A Letter From a Jailed Line 3 Water Protector

In December 2020, Canadian pipeline company Enbridge Energy began construction of its Line 3 tar sands pipeline expansion project through northern Minnesota, against the will of several tribal nations. Upon completion, it would carry 760,000 gallons of tar sands oil each day from Alberta, Canada, terminating near the shore of Lake Superior. It was given a green light under President Trump and backed by President Biden. Thousands of water protectors have protested against Line 3 in the courts, in the regulatory process, and on the ground. On July 29, I was arrested while trying to intervene in the drilling of the Red River and face charges of trespassing on critical public-service facilities and obstructing legal process by interfering with a police officer. I penned this in jail after my arrest.

I’m sitting in Pennington County jail covered in bruises, waiting to be arraigned. Rubber-bullet welts spread purple down my arms and back, courtesy of Minnesota police, who have reportedly billed nearly $2 million in security-related costs to a fund set up by Canadian pipeline giant Enbridge. Enbridge is here to expand tar sands oil through my people’s territory. They seek to build a pipeline with the emissions equivalent of 50 new coal-fired plants, slamming another nail into the coffin of climate doom.

The echoes of screaming, coughing, choking are in the buzz of my jail cell’s large fluorescent light. When my eyes close, I see blood pouring down the face of a young woman hit in the head by a so-called less-lethal munition, tracks of chemically-induced tears on cheeks, and a giant drill out of a sci-fi movie boring through a river behind a line of police. The sound of the drill is in my teeth, in my skull. The sound of the drill fills the air. Fills the world.

Today is the fourth day I am in this cell alone. A red-eyed camera fills the upper corner of this concrete room. Last night a tray of what appeared to be moldy Swedish meatballs was shoved through the door slot. I’ve asked repeatedly to no avail for something without meat in it, without animals that have undoubtedly endured horrors of factory farms. My body has taken in enough trauma.

I’ve heard from patrolling correctional officers that I need permission from the nurse for my dietary needs and to receive treatment for my injuries—the same nurse who allegedly received my health care directives from the hospital I was brought to before being booked, the nurse who they claim is off duty for the weekend. I heard my friends were being denied critical medications, that we were on full lockdown for our misdemeanor charges. [Editor’s note: The Pennington County Sheriff’s office confirmed that Tara Houska was an inmate but would not comment on other claims.]

This account is being written on the back of the list of charges I face for trying to stop the drilling of a drought-stricken river in my grandmother’s treaty territory. Pennington has denied me paper, denied me anything to read. Last night they finally gave me a Bible.

A few years back, I was asked what world I fear most. I remember speaking of water protectors, the folks standing up for all life with their bodies, minds, and hearts, sitting behind bars as the world burned and the seas rose. Here we are.

Three days ago, dozens of mostly young people and BIPOC folks scaled one of several fences surrounding a worksite where Enbridge is drilling the Line 3 tar sands pipeline under the Red River. It was the fifth nonviolent direct action against Line 3 in as many days. This site has constant police presence. Enbridge understands this land has particular significance to the Red Lake Nation and all Pembina Ojibwe bands of the 1863 treaty signed with the United States.

Four massive drills under other rivers were stopped for hours and days by fearless water protectors in the days leading to this attempt. Police were growing more violent and emboldened. A month ago, the Hubbard County Sheriff stopped vehicles from entering the driveway of the private land I live on with Giniw Collective, our Indigenous women two-spirit-led effort to protect the land and embody traditional values; 12 people were arrested. A judge later granted a temporary restraining order against the sheriff.

The masks of civility, status quo economic policy, and polite discourse were slipping off big oil’s face. It seems our water doesn’t matter. Our physical bodies don’t matter. Our rights don’t matter. Our children’s chance at a habitable future doesn’t matter.

When we climbed a fence to explosions of rubber bullets, it was under smoky skies and a red sun. Wildfires are raging across my homelands. It’s no longer just the west that burns. Northern Minnesota, the land of ten thousand lakes, is a land of dried-up rivers, record-setting temperatures, and fire advisories. Enbridge is steadily pumping the five billion gallons of water it needs to build Line 3 out of the water table up here, now reportedly turning to rural town aquifers since Minnesota’s DNR finally said sucking out what remains of the rivers is a bad idea.

Line 3 is almost constructed. Tribal nations and environmental activists have filed a lawsuit and appealed the Supreme Court. Construction has continued despite the voices of the Ojibwe, of the youth, of concerned citizens, of the more than 600 people arrested during a worldwide pandemic for trying to stop a tar sands pipeline from going through 75 miles of wetlands and 200 bodies of water.

History is unfolding with each passing day, with each passing hour, with every ecosystem that collapses, with every new climate refugee. We are choosing our memories—whether we took action, whether we stood by, whether we told ourselves it was just a job, whether we held onto comforts we knew came with extreme costs. Some of us are fighting back, with everything we have.

Indigenous peoples around the globe hold 80% of all earth’s biodiversity, despite being just 5% of all human beings. We are fighting for what remains, everywhere. The earth is a relative, not a resource. My ancestors fought back, or I would not exist. I owe the next generation the same. We all do.

Since this was written on August 2, the Hubbard County Sheriff used pain-compliance techniques on water protectors. A few weeks later, a new study confirmed that in order to meet the Paris Climate Agreement target, the majority of the world’s fossil fuels must remain in the ground. And Enbridge has announced that Line 3 will go into service on October 1.