By Monday afternoon, as the New York State Fair rolled into its final hours, Ashley Shenandoah was feeling the sadness of the impending annual goodbye. She looked around at people of all generations from throughout the Six Nations, gathered in this green and quiet corner of the fairgrounds, and her relief at the way everything had gone so well was tempered by what she feels on every Labor Day: A piece of her did not want the fair to end. “It’s who we are,” said Shenandoah, who has now spent more than two years as the first woman to serve as superintendent of the annual two-week gathering, coordinated by the Six Nations Agricultural Society. That organization oversees an Indigenous fairgrounds community that was renamed this year as “Haudenosaunee Village,” though that fairgrounds gathering point for the Six Nations has existed since 1928. “I just wanted to step up and do my part,” said Shenandoah, who left Monday evening to return with her family to the Tonawanda Seneca territory, not far from Buffalo. She said the village has become a major part of her life, and she feels an obligation to help sustain that energy: “I want it to survive and I want it to prosper and I want it to be here for my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren, all those who haven’t been born. The Smoke Dance competition at Haudenosaunee Village, New York State Fair, 2022. Credit: Mike Greenlar | Central Current “It’s part of our land, part of our responsibility,” Shenandoah said. “We have to make sure it’s here, and we have to educate the public.” That last point was a central impetus for this year’s official changing of the name. The Six Nations enclave at the fairgrounds opened in 1928 as “Indian Village,” the same thing it was called until this summer. Yet for most of its existence, the driving theme at the village has always been the same as it is now, a message that has only intensified in the 21st century. The Haudenosaunee, in a profound and vibrant way, are still here. “We wanted to represent our identity,” Shenandoah said. The name “Haudenosaunee Village” expresses the heritage and hope of five Indigenous nations linked since ancient times by culture, language and government within a living confederacy — a number that became six with the addition of the Tuscaroras. The alliance was first established many centuries ago around a tree of peace, planted on the shoreline of Onondaga Lake, and Shenandoah said the educational imperative at the fairgrounds is reaffirmed by everyone who returns each year. It has also taken on a feeling of beautiful connection: Over 96 years, the village has become a place of joyous annual reunions for people who travel hours from many territories, which is why Shenandoah feels such annual sadness, when it ends. The original fairgrounds name, she said, became outdated long ago. “We’re not Indians,” said Heath Hill, an Oneida who serves as assistant superintendent and whose duties include overseeing the extensive Haudenosaunee dancing at the village. He and Shenandoah emphasized that “Indians” was a false descriptive placed on Indigenous people long ago, in utter error, by Europeans — and a word that has managed to hang around for a long time. Shenandoah said “Indian Village” was vague or inaccurate in almost any context at the fair, particularly if it erroneously invoked Indigenous people across the continent. The fairgrounds community, she said, is — and has always been — about the story and future of the Haudenosaunee, about their lives and beliefs and culture. With that in mind, at a meeting of the agricultural society 11 months ago, Shenandoah and Heath asked the membership if it was time, finally, to officially change the name. Haudenosaunee Village superintendent Ashley Shenandoah (left) with her top assistant and childhood friend, Heath Hill. Credit: Sean Kirst | Central Current “There was a lot of great feedback,” Shenandoah said, as well as animated conversation about possible new names. In the end, she said, there was strong support for a clear choice: Haudenosaunee Village. “It’s important for awareness,” said Tuscarora Chief Brennen Ferguson, emphasizing that visitors should understand the village represents the specific culture and heritage — and the future — of the Haudenosaunee. In a sense, it is also a first step toward what is coming in two years, when the village celebrates 100 years at the fair. That will be in the same summer that could bring the culmination of a great Six Nations dream — that the Haudenosaunee Nationals will be allowed to represent their people in competition when lacrosse becomes part of the 2028 Olympics, in Los Angeles. “We want to go big,” Shenandoah said of her centennial dreams at the fair, though she only smiled when asked what that means. Those plans, she said, are a surprise. Shenandoah is an artist, raised at the Tonawanda territory. Like many Haudenosaunee youths, she grew up coming to the village at “state fair time,” with her family. More than 30 years ago, Shenandoah served as the ceremonial village