Global Courant
Cynthia Ruiz, the first Native American to ever serve on the Los Angeles Board of Water and Power Commissioners, recently received bad news from City Hall.
Ruiz said a deputy mayor called her on May 26 Unpleasant saying she was removed after serving only a year on the panel overseeing the Department of Water and Power.
“It’s not about you,” Ruiz told her. “If you want to go to another committee, let me know and I can make it happen.”
What followed was a moment of shock and awkward silence, Ruiz said. The former head of the city’s multibillion-dollar pension fund system believed she was making progress in easing the 122-year-long tension between the DWP and Owens Valley tribes over water rights and land use in the eastern Sierra River basin Nevada.
The one-two punch was thrown an hour later via an email from Mayor Karen Bass. It said Ruiz’s nomination would end on July 5, “or when your successor is confirmed by the city council, whichever comes first.”
The mayor’s decision to bench Ruiz, a lifelong Angeleno and member of the Cherokee Nation, has sparked anger and outrage among tribal leaders and others who saw Ruiz’s appointment as a major advancement in the city’s recognition of Indigenous voices. Her abrupt departure leaves some feeling betrayed.
“We are shocked that Cynthia, the first Native American to serve on that committee, was replaced by a white man when she was less than a full year into her four-year term,” said Teri Red Owl, executive director of the Owens Valley Water Commission. .
“For Indians, the way Ruiz was replaced was a slap in the face,” she said.
In a recent letter to Bass, Anthony Redblood Morales, president and chief of the Gabrieleno/Tongva San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians, said Bass’s action was “offensive and reverses progress made to advance underrepresented minorities, particularly Native Americans.” to assist.”
“It’s another example of how our people are disrespected, disregarded and ignored,” he said.
Members of the Board of Water and Power Commissioners serve at the pleasure of the mayor and are charged with overseeing the nation’s largest city corporation, which has an annual budget of approximately $7 billion and employs approximately 11,000 people. In addition to determining policy, the commissioners determine the monthly water and energy bills for 4 million residents.
The man Bass nominated to replace Ruiz – George McGraw – was confirmed by the city council on June 20. McGraw describes himself as “a leading foreign voice in social entrepreneurship, environmental justice and water”, and is the founder and CEO of Dig deepa non-profit organization dedicated to bringing clean water to communities without access.
Asked to comment on the decision to replace Ruiz, Zach Seidl, a spokesman for Bass, said: “Transitions at the start of a mayoral administration are common – Commissioner Ruiz’s transition was one of 110 that occurred in the first 100 days of the Bass administration.”
Seidl said senior staffers from the mayor’s office had recently met with tribal leaders “to talk about issues most impacting their communities, and to schedule a meeting with the mayor in the coming weeks.”
Tribal leaders contacted by The Times said they were cautiously optimistic about the outcome of that meeting; however, she and the non-profit Owens Valley Committee demand that Bass add an Indian to the committee as soon as possible.
They also recommended a candidate for the next available seat on the committee: Cheri Thomas, the current chief administrative analyst for the Los Angeles Unified School District and a member of the Quinault Indian Nation on the Pacific Northwest Coast.
A push to get Ruiz back on the post was out of the question. “I didn’t want to fight to stay,” said Ruiz. “But the representation of Indians on that committee is critical.”
The history between the DWP and tribes in the Owens Valley has been marked by controversy and strife over water rights and land use.
In the early 1900s, Los Angeles agents quietly bought up area farms and water rights for an aqueduct to meet the growing demands of the metropolis 200 miles south.
The city diverted so much water from the Owens River via the aqueduct that the 110-square-mile Owens Lake dried up, severely changing the landscape from what had been a kingdom of irrigated villages and abundant game to Paiute- tribes.
In 1924, Paiute-Shoshone Indians staged a five-day armed resistance known as the “Battle of Little Lake.” They protested against the diversion of water and the encroachment on their land.
Their attempts were unsuccessful. But since then, relations have remained tense between the DWP and tribes, including the Lone Pine Paiute Shoshone Tribe, the Fort Independence Indian Community of Paiute Indians, the Big Pine Paiute Tribe of Owens Valley, the Bishop Paiute Tribe, the Timbisha Shoshone Tribe, and the Mono Lake Kutzadika Tribe.
Ruiz, her supporters say, had taken steps to heal that division.
Ruiz supported the sale of 10 acres of DWP land to the Bishop Paiute Tribe for use as a tribal cemetery, moving the project past bureaucratic hurdles toward a purchase agreement considered by tribal leaders.
“Our relationship with Cynthia was genuine and authentic,” said Meryl Picard, president of the tribe. “It was important for us to be dealing with another Indian who understood the trauma of our history.”
Ruiz’s duties included introducing the newly chosen bass to crowds gathered at Native American events, such as a winter solstice ceremony held in a clearing of ancient oaks in the Chatsworth Nature Preserve on December 21, 2022.
Ruiz and Rudy Ortega, president of the Fernandeno Tataviam Band of Mission Indians, marked the winter solstice, also known as the “shortest day and longest night of the year,” by draping a turquoise blanket over Bass’s shoulders.
Disappointment was etched on Ruiz’s face when her removal was formally announced at the June 13 committee meeting, followed by praise for her contributions.
“I really thought I had longer here – the year went by so quickly and there is so much more work to do,” said Ruiz from behind the committee podium. “But what I’m a little disappointed about is the loss of the Native American voice.
“I’ve tried to be the Native voice,” she said, “because we know that the history of the LADWP has been dirty when it comes to the tribes, especially the tribes of Owens Valley.”
