By two comrades based in Oakland, CA
“Wii’i Gdwiisa [we-e gud-we-suh], known in english as Red Butte, is a sacred mountain just south of the Grand Canyon. It is the birthplace of the Havasupai people. In 1974, uranium was discovered on the Havasupai reservation. Despite the tribe’s attempts to prevent mining on their sacred lands, the u.s. government approved mining permits and the land was stolen (again). There is a long history of violence in the so-called american southwest committed against indigenous people and land by the nuclear industry. This is a story of that legacy and the uranium mine currently operating at the northern base of Red Butte. This is also a story of the steadfast resistance by the people born from these lands and those who fight alongside them. Wii’i Gdwiisa is still alive, still breathing. Her people ask us to live and fight in solidarity with her and all sacred land/water under attack by the settler colonial capitalist regime.”
On the weekend of May 14th–18th 2026, networks of land defenders called a gathering to defend Red Butte against uranium mining. We gathered some comrades to make the journey and as we left Oakland, we didn’t realize how transformative the trip would be. On the journey back home, we decided to pull over to pray and honor the sunrise the way we had been taught at the gathering, and we knew our lives and organizing would be forever changed by Red Butte.
When we arrived at Wii’i Gdwiisa after two days of travel, comrades were setting up camp at the southern base of the mountain. Our Indigenous comrades invited us to greet the land, give an offering, share our lineages and intentions, and ask permission to camp. We listened to the wind and rocks for answers and proceeded only once the land responded. Ceremony was at the center of this gathering, grounding us in an ongoing conversation with the land itself as we planned our actions in defense of Red Butte.
The gathering was autonomously organized and guided by Indigenous organizers with established protocols. People were invited to take whatever action they were called to, rather than relying on direction from specific leaders. The autonomous strategy was apparent in moments of confusion and disorganization, but allowed us to nimbly shift programming in response to emergent situations like radioactively contaminated desert winds and police repression. It also created opportunities for everyone to contribute what they could and grow into roles that needed doing, like bathroom duty, shelter construction, political education, vibes, radioactive decontamination, or cooking in a fully-functional desert kitchen serving three hot meals to 150 people every day.
Two sacred fires, one for Wii’i Gdwiisa and one for Dookó’oslííd (known in english as the San Francisco Peaks), were the heartbeat of the camp. We burned medicine and other offerings in their flames which burned uninterrupted throughout the gathering, we shared stories and meals around their circle, and we sang and danced in their warmth at night. We were taught to gather and cut wood with clear minds and good intentions. Fire-tenders stayed up every night to ensure the fires didn’t go out. As we kept watch over the fire, we also kept watch over the safety of the camp. Other practices, like the daily sunrise ceremonies and a ceremonial sheep slaughter led by Diné comrades, similarly intertwined spiritual consciousness and soulful embodied connection to Red Butte with the meeting of basic needs like sleeping and eating. The rituals were hard work, which taught us to be good guests and showed the necessity of strong spiritual practice in sustaining a lifelong militant commitment to fighting for land.
We were invited to Red Butte by Havasupai elders, who cannot themselves return to the birthplace of their tribe because the radioactive contamination is too big of a threat to the tribe’s survival. They wanted us to learn about uranium mining and make a public show of support for the tribe’s fight. After taking the first day to set up, the following two days were full of teach-ins, workshops, discussions, and planning for the elders’ call to action. We thank those who shared their knowledge with us, including groups like Haul No! and Stop T.H.E.M., as well as indigenous experts of the local land and academic experts of history and hydrology.
Local elders told us their stories about the u.s. government colluding with private companies to extract uranium while poisoning the land and people. They also told us about their fights against these violations. This legacy has left a deep scar in the so-called american southwest, and indigenous communities still suffer health impacts from the “uranium boom,” which peaked in the 1960s and waned in the following decades. Now, with growing global interest in data centers and a desperate need to power them, the extractive nuclear energy is rising again. Many companies are activating mining claims after years of dormancy and either digging new mines or re-opening existing ones. One such company is Energy Fuels, which first laid claim to a patch of land just north of Red Butte in 1986 to build the Pinyon Plain uranium mine. This mine began extracting uranium in earnest within the last few years.
Today, radioactive material from Pinyon Plain Mine contaminates vast underground aquifers, pollutes soil, and generates toxic dust. The impact compounds because the trucks hauling uranium ore to the mill in White Mesa Ute lands spread dust along the entire haul route, primarily on reservation lands. Plants and animals, rivers, humans, and mountains are impacted for millennia when nuclear contamination occurs. The wake of destruction compounds when you consider how uranium is used to reinforce bullets and tanks and make bombs that are used by the u.s. military machine to kill people worldwide. There is also potential for the uranium to be used in small modular nuclear reactors to power data centers, further entrenching us under the technofascist foot of empire. The anti-nuclear movement needs to forefront Indigenous sovereignty and show up for protecting sacred sites; we can stop the machine at the source of the raw materials it needs to wage war.
On the day of our camp’s action, the energy was buzzing, as if Wii’i Gdwiisa was charging us up for the fight ahead. We were excited, but felt like we could have used more time to prepare or talk about contingency plans. We had built relationships with a lot of people, but still had questions about how much we could trust folks. We lined up along the highway, the main road to and from the Grand Canyon, busy with tourists who knew nothing about the toxic uranium mining destroying the land for corporate profit happening just a few feet away. Comrades from all over the southwest joined us for the demonstration. We made a stand with banners, buckets, and chants, and despite police pressure, we stopped traffic and educated people passing through. At one point a hauling truck arrived, headed to collect uranium from Pinyon Plain, but it was stopped and had to be towed away due to certain actions that were taken against it. The action was a success and although the police used intimidation tactics to scare us, we built trust and were vigilant, organized, and protective. That evening, we had a feast and stayed up late strategizing how to continue the support for Red Butte and the Havasupai people once the gathering ended.
Looking back, our time in ceremony with Wii’i Gdwiisa was empowering and moving; we realized that even the action on the highway was a form of ceremony for us. Some of the rituals we learned have reaffirmed our connection to the land through introductions, altars, and care. We always pay our respects when in new lands, whether a city or a mountain. Thinking back to camp, we recall with a mix of nostalgia, longing, and awe how at home we felt. Our practices made us feel like we could sustain the camp for months and months. It feels weird to be back home, far away from Red Butte, thrust back into our regular lives. But life is not regular anymore. Every day we think of our comrades, of the fires, of the fight for sacred lands, of ceremony. We tell friends about the sense of transformation we feel after participating in the gathering. This trip has made us more powerful, more deeply rooted than ever before, and more able to fight for the land. Our movements for liberation need to be connected to land and spirit to win.
“Once a fire is lit, it desires to spread. We invite you to join the struggle to protect sacred land against extractive industry. We invite you to share this knowledge with others. Most importantly and urgently, we invite you to take action.” ______
This article includes excerpts from the zine “Fire for Wii’i Gdwiisa” to which the authors contributed: tinyurl.com/redbuttezine. It has more info and actions you can take. Also check livingandfighting.net.