10 January 2024
The Now and the Known:
The Indigenous Psychedelic Narrative
By Marlena Robbins
MAPS Bulletin: Volume XXXIII Number 3 • 2023
Inside a typical suburban home, traditional songs vibrate through the rooms, highlighting a contrast between the ancient and the modern. This is where I find myself, at the intersection of urban reality, Indigenous spirituality, and the allure of psychedelic transcendence.
Where nearby neighbors likely settle into a more typical evening routine, our gathering, under the watchful eyes of two guardian Great Horned owls, journeyed into age-old rituals predating the city itself. Wrapped in the protective embrace of my family throughout my existence, the elusive allure of Shimasani Azee now drew each of us near. This gathering wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was the result of months, if not years, of contemplation and navigating the web of psychedelic spaces. My mother, sisters, partner and I were propelled by a profound yearning—for healing, insight, and the melding of generational divides.
My intention for the ceremony remains a vivid imprint in my mind and on the page where I carefully wrote: I want to heal the hidden traumas of my family. As the ceremonial melodies serenaded my consciousness, recollections of my late father surfaced. I fell into his challenges, his confrontation with a devastating diagnosis, and a lingering wonder if psychedelics might have been his refuge.
Like many of his generation, my father was ensnared in the United States’ War on Drugs propaganda—a stark contrast to the prior, even graver, and significantly less acknowledged by the non Indigenous mainstream,War on Healers. A world where 16th century Franciscan friars branded Indigenous hallucinogenic practices as treachery and where, by the 19th century, Indigenous rites were punishable by imprisonment. These were landscapes that painted psychedelics not as the spiritual tools of our ancestors, but as dangerous deviations.
These cruelties and attempts at erasure reemerged in the 1970s with Richard Nixon’s assaulting War on Drugs. Psychedelics, deeply woven into the fabric of Indigenous ceremonies, were targeted and classified as contraband. My father’s fears of being outcasted—born of a political and religious onslaught—represent the stories of countless others torn between tradition, societal scorn and stigma.
Yet, amid this urban setting and in the embrace of the medicine, vivid images of my father surfaced. It felt as if the distance between the tangible and intangible blurred, the barriers of time and space momentarily dissolved. His voice, rich with the warmth and familiarity I’d longed for, resonated through the stillness of my mind. The song being sung into me had the gentle cadence of a lullaby, one that I had heard countless times during the solace of my childhood nights. It was as if he was communicating from a place beyond our mortal understanding, letting me know he had found serenity. This poignant reconnection, even if momentary, offered solace, suggesting that love and memories traverse realms we can’t always see or understand.
The first night was a profound testament to the power of the medicine, illuminating pathways to my past, inviting me to journey deeper the following night, when my senses elevated and I felt a deeper connection with ancestral deities. Their profound presence intertwined with my spirit, grounding me in a millennia of ancestral wisdom. However, the healing process was not without its struggles—both personal and environmental. The disconnect between the sacred medicine and the urban landscape became palpable, a reminder of the duality of my journey.
Such experiences like my own beg the question: How do urban Indigenous individuals reconcile these worlds when engaging with psychedelics? The historical context of urban Indigenous life in places like San Francisco is complex, and deeply intertwined with historical U.S. government policies.
A part of the larger federal policy push to assimilate Native Americans into mainstream American society, the Urban Indian Relocation Program of the 1950s encouraged Native Americans to leave their ancestral lands and reservations in favor of metropolitan areas. San Francisco, among other major cities, became a focal point for this effort. Lured by promises of job training, housing, and the prospect of a better life, thousands ventured to the city. Still, the gulf between the promises and reality became evident as many faced subpar housing, inadequate job training, and pervasive discrimination.
Indeed there also were vibrant urban Indigenous communities that arose from this wave of relocation — they were not merely a testament to survival, but a manifestation of resilience. Even in the face of challenges, San Francisco’s streets bore witness to the evolution of tight-knit communities that celebrated roots, traditions, lineages, and heritage. Institutions, community centers, and events sprouted, celebrating and preserving the unique cultures of Native Americans in an urban setting.
These questions of reconciliation and identity are not just mine alone, they represent a collective curiosity. Urban cities, with their unique blends of modernity, historical policies, and tradition, offer a microcosm into the broader intricacies of Indigenous identity, psychedelic practices, and challenges.
