The Second Annual Acorn Harvest begins in August. This year, we will be gathering Acorns outside of the City of Alameda, into Alameda County, and beyond.
The reason for this is two-fold.
The first, almost all of the Oak trees in the City of Alameda are exclusively Coast Live Oak. These trees are in the Red Oak family.
The second, is that we have new partnerships and collaborations sprouting throughout the San Francisco Bay Area.
Red Oak Family? Why does this even matter?
Red Oak Trees have a two year acorn cycle. Meaning, the acorns take two years to grow and mature. In the context of the Acorn Harvest, this means no mature acorns will be available in Alameda until 2026–two years from our first harvest in 2024.
Oh… So which Oak Trees are going to have acorns, then?
This is actually great as far as the harvest goes. Because we’ll be hunting some of the most tasty acorns available. White Oak Acorns have relatively low tannic content compared to the Coast Live Oak acorns we had in abundance last year.
If you attended any of our Acorn Processing Workshops, Acorn Flour Production Days, or any of our Acorns! Culinary Series events, then you had the opportunity to taste these acorns in their various states of processing.
As an aside: One of our long-term goal is to produce blends of acorn flour for both taste and function. So being able to introduce you to these different varieties of Acorns, to harvest, taste, and cook with, is big plus in and of itself.
How do you find these White Oak trees?
We’re using a mix of GIS Analysis and In-Person Verification. Using Open Source Data we found through the California Oaks website, we were able to access several raster layers of relevant data, and then convert them into vector form we could overlay onto our own custom made maps to accurately target areas were would could find the oak trees we need.
Our next step was to find, identify, and surveil these trees in our area of interest; and to keep a running log of acorn ripeness to help time acorn harvest dates that we (hopefully) can communicate to our dedicate harvest volunteers with advance notice.
That’s all great; but how can I help?
We’re so glad you asked!
We want to find property owners/land managers who have oak trees that currently have ripening acorns.
We can describe this to you more in depth, but tl;dr the acorns need to be big, and not tiny little buds.
We want to find people who are willing to surveil the acorns in their area.
We need to start building teams, and training people to harvest acorns.
We’re looking for donations of LARGE BACKPACKS, HUGE RUCKSACKS, BACKPACKING BAGS, etc.
We’re also looking to raise the funds to properly hydrate and ensure the safety of our Harvest Teams.
In June 2025, I was invited by Courtney Cummings, a Northern Cheyenne, Arikara, and Muscogee Creek woman who serves as the lead organizer of the Richmond Powwow, to support the 15th Annual Richmond California Powwow. We met at an event I was co-organizing and became friends. Courtney asked me to help with Powwow planning, and I agreed. I set up her Instagram Powwow account, attended multiple events with her, and designed the official Powwow flyer.
This was an important year. It marked the fifteenth anniversary of the Richmond Powwow, and the event was scheduled to be held at the Richmond Civic Center in the Memorial Auditorium. That venue is a major upgrade from previous years. Courtney told me it had been difficult to keep the Powwow going in recent years because it was hard to find a space. She was proud to have secured the venue and excited for the event. I supported it because I believed in what it could represent.
The Powwow was originally described to me as a way to honor local Native history. My first flyer concept was designed around the Santa Fe Indian Village in Richmond, a historic shoreline community where Native families lived in converted boxcars. That history is rarely acknowledged, and I wanted to center it. When I showed Courtney the design, she said the boxcars looked too “sad” and asked for something more cheerful. She said she wanted a “Native flower design,” like the floral beadwork we often see, with a style similar to traditional Mexican flower motifs. I revised the flyer based on that feedback and created a second version, which became the final one.
Courtney also offered me the $150 Powwow Planning stipend, and I told her to use it for the Powwow instead. She said it should go toward sponsoring a special, so I chose a Sneakup Special. I was not doing this for compensation. I knew there was a good chance I would be doing more than just donating graphic design services. I would probably also end up spending my own money, and possibly some of ANHP’s money as well. I believed in the purpose of the event and showed up in good faith.
I even took time off work to help Courtney move out of an unsafe space. That wasn’t part of any agreement. I did it because I thought we had a friendship and a shared commitment to the community. That makes what happened next harder to excuse.
Even though this was the fifteenth anniversary of the Richmond Powwow, and it was being held at the Richmond Civic Center, Courtney had no serious plan to include Muwekma. What she offered instead was a wishy-washy, noncommittal idea about maybe having them do a tule boat demonstration or giving them a table. No one had asked for that. It was tokenism. There was no plan to honor them, no invitation to speak, and no effort to recognize their authority or presence on the land where the event was taking place.
Richmond, Huchiun-Aguasto, is Muwekma Territory. It has been for over 10,000 years. Not including Muwekma is more than an oversight. It is an act of erasure. It disrespects the real, traceable roots of the Tribe and the 600-plus enrolled Muwekma people who descend from this place.
Courtney also asked me to speak at a youth education event hosted by the Point Molate Alliance on July 1. The official invitation was sent on June 18, 2025, by Pam Stello, Co-Chair of the Point Molate Alliance, which is a project of the Blue Frontier Campaign. I accepted the invitation on June 24. Pam acknowledged my acceptance and said she would follow up with additional program details, but she did not send those details until June 29, less than 48 hours before the event.
The session was initially presented to me as an opportunity to speak about the local Native history of Huchiun-Aguasto, the Point Molate shoreline, and Ohlone history more broadly. I assumed this was the kind of Native history and Ohlone history they wanted, because it should have been obvious that I advocate for the actual Ohlone Tribe. Courtney knew this. We had already had several conversations about the Sogorea Te’ Land Trust, Corrina Gould, and the harm they have caused. I expected that my role would be to speak about the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area, the importance of tribal recognition, and the protection of sacred sites and tribal cultural resources.
But when Pam finally sent the program on June 29, it was the first time I saw that the session was titled “Ohlone History and Point Molate Hopes,” and that Courtney was listed as the Point Molate representative for the Confederated Villages of the Lisjan. I was never told any of this. Courtney never disclosed that she would be acting as an agent for the Confederated Villages of the Lisjan Nation, Inc. or Sogorea Te’ Land Trust. I use the word “agent” deliberately here because she was doing business on their behalf, representing them publicly, and promoting their agenda.
