By Jazmin Orozco Rodriguez for KFF Health News.
Broadcast version by Alex Gonzalez for Nevada News Service reporting for the KFF Health News-Public News Service Collaboration

A few years before the covid-19 pandemic, Dale Rice lost a toe to infection.

But because he was uninsured at the time, the surgery at a Reno, Nevada, hospital led to years of anguish. He said he owes the hospital more than $20,000 for the procedure and still gets calls from collection agencies.

“It can cause a lot of anxiety,” Rice said. “I can’t give you what I don’t have.”

Rice, 62, was born and has spent his life in Nevada. He said he fell through a gap in the tribal health care system because he lives 1,500 miles from the Prairie Band Potawatomi Nation home area in eastern Kansas, where he’s an enrolled member.

He receives primary care at the Reno-Sparks Indian Colony tribal health clinic in Nevada, but structural barriers in the federal Indian Health Service left him without coverage for specialty care outside of the clinic. Rice might have been eligible for specialty services referred by his tribe’s health system in Kansas, but he lives too far from the tribe’s delivery area to utilize the tribal health program that helps pay for services outside of the IHS.

“I shouldn’t need to move to Kansas City to be fully covered,” Rice said.

A new tribal sponsorship program rolled out last year in Nevada is aimed at getting tribal citizens like Rice covered and protecting them from incurring debt for uninsured care. It allows tribes to buy health insurance through the state’s Affordable Care Act marketplace for people living in their service area, including Native Americans from other tribes.

Tribal leaders and Nevada officials say the sponsorship model increases access to coverage and care for tribal citizens and their families by allowing them to seek medical care outside the tribal health care system.

A few dozen tribes have moved to set up the insurance programs since the ACA authorized them more than a decade ago.

“It’s not widespread,” said Yvonne Myers, an ACA and Medicaid consultant for Citizen Potawatomi Nation Health Services in Oklahoma.

Native American adults are enrolled in Medicaid at higher rates than their white counterparts and have long faced worse health outcomes, higher incidences of chronic disease, and shorter life expectancy. Many rely on the IHS, a division within the Department of Health and Human Services responsible for providing care to Native Americans, but the agency is chronically underfunded.

In Nevada, tribes can sponsor their community members’ health coverage through aggregated billing, a method for paying the premiums for multiple individuals in a single monthly payment to the insurer. Another part of the program includes collaboration between Nevada Health Link, the state health insurance marketplace, and tribes to certify staffers at tribal health clinics so they can enroll community members in health plans. Program officials also said they are committed to providing further education to tribes about the accommodations available to them under the ACA.

Health agencies in Washington state and Nevada have helped set up tribal sponsorship programs. Independently, tribes in Alaska, Wisconsin, Idaho, Michigan, Montana, and South Dakota have rolled out individual programs, as well.

It’s already making a difference for Native American patients in Nevada, said Angie Wilson, tribal health director for the Reno-Sparks Indian Colony and an enrolled member of the Pit River Tribe in California. Wilson said patients have shown up at her office in tears because they couldn’t afford services they needed outside of the tribal clinic and were not eligible for those services to be covered by the IHS Purchased/Referred Care program.

The Reno-Sparks Indian Colony, with more than 1,330 members in 2023, is one of two tribes that participate in Nevada’s tribal sponsorship program and aggregated billing. Russell Cook, executive director of Nevada Health Link, said he expects more tribes to come aboard as the agency works to build community trust in tribes often wary of government and corporate entities.

The Fort McDermitt Paiute and Shoshone Tribe, with a reservation that spans Nevada’s northwestern border, was the first tribe to pilot the program. There are about 125 households on the reservation.

As of December, 30 tribal members had been enrolled into qualified health plans through Nevada Health Link as part of the tribal sponsorship program, according to state officials, and more than 700 of those enrolled through the state marketplace self-reported American Indian and/or Alaska Native status for last year.

Through sponsorship, tribes may use their federal health care funding to pay the premium costs for each participating person. That, combined with cost-sharing protections in the ACA for American Indian and Alaska Natives enrolled in marketplace health plans, means beneficiaries face very low to no costs to receive care outside of tribal clinics. The American Rescue Plan also expanded eligibility for premium tax credits, making purchasing a health plan more affordable.

