Remembering Whaakadup from Tulalip

By Gabe Galanda

I met Whaakadup from Tulalip, as he proudly introduced himself, on May 5, 2010 in North Seattle. That encounter changed my life and the lives of countless relatives near and far.

A week prior I got a call from Tulalip Reservation Attorney Mike Taylor. He said a Tulalip man had his rights violated by the Washington State Department of Corrections when he tried to bring tobacco into the Monroe Corrections Center for ceremony.  Mike said it reeked of discrimination and asked me if I would talk to him. 

I had just started my law firm the month before.  Whaakadup from Tulalip became the firm’s first new client.  From that day forward he changed my life, and the lives of many others, especially the lives of our most voiceless relatives.

I learned that on Easter Sunday 2010, Whaakadup attempted to bring tobacco into the Monroe prison for a change of seasons sweatlodge ceremony he was leading for the incarcerated brothers there. 

When he attempted to go through prison security, the corrections officers took the tobacco he was bringing in for prayer. They told him it was contraband and they refused to let him into the facility for ceremony.  He was “walked off the hill” and in that moment, he knew it was wrong. 

Making matters worse, they fired him from his job as a DOC Native Chaplain.

As it turned out, the DOC had committed discrimination against not only Whaakadup that day, but also against all of our incarcerated relatives that spring.  The DOC changed its policies that year to basically do away with Indigenous religious practices.  Tobacco and other sacred medicines were outlawed.  Sweat lodge ceremonies were curtailed.  And relatives like Whaakadup were prevented from entering state prisons to help our relatives worship and heal.

On May 5, 2010, I told Whaakadup from Tulalip that I would help him get his job back. The next thing we knew over dozen Washington tribes signed on to a letter to the Governor, saying that they would not tolerate religious discrimination against him our incarcerated brothers and sisters.   

Tribal leaders met with DOC officials at Monroe and let them know the Tribes expected all of our relatives’ religious rights to be restored. I demanded that Whaakadup get his job back.

The DOC folded—they even apologized. They made things right.  They restored our relatives’ religious rights.  They gave Whaakadup his job back. 

Whaakadup stood up to the state of Washington like Billy Frank and Hank Adams, and won.

After he went back to work for the DOC, Whaakadup went on to graduate from the DOC CORE Academy.  I was there with Lisa on November 1, 2010, when he graduated with his CORE certificate.  We were there at Monroe Corrections Center, where only six months prior he was walked off the hill for practicing our religious ways.

Whaakadup, with his lawyer Gabe Galanda and wife Lisa Monger, at the DOC CORE Academy graduation at Monroe Corrections center in November 2010

Whaakadup had since taken classes at Monroe and learned all of the ways of the DOC.  Standing there that day on that same hill, in ancestral Tulalip territory, he stood proud. After falling down himself in the 1990s and doing time in the DOC, Whaakadup from Tulalip had become a certified member of the state prison system. 

Having fought the law, and won, Whaakadup was more determined than ever to help give a hand up to our brothers and sisters in state Iron Houses.  Although he did not last too long back in the DOC system—after all, it was The System and he was Whaakadup—he made his mark. That mark lasts today.

The next year Huy was formed.

Huy (“hoyt”) is a nonprofit that fights for the religious freedoms of our relatives in state Iron Houses in Washington State and throughout the country.

Over the last 11 years, we have advocated for Indigenous prisoners’ religious rights in places like Washington, Hawaii, Arizona, Alabama, and Connecticut.  We have advocated to policymakers in Olympia, Washington, DC, and Geneva, Switzerland. 

Whaakadup, with Nancy Talner of the ACLU-Washington and his cousin, then Swinomish Tribal Chairman Brian Cladboosby, at Seattle University Law School in 2011 or 2012

Whaakadup’s life’s work has touched people all over the world.

We have raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for annual pow wow celebrations in the DOC. For one day each year, our relatives sing and dance with their families. They eat a plate of traditional foods.  They enjoy warm frybread. They sit with their children on their laps.  For one day each year, our relatives are allowed to feel human, and Indigenous, and free. 

Even after he left the DOC, Whaakadup attended annual pow wows at Monroe and other DOC facilities. Those pow wows will start again in the next few weeks. Whaakadup will be there in spirit as our relatives sing, and dance, and feel free.

And now twelve years later, we stand watch against the next easter Sunday violation of our brothers and sisters’ inherent rights to worship and heal.

We stand on the shoulders of Whaakadup from Tulalip.

Whaakadup was my first tribal member client whose civil rights had been violated.  Before May 5, 2010, I had only represented tribal nations and businesses.  He was my first Tulalip tribal member client.  He was the person who brought me to Tulalip.  I have since had the good fortunate of helping many Tulalip families in times of trouble—all thanks to Whaakadup.

Whaakadup taught me to stand up for David in the face of Goliath, whether Goliath is the state or the DOC or a tribal government. 

He is one of the people who taught me what it really means to be Indigenous when your ways of existence are threatened. He taught me to stand up and fight no matter who or what is committing the wrong against our relatives.

He also taught me to never, ever give up on our relatives who have fallen.  They always deserve a chance at healing, forgiveness, and redemption. 

I am forever indebted to Whaakadup for his teachings.

Whaakadup from Tulalip was not perfect.  Like us all, he carried a hurt that has been passed down for generations.  At times, that hurt came out. At times, that hurt caused confusion. At time, that hurt caused more hurt.  But in the end, love and forgiveness prevailed with Whaakadup. 

There were times in our friendship where I hurt him and he forgave me, and where he hurt me and I forgave him.  But our love and kinship always won.

Because Whaakadup LOVED his relatives. He LOVED being Indigenous. He LOVED his Tulalip People. He LOVED our ways of life. 

More than any Tulalip I know, Whaakadup LOVED being Tulalip and being from Tulalip.

He was Whaakadup from Tulalip.

I last talked to Whaakadup two weeks ago. He called me from Nashville, where he was attending a healing court conference.  He was proud to be representing Tulalip there. He ran into a high school friend of mine from Port Angeles.  They immediately connected and shared stories.  She messaged me his photo. He called to tell me they met.

Whaakadup touched people wherever he went.

I ended our last call by telling Whaakadup, “I love you.” I don’t always say that like I should.  He was surprised but told me back, “I love you too.” Those were our last words to one another and I will never forget them.  I will never forget him. 

I love you Whaakadup from Tulalip. Thank you for being in my life.

As we remember him, let’s remember to never leave any of our relatives behind, especially those who have fallen. Let’s remember to give each other a bit of grace and forgive one another when that hurt comes out.  Let’s remember to tell each other “I love you.” 

Let’s always remember Whaakadup from Tulalip, a civil rights warrior for our relatives in Iron Houses.