For years, they were trapped by a land dispute. Some Navajo families still wait for help

Lavonnia Begay grew up in Tonalea, a Navajo Nation community 50 miles east of Kayenta, caught in the middle of a decades-long conflict over tribal land ownership. As she reflects on her upbringing she recalls the challenges her family faced, as did many other Navajo families in the region, challenges that persist to this day.

The area around Tonalea was known as the Bennett Freeze, and it represents a complex and somber chapter in the state's history that hasn’t been rectified. For the people who lived there, it represented a divide that trapped them in a dispute started by the federal government.

"I didn't know I was born into the Bennett Freeze," said Begay. “We lived in, at that time, in a hogan with my parents. I noticed outside the Bennett Freeze area, they had nice houses and, you know, I guess they got help. So I noticed the difference right away and we used to do our homework and everything by oil lamp. If we ran out of oil, then we’d go by the fire we also used for cooking and to warm up the place. That's how I grew up, I would say extremely poor."

The issues of Bennett Freeze and Navajo-Hopi relocation are still pressing concerns for those who were affected, especially since they feel they haven't been heard and are forgotten. During the Navajo Nation Council's spring session on April 16, some of them plan to march to the Navajo Council Chamber to draw attention their issues.

"We need to be heard and recognized by leadership," said Lavonne Tsosie, secretary for the Nahata Dziil Commission Governance. "For too long, we have been ignored and treated like an unwanted step-child. We have council delegates who don't understand relocation issues. We are also demanding all relocation funds to be returned to us. And we are planning to go directly to Congress and the White House to help us."

The Bennett Freeze was named for Robert Bennett, then the commissioner of Indian Affairs, who in 1966 halted development across about 1.8 million acres of jointly owned Navajo-Hopi land in northern Arizona, land that was contested by both the Navajo Nation and the Hopi Tribe. 

The dispute traces its history to an 1882 decree by President Chester A. Arthur. The order delineated a 2.5-million-acre square on the map for the Hopi and "such other Indians as the Secretary of the Interior may see fit to settle thereon."

The freeze was seen as a temporary measure to address the enduring land dispute while tribes negotiated ownership. In 2006, the Navajo and Hopi tribe agreed to the Navajo-Hopi Intergovernmental Compact, marking the settlement of their differences.

"The Navajo and Hopi peoples are and shall remain neighbors, and desire to live in harmony and with mutual respect for each other for all generations," the 2006 compact between the tribes said. "The parties desire to resolve both the disputes involved in the litigation and others, and further to establish and protect the rights of their member to engage in traditional religious practices where those practices involve access to and use of the other party's land."

Three years after the signing of the compact, the freeze was lifted, affecting nearly 10,000 Navajo people in the area, including Begay and her family.

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How a dividing line affected people for so long

Now, around 20,000 people live in the former Bennett Freeze area. Only 24% of the houses in the area are habitable, almost 60% do not have electricity, and the majority do not have access to potable running water, according to Navajo Thaw implementation plan.

In September 2019, the Navajo Nation through the Navajo Hopi Land Commission entered into an agreement with Native Builders, LLC to take the lead on a project known as the Navajo Thaw. But after the president of Native Builders died, the Navajo Nation entered into a sole source contract with Building Communities to complete the project through December 2022.

In August 2023, the Navajo Nation entered into a contract with Building Communities to implement some of the housing-related recommendations of the work through the Navajo Thaw and the American Rescue Plan Act legislation.

This included $15.5 million directed to Navajo Hopi Land Commission Office to complete a housing manufacturing plan and to oversee the expenditure of $14 million for manufactured housing to beneficiaries in the nine former Bennett Freeze chapters and 14 additional Navajo Partitioned Lands chapters.

"If you change it to that name (Navajo Thaw), it's not us," Begay said to leadership who wanted to change the name from Bennett Freeze to Navajo Thaw. "We are known by Bennett Freeze. We live in like a third world country, when you put it up to the standards, then we'll say it's thaw, it's unfrozen. I told them that in Navajo. The people that were there with me, the grassroots people, agreed with me and they said, 'Yes, that's true.'"

Begay, who has been married to her husband, Dale, for nearly 45 years, has five children and 14 grandchildren. And she has been advocating for as long as she can remember on trying to improve the living conditions in the former Bennett Freeze.