This was not a misunderstanding. It was a bait and switch. I was invited under one set of expectations, then set up to co-present with someone representing a fraudulent group that I had never agreed to support. Courtney had a duty to disclose that she would be representing the Confederated Villages of the Lisjan at this event. She did not. She knew who I was, what I stand for, and what the Alameda Native History Project represents. We had spoken directly about Sogorea Te’ Land Trust and Corrina Gould. She knew how important it was that Muwekma be acknowledged and respected. But instead of being honest, she withheld the truth and let me walk into a situation that would have compromised my integrity and betrayed the very Tribe I advocate for.
CVLN is not a tribe. It is a nonprofit organization created in 2018. It has no federal or state recognition, no tribal governance, no enrollment, no treaty history, and no documented continuity. The Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area is the only federally recognized tribal successor to the Verona Band. Muwekma has a documented line of tribal governance and a legal and ancestral connection to Point Molate and the broader Huchiun-Aguasto area.
The Confederated Villages of the Lisjan Nation, Inc. (formerly, “Confederated Villages of the Lisjan, Inc.”) and the Sogorea Te’ Land Trust have been condemned by Muwekma in a public statement titled “Corina Gould’s Wide-Ranging Identity Fraud, the Sogorea Te’ Land Trust, and the So-Called ‘Lisjan Nation.‘” These two entities, along with their founder Corina Gould, have used nonprofit frameworks and cultural tokenism to erase Muwekma’s presence and position themselves as gatekeepers to land and visibility in the Bay Area.
Courtney never responded to the email. When I followed up by text, she laughed.
That moment did not hurt my feelings. It exposed everything. It showed she knew exactly what she was doing and that she did not care about accountability, respect, or the harm she was causing. She left the conversation completely and became singularly focused on getting the Powwow flyer. This was not just a lapse or miscommunication. It was intentional avoidance.
After I formally withdrew from the Point Molate event, cited the erasure of Muwekma, and sent the Tribe’s official statement, Courtney never once engaged with the core issues. She did not follow up about the statement, did not acknowledge my withdrawal, and made no effort to address the harm she helped facilitate. Her silence made it clear that she had no interest in truth, accountability, or sovereignty. She was only concerned with getting the Powwow flyer in hand, regardless of the serious concerns I had raised or the betrayal involved.
So I gave her the flyer, exactly as she requested. I added “HONORING MUWEKMA” on purpose, because it was clear she never intended to. That flyer was delivered without compensation, under a limited-use license, and in full alignment with the values of the Alameda Native History Project.
This is not about personal drama. This is about sovereignty. This is about refusing to participate in the erasure of the only Ohlone Tribe with federal recognition, historical continuity, and legal standing in the territory where this Powwow took place.
If you are unfamiliar with the details or want to understand the full context, read:
Join Us for the 2025 Acorn Granary Challenge in Alameda
This summer, the Alameda Native History Project invites you to be part of something powerful, rooted, and real: the 2025 Acorn Granary Challenge.
We are building a traditional Acorn Granary using natural materials and Indigenous knowledge, right here in Alameda at APC’s Farm2Market. This is not just a construction project. It is a challenge to remember that survival has always been a collective effort, and that resilience is built in community.
Join us for a once-in-a-lifetime, hands-on experience where we work side by side to bring this granary to life, honor traditional practices, and make a tangible contribution to the restoration of Indigenous Foodways.
What We’re Building
Acorn Granaries are traditional Native American storage structures used to safely hold acorns over winter after the fall harvest. These granaries have been used for thousands of years. They are designed to protect acorns from rain, snow, and pests, while keeping them accessible as a vital food source.
The structure we are building will be a symbol of cultural resilience and a critical part of our plan to reintroduce acorn flour at scale for the first time in 300 years.
Event Details
2025 Acorn Granary Challenge Dates: Sunday, July 13 and Sunday, July 20 Time: 1:00 PM to 4:00 PM Location: APC Farm2Market, 2600 Barbers Point Rd, Alameda, CA 94501 Cost: Free and open to all (all ages welcome with adult supervision) Registration:events.humanitix.com/alameda-acorn-granary-challenge
This is a clean and sober event. Please do not come under the influence of drugs or alcohol.
Also: you don’t have to be Native to kick it, but please respect this Indigenous Space you are being invited into.
What to Expect
Session 1 (July 13):
Learn about working with willow
Begin constructing the Acorn Granary
Discover traditional Indigenous pest management using bay leaves
Session 2 (July 20):
Add finishing touches and install the granary
Option to weave pine boughs to protect the structure from rain
No experience necessary. Just bring your full self, your willingness to contribute, and your respect for the Indigenous space you are being invited into.
Why It Matters
This granary is more than a structure. It is a step toward healing. By rebuilding these food systems, we are reclaiming a legacy interrupted by colonization. The acorns stored in this granary will become part of California’s first large-scale Indigenous acorn flour production in three centuries. That flour will be offered to the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area as a tangible tribal benefit.
Your participation helps move us closer to a future where Indigenous food sovereignty is not just a concept. It is alive, growing, and thriving in our communities.
Be Part of the Movement
We are reopening Indigenous Foodways. Come help us build something sacred, and be part of something that lasts.
On June 14, 2024, Gabriel Duncan, founder of the Alameda Native History Project, delivered a speech at the Alameda No Kings Rally that challenged white progressives’ role in Gatekeeping, and Kingmaking.
But if we think “No Kings” only means no Trump, we’re missing something deeper. Kings don’t always wear crowns. Sometimes they wear progressive credentials. Sometimes they come wrapped in good intentions. Sometimes they’re lifted up—not because they earned it, but because people would rather believe a lie than sit with discomfort.
In a pointed speech, Gabriel Duncan made the difference between performative allies, and Accomplices clear:
You say you want to be allies. But performative allies want credit. Accomplices show up when it’s risky, when no one’s watching.
If you need to be thanked or centered or safe, you’re not in solidarity. You’re just performing.
He went on to draw the distinction between white allies who have the privilege to join the struggle, and BIPOC people who are forced to live it every day:
You weren’t born into this fight, but you can choose to join it. Not to be centered—but to be useful.
And then he went on to introduce the performance of a song called “Ain’t Nobody Gon’ Turn Us ‘Round”: a 1964 Civil Rights Era, Black Spiritual and Protest Song, written and sung by Black People in jails and churches, while Black People were facing police brutality, high pressure water hoses, police dogs, and police brutality, just for a crumb–for human rights.
This song was performed by “Paul Andrews [an old white man] and the Democracy Out Loud Band [a group of white singers enlisted days before the event]”, who would be singing this song at an even where no black voices were heard.
