By: Ciara Curtin
Sign for the Brafferton Building, in front of the building itself, on the campus of William & Mary. Photo by author. November 2022.
On the second morning back on campus after Thanksgiving break, Tuesday, November 29th, I took a seat on one of the benches on the edge of the path that connects William & Mary’s older, more historical part of campus, and the campus information center. It lies right on the outskirts of campus, near the Wren Building and Colonial Williamsburg. The seat I sat on faced the back side of William & Mary’s Brafferton Building, along with its accompanying sign. Created in 1793, the Brafferton Indian School was established as a means of Westernizing and colonizing Native children and acquiring W&M funding (Morētti-Langholtz and Woodard, 99). This is information that is not readily shared, at least in this light, by William & Mary. As a William & Mary student concerned with Native land occupation, I wanted to see how our campus and surrounding community interacted with one of the only clear, yet horridly incomplete, colonially skewed, and overly-simplified, markings of Indigenous history on our campus.
Setting the Scene: A Sunny Day Hides a Shadowy Past
The sky was bright blue, full of friendly, white clouds and a bright, beaming sun. Birds chirped intermittently over the two hour period, and dogs barked every now and again. The garden outside of the Brafferton appeared well-kept but rather bare. A few professionally-trimmed bushes, a small rosebush, and ferns lined the walkway and building sides. Two tall, sturdy trees towered above the building itself. The shadows of the branches projecting onto the brick of the building cast a dark, ominous light on the bright rest of the surroundings. It was a physical, coincidental manifestation of the secrets and shadows that hide sinisterly in that building.
An Unexpected Nearby Sign Takes Social Precedence
As I was walking to the bench and beginning my observation, something unexpected caught my attention. Across the path and to the left of the bench where I was sitting, there was a small tree, with an Army memorial underneath it. There was a female-presenting older person standing by it, cleaning off dirt and leaves from the plaque. She circled the tree a bit, looking as if to make sure she had cleaned it as much as possible. She then hurried off to the left, in the direction of the Wren Building. I had never seen a passerby take this sort of cleanup and care to a public memorial space. Also in front of that tree was another bench, with what looked to be a student sitting on it. This student was sitting criss-cross-applesauce, looking directly at the tree and the memorial, then closing their eyes, and repeating this pattern for a few minutes. I wondered if they were doing a meditation, or reflection with the memorial. A few minutes after that, another student walked by and went under the tree to read the plaque and look at the memorial.
The Army memorial near Brafferton. Photo by author. November 2022.
These three, serious and somber interactions were two times more than the interactions I observed of passersby with the Brafferton’s “school for Indian Children” sign. The memorial under the tree was given a small statue of soldier’s boots, a plaque, carefully painted rocks, and American flags. In contrast, the Brafferton sign stands alone, tall in the air, with writing that does not stand out. It is a white sign, with a black border and black writing, in a small, formal font. The title, which reads “Indian School at the College of William & Mary” is not legible from very far away, and the paragraph description underneath is even smaller and requires being up even closer. This left me wondering what about the Army memorial made people stop, but not the Brafferton sign, only a few paces to the left. Is it that the Army memorial has handmade additions? Is it easier to see because it is on the ground? Does having it under a tree, surrounded by dirt and roots, make it seem more important? Do people notice both but take more care to the American military as opposed to Indigenous children? Many questions floated in my mind as I continued to observe.
Another angle of the Brafferton sign. Photo by author. November 2022.
During my entire observation, only two people, who had been walking together, stopped to look at and read the Brafferton sign. It was two older-looking people, one male-presenting and one female-presenting. They pointed at the sign and began talking as they were walking away from it. Seconds later, they stopped on the edge of the building’s path as well, staring at the building. This was the longest interaction any passerby had with the sign or the building itself, including the indoor and outdoor workers observed. I was not surprised by this, and in fact, had earlier wondered if I would see anyone interact with the sign at all.
Manicured Landscape
I had no idea that I would be witness to some seasonal landscape changes. The area outside of the building was being cleaned and some of the plants replaced by three workers. They planted pansies, blew leaves out of the way, and removed other debris from the sidewalk. Knowing about the horrifying history of the building and William & Mary’s part in Indigenous erasure in general made watching the manicuring of the outdoor space a bit sickening; something about it just felt unsettling and wrong.