princess, selected every summer. Now she and her husband, Kyle Shenandoah, have three children: Elton Logan, Dodie Logan and Galen Sundown. Elton is a master of ceremonies at the village. Dodie is a dancer, while one of the couple’s young grandchildren has already danced at the fair. The entranceway at the New York State Fair to the newly named Haudenosaunee Village. Credit: Sean Kirst | Central Current Hill and Shenandoah both said there is nothing quite comparable to the way so many people from throughout the Six Nations gather each summer to live as family, at the fairgrounds. Shenandoah loves how old friends stay up late to talk, how they all look out communally for each other’s children, how they chat on cool mornings over morning coffee. She describes it as a generational “togetherness” that extends from elders to newborns. “You meet new people and you see lifelong friends,” Shenandoah said. The place is always packed for the dancing and events on Native American Day, and Shenandoah said she especially appreciates the many schoolteachers who stop by, travelers arriving from throughout New York. They tell her they want to be sure they are teaching their pupils accurate information. They ask questions. They wonder how they might go about inviting Haudenosaunee speakers or dancers to visit their schools. In that way, the fair helps guarantee a fresh and honest vision of this region’s oldest story. As for the spot itself, with its sprawling trees as a central element, the village remains a green and quiet respite inside a sea of steaming blacktop. “It’s the coolest place, the shadiest place, at the fair,” Shenandoah said. She will take a few days off this week before she returns to Syracuse for an annual “debriefing” after the fair. Shortly afterward, an agricultural society meeting in October will kickstart 2027 planning for the village. Heath Hill, assistant superintendent of the Haudenosaunee Village, and coordinator of the dancing seen happening behind him. Credit: Sean Kirst | Central Current Shenandoah offered particular thanks for Hill, her top assistant and a guy she describes as tireless. I spoke with him on the September day that marked exactly 60 years since his mother and father met for the first time at the village, during the fair. In a sense, then, he exists because of the gathering he now helps supervise. Hill grew up at the Onondaga and Oneida territories. His family always went to the village, and some of his earliest childhood memories involve falling asleep on blankets on the cookhouse floor to the music of the midway. When he was 3, he promised a cousin he would take part in the fairgrounds dancing — then could not find the courage to go forward. That evening, he said, the cousin came up behind him in the crowd and carried Hill forward, to join other children dancing on the turtle mound. The terrified little boy heard warm cheering from the crowd. Something clicked, in a deep place. “It’s part of yourself,” Hill said of dancing. “You put your heart into it, and love it. It can help heal. It can bring joy to someone.” He is now an operator at a Seneca Nation wastewater treatment plant, which he sees as a daily chance to help protect the sanctity of fresh water. He lived in Montana for years, continuing his Indigenous dancing at countless “powwows,” before he returned to the Upstate lands where he was raised as part of the Six Nations. Competitors in a Smoke Dance competition at the now-Haudenosaunee Village, state fair, 2022. Credit: Mike Greenlar | Central Current Hill is a smoke dancer, and he said revelations and truths gleaned from that passion helped give him the strength to achieve what is now 18 years of sobriety. He had no real understanding of how good life could be, he said, until he stepped away from alcohol. He helps run a dancing crew and clothing line called “Gejohgwa” — including some of the most striking Bills apparel I’ve ever seen — and he spoke of one absolute certainty in his life: With his wife and his children and his mother, Linda Deer, you will find Hill every year, at the state fair. “It means everything to me,” he said. “I look forward to this.” Other people might save their vacation time and money for tropical vacations, but late August and early September offer golden weather in Syracuse that is as good as it gets anywhere, and Hill always builds his plans around spending a couple of weeks at the Haudenosaunee Village. “I’d rather be here,” Hill said. “There’s nothing else like it. It’s a way of life, where we all can be together.” He describes it as the place that “opened up my mind.” Like Shenandoah, of whom he speaks with deep respect, he will feel a touch of sadness for a few days now that it is over, until their thoughts shift again toward what they see as an unbreakable promise: The Haudenosaunee, looking forward, will dance at the fair next year. The post Sean Kirst: At newly-named Haudenosaunee Village, state fair goodbyes softened by all that’s coming next appeared first on Central Current. ...read more read less