That was incorrect, Nika Kura, who sang in the beginning of the program, identifies as Black. And–after I had called out the organizers and Paul Andrews–a black mother and educator, named Katherine Castro (who you can hear saying “I’m trying!” in the recording), took the stage and spoke, and counted how many black people were even present in the audience.
We’re proud to have made this space for black voices–because it was the right thing to do. And we hope that this moment becomes a teachable moment for the organizers of this event, and our allies.
A Note About Paul Andrews, The Old White Man Who Grossly Appropriated A Black Civil Rights Song About Segregation:
We’re deeply disappointed that Paul Andrews thought it was appropriate to sing a Black Spiritual even though he is not black, and the song is about segregation. We’re even more disappointed that Paul Andrews attempted to defend his choice–and even go so far as to try and claim “Ain’t Nobody Gon’ Turn Us ‘Round” was not a Black Song; even though he himself admitted the song was created by Black People. It’s 2025, and this type of misappropriation of BIPOC identity, culture, and struggle is not not welcome in these spaces anymore.
We plan to interview the main organizer of this rally, Tina Davis, a volunteer with Indivisible. So stay tuned for that. We’ll also be releasing our interview with Mary Claire, of All Rise Alameda, soon.
If “No Kings” means anything, it has to mean the end of white progressives deciding who gets heard and who gets erased.
For the record: between 3,000 and 4,700 people were in attendance at the Alameda No Kings Rally on June 14, 2025.
This is the complete speech:
Text of the speech:
NO KINGS – 3-Minute Rally Speech (Condensed Version) “How the Pressure Is Working” Gabriel Duncan
We came here today because we know what’s wrong. Because we see injustice. Because we feel the weight of it. No one should have the power to strip rights, silence truth, or rule unchecked.
That’s why we say: No Kings.
But if we think “No Kings” only means no Trump, we’re missing something deeper.
Kings don’t always wear crowns. Sometimes they wear progressive credentials. Sometimes they come wrapped in good intentions. Sometimes they’re lifted up not because they earned it, but because people would rather believe a lie than sit with discomfort.
That’s not justice. That’s curation. That’s not solidarity. That’s theater.
Real change comes from those who risk something. And lately, more people are risking more breaking ranks, refusing comfort. That’s how we know: the pressure is working.
For too long, white progressives have been kingmakers. Choosing voices that made them feel good. Even when those voices weren’t real. That wasn’t solidarity. That was projection. That was control.
Crowning someone because they’re convenient is how white supremacy adapts. It cloaks itself in “progress,” selects leaders who keep critique shallow and power safe.
The danger of performative allyship isn’t just that it’s fake it’s that it props up lies that do real harm. Harm to truth. Harm to movements. Harm to us.
If “No Kings” means anything, it has to mean the end of white progressives deciding who gets heard and who gets erased.
You say you want to be allies. But performative allies want credit. Accomplices show up when it’s risky, when no one’s watching.
If you need to be thanked or centered or safe, you’re not in solidarity. You’re just performing. You can’t say “No Kings” while defending the figureheads you crowned just because they made you feel progressive.
Being an accomplice means you put yourself in the way of ICE, of cops, of injustice and say: “You’ll have to go through me first.”
That’s what pressure looks like. Truth without applause. Risk without reward.
You weren’t born into this fight, but you can choose to join it. Not to be centered—but to be useful.
So when we scream NO KINGS don’t just cheer. Don’t just post. Live it.
Say it with your whole chest. Say it in every space where your voice still carries more weight than ours.
No Kings. No Gatekeepers. No Masters. TOTAL LIBERATION.
Gabriel Duncan to Deliver Official Muwekma Ohlone Land Acknowledgment and Speech at June 14 No Kings Rally
ALAMEDA, CA – Gabriel Duncan, Founder and Executive Director of the Alameda Native History Project, will deliver the official Muwekma Ohlone Land Acknowledgment and a speech titled “How Our Pressure Is Working” at the No Kings Rally on Saturday, June 14, 2025, at Alameda City Hall.
The official Land Acknowledgment, authorized by the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area, will open the rally at 12:00 PM. This acknowledgment is presented in accordance with tribal protocol and reflects the Tribe’s sovereign presence and ancestral connection to the land now known as Alameda.
Duncan will return to the stage at 12:36 PM to speak on the dangers of symbolic solidarity, curated resistance, and the structures that continue to marginalize truth in favor of comfort. His remarks will ground the event in real-time struggles for justice across California, from San Diego to Concord, and underscore the responsibility to act with clarity rather than perform unity.
Known for his leadership in Indigenous food sovereignty, environmental justice, and public historical truth-telling, Duncan is one of the only individuals in Alameda delivering officially sanctioned Land Acknowledgments on behalf of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe. His participation in the No Kings Rally is both a recognition of ongoing movement work and a disruption of narratives that seek to flatten it.
This event is part of a national day of action opposing authoritarianism and political repression. It includes a community food drive for local residents in need. Participants are encouraged to bring non-perishable food items for donation. The site is on flat, paved ground. Attendees are welcome to bring lawn or camp chairs for comfort.
Media Contact:
Gabriel Duncan Founder & Executive Director Alameda Native History Project info@nativehistoryproject.org (510) 747-8423 https://NativeHistoryProject.org/
Event Details:
Saturday, June 14, 2025 12:00 PM to 1:00 PM Alameda City Hall 2263 Santa Clara Ave Alameda, CA 94501
Land Acknowledgment – 12:00 PM No Kings Speech – 12:36 PM
Effective June 5, 2025, the Alameda Native History Project has permanently ended its affiliation with Bay Area MakerFarm. This decision follows MakerFarm’s failure to perform in response to an unresolved food safety hazard posed by its walk-in refrigerator unit that remains structurally unsound, unsanitary, and incapable of maintaining safe refrigeration temperatures.
The Alameda Native History Project initially suspended operations at MakerFarm on May 24, 2025, after repeated warnings were ignored. The organization issued a formal Notice of Suspension of Activities & Intent to Disclose, citing extensive documentation, including:
Over 400 pounds of rotting produce removed by ANHP from the walk-in on April 16
Temperature readings of 43°F–46°F, well above the USDA safe threshold of 40°F
Spoilage of fresh rabbit meat intended for a public event due to inadequate refrigeration
Manufacturer correspondence confirming the existing A/C unit was under-powered for the space
Despite these warnings and a clearly stated remediation deadline, Bay Area MakerFarm took no effective action. Instead of correcting the hazard, Bay Area MakerFarm minimized the danger,
re-framed documented concerns as interpersonal issues, and failed to uphold even basic standards of care or responsibility.
