Keith “Hides the Sun” Anderson in full regalia at the 9th Annual American Indian Pow Wow Celebration of Life for All People. His given name reflects his enormous stature.

The first time I saw Hides the Sun his sheer size wasn’t evident to me. That was almost certainly a result of watching him dance in the circle the way most spectators do; from a stranger’s distance. Coming to fully understand what a mountain the fellow is, the realization apparently had quite a striking subconscious effect on how I later photographed him. Nowadays I can’t seem to help shooting him from a low angle or in such a way as to accentuate his already remarkable size even when I have the opportunity, like I did back in 2006, to photograph him from a different vantage point.

I believe I may have been enjoying my first access to the big tent under which the drummers and singers perform and from which the emcee officiates when I had my initial experience of being in Hides the Sun’s shadow.  Let’s just say he has an appropriate name. When you’re next to someone that big it doesn’t take much more than an instant for your thoughts to start wandering to things like just how tiny any one person is on an astronomical scale.

It was literally years later, when The Virginia Intertribal had grown into a substantial enough body of work and I’d begun trying to give my subjects their images, that I got to speak to Hides the Sun even if very briefly. He’d just walked out of the circle, sweaty, exhausted, and intense concentration only fading. I introduced myself and he immediately smiled. His kind green eyes flashed my way and suddenly that frightening behemoth of a brave from a cowboy’s nightmare softened immeasurably. Keith didn’t just appear to reduce to regular-guy-hood at that moment. He looked to be the sort of startlingly kind soul that is quite difficult to forget.

It took a good while before we met again… online. Keith had long lost the business card I handed him and my existence didn’t pop up on his radar again until I mailed an archive of Virginia Intertribal photographs to a close friend of his – a friend that likes to call Keith “little brother.” Since then we’ve talked a fair bit and I’ve gotten to know him well enough to highlight one or two things that might inform that portrait of him at the top of the page.

Over the past dozen years Keith has redeveloped his native dress on a continuous basis; each change echoing his personal growth. His regalia also acts as something of a collective monument. Many of the items he wears are now memorial pieces given to him by friends and mentors who have since passed on. “Some of these,” he said somewhat hauntingly, “will be kept with me when I die.”

He identifies as Cherokee (which means we’re at least distantly related) but honors his Catawba heritage as well. It can be tough to feel sorrow for the Cherokee today despite the horror and utter travesty that was the Trail of Tears. Both the Eastern and Western Bands of the tribe maintain casinos and profit as might be expected, they’re numerous as hell compared to most tribes, and so popular that U.S. celebrities of every color and stripe are to this day announcing Cherokee ancestry no matter how outlandish the claim. If there’s one tribe that has done well because of consciousness of the plight of the Native American it is the Cherokee – even if they’re still popularly imagined as living in Sioux tepees and wearing Sioux headdresses.

It is instead Keith’s Catawba heritage that brings real resonance to his memorial-laden regalia. In stark contrast to the Cherokee, the Catawba have dwindled from an estimated 5,000 prior to the American Revolutionary War to less than 2,600 men, women, and children today. They are a people peering into extinction. Their gradual departure becomes even more intriguing in light of the fact that they were reported to have once been regularly at war with the Cherokee among others. With this in mind, Keith becomes a living symbol of peace and reconciliation.

When Keith isn’t working as a Recreation Specialist in Virginia Beach he’s apparently traveling tirelessly from one pow wow to another while also acting as Executive Director of Red Crooked Sky, a dance troupe that describes itself as “dedicated to educating and promoting positive cultural awareness through traditional and contemporary dance.”

He’s gathered a few fans too. I asked him about the above image one day after having spent far too much time drawing conclusions on less than anything approaching adequate facts. At one point, I was angry at that older white fella behind him. I thought he might have been mocking Keith, or worse, Native American culture as a whole. There was something about him, in his ball cap and Polo shirt, which seemed innately derisive. When I went back to the original set of images and found the detail to the right of this paragraph, I began entertaining other ideas and finally asked Keith about that fellow.

Me: “Keith, do you know that fellow behind you in the last attached image? I’m considering expanding your article on the blog and I’d like to include and comment on this gentleman if it’s for nothing more than to say he appears intimidated / curious / scared-out-of-his-whits.”

Keith: “I know the older gentleman in the background of my picture very well, but not his name. He and his wife usually come to all of the Virginia Indian pow wows and they always sit in the front and arrive early. Sometimes ‘coach’ gets on me when he thinks that I’m going through the motions or is exuberant when he feels that I danced my heart out after an exhibition, etc.”

Aside from learning that egg is indeed uncomfortable applied to the face, I got to understand (again) something someone my age should already know very well: prejudice goes both ways.

This article, I think, should be ended with Keith’s words. With Hides the Sun’s words. For anyone that goes out there and dances in the circle under the eyes of whatever strangers might show up, and for anyone – of any color – that marches out into the world every morning to meet it as it comes, his words are both grounding and inspiring.

“Dancing is a very essential part of my life. It meets all my needs – spiritual, emotional, and physical. From all the endeavors I’ve participated in over the years, nothing compares to it. Even though I’ve only been dancing for a relatively short time, pow wows have blessed me with great experiences, family, and friends. As a traditional dancer, I know I have an obligation to represent the Indian community in a positive way. There were many persons who have since passed on that were responsible for me dancing and many of the items I wear on my regalia. I am indebted to them for their patience, love, and consideration. Sometimes when I dance and feel myself getting weary, I look across the arena and ‘see’ my family, friends, and ancestors. All of them are smiling and happy knowing that I am dancing hard.  I know I CAN’T quit no matter how hard my heart’s beating or my muscles ache. We as Indian people are not quitters – Never have been or will be. It makes me always proud to be who I am.”

This portrait is part of The Virginia Intertribal project. This article is an expansion on an article first published here on January 14, 2010.