Visit to Alcatraz Island

I recently found myself bumbling about San Francisco, visiting my friend for Halloween weekend. It seemed only right, after making a handful of friends from the Bay Area, all who insisted I would love the area. Beside the recommendation, I consider myself an “inspiration chaser”; there’s a sense of enrichment that comes from new sights and sounds. Undoubtably, it’s this sense of novelty that brings people to Hawaiʻi, and in return, what brings me to leave Hawaiʻi.

This time, Alcatraz was decidedly my one allotted tourist experience while I was in San Francisco. Though, in the end, I decided to hike down a dusty trail surrounded by conifers through Nathaniel Pyron Park, determined to get a noteworthy picture of the Golden Gate Bridge.

My weekend in San Francisco was chock-full with Halloween events, a sapphic wine night, and thrifting, and so we dedicated my first day there to crossing Alcatraz off my bucket list (and adding the stamp to my NPS passport).

My friend and I made our way to Fisherman’s Wharf. After stepping off the streetcar, I realized I had stupidly left my SD card at home. I searched for a Walgreen’s, CVS, or any market that would sell one, but came up empty-handed. In a huff, I stowed my camera away in my bag and hurried to Pier 33, otherwise known as Alcatraz Landing.

The area bustled with people — tourists eager to get to “the Rock”, curious onlookers just passing by in the direction of the aquarium and Pier 39, and former prisoner William Baker selling copies of his book, Alcatraz #1259, which encapsulates his time within the prison walls. I missed my opportunity to speak with him as the crowd queued to fill the ferry

My experience with the ocean is limited but fortuitous. Pacific tropical waters are warm and crystalline blue. Somewhat ashamedly, this was my first time this close to the ocean in California, despite it being my third trip. As we set sail to Alcatraz Island, perilous currents and strong winds greeted our ferry. Sailboats cruised the waves, their masts nearly parallel to the surface. My friend and I joked, “My toxic trait is thinking I could swim from Alcatraz,” but as I watched the mesh of currents tangle together, I understood how the water could easily drag someone to its depths.

Upon stepping onto land, the island’s influx of visitors are greeted by a warning sign declaring boats to stay away from the United States Penitentiary, then graffitied over with red paint that reads: “INDIANS WELCOME; INDIAN LAND”, a relic from the Red Power movement and occupation of the island in the early 70s. Not far away, the water tower stood with the words: “PEACE AND FREEDOM; WELCOME; HOME OF THE FREE; INDIAN LAND”. This weekend, the paint seemed fresh, as though it had been redone. After a bit of research, in 2012, the NPS restored the water tower, and invited Native Americans to redo the red lettering. The honor was given to Eloy Martinez, a Ute man living in Oakland, who was present during the occupation.

Prior to the occupation of the Bay Area in 1542, the Ohlone people lived prosperously in the area. Unfortunatley, it can’t be said with certainty what they used Alcatraz for and to what extent, because the indigenous population was decimated and large fragments of their oral history was lost, but the consensus is that the island was used for several reasons, including: the ostracism of tribe members who broke taboo, and the gathering of supplies, such as seabird eggs and marine life. After the penitentiary shuttered its operation in 1963, the island should have been open to ownership claims by the Ohlone as part of the Treaty of Fort Laramie. This never happened, and the federal government instead gave Alcatraz to the city of San Francisco. The Native Americans occupied the island in response.

Activists pushed to convert the island into a cultural center, or possibly a university for native studies. The occupation brought the plight of indigenous people to the political forefront. Not long after the occupation concluded, Alcatraz was inducted into the Golden Gate National Park in 1972. I cannot attest to the intent behind this, or if it was well-received. Was this the supposed middle ground? And was the federal government’s invitation for a Native American to redo the graffiti performative or apologetic? I do not know.

Consequently, the bright red paint splashed across the United States penitentiary sign and message of indigenous freedom on the water tower pulled me into a web of research. To this day, people continue to visit Alcatraz Island, oblivious to the rich native history buried in its rock and mixed into that red paint. I must confess that the appeal of walking within the prison’s “haunted” walls was what drew me to the island in the first place, but the halls were teeming with the very-alive spirits of people, eager to take a picture with Al Capone’s cell.

I walked away from Alcatraz overwhelmed by the dread of mass incarceration. The feeling of standing in one of the isolation cells, imagining the darkness will always linger with me, but now that I’m home, and learning about the island’s role as a symbol for indigenous power, I recall the Native Hawaiian movement, Kū Kiaʻi Mauna, and cannot help but feel a sense of hope and love for indigenous resilience.