On June 5, 2025, ANHP issued a final Notice of Permanent Suspension of Activities and Withdrawal of Free Association. This notice cited failure to perform, breach of duty, disregard for public health, and misalignment with the standards of care required for Indigenous cultural work. MakerFarm was instructed to remove all references to ANHP from its website, signage, publications, and promotional materials.
This withdrawal is not about conflict. It is about care.
Food sovereignty requires food safety. Cultural work requires clean, safe environments. Community spaces must be accountable to the people they serve. We cannot, and will not, associate our work with conditions that put our community at risk.
To be clear: the negligence and unsanitary conditions at Bay Area MakerFarm have had no impact on the success of our programming. The Alameda Native History Project remains fully self-sustaining and independently organized. The ACORNS! Project Arc continues without interruption, and upcoming events will proceed as planned.
Our work is sacred and community-oriented. It cannot be shaken by a white-led organization that shrouds itself in the language of inclusion but, in practice, cultivates a hostile environment for BIPOC, non-binary individuals, and anyone whose dissent demands accountability.
Bay Area MakerFarm is structured around process idealism, not functional governance.
For BIPOC individuals entering these spaces, the dissonance is immediate. You’re told you’re welcome, but the minute you name harm or point out gaps in care, the tone shifts. Suddenly, you’re “too intense,” or you’re “not being collaborative.” Your lived experience is pathologized. Your insistence on accountability is framed as aggression. If you’ve ever felt isolated, second-guessed yourself, or wondered if you were overreacting, you weren’t. You were being gaslit by a structure that protects comfort over truth and feelings over safety.
What happened at Bay Area MakerFarm is not an anomaly. It is the default operating mode of too many white-led, self-proclaimed progressive collectives.
These are spaces built on white fragility, trustafarian politics, and a curated aesthetic of care that masks deep resistance to real accountability. They specialize in optics over outcomes, claiming to be inclusive while maintaining structures that ensure power remains concentrated and critique is punished.
These environments weaponize process to maintain the status quo, and perform emotional labor not to address harm, but to center themselves in it.
The ‘confusion’ and ‘hurt’ expressed by leadership are not genuine steps toward repair. They are tactics of delay and deflection. The endless talking circles, the forced emotional exposure, the vague invitations to ‘build understanding’—these are not accountability mechanisms. They are containment strategies designed to absorb dissent and protect those in power.
If you’ve been in these spaces and felt like you were being handled instead of heard, you were.
If you’ve been encouraged to participate in healing rituals while the root causes of harm were never addressed, you weren’t imagining things. This is the blueprint. And Bay Area MakerFarm followed it exactly, until we walked away.
When valid safety concerns, grounded in health codes, USDA guidelines, and food safety best practices, were dismissed as a “fancy A/C purchase,” it was an intentional act of gaslighting.
This re-framing didn’t just diminish the issue. It recast an urgent health risk as a personal whim, discrediting the messenger to avoid responsibility.
It sent a clear message: evidence doesn’t matter, what matters is preserving comfort and control.
This is not about collaboration; it’s about conformity to a structure that protects those in power while discrediting those who speak up. Your expertise, your warnings, your truth all become irrelevant the moment they challenge the dominant narrative.
When someone ripped the locking bracket off the door of a shared space with zero consequence, in spite of the fact we were all given the code to the dial lock, it signaled that even basic safety and boundary-setting could be violated without accountability, if you were the right person.
And when that same someone ripped carefully cultivated plants out of the soil, offering a hollow apology deflected by ‘I thought you said…,’ it underscored not only a disregard for labor, presence, and contributions, but a deeper refusal to recognize the agency and personhood of BIPOC participants.
This was not carelessness. It was a pattern: a way of diminishing harm by rewriting intent, shifting blame, and robbing people of the right to define what has happened to them.
The lack of regard, care, concern, or consequences, reinforced a message many BIPOC folks know too well: you’re only welcome for as long as we allow it. It’s not your consent, it’s ours. The moment you assert boundaries, ask for accountability, or disrupt the illusion of harmony, you become the problem.
Bay Area MakerFarm’s consent-based model is ideologically rigid and operationally brittle, built to neutralize dissent rather than incorporate accountability.
Its core principle, that a ‘No’ is an invitation to leave, is framed as a way to prevent obstruction and support momentum. But in practice, it punishes those who raise necessary concerns, especially BIPOC individuals who name harm.
The message becomes clear: if you cannot quietly consent to a flawed process, you must remove yourself. This doesn’t build consensus, it enforces silence. And it enables those in power to preserve their comfort while pushing out anyone who challenges it.
The organization’s reliance on free association, siloed committees, and performative inclusivity enables a culture where responsibility is diffused and no one is held accountable.
Committees operate without real oversight. Urgent concerns are reframed as procedural obstacles. Individuals with lived experience are pushed out when they raise inconvenient truths, especially when those truths reveal deep cultural or structural harm.
For BIPOC participants, this pattern is not a glitch, it’s a feature. Your concerns become disruptions. Your calls for care are labeled conflict. And your presence becomes untenable the moment it asks too much of a system designed to protect white comfort.
To white participants and leaders in these spaces: you may believe you are building collective power, but what you’re often building is a structure of exclusion.
When your systems require emotional neutrality to be heard, and protect the process more than the people, you’re not creating platforms of care, you are reinforcing structures which cause very real and tangible harm.
When you equate disagreement with obstruction, and disagreement from BIPOC people as hostility, what you’re really doing is preserving a hierarchy where safety and belonging are only available to those who never question the rules.
The result is a space that not only fails to uphold health and safety, but also betrays the very values it claims to uphold.
We believe in collaboration without compromise.
As stated in our Working With Us guidelines: “We do not believe in compromising our values to maintain partnerships. We believe that true collaboration is only possible with honesty, transparency, and accountability.“
Our partnerships are grounded in mutual respect, transparency, and accountability. We expect spaces that align with our values to center care, uphold safety, and take responsibility, not just in language, but in practice.
Our approach is rooted in Indigenous principles. We bring our full selves to the work, as Two-Spirit, BIPOC, and community-led organizers committed to food sovereignty, safety, and collective care.
We do not stay silent when harm is ignored, minimized, or redirected through performative process.
When we walk away, it is not to create drama. It is because staying would require us to betray the very responsibilities we carry.
We did not leave Bay Area MakerFarm because of a disagreement. We left because they refused to take accountability. And we will not allow their dysfunction to jeopardize the sacredness of our work.
