SAN FRANCISCO, CA – Memories come back in an instant. A pitch black night, a bitter cold, and dark waves crashing against the side of the ship as Tashina Banks Rama boards the ship.
When it started, Tashina was still a child. But every November, on Thanksgiving Day, she and her sister would wake up early and join their parents on the edge of San Francisco Bay.
At least in the beginning, it was always freezing and always quiet.
As she hopped onto the ferry from the pier, Tashina remembers hearing the water splashing below. Pendleton blankets and star quilts, patterned with radial explosions of color, rustled out of bags as families piled into the boat. Then, as the city’s lampposts and towers disappeared behind them, the sound of drums suddenly broke the silence.
In front of them stood the protruding rock known as Alcatraz, jutting out from the waves. The air felt intentionally heavy as the boat lurched forward.
“Suddenly there’s this feeling, this presence of spirituality and ritual. This is something serious that we’re doing,” Tashina, now 51, recalls.
“Even if you don’t know who you’re with, it’s very reassuring to know that everyone is there for the same purpose.”
For nearly half a century, Alcatraz Island, best known for its infamous prison, has been home to an annual Native American tradition: the Sunrise Ceremony, marking the first light of the morning.
For some, this day is a day of gratitude, honoring their indigenous ancestors and celebrating the survival of the tribal nations of the Americas.
For others, it is a “non-Thanksgiving” moment, an Indigenous response to the sanitized depictions of colonization associated with the Thanksgiving holiday.
But as the sun rises again on Alcatraz this Thursday, longtime participants fear a new threat could end the gathering for good.
In May, U.S. President Donald Trump announced on social media that he had directed the Bureau of Prisons to “reopen a significantly expanded and rebuilt Alcatraz Island to house some of America’s most ruthless and violent criminals.”
The plan has been widely criticized as unrealistic. The island’s last prison closed in 1963 due to dizzying operating costs that were three times higher than any other federal prison in the United States.
The island has no local fresh water source and basic supplies must arrive by boat. One estimate puts the price tag for redeveloping Alcatraz at $2 billion.
Still, President Trump maintains plans to move forward, including sending his Secretary of the Interior and Attorney General to conduct an on-site investigation in July.
But for Tashina, the loss of the island will mean the loss of a spiritual tradition that connects her to generations of Indigenous activists, including her father, American Indian Movement (AIM) founder Dennis Banks. Just the thought fills her with sadness.
“It made me very sad, and actually still makes me very sad,” she said of President Trump’s order. “Thousands of prayers have been performed there. It’s a sacred place.”