“When we were little we used to go to Tonalea Day School,” said Begay. “I have seven siblings. When we rode the bus every day, I noticed the difference between the Bennett Freeze part where they have no electricity, no running water, no nice houses. We did our best to get along in school and everything."

In 1962, the Hopi Council sued the Navajo Tribe in Arizona District Court to reinforce Hopis’ claim on the land after a U.S. District Court in Prescott ruled in Healing v. Jones that the Navajo and Hopi tribes possess undivided equal rights to what would be considered as the Joint Use Area.

Four years later, Bennett issued his order suspending development on the land, effectively preventing Navajos living in the area from building new homes, improving roads and infrastructure, or making improvements on their existing homes. This was life there for the next four decades.

In 1966, the same year as the freeze, Peabody Coal Company was granted the right to mine more than 64,000 acres of coal-laden land in the Black Mesa area. About 40,000 acres sat within the Joint Use Area between Hopi and Navajo and the rest on Navajo reservation land. 

“I got to know why we were living like this,” said Begay. “Why there's a difference, why the other part is okay, and then the Bennett Freeze was so poor. I came to find that there was this thing that's called Bennett Freeze.”

Begay, who also attended Kaibeto and Tuba City boarding school, said that upon learning about a man named Robert Bennett implementing a land freeze, she initially assumed it was a Navajo man in Kaibeto, who shared her clan, also named Robert Bennett, who had imposed the development halt on the land.

“We can't get any help. We can't move anything. We can't do anything. We can't even make an outhouse,” said Begay, recalling her family's dilemma. “Knowing that we have a Robert Bennett that lives in Kaibeto. I thought it was him that froze the land. So I used to hate that guy. I go, ‘Why the heck did you do this to us?’ You know, I didn't know it was a judge in Washington, D.C.”

It wasn't until she reached high school that she truly understood the significance of this issue. She often accompanied her parents, Floyd and Susie Whiterock, to chapter meetings, where they advocated for access to running water, electricity, and a new home.

It was during these meetings that Begay found her voice on the issue, and she persists in raising it to this day. She harbored a dream of seeing her parents in a new home equipped with electricity and running water, but sadly, that dream never materialized.

“We keep going to the chapter house begging them to help us, but you know, they just give us the runaround. They keep telling us you are on the Bennett Freeze you can't get nothing. We have no money for you. There's nothing for you,” she said. “They (parents) were the first generation of the Bennett Freeze  and I'm the second generation of the Bennett Freeze. My kids are the third generation. My grandkids are the fourth generation, so we all suffered.”

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'I have to do something'

Begay and others from the area remain steadfast in their advocacy efforts, tirelessly raising awareness about families affected by the former Bennett Freeze and how they continue to suffer the repercussions of 40 years of underdevelopment imposed upon them. They talk about what many perceive as the neglect of community, tribal, state, and federal leaders and lawmakers.

“So I have to do something, I have to do something and speak about the Bennett Freeze to anybody that listens,” she said. “What I'm thinking is we should have some sort of help made for us, I mean from the White House, all the way to Flagstaff or something. To have an office there for us, so Bennett Freeze only, and the fourth generation can apply there and get our houses regardless of if you qualify or not. There is a lot of red tape at the chapter level.”

She and the group of what she described as the grassroots community members have been meeting to discuss how they could raise enough money to build homes for those in need of homes within the former Bennett Freeze, especially since people could not improve or fix their homes for over 40 years, leaving residents living in some instances in tents, makeshift shelters, homes that are in disarray and unlivable, but at times occupied by a whole family.

"My mom and everybody else kind of gathered together, they were saying, 'we're people that know the needs of our residents, of our neighbors and the elderly that are here in this community,'" said Begay's daughter Michelle Poulson. "'We try to help each other. Why don't we come up with a plan to where we bring in the builders, we go and contact the people directly and raise the funds that way. We will raise the funds without the government's help without the chapter houses help, because they're not helping.'"

