Unmeasured and Unscathed: Mining and Resistance in the Black Hills.

Thank you for being here and for all that you do to protect the health of your community. I whispered to each Prairie Rose and Purple Coneflower.

Sage was the only one I had met before. Pejí Hotá. Lying on the bookshelf of my small Washington Heights apartment lies a bundle of sage wrapped in the same light pink tissue paper it had been gifted to me in during my first visit to the Reservation.

They sent both Man’s and Woman’s sage. I think that mine is Woman’s; the leaves are smaller and softer, with tiny flowering seeds at the top of the plant. Sage’s sweet and earthy fragrance mixed with the wild mint leaves and filled the entire room. Each inhale brought a familiar stillness, each exhale solemn responsibility.

As I gently rinsed and weighed each leaf and flower head, I thought of the long journey they had been on from South Dakota to New York. You are in the lab. We are going to see what metals are inside of you that may be harmful to health.

The Principal Investigator of the lab came to meet the plants in between whispers. Did you see that the Guardian released an article about the victory at Pe’ Sla this morning? She asked with a fever that I do not find in most people here. Surprisingly, I had not.

I opened the article on my phone. “A rare win in Indian Country: how tribes drove out a mining company in one week.”

I had been following Pe’ Sla closely. Lakota youth chained themselves to drilling equipment and raised banners that read “Protect the Black Hills” and “Sacred Ground Not Mining Bound.” Altars were built upon drill pads, prayer circles were formed, and elders led traditional ceremonies.

Pete Lien & Son’s was there unlawfully. They always are.

In 2014, a Memorandum of Understanding was signed between the U.S. Forest Service and representative Tribal Nations of the Oceti Sakowin, formally recognizing Pe’ Sla as a place of profound “cultural and religious significance.” The sacred site and a two-mile buffer zone surrounding Pe’ Sla are legally protected from development. Yet, in February of 2026, the U.S.Forest Service approved Pete Lien & Son’s drilling of 18 holes for graphite exploration, 10 within the protected buffer zone. The Forest Service granted a Categorical Exclusion, which exempted an Environmental Impact Statement and a Historical Impact Review from being conducted. Again, unlawfully.

On April 30th, 2026, NDN Collective, Black Hills Clean Water Alliance, Earthworks, and nine Oceti Sakowin Tribes filed a lawsuit against the Forest Service, whose Categorical Exclusion violated the National Environmental Policy Act and the National Historic Preservation Act. When Pete Lien & Sons raced to drill before a court decision was made, the Oceti Sakowin followed, armed with prayer, drum circles, and livestreamed footage. On May 4th, a federal judge ruled that the drilling must be paused. After seven days and seven nights, Pete Lien & Son’s withdrew, stating they have no plan to return.

Pe’ Sla is one of countless sacred sites threatened by mining claims within the Black Hills, He Sapa, a mountain range that spans Western South Dakota and Eastern Wyoming. The Black Hills are the most sacred place on earth to the Oceti Sakowin, the Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota peoples Indigenous to the Great Plains. They are a place of emergence, creation, and ceremony. They are burial grounds, churches, and apothecaries. They carry over a thousand miles of creeks and streams into the Cheyenne and Missouri Rivers, the main sources of drinking and surface water for Native American reservations downstream. Of these is Pine Ridge Reservation (Pine Ridge), home of the Oglala Lakota.

My first visit to Pine Ridge was last April. We landed at Rapid City Airport around 12 am. Every wall was plastered with decals of Mt. Rushmore. I drove with PhD students and postdocs for around two hours to the Reservation in the pitch black. I awoke the next morning to the crow of roosters and 80-degree weather. We headed to the Missouri Breaks Industries Research Institute (Missouri Breaks) Community Research Symposium. On day one, kids made non-toxic lip balms and sugar scrubs by stirring sticky mixtures of beeswax and coconut oil. On day two, researchers from elite universities presented updates on their work. There wasn’t time for questions. Afterwards, a group of us drove around 45 minutes to the site of the Wounded Knee Massacre. I spent the entire car ride there voicing that the presentations were too long and too technical. No one talked about mining, not seriously.

There are nearly 10,000 active mining claims in the Black Hills, covering over 200,000 acres of land and forest. Close to 300 abandoned uranium mines have leached radiation into the earth for over fifty years since the Uranium boom. The heaviest mined regions across the U.S. include land surrounding Indigenous communities. Simultaneously, American Indians have higher rates of, and die more frequently from, diabetes, cardiovascular diseases, cancers, and other chronic illnesses than all other races. The Columbia University Northern Plains Superfund Research Program partners with Missouri Breaks to examine how disparities in exposure to hazardous metals may be driving these health disparities. This research has found that Tribal communities in the U.S. are disproportionately exposed to arsenic and uranium in their drinking water. Arsenic is a known carcinogen, and uranium has been linked to cancer. Arsenic, uranium, and other metals can contaminate water, air, soil, and plants through natural or human-driven processes, such as mining activities. From these sources, metals then enter the body. Tribal communities in the U.S. have 2.5 to 5 times higher arsenic/uranium levels in their urine than other non-Native U.S. populations. There is limited research on the extent to which legacy and present-day mining activities contribute to disparities in arsenic and uranium exposure in American Indian communities. Even less is understood about how other social stressors interact with these environmental stressors to drive health disparities.

