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| Documentary filmmaker RYAN FLYNN Gracious enough to accept our interview request |
The 2025 Palm Springs Film Festival has removed YOU’RE NO INDIAN, a film highlighting the impacts of disenrollment in indigenous communities, from its lineup, citing “scheduling errors” as the reason. But this explanation doesn’t hold up. The film was scheduled for two screenings and had already sold out both showings. This decision feels less like a logistical mishap and more like an intentional effort to suppress the voices of disenrolled tribal members featured in the documentary.
As many of you know, I am Rick Cuevas, a descendant of Paulina Hunter, an Original Pechanga person and allottee of the Temecula Indian Reservation. In 1895, Paulina was granted a 20-acre plot of land that remains in my family to this day, providing a home for over 20 permanent residents. Despite our deep roots and history, my family—over 130 living descendants—was disenrolled in 2006 by the Pechanga tribe. We were stripped of our citizenship, removed from the tribal rolls, and denied the rights and recognition we were entitled to as tribal members.
This wasn’t an isolated event. In 2004, the Manuela Miranda family was similarly disenrolled from Pechanga, marking the beginning of Pechanga’s “Decade of Disenrollment.” Thousands of tribal members across the country have faced the same fate, with devastating consequences.
Now, with the removal of YOU’RE NO INDIAN from the Palm Springs Film Festival, it feels like another form of disenrollment—silencing our voices and erasing our stories as if we don’t exist. The festival’s decision to strike the film, despite its sold-out screenings, only amplifies the pain and frustration of the 10,000 disenrolled tribal members whose stories Ryan Flynn sought to amplify.
The Film’s director, Ryan Flynn, was kind enough to answer my questions about the film and its powerful message. I encourage you to stick with me and read his insights. These stories need to be told, even if some would rather they stay hidden.
OP: What inspired you to dedicate almost 7 years of your life to creating a documentary about tribal disenrollment?
Ryan Flynn: As a father, I often think about the kind of world we’re leaving for future generations. I want to believe that our society, and the history we’re building today, will still be here 500 years from now. But for so many indigenous tribes, that’s not the case. Their histories, languages, and cultures have been systematically erased. I can’t help but think about a father from 500 years ago, experiencing the same fears and joys of parenthood that I do now. It’s heartbreaking that we can’t know his story—not only has his history been erased, but in many cases, even his language is gone.
This film is deeply personal for me. My role here is to amplify the voices of those who are fighting to preserve what little culture and history remains. Because what is a society without its language, culture, and traditions? With this new practice of disenrollment, I fear we are at risk of losing a massive part of our collective human history because of greed. While I’m not Indigenous, I am a human being, and Indigenous history is human history.
OP: How did you approach gaining the trust of individuals and communities affected by disenrollment to share their stories?
Ryan Flynn: One of the biggest challenges was gaining access and trust as a non-indigenous director. Building relationships with the community took years of effort and mutual respect. Additionally, fear around speaking out made it difficult for people to come forward. I see disenrollment as the weaponization of identity and fear, and I worked hard to create a safe space for people to share their stories.
OP: Were there moments during filming that were especially emotional or difficult for you as a director?
Ryan Flynn: For me, the most difficult moments were hearing how disenrollment led some people to consider suicide. The impact of being severed from their tribe—losing their identity, community, and sense of belonging—was so profound that it pushed some individuals into complete despair. Sitting across from someone as they shared this level of pain was devastating.
It wasn’t just the personal loss; it was the systemic erasure of everything they stood for—their history, their culture, their future. As a director, those moments weighed heavily on me, knowing that these stories needed to be told but also needing to approach them with care and sensitivity. It’s one thing to make a film about an issue, but it’s entirely different when you witness how deeply it impacts someone’s mental health and will to live.
OP: What were some of the biggest challenges you faced while creating this documentary, both logistically and emotionally?
Ryan Flynn: Logistically, creating this documentary was incredibly demanding. It took six years of living with and building trust within indigenous communities to ensure the story was told authentically. Coordinating interviews across different tribes, often in remote areas, and capturing their stories without disrupting their daily lives required careful planning and respect.
Emotionally, the weight of the stories we heard was overwhelming at times. One of the hardest things was listening to people describe how disenrollment left them feeling erased—not just from their tribe but from their identity and history. The most heart-wrenching moments were hearing how this loss drove some to suicidal thoughts. It was devastating to see how deeply disenrollment impacts mental health and the sense of belonging.