The Alameda Native History Project has moved on.
To every BIPOC person who’s been silenced, gaslit, or pushed out of a space that claimed to value you… this is your reminder: you’re not imagining things.
You deserve spaces that meet you with integrity, not containment. And you don’t owe your labor to collectives that can’t hold themselves accountable.
The Acorn Granary Challenge begins in July. So we need to begin gathering the willow necessary to build our granaries now. If there’s enough, we could even be looking at some willow splitting sessions, which would result in fancier granaries.
Learn about willow trees as a key species, and how to gather responsibly. Help gather materials we will actually use. Learn more about California Native food storage, and foodways.
All through hands-on experience.
All ages are welcome with parent/guardian supervision. These are pretty family friendly events. Everyone is welcome, but our events are clean and sober. You don’t have to be Native to kick it, as long as you respect the Indigenous Space you are being invited into.
If you would like to join us, sign up for the “Indigenous Land Lab” using our Volunteer Signup Form.
There are a number of things I want to say about this article:
First, this is a culmination of 5+ years of research and investigation. And it was only because of the Official Statement by the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area [included in full at the end of this article] that I was finally able to put together some missing pieces about Corrina Gould’s relationship to Muwekma—specifically her descent and her belonging to the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area. During the course of researching this matter, I interviewed Tribal Attorneys, as well as members of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe, and representatives from several local organizations who freely volunteered their reasons for no longer working with Corrina Gould.
Second, I used ChatGPT to help me write this article—specifically because I needed help keeping track of the sections, its tone, and to make sure that I created something complete and ready for publication. That said, the facts presented in this article are not AI hallucinations. This article was carefully constructed and painstakingly reviewed, over and over again, to ensure the veracity and completeness of the information presented here. My sources are open and available for anyone who wants to verify them.
Third, I was not paid to write this article. Doing the right thing, reporting the truth, and telling the historical background of Bay Area Native American history is the mission of this project. It’s what we do. And we do it without asking for compensation. This is an independent organization, and we are beholden to no one.
Fourth, I will not respond to personal attacks. I will not waste my time proving to anyone who I am. I do not care what you think. If your argument does not lie within the context of the material presented here, it is irrelevant to the message of this article. And your desperation to escape the truth and ignore the facts—laid bare here—is your choice.
1. Introduction
For years, Corrina Gould has positioned herself as a tribal leader, a rematriation visionary, and a voice for Ohlone land return. She has founded organizations, signed land agreements, created a land tax, received millions in funding, and claimed to speak on behalf of Ohlone people. But her story is built on fiction.
Corrina Gould is not the Chairwoman of a tribe. She is the head of a nonprofit corporation. The so-called “Confederated Villages of Lisjan” did not exist prior to 2018. It has no documented history, no enrollment records, no government, and no collective identity beyond a name she gave it. The Sogorea Te’ Land Trust is not an Ohlone organization. It is a nonprofit corporation led by a single unenrolled individual—someone who only discovered her genealogy because the real Ohlone tribe shared it with her.
That tribe is the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area: the only tribal government with documented continuity, legal standing, and ancestral responsibility for this land. Muwekma are the living successors of the historic, federally recognized Verona Band of Alameda County. They descend from the Indigenous people forced into Misión San José de Guadalupe, Santa Clara de Thámien, and San Francisco de Asís, and today, Muwekma has over 600 enrolled members. They have fought for their sovereignty, defended their sacred sites, and preserved their genealogy and governance through every wave of erasure—missions, courts, colonization, and nonprofits.
And yet, Muwekma is being erased again—this time not by settlers, but by activists claiming their identity, collecting land and donations under their name, and silencing them with the language of “solidarity.”
This isn’t just confusion. This is colonization, rebranded and crowd-funded. It is settler violence in a progressive disguise. It is a lie that has been funded by foundations, platformed by institutions, and repeated by people too afraid—or too lazy—to ask basic questions: Who governs this tribe? Who are its members? Where is the money going? Who was consulted? What elections have been held?
This is a pattern of identity fraud, land misappropriation, and community displacement, and it has gone on for too long. The time for “raising questions” is over. The answers are here. And this is the record.
2. The Myth of the Confederated Villages of Lisjan
The “Confederated Villages of Lisjan” (CVL) did not exist prior to 2018. It has no historical precedent, no documentation in early ethnographic records, no mention in tribal enrollment rosters, no record in legal proceedings, and no lineage-based governance structure. It is not a tribe. It is a name invented by Corrina Gould—retroactively applied to give the appearance of a tribal coalition that never existed.
The word “Lisjan” itself is poorly understood and inconsistently used. Gould cites a 1920s interview with her ancestor, José Guzmán, who described himself as “Lisjanes”—but this was simply a reference to the place he was from: the Nisenan name for the Pleasanton area. He did not say he was from a “Lisjan Tribe.” He did not describe a confederation of villages. He was a Muwekma ancestor who spoke Spanish—maybe as a third language, after Nisenan and Chochenyo–he did not speak English, and was likely describing location, not identity. And yet, Gould has used this single, mistranslated phrase to build an entire tribal identity.
Gould publicly presents herself not just as a tribal member, but as a Tribal Chairwoman—a title that holds formal and legal weight in actual tribal governments. But her organization has no tribal enrollment. No constitutional structure. No elections. No council. No ratifying documents. There is no list of what “villages” make up the supposed confederacy. There are no lineages publicly claimed. No other representatives from these villages ever appear at events or claim descent. It is a title without a people. A nonprofit corporation posing as a nation.
In reality, Gould descends from the very same lineages as the enrolled members of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area. She requested her genealogy from Muwekma in 2005, and the Tribe provided it. It was only through Muwekma’s documentation and research that she learned she descends from Muwekma ancestors. But instead of enrolling or standing with the Tribe, she took that information and built her own identity-based platform—weaponizing the documentation shared with her in good faith.
Her family is not excluded from Muwekma. In fact, her relatives—including her aunt and uncle, and their extended families—have been enrolled Muwekma members since 1995. Gould made a choice not to enroll. And then, she made another choice: to leverage Muwekma’s genealogy, history, and sacred sites to build her own nonprofit brand.
She presents herself as a Tribal Chairwoman—but she is the chair of a corporation. And she uses that corporation to appear as if she governs a sovereign tribal nation, when in fact, she governs nothing but a grant-seeking nonprofit made up of herself, her daughter, and a cohort of non-Native allies and unaffiliated supporters.