Because sponsorship in some tribes isn’t limited to enrolled tribal citizens, it can help the whole community, said Jim Roberts, senior executive liaison for intergovernmental affairs with the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium and an enrolled member of the Hopi Tribe in Arizona.

Since Alaska first allowed sponsorship in 2013, Roberts said, it has not only increased the access to care for Native Americans but also significantly lowered the costs of care, “which is equally as important, if not for some tribes more important.”

In Washington state, where sponsorship in ACA plans began in 2014, 12 of 29 tribes participate.

Cook said the state exchange is seeing interest in the part of the sponsorship program that trains staff at tribal clinics to become certified exchange representatives, a role similar to that of a navigator who helps inform people about health coverage options.

He said the agency is working on a marketing campaign to spread awareness among Native Americans in the state about the sponsorship program. It will include translating resource guides and other materials from the agency into Native languages spoken in the state, such as Northern and Southern Paiute, Washoe, and Western Shoshone.

Cook said he’s surprised more states haven’t taken the initiative to create sponsorship programs in collaboration with tribes.

Nevada Health Link patterned its approach by looking at Washington state’s program, Cook said. Since launching its own program, the Nevada agency has been approached by officials in California who are exploring the option.

But leaders like Wilson are concerned that under the Trump administration the enhanced tax credits for ACA marketplace enrollees implemented during the pandemic will end. The credits are set to expire at the end of this year if Congress doesn’t act to extend them. Without the credits, nearly all people enrolled through the marketplace will see steep increases in their premium payments next year.

If tribal citizens or other community members become ineligible for the premium tax credits, that could jeopardize the tribe’s financial ability to continue sponsoring health plans, Roberts said.

“Whatever side of the fence people fall on, it does not take away that there’s a federal trust responsibility by the United States of America to its First Nations people,” Wilson said.

Wilson, who has been an advocate for sponsorship since the ACA was approved in 2010 and led the effort to establish the program in Nevada, said she is happy with the tribal sponsorship program but wishes it would have happened sooner.

“We’ve lost so much in Indian Country over time,” she said. “How many more Indian people could have gotten access to care? How much more of a difference could that have made in sustaining health care for tribes?”


Jazmin Orozco Rodriguez wrote this story for KFF Health News.


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More than 14,000 incarcerated people in Washington are not able to vote and two bills in Olympia aim to change it.

One bill would make voting more accessible for people in jail by improving access to the voter's pamphlet and voter registration forms. Another would allow people in prison in Washington to vote for the first time in the state's history.

Charles Longshore is incarcerated at the Washington Corrections Center for Men in Shelton. He does advocacy work from prison and said without the right to vote, it is not easy to get a legislator's attention.

"I've helped draft a bill that's before the legislature this session and leading on several other bills," Longshore pointed out. "But I find that it's difficult because you have no reason to be accountable to me."

Longshore is a Skokomish tribal member and said giving the vote to incarcerated people would help right historical wrongs against Indigenous people, who were not given the full right to vote until 1965. Data show Native Americans are vastly overrepresented in the criminal legal system.

Opponents of allowing people to vote from prison said voting is a privilege and breaking laws should mean you lose your voice.

Anthony Blankenship, senior community organizer for the advocacy group Civil Survival, said everyone is a constituent, whether they get to choose who represents them or not. He argued allowing incarcerated people to vote will help with their rehabilitation.

"We have to be able to see and understand what they need to be successful and what they need to not recidivate or go back to prison or harm anyone ever again," Blankenship emphasized.

Blankenship added it is unlikely the bills will pass this session but it is important to keep raising the issue.

"We have to keep on pushing," Blankenship urged. "We have to keep on saying that these are opportunities for people to be part of our community and not be on the outside looking in."

Three Montana bills regarding Native rights and culture advanced from the Senate to the House this week, despite some previous setbacks. Bills to revise the Montana Indian Child Welfare Act and Indian Education for All laws, both tabled within the last month, were this week both passed the Senate and were transmitted to the House. The education bill would require more tribal consultation, more work with language and culture specialists, and more accountability from the state's Board of Public Education.

Keaton Sunchild, director of government and political relations for Western Native Voice, says understanding historical context is critical.

"I think it's hugely important that we continue to teach the history and the culture of Native Americans here in Montana," Sunchild said. "It's pretty hard to do any sort of Montana history without talking about Native American history."

