{"id":2264,"date":"2015-06-27T12:46:00","date_gmt":"2015-06-27T17:46:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/historyapolis.com\/?p=2264"},"modified":"2024-01-10T13:43:32","modified_gmt":"2024-01-10T19:43:32","slug":"names-matter-the-story-of-bde-maka-ska","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mvt.rpw.mybluehost.me\/.website_3d6664ec\/2015\/06\/27\/names-matter-the-story-of-bde-maka-ska\/","title":{"rendered":"Names matter: the story of Bde Maka Ska"},"content":{"rendered":"
Published December 9, 2015 by Kirsten Delegard<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Names matter. They serve as cultural signposts that articulate the social geography of a community. They declare who is remembered and who is revered.<\/p>\n And this is why the body of water now known as Lake Calhoun needs a new name. Or in this case, an old name that can help us understand the complex racial history of the land that became Minneapolis.<\/p>\n One of the jewels in the crown of the Minneapolis Parks, Lake Calhoun got its current name from a team of U.S. Army surveyors mapping the military reservation around the newly established Fort Snelling in the early nineteenth century. When they came to a lake that local people called Bde Maka Ska, which translates from Dakota to mean “white bank lake,” they paid no mind to established nomenclature. Instead, they designated the lake as “Calhoun” on their map to honor their patron, Secretary of War John C. Calhoun. This move planted the American flag on the region’s cultural terrain. It also curried favor with a powerful politician who would ultimately serve in both houses of Congresses and as Vice President and Secretary of State. In this way, a South Carolinian was written into the landscape of a place he would never visit.<\/p>\n Over the twenty years that followed, John C. Calhoun established himself as the nation’s most passionate proponent of race-based slavery. While many of his contemporaries defended slavery as a necessary evil, Calhoun declared that race-based bondage was “a good.” In a 1837 speech he asserted that “never before has the black race of Central Africa, from the dawn of history to the present day, attained a condition so civilized and so improved, not only physically, but morally and intellectually.”<\/p>\n Calhoun’s fiery oration likely would have met nods of assent among the officers at Fort Snelling. Many shared Calhoun’s southern heritage and had grown up in slave-holding families. And many of them owned slaves, since the U.S. Army provided a financial incentive for them to embrace the institution of human bondage. They drew bonus pay if they employed a “private servant,” a policy that encouraged them to buy and hold slaves at military installations across the country<\/a>. Slavery was forbidden in the Northwest Territories, which included the land of the Dakota. But laws did not change the conditions for Courtney, Eliza, Mary, Louisa, William, Peter, some of the men and women we know labored in slavery at Fort Snelling.<\/p>\n Their stories are largely forgotten by Minnesotans, who think the bloody history of slavery hangs only around the neck of the South. But a group of Minneapolitans are challenging how our community pays homage to white supremacy. Mike Spangenberg started a petition on Change.org that calls on Minneapolis Park Commissioners to remove the Calhoun name from this Minneapolis lake<\/a>. This petition builds on the efforts of Park Commissioner Brad Bourn<\/a>, who has been demanding this change for years.<\/p>\n