Some losses are difficult to explain, and that is all the more reason to make space for those who grieve.

Author: Amy Lewis, WILD’s Managing Director, Policy & Campaigns

Phil Two Eagle wants to know if he has made you cry. It’s a question he asks frequently after a Treaty Council meeting or when the drummers have finished singing. I find him glancing at me from across the room, a question written on his expression: did you cry? I think it’s because he wants to know that others have the capacity to feel about his people, the Lakota Oyate. He wants to know that for all the things he can’t change – the reservation system, colonialism, and the past – this one thing, your emotions, he can affect.

In 2024, Phil Two Eagle made the World Wilderness Congress happen. The idea wasn’t mine, not really. I was thinking about other things when he asked me if I would help him bring the world to the Black Hills. At the time, he didn’t know about the World Wilderness Congress. He just knew that I might be a friend and that I had global connections. And because a Congress had not convened in person in a decade and because I wanted to be able to say “yes” to at least one of Phil’s requests and because I thought it was a really good idea, we did it. The world came to He Sapa, the Black Hills, the heart of the world, and they talked about wilderness and the role Indigenous Peoples play in its care and protection.

About five months before the world descended on Rapid City, I received a text from Phil. His son had taken his own life. Phil was no longer just planning a Congress. He was also planning an unexpected funeral. In the days that followed, as Phil laid his son to rest, we at WILD waited to hear what would happen next. In Lakota tradition, a close family member cannot work for a year after a death in the family. We knew there was a good chance we would need to cancel, or at least postpone, WILD12. But after just a week of waiting, Phil was back, and on the surface, he seemed like the same ol’ Phil. It was as if he had texted me about his loss in a dream.

I asked him if he was okay and he told me the medicine men would help him grieve, and that he had received permission from them and his family to continue planning the Congress. And then he got back to work, helping WILD plan, but more importantly, serving his people.

But I didn’t just dream his text message, and things weren’t the same.

After the Congress, we sent out surveys to all the delegates asking them what they thought. Over and over, people wrote that WILD12 was a transformational event for them and expressed gratitude to the Lakota Nation for inviting them to their sacred hills. I am relieved and happy to know the Congress worked for them. Many of WILD12’s delegates also made sacrifices to attend our event and to help mobilize a global community for more powerful wilderness protections. And because the event meant something to others, Phil’s sacrifice was not in vain. But as far as I know, not many of WILD12’s delegates know of Phil’s loss. They don’t know that their experience was grounded in sacrifice, unwilling and willing. I don’t know why it matters so much to me that they know, but it does.

Phil Two Eagle presenting at the 12th World Wilderness Congress

Maybe the reason I care is because all transformation comes at a cost. So many experiences we have on a daily basis that we also take for granted – a commute to work, an addition to a house, an educational trip for a child to a faraway land – are predicated on a forgotten loss: a landscape drilled for oil, a forest unraveled for wood, a less abundant world for the rest of life. While it is common to make space to celebrate the transformation, do we ever make space to grieve the loss? Not really. And if we did, people would think we were weird. It’s as if we believe that by ignoring the shadows hard enough, they will retreat.

But that’s not the way shadows work, and even if we don’t look at them, we cast them all the same.

Phil Two Eagle wants to make you cry. He wants you to know that his people have given you many sacred gifts, willing and unwilling. And he wants to know how you feel about this. But feeling is not enough. And my question for you is, once the tears have fallen, what will you do to live honestly and respectfully in this world so dappled in shadow and light?

At WILD, we are going to continue to stand by Phil and provide what assistance we can as he relentlessly works for the recovery of his culture and land.

This blog is the fourth in a series of 5 blogs sharing stories from WILD’s work and impact during 2024. If you are inspired by the work and ideas in these blogs, please consider giving a donation to WILD here. WILD’s impact belongs as much to our community of donors as it does to the members of our organization. To learn more about WILD’s work in 2024, visit here to read our annual report.