On a windswept spit of Willapa Bay in Washington State, members of the Chinook Indian Nation gathered recently for a traditional salmon ceremony, honoring a practice that dates back generations. The event, involving prayers, songs, dancing, and offerings to the fish spirit, took place at a site their ancestors frequented long before federal negotiators arrived in the mid-19th century.

The Chinook, whose ancestors inhabited parts of the lower Columbia region, have long resisted relocation efforts imposed during treaty negotiations in 1851. Their decision to remain on ancestral land has contributed to ongoing challenges securing official federal recognition—a status that would affirm their sovereignty and unlock access to government resources including health care, education, housing, and in some cases, gambling rights.

Tribal Chairman Tony Johnson emphasized the profound importance of recognition for his people. “The federal government cannot tell me we are or are not Chinook,” he said. Yet he acknowledged that formal acknowledgment “means everything” given the practical and political implications. The Supreme Court declined to hear the Chinook’s petition this spring, effectively reinforcing their exclusion from the federal recognition system.

The Chinook are part of a broader group of roughly 400 Native American tribes nationwide still unrecognized by the government. Many recognized tribes, particularly over the past two decades, have gained status through congressional legislation rather than the formal administrative review process, which demands proof of continuous political and community existence dating back to the early 20th century. For tribes like the Chinook, who never ratified treaties or whose treaties were broken, the evidence required has been difficult to provide due to historical disruptions, intermarriage, and territorial disputes.

The Bureau of Indian Affairs first granted the Chinook recognition in 2001 during the final days of the Clinton administration, only for the subsequent Bush administration to rescind it following objections from other tribes. Similar experiences have been faced by the Duwamish, a Puget Sound tribe linked to Chief Si’ahl, for whom the city of Seattle is named. The Muckleshoot Indian Tribe, a federally recognized group with significant political and economic influence, has been a vocal opponent of the Duwamish’s recognition efforts, alleging misrepresentation of ancestry.

Duwamish leaders, including Tribal Chair Cecile Hansen and her granddaughter Kristina Pearson, have expressed frustration at the internal conflicts recognition battles ignite among Native peoples, who they say are forced to compete for limited resources. Pearson described the situation as divisive within families and communities.

Last year, the Chinook pursued legislative recognition with Representative Marie Gluesenkamp Perez of Washington, though negotiations stalled over demands that the tribe relinquish claims to hunting and fishing rights and reconcile with other tribes. While talks have since resumed, Johnson criticized the disproportionate burden placed on oppressed communities to resolve these disputes.

The challenge grows more urgent as elder generations pass and documentary records erode. Many Chinook descendants also have lineage in federally recognized tribes, some of whom enroll in other nations to access benefits, sometimes at the cost of forfeiting their Chinook identity.

At the recent ceremony, 26-year-old Tahoma Johnson, son of the tribal chairman, carried out duties passed down through generations, preparing and cooking the salmon. He said he anticipates inheriting the ongoing fight for recognition, describing federal denial of his people’s existence as both painful and unjust.

“It’s basically the government saying we’re not here, we don’t exist, when we clearly do,” he said.