One Life, Many Registers
At the end of her story, it is worth taking account of the full range of what Zitkála-Šá did across the six decades of her life.
She was a writer of literary essays that appeared in the most prestigious magazines in the country, and whose autobiographical work established a tradition of Native American personal writing that shaped what came after.
She was a collector and translator of traditional Dakota stories, making those stories available to readers who would not otherwise have encountered them.
She was a musician and composer, collaborating in the creation of the first American opera written by a Native person.
She was a political organizer, helping found and lead organizations that coordinated Native political advocacy across tribal lines.
She was an investigative journalist, documenting corruption in the administration of Native resources and bringing that documentation to congressional and public attention.
She was a political advocate, lobbying directly on issues of Native citizenship, voting rights, and land rights.
She was a speaker and lecturer, using her rhetorical skills to bring the realities of Native political life to audiences across the country.
She was a magazine editor, shaping the content of one of the most significant platforms for Native political thought in the early twentieth century.
And she was, in the specific sense that matters most to understanding her historical significance, a witness — someone who had experienced what the boarding school system did, who had the skills to describe it, and who chose to make that description public in the most effective way she could.
The girl who hid under the bed in 1884 became all of this. The institution that found her, restrained her, and cut her hair was trying to make her less than she was. It did not succeed.
Her name was Zitkála-Šá. Red Bird. And she flew.