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Positive or not, change has come to the powwow arena and probably will continue to do so. But, some standards must be kept in order not to lose the culture entirely.

Ponca singer Ed Littlecook, in white hat, leads singers in a victory song during a summer dance at White Eagle, Okla. Photo by JoKAY Dowell

TAHLEQUAH, Okla. – To those lacking knowledge of Indian ways, the powwow drum in the center of the dance circle is an inanimate object made from stretched rawhide and wood used by singers who beat it to the rhythm of an unintelligible ‘chant.’ But to those who were reared in that circle, the drum is the heartbeat and spirit of the people, a living thing to be respected, for it holds healing power and carries ancient songs further into the future.

“In the Ottawa language, the words drum and heart are very close,” said respected Ottawa drummer and singer, Dr. Kevin Dawes. “When I first started (backyard) singing, long before I ever went out at a dance, I was told ‘Don’t just sit there and tap on it, being silly; that when I hit the drum I was talking to God.”

Like Dawes, Sac and Fox, Euchee and Pawnee men’s straight dancer Rusty Tiger remembers his first encounters with the instrument central to the powwow culture and the responsibility for its care.

“It involved ceremony,” he explained, “There were drum keepers in charge of this drum to cedar it off and pray…to take it out and let the sun shine on it, just like other living things that take their energy from the sun. When there was no sun they used the warmth of a fire to achieve a certain tone which enhanced the overall effect of the song and the drumbeat, giving life to the intent of the song by the composer. Have you ever heard a flat drum?”

Though powwows are social gatherings not held to the strict decorum of traditional ceremonies, there is a presumption of protocol, based on the beliefs and practices of the community in which the event is held. In one’s approach to the drum, there is an expectation of behavior that sometimes seems to be lost on some of the younger generation.

“We were told to watch the man leading the song, never raise our sticks higher than his; this is so foreign to the kids nowadays,” Dawes said.

Tiger also noted that some of the youth who dance seem to be more interested in just their own particular contest than in the overall dance.

“This is also going to the way side due to the non-interest of the young dancers today, too busy visiting and conserving energy for their particular contest, most are just walking around. I was always taught to dance each song as if you were contesting, you are there to dance, sit down and be quiet, until it was time to get up again. If you wanted to visit or half-dance don’t even get dressed,” he was taught.

Dennis Zotigh, Kiowa, San Juan Pueblo and Santee Dakota singer and dancer, now the community events coordinator at the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian is in a position to continue to teach the ways of his family and emphasizes the potential for teaching respect around the drum.

“If I am going to the drum to sing, I should have good thoughts and feelings in general and toward the other singers. I need to be respectful when approaching the drum and know the protocols of the tribes I am singing with,” he said.

Along with teaching respect for culture and the differences in communities, the drum has healing powers.

Dee Dee Goodeagle is known all over the United States as a championship women’s buckskin dancer. Her dress is made from deer hides softened to a velvety texture then stitched with colorful patterns of floral and geometric designs. Now in her 70s, she recently relented to knee surgery, having worn out the joints from years of refined, deliberate steps that exemplify the southern or Oklahoma style of women’s dance.

“I blew them out,” Goodeagle said of her knees. “The doctors wanted me to have surgery for some time, but the drum makes me feel so good I didn’t want to have to stop dancing even to get my knees fixed.” Within weeks after surgery, Goodeagle said she went to a dance and could not resist the call of the drum. She is back in the arena going strong.

Zotigh explains that the drum is more than an instrument to provide cadence for the dancers. There is a spirit that each powwow drum, with its singers, diffuses into the dance arena. The interaction between the drum, the singers and the dancers is powerful with spiritual and physical energy.

“This spirit, if used in the right way, can heal those who cannot dance, those who are troubled and those who are weary,” Zotigh said.

Besides interacting with the drum to set the mood for the event, singers have a unique perspective on the powwow culture that comes from their central location within the dance arena.

“The spirit enhances you with a particular song and that is translated outwardly to the dancers first, then there is feedback from the dancers back to the drum, by the blowing of the whistle and the war hoop, or even the ‘loo-loo’ of the women when that connection is made. The energy is astounding when this happens,” Tiger said.

Dawes agreed and said even with a presumption of decorum, there are exceptions when the crowd is obviously enjoying the singing coming from the drum.

“When you sing you miss out on almost all of the dancing, period. You have to be aware of how the dancers are tuned in to the music. An older singer told us that the only reason we’re out there is to make the dancers dance. After 37 years of singing, I still can’t stand failing in that. On the flip side, it’s a huge blast to see someone in street clothes out there dancing because he’s enjoying the music. I’ve noticed that as I sing less and ‘lawn chair it’ more, it feels good to be at home and just get out there in my droopy jeans and dance to be close to the drum,” Dawes said.

But powwows have changed and some say it has not been all positive.

“The powwow world has evolved enough to where we hear people say they were raised in the ‘traditional powwow way.’ Go figure. Nowadays, we go to a gathering expecting to get something (usually money), whereas, in the past, people usually brought something to give away. We need to acknowledge that what we see today is (the participation of) tribes who have adopted this drum (or the powwow lifestyle) as opposed to their own traditional ways and made it suit their needs,” Damon Roughface, who comes from a long lineage of traditional Ponca dancers and singers, said.

Positive or not, change has come to the powwow arena and probably will continue to do so. But, some standards must be kept in order not to lose the culture entirely.

Kiowa singer and powwow emcee Kelly Anquoe noted without the drum there would be no powwow.

Dawes related the warning of his father, former Ottawa Tribal Chairman Charles Dawes, now deceased, who was also an emcee at some of the oldest powwows in Oklahoma.

“Dad  used to quote a man named Frank Jones who said, ‘The drum is the heartbeat of the Indian people and when the last drumbeat has sounded, the Indian way will be no more.’”