Local opinion: Disappearance of Native safety at UA reflects a deeper legacy of erasure

When the University of Arizona recently dissolved its Native American Student Affairs office and removed Julian Juan as director, Indigenous students lost more than a campus resource. They lost a space that felt like home — a place where they didn’t have to explain who they were, defend their right to be there, or shrink themselves to fit into systems that don’t see them. That loss — brushed off as administrative “realignment” — has caused real pain.

As a Native journalist and educator, I write not just from concern, but from lived experience. I’ve seen how vital it is for Indigenous students to have culturally grounded leadership and safe spaces — especially in institutions that often fail to reflect our values, knowledge, or histories.

At the center of this moment is something universities rarely acknowledge: the Indigenous principle.

The Indigenous principle is not just about representation. It’s a way of being passed down through community, ceremony, relationship, and land. It teaches that everything is connected — people, place, knowledge, and responsibility — and that leadership must be accountable not just to policy, but to people. Healing cannot happen without truth, humility, and relationships.

What’s happening at UA is a failure to understand that principle.

Since NASA was folded into the Office of Native American Initiatives, students have reported feeling dismissed, ignored, and even silenced. Some say they’ve never even met the administrators now charged with supporting them. A letter from Native faculty accused NAI leadership of causing “severe harm,” including intimidation and attempts to suppress student voices. When Indigenous students say they don’t feel safe on campus, that should be enough to prompt change.

But it hasn’t been.

Instead, we’re seeing a familiar pattern: placing the wrong people — regardless of their Indigeneity — in positions without the cultural grounding or relationships to lead. Indigeneity alone is not enough. Effective leadership in Indigenous spaces requires lived understanding, humility, and a commitment to community — not control.

This isn’t just about recent events. It reflects a deeper history that the University of Arizona has yet to fully acknowledge.

UA is a land-grant institution, meaning its existence was made possible through the Morrill Act of 1862, which gave land to universities to grow higher education. What’s often omitted from that story is that the land was taken from tribal nations — frequently without consent, compensation, or justice. UA’s foundation rests on the dispossession of Native land.

Now, over 150 years later, Indigenous students are watching their support systems disappear on those very lands. And they’re being told it’s just a restructuring.

That’s not just irony. That’s a legacy repeating itself.

What Native students need is not another reshuffling of offices. They need real, relational, culturally rooted support. They need leaders who listen, who show up, and who make them feel safe. They need spaces like NASA — not diluted into broader initiatives, but protected and prioritized.

Here’s what the University of Arizona must do:

— Restore NASA’s autonomy as an independent student support center led by Native leaders chosen in partnership with students and faculty.

— Reinstate or replace leadership with someone grounded in Indigenous community relationships, with a proven record of trust and care.

— Create a Native Student and Faculty Advisory Council with shared decision-making power over programming, budget, and staffing.

— Require NAI leadership to regularly engage with students through listening sessions, campus events, and transparent reporting.

— Honor the university’s land-grant responsibility by supporting cultural events like powwows and convocation, and by affirming tribal sovereignty in practice — not just in statements.

This is not a political demand. It is a call for dignity, safety, and accountability. When Native students say they feel unsafe or unheard, that must matter more than bureaucratic comfort or job titles.

The Indigenous principle reminds us that leadership is not about authority — it’s about responsibility. And when harm is done, the answer is not silence. It’s restoration.

I hope the University of Arizona is listening.

Because we are.