I almost missed it. Immediately off the side of the highway stood a large red sign marking where U.S. troops opened fire on a camp of Lakota people. Hundreds were killed, mostly women, children, and infants. Strokes of white paint retold the bloodshed, and the blizzard that followed, that winter of 1890. On the other side of the highway, a mass grave lies atop a small hill. Most U.S. history books refer to this tragedy as the Battle of Wounded Knee. At the bottom of the sign, “LANDBACK” is written in faded black marker.

The first half of the car ride back was silent. Then someone brought up Mt. Rushmore. The Six Grandfathers. Tȟuŋkášila Šákpe. I spent the second half explaining the annexation of the Black Hills by Congress to develop gold mines, then uranium and rare earths, now graphite, lithium, and even more gold and uranium. I blamed the 1872 Mining Law that allows anyone to claim mining stakes on federal public lands. I recited the 1851 and 1868 Fort Laramie Treaties that designate the Black Hills as unceded Lakota territory. I detailed the Battle of Greasy Grass and Oceti Sakowin resistance. I traced our research to the work of Charmaine Whiteface, Debra WhitePlume, JoAnn Tall, Madonna Thunderhawk, Women of All Red Nations, and others, who, in 1980, were the first group to sample drinking water on Pine Ridge and trace elevated radiation levels to uranium mining in the Black Hills, declaring genocide by poison. Mni Wakan. Mní Wičhóni. Mni Pejuta. That same year, the United States Supreme Court held that the Black Hills were illegally stolen from the Lakota.

Another student in the car looked forward with confusion.

In most areas of the Reservation, you can see where the earth meets the sky in all directions. In others, hills of brownish grey rock formations break up the view. The long ones have red and yellow stripes. The grass is dull and dry with small patches of green. Every few miles, an occasional school or trailer or house comes into view. More commonly, wild horses and buffalo and birds that I am terrible at spotting and “Res” dogs that can be found in oddly arranged packs everywhere that people are. Mitakuye Oyasin.

But there is no mining on this Reservation, they said, finally, with equal parts question and statement.

The next morning, our last day, we woke to a light blanket of snow.

The plants above .2 grams need to be ground. As I watched the sage turn to thread, I thought about everyone I had met on Pine Ridge, through laughter, tears, and prayer. I thought about the high school students who harvested them. The Medicine Men who harness their properties to cure illness and ease pain. I wonder what they have seen. What they hold onto. What has been passed down to them, and what they pass down. How they have adapted and survived. I wonder who I did not get to meet, as they can no longer grow on their native lands.

Through all, I think about settler colonialism. The theory, the practice, its ability to slip unrecognized through time and space. To remain unnamed and unaccounted for; unmeasured and unscathed. From the Great Plains to Palestine; Congo to Jamaica; Venezuela to Puerto Rico.

So, I talk to the plants, and I talk about mining at the dinner table, and I name settler colonialism loudly in rooms that I think I will always feel out of place in, and I frame Indigenous resistance higher than settler violence. There are many moments of them, and I believe that many more are to come. I write about LandBack in my research papers as full sovereignty over land and resources is the strongest environmental health intervention that exists for Indigenous peoples.

On September 2nd, Black Hills Clean Water Alliance released an update that there has been a 20% decline in mining claims in the Black Hills since September of 2025. Much work remains. Mato Tipila. Craven Canyon. The data center boom. First, we must celebrate these wins. Then, we must move onward with strength forged from the generations who came before and hope rooted in the generations who will come after.

Follow Black Hills Clean Water Alliance and Water Protector Legal for opportunities to submit public comments opposing mining in the Black Hills and other sacred sites.

Learn more about the Oceti Sakowin and the Black Hills

“Lakota Nation vs. The United States” documentary on Apple TV and Kanopy
“Crying Earth, Rise Up!” documentary on Kanopy
“LandBack for the People” podcast on Youtube and Spotify
Our History is Our Future: Standing Rock Versus the Dakota Access Pipeline, and the Long Tradition of Indigenous Resistance by Nick Estes

Rachel Carson National Environmental Leadership Fellow Grace Cammarata

Grace (sher/her) is a second year Masters of Public Health student in Environmental Health Sciences (EHS) with a Certificate in Social Determinants of Health at. Prior to starting her MPH program, Grace received a Bachelors of Arts in Global Public Health and Sociology from New York University. On campus, Grace serves as the President of Students for Environmental Action, a student-run club promoting sustainability, environmental justice, and student-engagement in the Washington Heights community.