The 1960s and 70s, a time of political upheaval and psychedelic fervor, especially in the Bay Area, further intensified these juxtapositions. Indigenous individuals, alongside allied activists from diverse backgrounds, began advocating for equal rights and recognition. In this era of counterculture, psychedelics were both recreational tools and powerful agents of change, catalyzing deeper introspection and societal critique. For the urban Indigenous population, these substances offered a bridge—connecting the dislocated present with a rich, spiritual past. Sacred plant medicine could be a tool to pose profound questions about identity, healing, and belonging in an ever-evolving city.
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Parallel to the rise of the psychedelic scene was the birth and surge of groundbreaking political movements. The Black Panther Party, originating in Oakland in 1966, emerged as a revolutionary socialist organization advocating for African-American civil rights. Their stance against systemic oppression, police brutality, and racial inequality found similarities in other significant movements of the era.
The American Indian Movement (AIM), founded in the late 1960s, took inspiration from these parallel struggles for civil rights. AIM stood firmly against the US government’s mistreatment of Native Americans, channeling their efforts into various campaigns to shine a light on Indigenous issues. A focal point of this activism was the 1969 Alcatraz occupation, where a group, primarily of Native Americans, took over the abandoned Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay. This 19-month occupation drew national attention to the federal government’s long history of breaking treaties and atrocities of Native peoples.
The confluence of these movements with the psychedelic movement was more than coincidental. Psychedelics, in many ways, promote the breakdown of societal constructs and heightens empathy towards marginalized groups. They offer space for introspection, unity, and an understanding of shared human struggles. They could help to amplify the resonances between these political movements.
Our proposed research, “Urban Native Perspectives on Psilocybin Mushrooms,” is much more than an academic endeavor. It is an exploration steeped in purpose and personal significance. Collaborating with esteemed Native-led bodies, we hope to witness the experiences, beliefs, and attitudes that span generations. It’s about understanding the cultural and spiritual foundations that persist and evolve, as these Indigenous lands continue to modernize and transform.
For those unfamiliar with the subject of psychedelic plant medicines and their ancient healing powers, it might seem like a minor detail amidst the extensive records of western medicine and cultural history. Yet its importance is both profound and far-reaching. Consider a model where the care extended to Indigenous communities isn’t a monolithic approach, but one delicately crafted from their own histories, legends, and day-to-day realities. Such a model would recognize and celebrate the rich tapestry of Indigenous life, creating avenues for healing that resonate on personal and collective levels.
The proposed research reflects the broader dynamics of a community that continually balances its deep-rooted heritage with contemporary challenges. The balance between honoring the past and adapting to the present showcases the community’s resilience, sense of identity, and persistent spirit.
In a world that’s progressively turning towards psychedelics for answers to deep-seated psychological dilemmas, it’s essential to ensure that the discourse is inclusive. Every voice, especially those on the peripheries, deserves a platform. This research goes beyond just gathering data; it’s about amplifying the stories of urban Indigenous communities, recognizing their invaluable insights, and weaving them into the broader narrative of a society eager to rediscover ancestral wisdom.
Note to the Reader:
In the interest of privacy and respecting the sanctity of the ceremonies described, I have chosen to keep the specifics of the medicine used confidential in this piece. This decision is intentional and seeks to emphasize the broader narrative and experiences rather than the details of the substance itself.
Marlena Robbins
Marlena Robbins, a proud member of the Diné Nation, is currently pursuing a doctoral degree at the UC Berkeley School of Public Health – Interdisciplinary Studies. Her current research focuses on developing an educational framework for Native parents, caregivers and youth to have safe conversations about psychedelics.
Ms. Robbins is honored to hold the position of Indigenous Science Student Fellow at the Berkeley Center for the Science of Psychedelics (BCSP) where her fellowship research centers multigenerational perspective of psychedelics in urban Indigenous communities. She is a Graduate Student Researcher for BCSP’s Certificate Program in Psychedelic Facilitation, assisting with the evaluation and improvement of the program for future cohorts.
Her residency with the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) involved developing a tribal engagement tool kit highlighting the historical and contemporary landscape of psychedelics in a spiritual and recreational context. Ongoing work with SAMHSA will contribute to the development of culturally sensitive and inclusive frameworks in psychedelics.