The result is a cheap knock-off of a tribal government, built on the illusion of collective identity and the erasure of the very people whose legacy she claims to protect. Her statements and symbolism are packaged for public consumption. But there is no tribal infrastructure behind it. No cultural authority. No community accountability. It is a performance built on selective ancestry, strategic branding, and the quiet theft of another tribe’s history.
3. Funded Fabrication and Institutional Complicity
Since its creation, the Confederated Villages of Lisjan and its sister organization, Sogorea Te’ Land Trust, have received millions of dollars in grants, donations, and land transfers—funding that was intended to support Indigenous land return, cultural revitalization, and tribal sovereignty.
But that funding is not going to a tribe. It’s going to a nonprofit corporation with no elections, no enrollment, no federal or state recognition, and no documented governance. The public has been led to believe that Sogorea Te’ Land Trust is an Ohlone-led effort to rematriate ancestral lands. But in reality, the land is not being returned to a tribe—it’s being handed to an individual, and the nonprofit she controls.
The most egregious example is the West Berkeley Shellmound. In 2023, the City of Berkeley announced that it would transfer the historic site to Sogorea Te’ Land Trust. In the meeting minutes, the city described the action as “returning the land to the Ohlone people.” But this was a lie. Sogorea Te’ Land Trust is not an Ohlone tribe or tribally governed entity. The land was not returned to Muwekma—the only federally documented tribe connected to that site. Instead, it was handed to a nonprofit that claims Indigenous identity without legal or cultural accountability.
This “return” was made possible by a $20 Million dollar grant to Sogorea Te Land Trust by the Katalay Foundation.
This confusion is not accidental. Gould has intentionally blurred the line between nonprofit and tribe. She invokes language like “rematriation,” “sovereignty,” and “traditional territory,” while never disclosing that her organization has no formal recognition, no election process, no ratified tribal rolls, and no council oversight. Funders and institutions allow it because it’s easier than doing the work of real consultation.
Organizations that have partnered with CVL or STLT include:
These institutions have played a role in fabricating legitimacy. They’ve repeated claims without verification. They’ve entered into land agreements and awarded grants without consulting the federally documented tribal government whose sovereignty they’ve bypassed.
This is not accidental. This is the institutional funding of a fiction.
And every time a university, foundation, or nonprofit puts Sogorea Te’ Land Trust on a panel, signs an MOU, or writes a check, they’re not standing with Ohlone people. They’re standing with a narrative built on erasure—one that excludes the very tribe whose homeland they claim to “rematriate.”
4. Weaponizing Rhetoric to Avoid Accountability
Corrina Gould frequently accuses her critics—including enrolled Muwekma members—of “perpetuating colonial violence.” She uses the language of decolonization to shield herself from scrutiny and shut down legitimate questions about her identity, governance, and funding. But this is not decolonial work—it is the strategic misuse of anti-colonial rhetoric to avoid accountability.
This tactic has proven effective, especially among non-Native supporters who are unfamiliar with the difference between actual tribal sovereignty and self-appointed identity. In Gould’s framing, any critique becomes “lateral violence,” and any push for clarity is “divisive.” As a result, even basic questions—Who are your enrolled members? When do you hold elections? What is your governance structure?—are dismissed as hostile.
The irony is unavoidable: Gould accuses others of colonial harm while collaborating with the very institutions that enforced settler violence—churches, universities, real estate developers, and city governments. She denounces the legacy of the Catholic mission system while operating out of a church. She claims to speak for Ohlone people while silencing Muwekma, the tribe she descends from.
The harm here is not theoretical. Every time Gould uses progressive language to shut down real tribal voices, she reinforces the structures of colonization. She replaces truth with optics, community with control, and shared identity with personal branding.
This isn’t what decolonization looks like. It’s what erasure looks like—draped in the language of justice, funded by people too uncomfortable to ask questions, and defended by institutions more interested in performance than accountability.
5. A Reckoning Rooted in Research
This project didn’t begin with opposition. It began in good faith.
In 2020, I supported Corrina Gould. The City of Alameda was considering renaming Jackson Park to Chochenyo Park—a gesture I backed without hesitation. Gould was present at those discussions. At the time, her narrative seemed compelling. Her cause appeared righteous. Like many people, I wanted to help uplift a story that claimed to center Indigenous land and sovereignty.
So I began researching, intending to support her work. I looked for historical records, linguistic references, maps—anything that could substantiate and elevate her cause. But what I found instead was something Gould never expected anyone to look for: the truth.
And that truth pointed, again and again, not to a “Confederated Villages of Lisjan,” but to the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area—the living successors of the Verona Band of Alameda County, recognized by the federal government in 1906 and unlawfully removed from recognition in 1927. Every credible source I found—mission records, ethnographic interviews, enrollment documents, BIA files—told the same story: this is Muwekma land, and Muwekma never left.
It was Muwekma who preserved the genealogy. Muwekma who fought for recognition. Muwekma who kept ceremony alive and language breathing. It was Muwekma who gave Corrina Gould the documents she now uses to claim Indigenous identity—and it is Muwekma she now displaces.
People are quick to give Corrina Gould credit—for symbolic gestures, shellmound walks, and public speaking. Some even claim she “saved the West Berkeley Shellmound.” She didn’t. The Shellmound was already destroyed. It’s a parking lot. Meanwhile, former Muwekma Chairwoman Rosemary Cambra helped save an actual Ohlone cemetery from destruction during the construction of the 680 freeway in the 1960s. That cemetery was later returned in 1971 to Andrew Galvan via the Ohlone Indian Tribe Inc., through a historic and unprecedented decision by the Catholic Church. “It’s the only piece of Californian mission property returned by the Catholic Church to a group of Indians, that I’m aware of,” said Galvan, curator of Mission Dolores in San Francisco.
That wasn’t an isolated act. In 1967, Phil Galvan [“Mr. Ohlone”] successfully advocated for the naming of Ohlone College in Fremont—ensuring that a major institution would carry the name of his people and their land. And in 1985, Rosemary Cambra again took direct action—striking an archaeologist with a shovel to stop the desecration of her ancestors’ graves by developers attempting to build a hotel in downtown San José.
These are real, measurable accomplishments—land protected, history recognized, sovereignty advanced—achieved not through branding or ceremony, but through resistance, strategy, and leadership.
