Tradition in Motion

When Tank Young enters the dance circle at a powwow, he is transformed. Instead of sporting his usual T-shirt and shorts, Tank, 16, appears in full regalia. He wears leather moccasins, fur leg wrappings, and an apron and arm bands adorned with colorful ribbons and beads. Eagle feathers stick straight up on his head and jut out from his back like wings. Tank steps and spins to the beat of a drum, bending his knees to touch the ground and rhythmically waving batons covered in ribbons.

Tank, who lives in San Lorenzo, California, is part of a line of Native American dancers that stretches back thousands of years. Dance has long played a vital role in Native American life, from storytelling to celebrations to spiritual and healing rituals. Today Native dance is largely seen at powwows, gatherings of Indigenous people where dancers like Tank come together to honor their heritage and carry their traditions into the future. “I dance for people that can’t dance,” says Tank. “Those whose bodies won’t allow them to, or elders who can’t go to the powwow.”

The modern powwow was born from a desire to hold on to tradition despite discrimination. In the late 19th century, the U.S. government banned Native dance as part of an effort to force Native American people to assimilate. In response, Native communities adapted their dances into versions that could be legally performed in public at gatherings they called powwows (from the Narragansett Indian Tribe’s word pau wau, meaning spiritual leader).

In the 1950s, government programs encouraged and, in many cases, forced thousands of Native people to relocate from reservations to cities across the country. There, people from different tribes intermingled more than before. This amalgam of Native cultures is what’s seen at powwows today. Each year more than one thousand powwows take place across the U.S. and Canada, with many of them drawing hundreds or even thousands of participants. They include craft vendors, food stalls, drum circles, and, of course, dancing.

Tank Young totally transforms when he enters the dance circle at a powwow. The 16-year-old usually wears a T-shirt and shorts. But when he’s dancing, he dresses in full regalia. That includes leather moccasins and fur leg wrappings and an apron and arm bands that are decorated with colorful ribbons and beads. Eagle feathers stick straight up on his head. More jut out from his back like wings. Tank steps and spins to the beat of a drum. He bends his knees to touch the ground. He waves batons covered in ribbons.

Tank lives in San Lorenzo, California. He’s part of a line of Native American dancers that stretches back thousands of years. Dance has long played a role in Native American life. It’s vital to storytelling, celebrations, and spiritual and healing rituals. Today Native dance is largely seen at powwows. Dancers like Tank come together at these gatherings of Indigenous people. They honor their heritage and carry their traditions into the future. “I dance for people that can’t dance,” says Tank. “Those whose bodies won’t allow them to, or elders who can’t go to the powwow.”

The modern powwow came from a need to hold on to tradition despite discrimination. The U.S. government banned Native dance in the late 19th century. It was part of an effort to force Native American people to assimilate. Instead, Native communities adapted their dances. They created versions that could be legally performed in public. They danced them at powwows. (The term comes from the Narragansett Indian Tribe’s word pau wau, meaning spiritual leader.)

In the 1950s, thousands of Native people moved from reservations to cities across the country. Government programs encouraged, and often forced, them to move. People from different tribes met because of this. This mix of Native cultures is what’s seen at powwows today. Each year more than one thousand powwows take place across the U.S. and Canada. Many draw hundreds or even thousands of participants. They include craft vendors, food stalls, drum circles, and dancing.

Tank has been attending powwows with his family his whole life. He started dancing at age 2 and participated in his first competition when he was 6. “I didn’t really fall in love with it until I was 13,” says Tank. “I noticed that my dancing made other people happy. It wasn’t just for me. I got hooked on the audience clapping and screaming, saying, ‘One more song!’ All that excitement and joy is the best.”

Today competitive Native American dance is divided into nine styles, split by gender. Tank performs a men’s style called fancy war dance, which originated with the Ponca Tribe of Oklahoma. Inspired by horses’ speed and strength, it involves highly athletic and energetic movements, with dancers wearing brightly colored regalia. Tank doesn’t have Ponca roots. His heritage is Cherokee, Choctaw, Apache, and Taos Pueblo. But today much of Native culture is integrated, with people hailing from different communities coming together.

Tank has been going to powwows with his family his whole life. He started dancing at age 2. He entered his first competition at 6. “I didn’t really fall in love with it until I was 13,” says Tank. “I noticed that my dancing made other people happy. It wasn’t just for me. I got hooked on the audience clapping and screaming, saying, ‘One more song!’ All that excitement and joy is the best.”