Begay has engaged not only with her chapter officials but also with past and present Navajo Nation presidents and council delegates, as well as lawmakers like Sen. Mark Kelly, D-Ariz. She has also sent letters to President Joe Biden, and Navajo Nation President Buu Nygren, and has even had a conversation with Interior Secretary Deb Haaland. She actively campaigned for Kelly, Biden and Nygren.

In a letter to Biden dated April 2021, Begay congratulated him on his campaign and informed him she campaigned on his behalf and drove over 300 miles to see him in Albuquerque.

“My one prayer is to see a resolution to the former Bennett Freeze Act areas. We desperately need your help with this matter,” wrote Begay.

She goes on to explain that because of the development ban, the people of Bennett Freeze have not been able to fix their roofs, build any new buildings, lagoons, or repair roads. 

“I have come to know this area as a third world country because plans broke down and we lack basic needs,” she wrote in her letter to Biden. “In 2021, we still have no running water, no electricity, and no American standard homes. We need to build the Navajo Nation Bennett Freeze Act area back up, starting with homes for the affected Navajos, so that the people have the same opportunities as everyone else.”

In July 2022, Begay received a letter back from the White House and she was surprised. The letter expressed Biden's gratitude for writing to him about “a top priority of my Administration — working with Tribal Nations to invest in the future of Native communities, empower Tribal self determination and support prosperity for Native people.” 

Biden's letter mostly listed what his administration has done for tribal communities and did not mention Bennett Freeze. 

He said he signed an executive order with the aim of advancing education and economic opportunities for Native Americans, while also bolstering tribal colleges and universities. He also highlighted that through the American Rescue Plan, they have allocated $20 billion to aid tribal governments in combating COVID-19. He mentioned the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, which invests $13 billion in tribal communities, and the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act.

“I know we cannot rewrite the wrongs of the past, but we must make good on the promises of our Nation to Tribal nations moving forward,” Biden’s letter concluded.

In January 2023, Haaland visited the Navajo community of Many Farms for her boarding school series of listening sessions. Begay initially hoped to speak with Haaland in person, but upon learning that it wouldn't be possible, she wrote a letter. Then, during the open floor session where attendees could speak into a microphone, Begay chose to address Haaland directly and tell her she had a letter for her.

Eventually, she was able to speak face to face and even get a photo with Haaland. In response to Begay, Haaland told her there is money they can allocate but it would go to the central tribal government and that is who Begay would have to ask. It's what Begay has been doing for decades to no avail. 

The Arizona Republic reached out to Haaland’s team to ask about what was being done to help people in the Bennett Freeze area. The secretary's office responded with a short email: “We have nothing to offer on this.” 

Wanting attention and help for those affected by Bennett Freeze and not getting it from her local, state and federal leaders, Begay said she was considering walking across the country to Washington D.C., after she saw the attention focused on Seraphine Warren, who walked from Sweetwater to Washington, D.C. to bring awareness for her missing aunt Ella Mae Beagy in 2022. But Begay's concerned 7-year-old grandson told her that was a bad idea and listed reasons why she shouldn't do it.

"I was so serious that I was gonna walk from here," said Begay. "And then another thing I was thinking of was suing the federal government."

'We cannot hate our neighbors'

Eight years after the freeze was put into place, legislation enacted in 1974 required the relocation of thousands of Navajos. Fences went up in 1977 to divide previously open land, blocking access to sacred sites and disrupting the lives of many Navajo people.

A federal initiative was established to relocate approximately 100 people from the Hopi tribe and between 10,000 to 13,000 people with Navajo heritage.

During this relocation period, the office of Navajo-Hopi Relocation was formed and many of those that were relocated during this time were sent to the “New Lands” or Nahatah Dzil (the Arizona community of Sanders). 

“We need to understand we cannot hate our neighbors,” said Tsosie of the Hopi tribe. “We did not do this to each other. It was the federal government. That act in 1974 is what caused this hate between one another.”

In February, Tsosie and others from her community held the first-ever relocation summit at Twin Arrows. It was a two-day event to discuss how they could get the voices of relocatees and those affected by Bennett Freeze heard at a federal level so that more can be done for the forgotten.

“We aren’t here just to talk and share experiences,” said Tsosie. “We are going to develop a position statement and we are taking this to D.C. I am really frustrated with our (tribal) government, we feel like an unwanted stepchild.”