Photo courtesy of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay AreaPhoto courtesy of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay AreaPhoto courtesy of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay AreaPhoto courtesy of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay AreaPhoto courtesy of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay AreaPhoto courtesy of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area
In 2024, Muwekma embarked on the Trail of Truth, a 90-day cross-country journey from San Francisco to Washington, D.C., to demand federal recognition and justice for unrecognized tribes. Along the way, they were joined by members of over 30 other tribes, fostering national intertribal relations. Upon arrival in D.C., they faced violent responses from law enforcement, including arrests and physical confrontations, as they attempted to bring their message to the nation’s leaders. Despite these challenges, Muwekma’s commitment to sovereignty and recognition remained unwavering.
Meanwhile, Corrina Gould—while formerly associated with service delivery at the American Indian Child Resource Center—has used her platform through Indigenous People Organized for Change and especially through Sogorea Te’ Land Trust to build what is, at its core, a personal fundraising machine, not a tribal government. And she built it at the expense of real Muwekma—and in the Chochenyo context, Muwekma means “the people” [“la gente“.] She has rebranded the people as herself, and turned their collective legacy into her private gain.
Her base of support is not grounded in local tribal governance. It comes largely from non-Native institutions, funders, and Native individuals with no ancestral ties to this land. Meanwhile, the real Ohlone Tribe is pushed aside in favor of symbolic leadership that offers visibility, but not accountability.
Once faced with the facts, I had to admit that I was wrong. I had been led by a compelling story—but the truth was stronger. So I did what solidarity demands: I apologized, publicly withdrew my support for the Confederated Villages of Lisjan, and committed to telling the truth.
Because protecting Indigenous sovereignty sometimes means telling hard truths—and refusing to participate in feel-good illusions.
6. The Harm Is Real—And Measurable
This isn’t just a difference in opinion. It isn’t a clash of personalities. And it certainly isn’t a harmless misunderstanding.
When institutions platform Corrina Gould as a tribal leader, or treat the Confederated Villages of Lisjan as a legitimate tribal government, they are doing more than making a mistake—they are actively undermining the sovereignty of the real Ohlone Tribe. They are diverting resources, land, funding, and political capital away from Muwekma, and into the hands of a private organization with no legal standing, no elections, and no tribal citizenry.
This harm isn’t abstract. It’s measurable.
Millions of dollars in philanthropic and public funding intended for Indigenous land return and cultural revitalization have gone to a nonprofit corporation with no recognized tribal status.
Public institutions, including cities and universities, have entered into consultation relationships with Gould and her affiliates, bypassing Muwekma entirely—despite Muwekma’s documented federal recognition and direct ancestral connection to the land in question.
Land acknowledgments, educational materials, and grant applications are being written and approved using a fictional framework, misleading the public and distorting the historical record.
Nonprofits and state agencies increasingly treat Sogorea Te’ Land Trust as the default Ohlone contact, creating a monopoly of voice that drowns out the actual tribe’s legal claims and cultural continuity.
These are not harmless errors. They are a form of structural erasure—the exact kind that has plagued Native nations for generations. When land meant for Indigenous people is given to a nonprofit posing as a tribe, that is not reparation. That is dispossession in progressive packaging.
This is particularly dangerous because the harm is disguised as justice. The very people who claim to be “decolonizing” are recoding colonization into a new language of rematriation, visibility, and inclusion—but behind the optics, the effect is the same: the real tribe is left out. The real tribe is defunded. The real tribe is made invisible.
And let’s be clear: the people being erased are not theoretical. Muwekma has over 600 enrolled members. They are the living successors of the Verona Band. They have filed lawsuits, preserved records, won recognition, buried their dead, held their ceremonies, and never left their land.
But when outsiders accept Gould’s narrative at face value—when they hand over land and money without due diligence—they don’t just cause confusion. They help erase those 600+ people from the public record and from the future of their own homeland.
This harm is worsened by the fact that many of Gould’s supporters are not Ohlone, not from this territory, and in many cases, not even Native. Her occupation of Sogorea Te (Glen Cove Park in Vallejo) was carried out over the objections of local Wintu and Patwin tribal leaders, who viewed her presence as invasive and inappropriate–and who were already in the middle of negotiations with the city. Once again, her support came not from the tribes whose land she claimed to defend, but from outsiders—many of whom lacked the cultural or historical context to recognize the damage being done.
This isn’t pan-Indigenous solidarity. This is outsider-enabled erasure masquerading as justice.
And if you’ve ever promoted Corrina Gould as a tribal leader… If you’ve ever funded Sogorea Te’ Land Trust believing it was an Ohlone-run tribal entity… If you’ve ever written a land acknowledgment, curriculum, or policy that names CVL without verifying its legitimacy…
Then you’ve been part of this harm.
You didn’t just uplift the wrong narrative. You helped erase a federally documented tribe. You helped redirect land, funding, and power away from 600 living descendants of the Verona Band—and handed it to a nonprofit that exists because Muwekma gave one woman access to her genealogy.
This isn’t theoretical. This is real. Real people. Real land. Real erasure.
You didn’t decolonize anything. You just changed the branding.
7. This Is Muwekma Land
Photo courtesy of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area.
Let’s be clear: this is the unceded ancestral homeland of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area.
The East Bay—including the very places where Corrina Gould operates, where cities write “rematriation” into land agreements, and where nonprofit funders congratulate themselves on “land return”—sits squarely within the ethnohistoric territory of the Chochenyo- and Thámien-speaking Ohlone tribal groups and intermarried Muwekma Ohlone and Bay Miwok ancestors. These were not abstract “villages.” They were governed communities with kinship ties, linguistic identity, and ceremonial responsibilities. Their descendants are now enrolled in the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe.
These people were forced into Misión San José de Guadalupe, Misión Santa Clara de Thámien, and Misión San Francisco de Asís. Their names and records exist in the mission rolls, in the ethnographic interviews, in the early court filings, and in the federal Indian rolls. Their presence on this land was never erased—only ignored.
Muwekma didn’t vanish. Muwekma was excluded—deliberately and illegally. And they never stopped fighting to be seen.
They are not a nonprofit. They are not a brand. They are not “one of many Ohlone groups.” They are the documented, federally acknowledged, and unlawfully derecognized successors of the Verona Band of Alameda County—and the only Ohlone tribal government with a continuous ancestral, cultural, and political presence in this region.
They are the tribe that:
Has maintained ceremonial stewardship of sacred sites and burials.
Has documented every ancestral line with forensic-level precision.
Has filed for federal restoration and fought institutional exclusion for over a century.
Has survived the missions, the ranchos, the Gold Rush, the boarding schools, and the bureaucracies—and is still here.