Today Native American dance is divided into nine styles, split into groups for men and women. Tank performs a men’s style called fancy war dance. It began with the Ponca Tribe of Oklahoma. It was inspired by horses’ speed and strength. It involves highly athletic and energetic movements. And dancers wear brightly colored regalia. Tank doesn’t have Ponca roots. His heritage is Cherokee, Choctaw, Apache, and Taos Pueblo. But today much of Native culture is combined. People from different communities come together as one.

During competitions, Tank takes his place in the dance circle with other fancy dancers in his age category and waits for the drummers to start playing. Then he responds to the music, improvising movement in the moment. A panel of judges watches for elements like rhythm, footwork, and regalia authenticity. In fancy dance, dancers strike poses at the end of each drum pattern. Failure to stop on time can lead to lower scores. “A lot of people say you don’t compete against other dancers. You’re competing against the drum,” explains Tank. “Sometimes it will trick you.”

Tank often places or wins at competitions, earning prize money, which he uses to pay for travel to other powwows across the country as well as internationally. He recently participated in a 10-day dance festival in France, performing with traditional dancers from countries including Thailand, Ghana, and Spain. This past summer, he spent seven weeks dancing at powwows across Canada. “We went to a powwow every day,” says Tank. “My body was sore!”

At home in California, Tank performs at schools, festivals, and museums, showcasing Native cultures. To accommodate his dance schedule, Tank switched to online schooling for his junior year. “This way I have my own schedule and am able to get my work done when I have time, without missing classes for traveling,” he explains.

Tank takes his place in the dance circle during competitions. He joins other fancy dancers in his age category. He waits for the drummers to start playing. Then he responds to the music by coming up with movement in the moment. A panel of judges watch. They look for elements like rhythm, footwork, and regalia authenticity. Fancy dancers strike poses at the end of each drum pattern. Failure to stop on time can lead to lower scores. “A lot of people say you don’t compete against other dancers. You’re competing against the drum,” explains Tank. “Sometimes it will trick you.”

Tank often places or wins at competitions. He uses prize money to pay for travel to other powwows across the country and internationally. He recently took part in a 10-day dance festival in France. He performed with traditional dancers from countries including Thailand, Ghana, and Spain. He spent seven weeks dancing at powwows across Canada this past summer. “We went to a powwow every day,” says Tank. “My body was sore!”

Tank performs at schools, festivals, and museums at home in California to showcase Native culture. He switched to online schooling for his junior year to make more time for dance. “This way I have my own schedule and am able to get my work done when I have time, without missing classes for traveling,” he explains.

For Tank, preparing to dance involves more than just practicing. He also makes his own regalia. His complex outfit, which weighs upward of 30 pounds, includes garments with elaborately woven glass beads and feathers. When he was younger, Tank relied on his mom’s and grandmother’s handiwork. “I started making my own regalia about two years ago,” says Tank. “I learned from my auntie and by taking things apart to repair them.”

Many Native dancers create their regalia based on designs passed down through the generations. But Tank and his sister, Kiona, are the first members of their family to dance competitively. “I just make what I think looks good,” says Tank.

Nevertheless, dancing makes him feel connected to his family’s ancestors, who’ve inhabited this land for generations. Every time Tank dresses in his regalia and hears the familiar drumbeat, he taps back into those roots. “It’s a reminder that we’re still here,” says Tank. “Native Americans aren’t just surviving. We’re thriving.”

Preparing to dance involves more than just practicing for Tank. He also makes his own regalia. His complex outfit weighs upward of 30 pounds. It includes elaborate garments woven with glass beads and feathers. Tank relied on his mom’s and grandmother’s handiwork when he was younger. “I started making my own regalia about two years ago,” says Tank. “I learned from my auntie and by taking things apart to repair them.”

Many Native dancers create their regalia based on designs passed down through generations. But Tank and his sister, Kiona, are the first in their family to dance competitively. “I just make what I think looks good,” says Tank.

Nevertheless, dancing makes him feel connected to his family’s ancestors. They’ve lived in this country for generations. Every time Tank dresses in his regalia and hears the familiar drumbeat, he taps back into those roots. “It’s a reminder that we’re still here,” says Tank. “Native Americans aren’t just surviving. We’re thriving.”