just for themselves, but for their children and grandchildren."


Amy Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


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CORRECTIONS: Washington Gov. Bob Ferguson was not at the 3rd annual taskforce summit. An earlier version incorrectly stated he had attended. In addition, the story now mentions that the American Indian Health Commission organized the summit. (11:12 a.m. PST, June 30, 2025)

Native Americans in Washington state face opioid and fentanyl overdose rates four times the national average and leaders are calling for more investment in treatment centers and transitional housing to address the problem.

While nationally fentanyl overdoses have declined, Native American fatalities have surged since the pandemic.

Rep. Debra Lekanoff, D-Bellingham, is part of the State Tribal Opioid-Fentanyl Taskforce. She serves Whatcom County, where overdose-related fatalities are the highest in the state.

"I can't tell you the number of times that the Native American communities of Lummi Nation and of the Nooksack Tribe have stood next to their graves being in such sadness from the loss of their grandmothers, their mothers, their children," Lekanoff recounted.

During the taskforce's third annual summit, organized by the American Indian Health Commission, tribal leaders and state agencies met for three days and heard from community members in recovery from opioid use disorder.

Last year, Lekanoff noted, the task force partnered with tribal governments and invested in substance abuse treatment facilities based on a successful model created by the Swinomish.

"The model that Swinomish created 12 years ago has now been incorporated into over 20 tribally owned substance abuse disorder facilities that are healing all Washingtonians," Lekanoff explained.

Lekanoff added in the next couple of years the task force will focus on transitional housing for those recovering from substance abuse. She stressed it is a nonpartisan issue and it will take everyone working together to make change.

"It is going to take us recognizing that we're one people, we're one family, we're one community in Washington state," Lekanoff emphasized.


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American Indian and Alaska Native communities in Colorado continue to face significant gaps in health care access, quality and outcomes, according to a new analysis of the Colorado All Payer Claims Database.

While the communities face higher rates of many chronic conditions, they are also not getting important preventive care.

David Wright, data manager at the Denver Indian Center, said fear remains a primary barrier, pointing to decades of mistreatment, including the forced sterilization of women and federal policies forcing medicine men and other spiritual leaders into mental asylums up until 1978.

"Native people, for a long time, have been used to advance medical research without their consent," Wright pointed out. "And so there's a large mistrust within the native communities against the medical profession."

Between 2018 and 2024, American Indian and Alaska Native people were diagnosed with kidney disease, autoimmune, nervous, metabolic and endocrine disorders such as diabetes at rates far above their white peers. Wright noted the analysis, produced in partnership with the Center for Improving Value in Health Care, will be used to create a culturally tailored education program for health providers.

Without additional training, Wright pointed out health professionals are likely to continue to assume chronic conditions are due to an individual's dietary choices. Many do not understand for more than 100 years, tribes had to rely on government rations, typically high in carbohydrates and salt, to get enough calories.

"Because of the forced relocation and the reservation systems, and relying on heavily carbohydrate related rations," Wright added.

Poverty, lack of affordable housing and the breakdown of family systems also disproportionately affect health outcomes. Wright argued better health will require treating the whole person, not just specific medical conditions. When people are out of balance in any one area, he stressed there are ripple effects.

"If we're not able to provide stable housing -- which is not only of mental and emotional and physical importance -- but it also will affect the outcomes and the teachings and the role modeling you need for your children and your family structures," Wright emphasized.


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Ho-Chunk has kicked off its summer internship program in Nebraska after sifting through 600 applicants.

It is opening pathways to higher education and leadership positions within the Winnebago Tribe in Nebraska. The Ho-Chunk Incorporated internship program will mentor nearly two dozen students this summer, 14 of whom are members of the Winnebago Tribe.

Aaron LaPointe, CEO of Ho-Chunk Capital, started as an intern and said the program is an opportunity for interns to learn a business from the ground up - and he has personal experience.

"I was studying agriculture, and the CEO here at Ho-Chunk was like, 'What? We have a tribal member studying agriculture? He's got to run this farm,'" LaPointe recounted.

LaPointe started by running the farm and ascended to head Ho-Chunk Capital, an investment arm of the corporation. He took on several other roles on his way up the ladder, too. The internship program is highly competitive. From hundreds of applicants, only 24 were accepted.

In addition to learning skills they need to be successful in business, LaPointe said, interns also gain the confidence to do their jobs.

"Our interns aren't just sitting in a cubicle off to the side filing," he explained. "They're in the board meetings, they're in the executive board meetings and strategizing business, and we really make it a well-rounded experience."

The internship program runs until Aug. 1.