Senate Bill 147 would expand the 2023 Indian Child Welfare Act to include more frequent and robust tribal participation, in recognition of the cultural losses an Indian child placed in a nonnative foster home may experience. In 2020, American Indian children made up 9% of all Montana children, but were 35% of kids in foster care, according to the state's judicial branch.

A bill to make voting more accessible for Native communities was heard last week, but still requires a vote. Sunchild said the major arguments he's heard against the bill are around the costs of implementing more resources for voters, but added that those one-time government costs would save many individuals' repeated costs.

"Between gas, food, child care, days off work, we have voters who are paying $200 sometimes, if not more, to go vote. Voting's inherently supposed to be free," Sunchild continued. "And we're saying that it's really not for Native American communities."

A bill to recognize Indigenous People's Day as a legal holiday in Montana passed the Senate on Wednesday almost unanimously. Sunchild said this version received more support than its predecessors because it calls for the holiday in conjunction with, instead of replacing, Columbus Day.

By Robert Chappell for Madison 365.
Broadcast version by Judith Ruiz-Branch for Wisconsin News Connection reporting for the Madison 365-Public News Service Collaboration

Across the United States, Indigenous communities are harnessing the power of renewable energy to reclaim sovereignty, protect their natural resources, and create sustainable futures for their people. Leaders like Isaiah Ness, Zoar Fulwilder, and Natasha Chevalier are not only building energy infrastructures but also empowering their communities with economic and cultural opportunities.

Isaiah Ness, founder of Sun Bear Industries, brings a deeply personal and entrepreneurial perspective to his work with tribal nations. Born and raised in Appleton, Ness initially envisioned a career in private equity, and studied economics at UW-Milwaukee.

"I thought I was going to be a private equity guy," he recalls. "This is the dream. Stocks, institutional management, mergers and acquisitions. I really thought that was going to be it for me, until I went into some of those classes, and it wasn't a difficulty thing-it was a relational thing. I could not relate to any of the people (in the program). Not a lot of it was stemming from something I just had no exposure to: generational wealth."

Ness's journey into renewable energy began with a move to California, where he entered the solar industry through door-to-door sales.

"I got introduced to renewables, solar in particular. I started working for a couple of my friends that were out in California, had dropped out of school, and went to chase the door-to-door solar sales dream," he says. His experiences in commercial and residential solar in Wisconsin eventually led him to a realization: "For me, my desire to get out of residential and commercial solar had nothing to do with the business slowing down ... I wanted to work with tribes, and I really wanted to work with nonprofits and minority communities."

One of the drivers of that transition was his frequent sales calls in Milwaukee's less-well-off neighborhoods, which are disproportionately populated by Black and Latino families. Before solar panels can be installed onto rented housing, that housing has to be brought up to code - not a given in some neighborhoods.

"In Milwaukee, you see power lines almost touching the ground, and outages are frequent," he says. "How do you install solar in areas with such poor infrastructure?"

Ness launched Sun Bear Industries in late 2022, dedicating himself to learning and collaborating with Indigenous communities. His company coordinates and manages renewable energy projects, connecting tribal governments with contractors specializing in - or at least well-versed in - renewable energy.

"Cultural appreciation for just the overall ecosystem and land is always our first conversation," he explains. "We are always factoring that in, which I never saw in the private sector."

"Taking ownership"

The Menominee Nation of Wisconsin is at the forefront of renewable energy initiatives. Their efforts, guided by Community Development and Utilities Director Natasha Chevalier and Renewable Energy Manager Darrell Pyawasa, highlight a commitment to sovereignty and sustainability.

"Sovereignty, for us, is like taking ownership. We have jurisdiction over the power that's being distributed. We set our own utility rates for tribal members. We're not at the mercy of the big power companies," Pyawasa says. Chevalier shares the ambitious goal: "The whole thing is that a lot of people have their goals set in place for 2050 to be energy sovereign, but our whole thing is 2035."

The Menominee Nation's Elder Solar Program reflects this vision. "We started the elder solar program so that any elder who was 65 or older, with medical needs would not be without power, could have solar with battery backup systems installed in their homes," Chevalier explains. "That way, they've got 24-hour electric coverage during outages, plus cost savings."

