A Wampanoag woman’s grave turns 45, or is that 545?
On Memorial Day, remembering a burial that really was a re-burial
The temptation is to refer to Great Island in Wellfleet as a crowned jewel of the Cape Cod National Seashore, but the more apt description is that it is a beautiful oval pearl on the Seashore’s necklace, the most dramatic of a handful of islands strung along Cape Cod Bay, linked by sandy strands.
At the head of the island, uphill from the low mouth of the Herring River, there’s a small public parking lot with a trail that leads visitors to the shore. Along the path is an inlaid stone, surrounded and graced by little gifts and talismans left by many visitors -- shells, pebbles, bits of yarn, pine cones, baby horseshoe crab skeletons. These mementoes frame the following etched words:
“Here lies an Indian woman, a Wampanoag, whose family and friends gave of themselves and their land that this great nation might grow.”
Strange, but Great Island’s first and most obvious connection to ancient times, the buried remains of a woman who reportedly lived more than 400 years ago, are a much more recent addition to the island; the grave was dedicated 50 years ago this weekend. That truth doesn’t make the marker ersatz, but it does suggest that human interaction with profound places sometimes involves surprising re-interpretations.
The woman’s bones buried below that marker, far as we know, had nothing to do with Great Island as it was four centuries ago. They were uncovered in another part of Wellfleet, known as Indian Neck, in 1953, only two feet deep under a pile of quahog shells and sand.
She had been laid to rest curled, in a fetal position, with a stone point for company. The property’s modern owners, rather than ignoring or destroying the grave like so many have done, called the Wellfleet Historical Society for help. And so carefully the bones were lifted out, kept intact.
But what to do with them? The society decided to create a display. The bones were laid into a box on a bed of sand, and set for all to see in the group’s handsome little home and museum on Main Street.
So they sat for more than 20 years. But by the mid-1970s, it was dawning on historians and archeologists that these kinds of displays were perhaps, to put it delicately, not appropriate. Native American tribes were raising consciousness with questions:
What if those bones were your ancestor’s remains? Would you want them dug out of the ground, plunked in a public box somewhere for the enjoyment of casual visitors?
“We meant no disrespect, it was just the way we displayed things in those days,” remembered Helen Purcell years later. Helen was a passionate prime mover of the Wellfleet Historical Society, keeper of many memories and flames in the town, who reached 100 years before her passing in 2020. Intent on rectifying any unintended insult, Purcell and the society turned to the Wampanoag tribal council based in Mashpee for advice and counsel.
Tribal members advocated reburial, but the original site was private and unsuitable. The historical society then approached the National Seashore, which donated a new location; high ground at the beginning of the Great Island trails. The society paid for the stone and carved epitaph.
The bones were laid to rest once again 45 years ago, on Memorial Day weekend, May 30, 1976, with more than 500 people convening for a ceremony.
“Indian woman,” spoke Helen Purcell, “we cannot restore you, like Lazarus, to life but we can release you from the indignities of exhumation and exhibition and return you to the elemental dignity of death. Free forever from the distractions of display, rest now in the sweet privacy of this grave.”
It was a gentle victory for a more respectful treatment of those who were here before the Europeans – although the sentiment carved into the stone, penned by Wellfleet’s Ernie Tesson and blessed by the Wampanoags, has since garnered controversy:
The idea that Indians “gave of themselves and their land that this great nation might grow” suggests a lot more free will than history chronicles. The society recognizes that, and is beginning quiet conversations with members of the Wampanoag tribe about new language that better reflects what really happened.
And this summer, the society is planning two exhibits, one centering on Delilah Gibbs, said to be the last Native woman to live in Wellfleet, and a screening of “We Still Live Here,” a documentary about efforts to re-claim the Wampanoag spoken language. That’s not all; the society will co-host Nipmuc Marcus Hendricks on several walks exploring the experience of the First People of Wellfleet.
Historical societies “historically” have tended to focus heavily on Colonial times – and white men. Great to see that changing.
NEXT: DON’T CALL IT A BUBBLE, BECAUSE THIS HOUSING MARKET ISN’T GONNA POP. IT IS WHAT IT IS — AND THAT ISN’T “AFFORDABLE.”
Having been to this site so many times and have reflected on her story, yours gave it new meaning. I'm so glad they're thinking about changing some of the wording. It's about time truth was taught - on so many subjects of our country.