After years of near-genocide, broken treaties, oppression, and government policies of Relocation, Termination, and assimilation, a group of Indian activists took a symbolic 19-month stand on Alcatraz Island to fight for justice. In the light of subsequent more popular media events at Wounded Knee and the eventual "surrender" of the island, the Alcatraz occupation is often overlooked. Alcatraz served as the clarion call for Native Americans to fight for their rights, though, helping to end the official U.S. government policy of Termination and replace it with a policy of Indian self-determination. Now director James Fortier's well-researched documentary Alcatraz is Not an Island reveals an intimate behind-the-scenes portrait of the landmark 1969 protest, while placing it in political perspective.

This would have been impossible without the personal involvement of executive producer Millie Ketcheshawno, a longtime Bay Area Indian community advocate, who participated in the Alcatraz occupation. Her credibility allows the other participants to be remarkably candid about the event, giving a far more intimate view than the run of the mill documentaries that gloss generically over Alcatraz. For historical perspective, associate producer Dr. Troy Johnson is instrumental; a professor in Native American studies at California State University, Johnson has specialized in the Indian occupation at Alcatraz, authoring the book We Hold the Rock: The Indian Occupation of Alcatraz, 1969 to 1971.

No Indian history can begin without showing some background roots, and Fortier's documentary briefly includes some post-Indian Wars background information without beating it into the ground. After concerted efforts by the American government to assimilate the Indians into the mainstream, most blatantly with the Eisenhower Administration's 1953 policy of Relocation and Termination (systematic non-recognition of tribal rights), Indians were becoming the "Invisible Americans." The Bureau of Indian Affairs (B.I.A.), expecting to be soon phases out completely, paid "terminated" Indians with a one-time check and bus ride to an urban area, where the Indian was expected to get vocational training and fend for himself.

What the government didn't realize was that they were creating an unexpected subculture in certain cities, and the Bay Area developed a diverse Indian community. When the San Francisco Indian Center caught fire, the Indian community sought an alternative—and the idea of reclaiming Alcatraz Island as official Indian land on the basis of a Lakota treaty was begun. The U.S. government had declared the island unsuitable for habitation in 1964, and it was abandoned and listed as surplus Federal land, so Indian activists reasoned that they had a legal right to the island.

The documentary traces the events chronologically, including archive footage, interviews, and recreations. You can sense the exuberance of the participants as they reflect on the early stages of the occupation—after all, many were college students at the time, inspired by the success of Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights protests, and they saw their activities as satire. What could be more fitting to draw attention to the plight on the reservations than to take over an area that the government had deemed uninhabitable? With widespread media coverage and public sympathy at hand, a tongue-in-cheek offer of buying back the surplus island for $24 serves as symbolic satire.

Regardless of what future historians have to say about the American Indian Movement (AIM)*, activists like Russell Means remember the significance of Alcatraz:

"Before AIM, Indians were dispirited, defeated and culturally dissolving. People were ashamed to be Indian. You didn't see the young people wearing braids or chokers or ribbon shirts in those days. Hell, I didn't wear 'em. People didn't Sun Dance, they didn't Sweat, they were losing their languages. Then there was that spark at Alcatraz, and we took off."