Conversation with an Employee on the Outside
My feeling unsettled was only added to about an hour and a half later, when another man entered the path outside of the Brafferton. On his back, he had a plastic tank holding liquid, and began spraying this on the plants. A minute later, when he walked back in my direction, I asked him what he was doing. He explained that he was spraying deer repellant on the new plants that were put in that morning. Not only was the school having workers aesthetically “fix” the outside foliage, but also purposefully trying to keep animals away from it. This feels like a sad irony for a building and campus with such a tattered, exclusive past.
“Not only was the school having workers aesthetically “fix” the outside foliage, but also purposefully trying to keep animals away from it. This feels like a sad irony for a building and campus with such a tattered, exclusive past.”
Unnatural Nature, and its (Lack of) Agency
The manicuring of the landscape outside of the Brafferton illustrates how the naturalness and agency of nature can be taken away. As environmental historian William Cronon notes, “there is nothing natural about the concept of wilderness” (Cronon 18). It is something that is carefully constructed by privileged people that are not actually on the beginnings and margins of land. The W&M administration in charge of these projects are removing the wilderness from its natural state and attempting to turn it into a picturesque, harmless, unscathed entity, removed from humans, non-human animals, and wildlife. In this way, the Brafferton landscaping is moving the agency away from these actors. This stripping of agency prevents the formation of ruderal ecologies and “an analysis of ruins and their emerging ecologies with questions of urban social justice” (Stoezer 299). The presence of ruderal ecologies “begs the question of what kind of human–environment relations are desired in the city, which bodies and lives matter (cf. Butler 1993), and which ones exceed the categories of urban nature” (Stoezer 310). These are all missing facets from the current physical and metaphorical landscape of the Brafferton Building. To allow ruderal ecologies to manifest at the Brafferton would be a step towards acknowledgment of, and appreciation and respect for, the land which it is on. It could act as a way to honor the Native boys who occupied that building, and legitimize the landscape in its natural, Native forms. It could be a springboard to bringing Indigenous peoples into the conversation and Indigenous art into the space.
Conversation with Employees on the Inside
I ended up speaking with Cindy and Ally, two of the workers– both white women– in the President’s Office in the Brafferton. I asked if there was anything inside of the building that acknowledges the erasure of Indigenous peoples and history of the building, and was met with very minimal response. They talked about how work is being done on this front for a potential exhibition next year, in honor of W&M’s Brafferton Indian School 300 year anniversary. They did not have a ton of information on this and said to stay on the lookout, which felt flippant. I could tell I was getting angry at the conversation and the way they were talking about things, but was also genuinely curious to hear their perspectives.
“At the end of the day, the building is an office space”
I asked again, if there was anything currently being done, or planned on being done long-term as a form of acknowledgment, and they said not really. They mentioned the sign outside, as if it was a full, laudable, accurate representation of the history. They kept explaining that, “at the end of the day, the building is an office space,” and it has to be workable. It seemed as if they were using the fact that it is now an office building as a justification for, or at least digression from, the atrocities that initially occurred at the site. Naturally, these were very angering things to hear. Further confirmation was being given about hidden histories of William & Mary and Native communities “…that [have] been obfuscated by settler narratives that memorialize the education of Brafferton Indian students as ‘so good a work’” (Morētti-Langholtz and Woodard 98).
Keeping Secrets In, Keeping People Out
There were two groups of people who attempted to enter the Brafferton building on their own and were unsuccessful. Two male-presenting people dressed in matching hats and red hoodies of some company walked on the path outside of the Brafferton. They lifted up a metal grate in the sidewalk, looked inside it, and then covered it back up. Afterwards, they approached the steps of the back door. They stood there, waiting, perhaps not totally sure what to do. They noticed the card reader next to the door, and attempted to swipe a card in the slot. It did not work, but a few seconds later, a female-presenting person opened the door and let them in after a few more seconds of them standing and explaining. Another male-presenting person appeared about twenty minutes later, pulling up in a William & Mary Facilities Management van. He got to the door, stood there, attempted to swipe a card, but then immediately turned around, walked down the path, got in the van, and drove away. Whether this card gave him access to the building or not, he left without ever going inside or talking to anyone, and this felt very sad. These instances revealed how the building is seen not only to be keeping out natural nature, non-human animals, and complete histories, but also literal humans, as well.
