Another Super Bowl has come and gone, and while the game itself may have delivered thrills, it also reignited a painful, long-standing controversy.

The Kansas City Chiefs were trounced by the Philadelphia Eagles in Super Bowl LIX. But it’s their continued use of Native American imagery and mascots in sports—not their historic loss—that’s problematic. For many, it’s another reminder that America remains stubbornly resistant to change.

I know this fight well. My mother, Lynette Lonewolf, and countless others—activists like Dick Gregory and Mark Thompson—have spent decades advocating against the racist depictions of Indigenous people in sports. The long overdue retirement of the Washington Commanders’ former name was a hard-won victory. Now, there are whispers of bringing that energy back for the Chiefs. They continue to perform on the national stage, complete with the offensive “tomahawk chop.” This is a ritual that reduces a people with a rich, complex cultural history to caricature.

I was at the Super Bowl in Phoenix last year, working behind the scenes to ensure Indigenous representation. For the first time La Morena, an Indigenous woman, was chosen to design an official NFL Super Bowl logo. The moment has largely gone unrecognized. I also helped secure Native-owned businesses, such as OXD Clothing, to be official merchandise vendors. These are small steps, but they are critical in a space that has historically erased Native people. Except as mascots or myths.

But representation, no matter how well-intended, cannot erase the discomfort of watching thousands of fans in face paint and feathered headdresses perform the tomahawk chop as the Chiefs take the field. Many Native performers, offered tickets to the game, declined. They could not, in good conscience, sit among fans who continue to dehumanize them. Imagine if fans donned Zulu headdresses or painted their faces in blackface. The outcry would be swift and justified. So why is this any different?

Native Americans are not relics of the past. We are still here. We are not mascots.

For me, this year’s Super Bowl was a deeply symbolic experience. Watching the Philadelphia Eagles win felt like a spiritual victory. The eagle holds profound significance in Indigenous culture. It represents vision, wisdom and protection. The U.S. government itself has recognized the eagle’s sacred role, enacting laws to protect them. So, to see the Eagles soar to victory was, in a way, a reminder that Native people, too, continue to rise.

And then there was Kendrick Lamar, a Black artist whose performance spoke volumes about racial identity and resistance. As someone of both Black and Native descent, his artistry hit home. His imagery, particularly his formation of a human flag, was a powerful statement about unity and struggle in a country that often seeks to divide.

The irony is that America has always been a blend of cultures. Nowhere is this more evident than in New Orleans, the site of this year’s Super Bowl. Louisiana is a melting pot, a living embodiment of the gumbo that defines its cuisine—Indigenous, African, Latin, Creole. Historically, enslaved Africans and Native Americans found community together, shaping traditions that persist today in the masking rituals of Black Indians.

This is America’s real identity. It’s not the narrow, exclusionary vision pushed by those who rage against diversity. The people who take issue with the blending of cultures, who resist change, are the ones who do not truly understand this country.

The fight against offensive mascots is not about erasing history. This is about correcting it. It’s about recognizing that Indigenous people are not novelties to be worn on jerseys. It’s about moving past an era where sports teams profit from outdated stereotypes while the very people they claim to “honor” continue to be marginalized.

This Super Bowl, like so many before it, was a reminder of the work still left to do. But it also served as a testament to the resilience of those who refuse to be erased. America is one big, flavorful pot of gumbo, and that rich mix of cultures is its greatest strength. It’s time we start acting like it.

YoNasDa Lonewolf, Oglala Lakota/Black, National Community Organizer, Influencer and Co-Host of The Certified Squad Show podcast. She’s also a super hero.