To pretend that this land is “returned” by handing it to a nonprofit corporation with no governing authority, no intertribal legitimacy, and no community accountability is not just inaccurate—it is a continuation of colonization.
It is the institutional funding and support of settler colonial violence—the same erasure, dispossession, and genocide that removed tribes from their land in the first place, now rebranded as “rematriation” for white comfort.
The land hasn’t been returned until it’s returned to the people it was taken from.
This is not “Lisjan territory.” This is not “rematriated space.” This is Muwekma land.
8. To Stand With Ohlone People Is to Stand With Muwekma
By now, the facts are clear: the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area is the only tribal government with documented continuity, legal standing, and ancestral responsibility for this land. Their aboriginal homeland includes what is now known as San Francisco, San Mateo, most of Santa Clara, Alameda, and Contra Costa Counties, as well as portions of Napa, Santa Cruz, Solano, and San Joaquin Counties. The present-day Muwekma Ohlone Tribe consists of the descendants of the Indigenous people who were forced into Misión San José de Guadalupe, Santa Clara de Thámien, and San Francisco de Asís. Cities like Oakland, Berkeley, Emeryville, Albany, El Cerrito, Richmond, Fremont, Hayward, Niles, and Pleasanton sit squarely within this territory.
Still, some people will ask, “Why are you criticizing other Indigenous-led groups?”
Here’s the answer: “Representation isn’t just about who shows up — it’s about how they show up. When groups claim Indigenous identity without tribal recognition, without elections, and without consulting other Native peoples, it’s not real representation. Holding people accountable protects Indigenous identity — it doesn’t attack it.”
Others will say, “Aren’t you worried this undermines solidarity?”
Not if you understand what real solidarity is. “Solidarity built on misinformation is a weak foundation. Real solidarity requires honesty — even when it’s uncomfortable. Protecting Indigenous sovereignty sometimes means telling hard truths, not participating in feel-good illusions.”
And if you’re asking, “Well, what should I do instead?”
Start here: “Support federally recognized and state-recognized tribes, or groups with real historic documentation and transparent leadership. Always ask: Who benefits? Who was consulted? Where is the money going? Good intentions matter — but real relationships and accountability matter more.”
Let’s stay focused on the facts. It’s not about personal feelings — it’s about who has the rightful voice, and who’s building legitimacy at the expense of Indigenous communities.
If you’ve platformed Corrina Gould or the Confederated Villages of Lisjan without doing your homework, then yes—you’ve been misled. Now that you know Sogorea Te’ Land Trust is not an Ohlone tribe or organization, it’s on you to stop giving them money and land. Because at this point, you’re not helping—you’re enabling the lie. You’re disrespecting the real Ohlone Tribe and their 600+ enrolled members, and you’re disrespecting their ancestors’ living legacy.
Non-Native people created this problem, and then doubled down and made it worse. So it’s on them to fix it—by demanding accountability. Find out where your money is going. Ask who’s being left out. Demand that Sogorea Te’ Land Trust include the rightful Ohlone tribe of the East Bay: the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area.
If non-Native people are really about all this land defender and water protector, rematriation, land back rhetoric they love to post about— Then they’ll fight just as hard for a real tribe As they fight for a fucking parking lot.
“Indigenous sovereignty isn’t a brand. It’s a responsibility to the ancestors and a duty to future generations. I’m here to protect that — without apology.”
An Ethnohistory of Santa Clara Valley and Adjacent Regions: Historic Ties of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe and Tribal Stewardship Over the Tupiun Táareštak Site (CA-SCL-894) Monica V. Arellano, Alan Leventhal, Rosemary Cambra, Shelia Guzman Schmidt, Gloria Arellano Gomez (2014) PDF Link
Public Statement on Corina Gould, the Confederated Villages of Lisjan, and Sogorea Te’ Land Trust Received directly from the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area (May 1, 2025)
Ohlone/Costanoan Indians of the San Francisco Peninsula and Their Neighbors, Yesterday and Today (2009) Randall Milliken, Laurence H. Shoup, Beverly R. Ortiz – for the National Park Service PDF Link
A Time of Little Choice: The Disintegration of Tribal Culture in the San Francisco Bay Area 1769–1810 (1995) Randall Milliken – Ballena Press Anthropological Papers No. 43 Publisher Link
J.P. Harrington Chochenyo Field Notes and Vocabulary (1921) Smithsonian Institution – National Anthropological Archives, Collection of John Peabody Harrington
Ancient and Modern Genomics of the Ohlone Indigenous Population of California (2022) Severson, Ramstetter, Kennett, et al. — Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS) PDF Link
We are so excited to announce the first session in our ACORNS! Culinary Series, happening this Sunday, April 6!
The ACORNS! Culinary Series will feature Acorn Flour produced from the Acorns we harvested during the First Annual Acorn Harvest, in Alameda, and donated by our friends in San Ramon, and collected by our Alameda neighbor, Jerry!
It has been a long journey from the harvest to the plate, and we are so grateful that you’ve followed us throughout our journey to collectively reopen Indigenous foodways, by producing (at scale) Acorn Flour for the first time in over 300 years!
Much of our techniques for harvesting, processing, and leaching acorns had to be created from scratch. Including our iconic Acorn Leaching Machine–which was responsible for leaching all of the acorn flour we’re using for the ACORNS! Culinary Series, and to offer to the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area!
In the ACORNS! Culinary Series, we will show you several different ways to incorporate acorns into dishes that highlight traditional and contemporary Native American Cuisine.
We will offer tastings, and recipes; and foster the discovery and discussion of what Indigenous foodways are, and how producing natural, nutritional, and culturally-relevant encourages health, and healing…
And inspire participants to imagine the benefits of Decolonizing Our Stomachs.
The ACORNS! Culinary Series is happening every Sunday in April.
Join us in reopening Indigenous foodways by creating Acorn Flour for the first time in Alameda in over 300 years!
The nutritious, culturally-relevant food we produce–Acorn Flour—will be shared with local tribes and indigenous communities; as well as used for our upcoming ACORNS! Culinary Series.
Our upcoming Acorn Flour Production events run all day.
Saturday, March 29
Sunday, March 30 [weather depending]
What we’re doing:
Washing
Sorting
Cracking Acorns
Inspecting inside
Peeling
Grinding
Packing leaching machine
Drying Acorn Meal
What to bring?
Water
Gloves
Hammer
Join us to take part in this once-in-a-lifetime experience!