Jade Begay, Climate Justice Advocate, delivered this keynote at the 2025 SAFSF Forum in Santa Ana Pueblo, New Mexico. Read the transcript or listen to her remarks below.
Good Morning, everyone.
My name is Jade Begay
It’s an honor to be with you today—to stand among all of you: leaders, organizers, advocates and comrades committed to protecting and building healthy ecosystems for future generations.
And because I know you all are people who hold deep respect for things like ecological stewardship, Indigenous knowledge, and regenerative practices, I know you understand that the stories we tell and the histories we honor matter deeply.
So today, as we open this conference I want to ground in the history of this place and its people. I want to take you back to the year 1680, to a place not too far from here, to the northern high desert and river valleys of what is now Northern New Mexico. There, only 90 mins away from where we sit and stand right now, a remarkable act of resistance unfolded—one that continues to shape the spirit of resilience in Indigenous communities to this very day.
I’m talking about the Pueblo Revolt of 1680—the first successful uprising against European colonization on what is now U.S. soil.
Let me set the stage.
For nearly a century before the revolt, Spanish colonizers had occupied the ancestral homelands of the Pueblo peoples—a diverse group of sovereign nations including the Hopi, Taos, Acoma, Zuni, Tamaya, Tesuque, which is my community, and so many others.
These communities had flourished for thousands of years, building complex societies rooted in land, ceremony, language, and reciprocity. But with the arrival of Spanish rule came profound violence: forced religious conversion, political subjugation, enslavement, the systematic suppression of Indigenous culture and of course the violence didn’t just happen to the people, it happened to the land as well.
By the late 17th century, the situation had become unbearable. Sacred sites were desecrated. Ceremonial practices were outlawed. Traditional leaders were imprisoned or executed. The Spanish Inquisition had arrived in these Pueblo homelands, and it was brutal.
But even in the face of this suffering, seeds of resistance were growing.
A spiritual leader from Ohkay Owingeh Pueblo, named Po’Pay emerged as a key figure. After being imprisoned and tortured by Spanish officials, he fled to Taos Pueblo, where he began organizing in secret. Over the course of several years, Po’Pay traveled—sometimes on foot, sometimes in the shadows—uniting over 20 Pueblo communities across the vast expanse of New Mexico.
Now, imagine that for a moment. These communities spoke different languages, held different ceremonies, and in some cases had long-standing rivalries. But they were united by a common cause: the right to live freely as Indigenous people on their own land.
On August 10, 1680, after meticulous planning and coordination using runners who carried knotted cords to signal the day of attack, the Pueblo Revolt began.
In just a few days, the Pueblo peoples drove out the Spanish colonizers and took back control of their homelands. For 12 years, the Pueblos remained free of Spanish rule—a powerful and rare victory in the long history of Indigenous resistance.
It was an extraordinary feat of resilience, strategy, and unity.
But what does this 17th-century uprising have to do with us here, today—in this room, in this moment?
If you ask me, it has everything to do with why we gather.
For one, I would not be here and its possible that these lands would look a lot different if this revolt was not organized. But also, the Pueblo Revolt offers us a mirror and a lesson. It shows us what is possible when communities come together, across differences, for a vision larger than then ourselves. It reminds us that resilience is not only about survival—but about agency and collective power. The Pueblo Revolt reminds us that the most transformative movements are built not only on opposition to injustice—but on the affirmation of life.
And in today’s world, the spirit of the Pueblo Revolt lives on.
Just this past weekend in my Pueblo, Te Tsu Owingeh, we danced our annual “corn dance”, a ceremony which calls in blessings for our crops. Among the 200 or so dancers and singers were tribal members from ages 60+ to 2yrs old. And the songs that were sung are the same ones our ancestors were protecting in those days as they organized the Pueblo Revolt.
But it doesn’t stop there, if you look across these Pueblo communities here in so-called New Mexico, you’ll find leaders revitalizing languages that were once banned by building immersion schools in Cochiti, Jemez, and San Ildefonso. You’ll find young leaders like those at the Pueblo Action Alliance, continuing to build bridges between our communities to protect sacred sites like Chaco Canyon. You’ll find artists, healers, farmers, and educators reclaiming Indigenous knowledge systems that were once targeted for erasure.
These efforts are not just symbolic; they are acts of resilience and visionary resistance.
But let’s be honest: these communities now face unprecedented challenges —whether it’s attacks on the already scarce funding that Native and frontline communities receive, the fast tracked extractive projects near or on our sacred lands, or the painful legacies and continuation of cultural and familial separation. The Pueblo peoples, like so many Indigenous nations and peoples across the world, are still navigating systems designed without them—or worse, against them.
Which brings me to you—those of you here today with the power, the tools, the resources to change what comes next.
As changemakers, you, me… we all have a critical role to play. Not as saviors—but as partners, listeners, and co-conspirators in a movement toward healing, justice, and self-determination.
If the Pueblo Revolt teaches us anything, it is that transformational change is possible when communities, especially Indigenous communities, are trusted to do what they have been for time immemorial. It’s about supporting the kind of organizing and leadership that Po’Pay exemplified— strategic, committed to the long-game, and rooted in community wisdom.
I often think about how Po’Pay’s vision was not just about removing the colonizer. It was about restoring balance, about ensuring that future generations could dance, speak their language, grow their corn, and pray without fear.
That’s a vision worth investing in.
Because when we uplift Indigenous resilience and power, we’re not just preserving the past—we’re securing a more just, more sustainable, and more spiritually grounded future for all of us.
So today and over the course of our time together here in the beautiful lands of the Tamaya People, I invite you to remember 1680 not as a distant historical footnote, but as a living story—a testament to what’s possible when we refuse to let broken systems break us, and when we choose unity over silence.
Let’s honor that story not just in words—but in action.
Let’s listen to Indigenous and frontline leaders, from here in the homelands of the Pueblo People to those in Alaska to the Apalachia and everywhere in between.
Let’s support their visions boldly.
And let’s remember that the greatest gift we can offer is not charity—but solidarity.
Thank you.