Tsosie's story is one of being uprooted during a pivotal point in time. Emotionally she recalled how she and her family had to leave their homes in Low Mountain and relocate to Sanders when she was a young adult.

"It's very painful talking about it," said Tsosie.

Like Begay, Tsosie has met with tribal leaders who don't understand the entire history and scope of the relocation era, and although the Navajo Nation has the Navajo-Hopi Land Commission that council delegates are members of, they haven’t really done anything. Tsosie also said they have lost what little faith they had for the Office of Navajo Hopi Indian Relocation.

“I have no words for the commission, they really need to get educated,” she said. “Sadly they don’t understand. It’s sad. You have Nahata Dzil with its own issues, but then you have people with dilapidated homes, who need homes for their children, you have relocatees who were never approved for relocation benefits.”

The Navajo-Hopi Land Commission met with White House officials March 20, to advocate for the appointment of a commissioner to the Office of Navajo Hopi Indian Relocation (ONHIR). A commissioner would address the residual challenges of the Navajo-Hopi land dispute, which includes the relocated Navajo families.

Commission Chairperson Otto Tso, Vice Chair Casey Allen Johnson, and commissioners Vince James and Germaine Simonson, alongside Navajo Nation Council Speaker Crystalyne Curley, met with with Rose Petoskey, Senior Advisor to the White House Office of Intergovernmental Affairs and Director of Tribal Affairs, and Elizabeth Reese, Senior Policy Advisor for Native Affairs at the White House Domestic Policy Council. They emphasized the critical need for a dedicated ONHIR commissioner.

"Without a commissioner, ONHIR lacks the clear direction necessary to make substantive progress in assisting families affected by the relocation," Tso said, highlighting the resulting homelessness among many Navajo families due to inadequate resources and housing.

Amid government delays, still waiting for help

As Begay sat in the home her family built, she acknowledged how fortunate she was to have children and family who made sure she had a place to live. Poulson emphasized the home wasn't built or paid for by any government assistance at all, but was a family endeavor. She said it was her siblings, her uncles, her dad's cousins, Begay's family who were the ones to put in the "sweat equity."

"They throw in their money and there's, like I said, sweat equity and they built this house," said Begay. "So I can have a roof over my head."

The house was hastily constructed when the freeze was temporarily lifted nearly 20 years before its permanent removal. Begay is aware of deficiencies within her home, and during a severe storm that struck the area in 2010, shortcuts in construction became apparent.

The Bennett Freeze was temporarily lifted in 1992, and an ambitious $20 million construction plan for new dwellings was proposed that would have improved living conditions and increased the economic viability of the Bennett Freeze area. The plan did not become a reality because a federal judge reinstated the freeze.

"Well, if a white person is making a house, they have standards and requirements and to pass inspection everything," she said. "But this I don't think it is. When it snowed so bad in 2010, it kind of like pushed the (roof) in and then it starts cracking. The roof is leaking. We were living in this house when they were building it."

In the same year as the severe snowstorm, then-Rep. Ann Kirkpatrick visited the affected area and, based on her observations, introduced legislation to allocate additional funds to the Former Bennett Freeze Area. The bill did not pass.

Despite some initiatives to aid those living in the Bennett Freeze and support those who have been relocated, the efforts have been hindered by decades of bureaucratic hurdles and disinterested leadership. Some people have been assisted, but not all.

At this juncture, the affected individuals believe that politicians merely make this issue a campaign promise for votes, only to forget about it once they are in office, and they recognize that it's up to the people to remind leadership of those affected by the Bennett Freeze and remind them of the relocatees. It's also up to them to drive progress forward.

Poulson said when her mom goes to Window Rock to get answers or any kind of status updates of what she proposed initially — housing for the residents of Bennett Freeze — she is met with disdain.

"These are people that are professionals, that are officials, they keep telling her 'what are you talking about? Everybody that was Bennett Freeze died?'" said Poulson. "And she's (Begay) like, 'I'm still standing right here in front of you. I'm still here. There's still people that are living on the Bennett Freeze area that are still here.'"

Arlyssa Becenti covers Indigenous affairs for The Arizona Republic and azcentral. Send ideas and tips to arlyssa.becenti@arizonarepublic.com.

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