“the building is seen not only to be keeping out natural nature, non-human animals, and complete histories, but also literal humans, as well”
Other buildings on campus, even this older sector of campus, have buildings that are open to students and to the public during the day. Additionally, even for the people that did have access to the building or were let in, only one door on the whole building, the door that faces the street, was used. I had always thought of the other side of the building, the one facing the Wren and President’s House, as the front and the door people would use to enter, and the side of the building facing the street as the back. While this assumption may possibly be incorrect, the side people entered is still the side more removed from campus, which was curious. It added yet another element of isolation to this building and its functions.
The set of doors on the Brafferton Building that several people were unable to get into. Photo by author. November 2022.
Where do we go from here?
A crucial yet currently missing point of reconciliation and justice for this space and land is the true recognition of its history. This recognition is exactly what professor and environmental justice researcher Michelle Murphy refers to when she introduces the potential for, and importance of, the concept of alterlife.
“To be…in settler colonial spaces is to be messily pulled between systems intent on Indigenous erasure interconnected with structures of white entitlement”
Michelle Murphy, 114
She explains how people “in settler colonial spaces [are being] messily pulled between systems intent on Indigenous erasure interconnected with structures of white entitlement” (Murphy 114). This system of erasure and entitlement is seen clearly with the Brafferton. In society, there are “damage-based research and biopolitical frameworks that focus the burden of representing violence on people, beings, and communities already confined in hostile worlds” (Murphy 122). The blame and burden is taken off of the oppressor, and often even goes on to the oppressed.
“Alterlife is forged in recognition of the long duration of densified everyday environmental violence”
Michelle Murphy 116
Responsibility, and even mere acknowledgement of the history of the Brafferton, has been evaded for its entire existence. To know who this responsibility and acknowledgement belongs to becomes a tricky question, as well. W&M administration, faculty, and students, as well as parents, Williamsburg residents, and Virginia as the state employer, are all pieces of the puzzle. “Alterlife is forged in recognition of the long duration of densified everyday environmental violence,” and this recognition remains to be properly made (Murphy 116). Doing so would result in a “change in perspective [that] allows us to uncover Native people’s agency in this complex narrative and recognize Brafferton students for their contributions to both Virginia and American history” (Morētti-Langholtz and Woodard 99). For a university that claims to be on the cutting edge of progressive practices and policies, there is a serious lack of it on this sector of campus.
“change in perspective allows us to uncover Native people’s agency in this complex narrative and recognize Brafferton students for their contributions to both Virginia and American history”
Morētti-Langholtz and Woodard, 99
Students, administrators, and passersby alike largely don’t acknowledge the Brafferton space on campus, creating a chamber of inactivity and unawareness. I will walk through our campus now with a heightened awareness, tuned in to the Native land I am walking on and historically significant spaces and places I pass or occupy.
Works Cited
Cronon, William. “The Trouble with Wilderness; or, Getting Back to the Wrong Nature.” W. W. Norton & Co., New York City, 1995, pp. 69-90.
Lakind, Alexandra. “Indigenous Art as Creative Resistance: A Conversation with Dylan Miner.” Edge Effects, 17 Apr. 2018, edgeeffects.net/dylan-miner/.
Moretti-Langholtz, Danielle et al. Building the Brafferton: The Founding, Funding, and Legacy of America’s Indian School. Williamsburg, Va: Muscarelle Museum of Art, 2019. Print.
Murphy, Michelle. “Against Population, Towards Alterlife.” Making Kin not Population, edited by Adele Clarke and Donna Haraway, Prickly Paradigm Press, 2018, pp. 101-24.
Stoetzer, Bettina. 2018. “Ruderal Ecologies: Rethinking Nature, Migration, and the Urban Landscape in Berlin.” Cultural Anthropology 33, no. 2: 295–323. https://doi.org/10.14506/ca33.2.09.
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