This summer, I took Diné Bizaad (Navajo language) and Diné history classes at Diné College in Tsaile, Arizona, on the Navajo Nation. My time there reminded me of Indigenous tenacity — the quiet, daily work of Native language and history professors, art teachers, staff, and students who sustain culture from within. Their commitment keeps Indigenous languages, knowledge systems, and creative practices alive for future generations. As Native American people, many of our ancestors survived their own versions of erasure under colonial rule. This Indigenous Peoples’ Day, we are witnessing another chapter of that same violence unfold in Palestine — an all-too-familiar attempt at genocide, streamed to us in real time. At home, the ongoing American colonial project continues to meet resistance, a presence I felt in the classrooms of Diné College. My Diné grandparents were forced to leave their Diné Bizaad-speaking families as young children to attend Christian, English-speaking boarding schools sanctioned by the United States government. Shimásání (my grandmother) always encouraged me to learn Diné Bizaad and Diné history. Our ancestors’ strength laid the road for us, and it’s our responsibility to walk it with that same courage. From the classrooms of tribal colleges to the galleries of major museums, Indigenous perseverance continues to shape art and culture. Building on generations of resilience, contemporary Native artists are asserting their presence boldly across institutions. Jeffrey Gibson’s (Mississippi Choctaw/Cherokee) bronze animal sculptures currently line The Met’s facade, and his exhibition An Indigenous Present — co-curated with others — features works by 15 Indigenous artists spanning the past century. It’s now on view at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston, and will tour nationally. Before she passed earlier this year, Jaune Quick-to-See Smith (Citizen of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Nation) curated Indigenous Identities: Here, Now & Always at Rutgers University’s Zimmerli Art Museum, featuring 97 living Indigenous artists. Andrea Carlson’s (Grand Portage Ojibwe and European settler descent) first museum survey, A Constant Sky, opened recently at the Denver Art Museum. Kent Monkman (Fisher River Cree Nation) recently opened his largest solo exhibition, History is Painted by the Victors, at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts. Dyani White Hawk’s (Sičáŋǧu Lakota) Love Language, a major survey of her work, opens October 18 at the Walker Art Center. It’s an exhilarating moment for Native art, as Indigenous voices shape institutions and audiences on a national and international scale.From left to right: Sháńdíín Brown, Sarah Biscarra Dilley of Froge Project, Laurent Bergeron, and his partner, artist Kent Monkman (photo courtesy Sháńdíín Brown) This Indigenous Peoples’ Day, I encourage readers to support Native-led, non-profit art organizations like Ma’s House, the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA), the Aquinnah Cultural Center, the Tomaquag Museum, Forge Project, the Native Arts + Cultures Foundation (NACF), or your local tribal cultural center, museum, or college. These organizations nurture Native artists, thinkers, and culture bearers. Indigenous art and culture are not only surviving, they’re thriving. But sustaining that future requires support. Acknowledging Indigenous Peoples’ Day and Indigenous survivance is a start, but there’s a critical need to turn recognition into tangible action. The next Jeffrey Gibson might be sitting in a classroom at IAIA right now. IAIA’s federal funding remains unstable, a consequence of budget policies initiated under the Trump administration. This instability underscores a larger truth: after generations of using education to erase Native languages, arts, and knowledge systems, today’s federal support for Indigenous-led tribal colleges — spaces now viewed as “DEI” — isn’t an act of goodwill: it’s a legal and treaty-bound obligation. With all the violence and uncertainty in the world, we need Native-led art and culture spaces. Even $10 helps — the price of an iced coffee in New York City. For readers who may not be able to donate, following these organizations on social media and advocating for their funding is another meaningful way to engage. At the past Santa Fe Indian Market, I volunteered with Forge Project to supply free food and cold drinks to vendors. We handed out 1,000 burritos that day. It was a hopeful moment — one rooted in care, kinship, and action. Like the classrooms at Diné College, it reminded me that Indigenous perseverance lives in both the grand moments and smaller, collective acts of generosity. Being together, learning together, and acting together keep my hope strong. A common phrase in Diné Bizaad is “T’áá hó’ájitéégóó,” which loosely translates to “it’s up to you,” a reminder of our personal agency amid the challenges we inherit and the futures we are building.