“From the time when the league was first formed in the twelfth century, both sexes had rights and responsibilities. The chiefs were appointed by the women’s council, and if the women felt a certain chief wasn’t doing his job, they could remove him from office. The principal chief was always nominated by the sister of the last chief. The council of chiefs wasn’t allowed to debate matters that weren’t presented to them by the women’s council. And if they wanted to declare war and the women didn’t support the campaign, all the clan mothers had to do was refuse to supply the men with food. That usually ended things right there. If the women did support a war, they had the right to decide what to do with the captives. They could have them killed, or they could adopt them into the tribe. Special care was taken to spare children and young men who could be assimilated to replace warriors lost in battle. It was kind of a melting pot philosophy.”
Grace got up and walked over to the cooler. She drew out three bottles of water and wordlessly handed two to her guests. “All that talking makes me thirsty,” she explained.
Cassie unscrewed the cap on her bottle and took a sip. “With all the checks and balances the league had in place, it sounds like Congress.”
“Your analogy is highly appropriate,” Griffin agreed. “The organization of the league so impressed the colonial Europeans that they organized the government of the United States along the same lines.”
“Yeah, except they conveniently forgot to include a women’s council,” the pythia said pointedly. “Only men were created equal or entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
“That deliberate oversight was eventually remedied by the women’s suffrage movement which also took its inspiration from the Haundenosaunee system,” the scrivener countered. “You’ve heard of the Seneca Falls Convention of 1848 led by Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony?”
“Of course, I’ve heard of it,” Cassie replied. “They’re only my heroines.”
“It was no accident that they held their convention in upstate New York. Both those estimable ladies were well-acquainted with the existence of the Haudenosaunee League and the role women played in its government. These female descendants of Europeans had been told all their lives that male dominance was a universal phenomenon. In their very own backyard, so to speak, was a culture that gave the lie to that fable. The rules of the Haudenosaunee League clearly stipulated that men were to be accorded the same rights as women and not the other way round. Females, and not males, held the preeminent position in their culture. Can you imagine how that notion must have affected the mothers of the modern women’s suffrage movement?”
They paused in their conversation when a young man stepped inside the tent. “Grace, you got a minute? There’s something you need to take a look at.”
“Sure thing.” The trove keeper rose to follow him out. “I’ll be right back, guys.”
“No problem,” Cassie called out. Returning her attention to Griffin, she remarked, “I guess the League was an exception to the other tribes. I never heard about native women having that much clout anywhere else in America.”
Griffin drank half a bottle of water before replying. “That’s because you haven’t heard the whole story. Most, if not all, native tribes were matrilineal before the arrival of Europeans—even the Aztecs. There was a relative balance of power since both sexes depended on one another for survival.” Griffin sighed. “But it only took two generations after the introduction of the horse to turn the plains Indians patriarchal.”
“Wow, that’s a grim statistic,” the pythia observed morosely.
“It’s much like what happened to the steppe nomads of Eurasia. Subsistence agriculture was replaced by an economy of raiding and warfare. A man’s wealth was measured in horses. The new culture revolved around exploiting neighboring tribes. Some tribes abandoned farming altogether and became nomadic. Consequently, the role of women dwindled. The speed of the horse and the tactical advantage it gave was too great a temptation for the men. Power corrupts.”
“But that didn’t happen here among the Haudenosanuee,” Cassie said in wonderment.
While they were speaking, Grace had quietly returned and resumed her seat. Picking up the thread of the conversation, she said, “Oh, it happened here eventually but not because of horses. It happened because of Quakers and Handsome Lake.”
Cassie turned to peer at her. “What? There’s a nice-looking pond around here that made women lose their rights?”
Her listeners both laughed.
Grace explained. “Handsome Lake isn’t a place. It’s a man. He was a prophet of the tribe, and he lived at the beginning of the nineteenth century. He spent the first part of his life as a drunkard but eventually got religion and started having visions. I think he meant well. He was trying to find a way for our people to survive alongside the Europeans. The Quakers also meant well and wanted the same thing. Since Haudenosaunee men had lost their traditional role as warriors, the Europeans thought they could keep them from causing trouble by encouraging them to become farmers. That had been a time-honored female role. It was believed that only women could make crops grow. The government decided to even the odds by giving men plows.”
“And they squeezed women out of their place in society,” Cassie concluded.
“Handsome Lake did more than tell the men to become farmers. He also preached that the basic family unit should be a man, his wife, and their children. It was an attack on clan structure and on the position of the grandmothers. In fact, he accused many old women of witchcraft and wanted them executed.”
“It must be a universal trait that whenever some patriarchal type wants to attack a little old lady, he accuses her of being a witch.” Cassie
