Being Aboriginal, Yet Labeled African American: A Legacy of Erasure and Identity

For generations, many Black families in the United States have heard stories passed down through the ages about our Indigenous ancestors. Grandparents and older relatives would proudly share that they had Cherokee, Blackfoot, or other Indigenous blood running through their veins. For some, it was more than just a story—it was a profound connection to the land and culture that once belonged to our ancestors. But over time, we were told something else: we were African American—and nothing more.

 

This is where the complexity of identity and history collides.

A Bloodline That Tells a Different Story

As descendants of African slaves brought to the Americas, we are often categorized as African American, an identity imposed on us by a system that sought to erase or minimize our connection to the Indigenous people who walked these lands before European colonization. But many of us know, deep down, that our history is much more than the label slapped on us by others. Our bloodlines tell a different story—a story that dates back to a time before the arrival of Europeans and slavery.

Generations ago, our ancestors lived on this land. Some were freedom fighters, some were land stewards, and some were Aboriginal people who were forcibly assimilated into the system of slavery. Our Black ancestors didn’t just come from Africa—they were born here, in the Americas, and their roots stretch deep into the soil of this land. So, when we are told by our grandparents that we have Cherokee, Blackfoot, or Choctaw blood in our veins, we are reminded that we were not just brought here as slaves—we belonged to this land long before slavery’s cruel system began.

“We Didn’t Land on Plymouth Rock, Plymouth Rock Landed on Us”

The legendary words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. during his speech in 1964 resonate deeply with us. He said: “We didn’t land on Plymouth Rock, Plymouth Rock landed on us.” This is not just a powerful political statement—it’s a declaration of ownership over the land that was stolen from us. We were here long before colonization and slavery—our ancestors were here, thriving in their cultures, communities, and societies.

When Dr. King spoke of Plymouth Rock, he was referring to the beginning of a process that would see our people—Black, Indigenous, and mixed-race peoples—treated as commodities rather than humans. We were stripped of our languages, our cultures, and our right to exist freely. But we never left—our roots in this land have always remained, even though our stories and truths have often been hidden or denied by both mainstream society and even within our own communities.

The Civil Rights Movement: Reparations for All, Even Those Not Recognized by Their Tribes

The Civil Rights Movement was about securing rights and freedom for those who had been oppressed, particularly Black Americans, but also for those who had been marginalized within their own communities. For many of us with Indigenous ancestry, the struggle was even deeper: it was about reparations for those who had not only been enslaved but also left unrecognized by their tribes—tribes that had once enslaved their own kin.

Throughout the history of slavery, many Native Americans in the Southeast, like the Cherokee and Chickasaw, participated in enslaving Africans and aboriginal people. These communities, which had their own systems of governance and autonomy, also fell prey to the systemic pressures of colonization and European influence. Many enslaved Aboriginal people were taken in as “adopted” members of the tribe, only to later be excluded from tribal benefits and citizenship after the Civil War. The very same tribes that once claimed us as their own now refused to recognize us as rightful members, effectively denying us land, protection, and the ability to practice our Indigenous traditions.

This exclusion remains part of our collective struggle for recognition and reparations. If we were to claim our rightful place within our tribes, it would mean having our connection to the land, our ancestral rights, and the resources of our Aboriginal heritage. This is a second layer of reparations, one that goes beyond monetary compensation and instead addresses the deep cultural and ancestral bonds that were severed.

The Struggle for Identity

So, when we are labeled African American, it’s not just about race—it’s about a denial of our true identity as the Aboriginal of the Americas. It is a narrative that was forced upon us to erase our Indigenous roots and disconnect us from the land that was ours. But for those of us who carry this ancestral knowledge, we understand the complexity of our identity—we are both Aboriginal and African American.

This identity is not one of conflict but rather a powerful reclamation of the intersectionality of our history. Our Blackness is rooted in the land that nurtured us long before we were labeled as property in the eyes of the state, and our Indigeneity is the unbroken thread of survival that carried our ancestors through centuries of enslavement.

A Call for Recognition

As we continue to reclaim our identities, it is important to challenge the narratives that keep us bound by labels that don’t fit. The civil rights movement was about freedom, justice, and reparations, but it was also about truth—truth about the ways we’ve been excluded, erased, and redefined by systems that never had our best interests at heart.

Our fight is not just about being recognized as African American or being recognized as Aboriginals —it is about being seen as we are, in all of our complexity. We are the descendants of those who were not only brought to this land but who were also born and bred here. We belong to this land—and it’s time the world recognized our rightful place in history.

A Legacy of Strength

We were here before slavery. And even as we were forced into a system that dehumanized us, our connection to this land remains unbroken. We are the descendants of the original Americans, and no matter how the world tries to define us, we know who we are: Aboriginal-descended, and powerful beyond measure.