The Menominee Nation has faced numerous obstacles in their renewable energy journey, including grant rejections and complex insurance considerations. However, they've tackled these challenges with strategic planning and expert partnerships. "We've hired outside grant writers and Native law firms specializing in energy to help us navigate the ins and outs of funding opportunities," Chevalier says. "One of our attorneys works in DC and collaborates with us to ensure we're in the door for a lot of upcoming projects."

Collaboration with Lawrence University helped transform the tribe's initial five-page energy plan into a 70-plus-page comprehensive roadmap.

"It's now our guide to achieving energy sovereignty by 2035," Chevalier explains.

Mavid Construction, cofounded by Zoar Fulwilder, plays a crucial role in implementing tribal renewable energy projects. Fulwilder, an enrolled member of the Salt River Pima Maricopa Indian Community, brings his background in construction to these efforts.

"We kind of rolled into renewables-I won't say by accident, but kind of by happenstance," he says. Mavid's work has included installing photovoltaic systems and EV charging stations for big box stores and other commercial ventures, and with the experience they gained in those projects they've been able to translate into a specialty.

The collaboration with the Menominee Nation began with a pilot project installing solar systems with battery backups in elders' homes.

"These are folks who had to qualify because their electricity would go out often, and they have medical needs-breathing machines, CPAP, that kind of thing," Fulwilder explains. The reliability of solar energy became especially apparent during a recent storm. "During that storm where a lot of homes lost power, these homes did not-they were either going off the battery or the solar," he adds.

For Fulwilder, the intersection of economic and environmental priorities is essential. "For tribes like Menominee, they place a lot of value in stewardship of their natural resources, with regard to lumber and water. This allows them to grow economically while maintaining their goals for stewardship of their resources," he explains.

"Our own renewable energy empire"

Renewable energy represents more than just cost savings for Indigenous nations-it's a pathway to autonomy and resilience.

"We want to build our own renewable energy empire," Chevalier asserts. "It's about creating opportunities within the reservation and making sure we foster a self-sustaining system."

Ness highlights the broader implications of energy sovereignty: "One of the statistics I found fascinating when I first got into this space is...88% of United States utility infrastructure and power plant infrastructure is located on or within five miles of reservation land." This proximity, once a burden, now offers a chance for tribes to lead the way in sustainable energy.

The Inflation Reduction Act has also transformed the landscape by allowing tribes to receive tax credits as direct grants. "In the past, tribes would have to sell the tax credits and get maybe 93 cents on the dollar. Now they get a check from the federal government for up to 70% of the project after it's commissioned," Fulwilder explains.

The Inflation Reduction Act (IRA), enacted in August 2022, is often cited as the most significant climate legislation in U.S. history, allocating approximately $400 billion toward climate-related initiatives, a substantial portion of which is dedicated to renewable energy projects, primarily through tax incentives and grants.

The IRA provides around $663 billion in tax incentives aimed at promoting clean energy production and adoption. These incentives support the development of renewable energy sources such as wind, solar, and grid energy storage.

The IRA also establishes a $27 billion Greenhouse Gas Reduction Fund, functioning as a national green bank to finance clean energy projects, particularly in low-income and disadvantaged communities.

Home Energy Assistance: Approximately $9 billion is allocated for home energy rebate programs, encouraging energy-efficient technologies and residential clean energy solutions like rooftop solar installations.

Rural Development: The IRA designates $14 billion for rural clean energy initiatives, including biofuel infrastructure and grants to rural electric cooperatives for renewable energy projects.

These investments are designed to lower energy costs, reduce greenhouse gas emissions, and stimulate economic growth through the expansion of the clean energy sector.

The shift to renewables is already creating job opportunities and inspiring future generations.

"Another big piece of sovereignty is workforce development-creating jobs and opportunities within the reservation for the kids coming up through school, with better-paying jobs for future generations," Pyasawa emphasizes.

The renewable energy initiatives unfolding in Indigenous communities represent a paradigm shift-not only in how energy is produced but also in how sovereignty is asserted. Leaders like Isaiah Ness, Zoar Fulwilder, and Natasha Chevalier are demonstrating that renewable energy is more than a technical achievement; it's a cultural and economic revolution.

As Chevalier puts it, "We focus on how we're going to make it happen. There could be a lot of roadblocks, and we've seen that, but we overcame those. It's just making sure that we get there and have that rolling basis of money coming in continuously. We're building something that will last."


Robert Chappell wrote this article for Madison 365.


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