Land Protection Takes Time. That Doesn't Mean Nothing Is Happening.

When people hear about a sacred place under threat, they often want immediate answers:

Who will stop it?

Who will buy it?

Why can’t this be resolved now?

Those questions are understandable. But meaningful Indigenous land protection rarely happens quickly.

These efforts often involve multiple sovereign Tribal Nations, private landowners, government agencies, legal agreements, conservation partners, funders, cultural-resource protections, and long histories of broken promises. The public may only see major announcements. What they do not always see is the years — sometimes generations — of advocacy, relationship-building, negotiation, and persistence behind them.

A recent example from the Black Hills helps show why this work takes time.

In March 2026, the U.S. Forest Service and representatives of the Great Sioux Nation signed a co-stewardship agreement for the Black Elk Wilderness, a 13,534-acre area within the Black Hills National Forest. The agreement includes 11 Tribal Nations and is intended to enhance consultation, collaboration, cultural access, resource protection, recreation management, habitat improvement, and wilderness stewardship.

That agreement did not happen overnight.

The Black Hills, known as Pahá Sápa, are sacred to the Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota peoples. Under the 1868 Fort Laramie Treaty, the United States recognized the Great Sioux Reservation, including the Black Hills, for the “absolute and undisturbed use and occupation” of the Sioux Nation. In 1877, after gold was discovered and immense pressure mounted, Congress acted to take the Black Hills despite treaty protections.

More than a century later, in 1980, the U.S. Supreme Court affirmed that the taking required just compensation. But even that decision did not return the land itself.

Modern co-stewardship also required years of work. In August 2024, Oceti Sakowin leaders signed a Memorandum of Understanding with the U.S. Forest Service to create a framework for Tribal participation in Black Hills National Forest management, including cultural-resource protection, sacred-site protection, conservation, stewardship, youth programs, and workforce development.  Roughly 19 months later, the 2026 Black Elk Wilderness co-stewardship agreement was announced.

That timeline matters.

It reminds us that real progress in Indian Country is often measured not in days, weeks, or election cycles, but in years, decades, and generations.

The same lesson applies to Tree Hill.

The effort to protect Powhatan’s Birthplace will require urgency, but it will also require patience. It will take coordination among Tribal Nations, preservation partners, conservation partners, legal advocates, community groups, decision-makers, and the public. Some of that work will be visible. Much of it will happen quietly, carefully, and deliberately.

That is not delay.

That is stewardship.

Protecting sacred and historic landscapes requires more than a headline. It requires trust, preparation, legal care, cultural responsibility, and a long view.

Tree Hill is too important to develop.

Preservation is the responsible path forward.

And like other meaningful Indigenous land protection efforts, this work will take time.

Some places are worth that time.

Powhatan’s Birthplace is one of them.

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