As a director, it was hard to carry those stories, knowing I had to convey their pain and truth without sensationalizing it. It was equally challenging to see the fear many had about speaking out, knowing they risked retaliation. These moments reinforced how critical it was to approach the project with sensitivity and respect while staying focused on amplifying their voices.
Despite these challenges, the resilience and bravery of the people we interviewed kept me going. Their willingness to share their pain in the hope of creating change was incredibly inspiring and reminded me why this work matters so much.
OP: How did you decide which stories to include in the film, given the widespread nature of disenrollment abuses?
Ryan Flynn: Deciding which stories to include was one of the most challenging aspects of this project. Disenrollment is a widespread issue, and every story is important in its own way. Ultimately, a big part of the decision came down to access. Building trust within these communities took years—living with them, sharing meals, and showing that I was committed to telling their stories with respect and authenticity. Some stories emerged because individuals felt ready to open up, despite the fear of retaliation.
We focused on stories that reflected the shared pain and resilience across tribes, while also showcasing the unique circumstances faced by different communities. The goal was to capture the human cost of disenrollment—how it affects individuals, families, and entire cultures—while also highlighting the bravery of those fighting back.
Each story included in the film is part of a larger tapestry, showing both the common threads and the diversity of experiences within this issue. By sharing these stories, I hope to create a sense of solidarity among tribes and inspire broader audiences to understand and take action. .
OP: Can you share one or two specific stories featured in the film that left a profound impact on you?
Ryan Flynn: One of the stories that deeply impacted me was about the last language speaker of a tribe. This individual dedicated his life to preserving the language by teaching it in a tribal school. But when he stood up against a wave of recent disenrollments, he was fired, and his language school was shut down. The closure wasn’t just an attack on him—it was a devastating blow to the tribe’s efforts to preserve its culture and history. To witness how standing for justice could lead to the loss of something as irreplaceable as a language was heartbreaking.
Another story involved a family forced to exhume their ancestors’ bodies and undergo DNA testing to prove their ties to the tribe. They passed those tests, yet they were disenrolled anyway. The level of indignity and trauma they endured was unimaginable. It wasn’t just about being removed from the tribal roll—it was about having to fight for their place in their own history, only to be disregarded entirely.
READ on DNA exhumation at Redding Rancheria here
These stories reveal the deep personal and cultural consequences of disenrollment and highlight the urgent need to address this practice.
OP: Were there any moments of hope or resilience from those impacted that you think audiences need to hear about?
Ryan Flynn Yes, absolutely. One of the most inspiring stories is that of EJ Crandell, who ran for Robinson Rancheria tribal council and fought tirelessly to reinstate everyone in his tribe who had been disenrolled, even bringing back those who had passed away. His efforts showed that change is possible, even in the face of entrenched opposition, and his leadership continues to inspire others.
The Nooksack 306 are another example of incredible resilience. Despite being disenrolled, they have kept their traditions alive by organizing and participating in harrowing weeks-long canoe journeys. These journeys are about more than physical endurance—they’re about preserving their culture and passing it on to future generations in the face of efforts to erase it.
Then there’s Laura Wass and Gabe Galanda, who have been fighting disenrollment for decades. Their perseverance in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds is a reminder of how long and difficult this battle can be, but also how vital it is.
And finally, there’s the bravery of everyone who has spoken out against disenrollment, despite the very real risk of retaliation from powerful figures. These individuals risk so much to preserve their culture and fight for justice, and their courage is nothing short of extraordinary.
These stories are a testament to the resilience and strength of those who refuse to let their identities, histories, and communities be erased. They’re a powerful reminder that hope and action can still thrive, even in the face of such profound challenges.
OP: Where do you draw the line between those who are disenrolled with some Indian blood and those falsely claiming to be Indian?
Ryan Flynn: This is a complex issue, but I believe Gabe Galanda put it best when he said in our film, ‘There is no justification for disenrollment, period.’ Disenrollment is a destructive practice that often weaponizes identity to exclude people, even those with legitimate ties to their communities.
False claims to Indigenous identity, on the other hand, are also harmful—but they don’t justify the systematic erasure of individuals and families from their tribes. The focus should be on building stronger, united communities rather than using disenrollment as a tool for division and financial gain.
Ultimately, I believe that anyone’s identity is about more than just blood; it’s about culture, connection, and the responsibility to preserve traditions and histories. Disenrollment threatens all of that for indigenous people, and this is why it’s so important to have these conversations and challenge the practice wherever it occurs.
See the You're NO INDIAN website
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