How a bundle of sage symbolizes a Utah resort’s handling of Indigenous culture

Within the exclusive southern Utah resort of Amangiri, there’s a common sight in the suites and the spa: A bundle of sage.

A guest usually will find a bundle in an abalone shell bowl containing ashes, and accompanied by a box of matches with the Amangiri brand printed on it.

At Amangiri — the 900-acre secluded resort where suites cost a minimum of $3,500 a night, and celebrity clients are drawn to the remoteness and luxury — the sage is one aspect of Indigenous culture that the resort, with its proximity to Navajo Nation and public lands important to Indigenous people, uses to sell itself to customers.

The sage is primarily used in the resort for smudging, a practice traditionally used by Indigenous shamans to create a sense of peace with the divine before ceremonies.

In recent years, the practice has been adopted by the wellness and beauty industries, and has been criticized as an instance where Indigenous rituals have been — as journalist Mary Annette Pember wrote in 2019 for Beauty Independent — “cherry-picked from various tribes to suit non-Natives.”

Timothy Begay, the Navajo cultural specialist at the Navajo Nation Heritage and Historic Preservation Department, said medicinal items such as white sage “are only effective if they are administered with songs and prayers.”

Begay added that white sage smudging is a practice of Plains Indians, and the Navajo (based in the Four Corners region) have adopted sage as a therapy treatment, though there are instances where traditional Navajo sage is boiled and consumed.

Rosalyn LaPier, an Indigenous scholar and a member of the Blackfeet Tribe of Montana and Métis, said the use of white sage — or any species of sage — is different for each tribe.

“Some people use some sage, some people never use it. Each group really thinks about these things differently,” said LaPier, who is a writer, ethnobotanist and professor of environmental history at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign. “What the Blackfeet use it for is to purify yourself as a human, to purify objects that you might be using before you pray or talk to the divine.”

Using sage for smudging, LaPier said, could be compared to Roman Catholics using holy water. When it comes to smudging, she said, “Native people don’t purify themselves unless it’s connected to religion. It just wouldn’t happen.”

Marques Johnson, the supervisor and only Indigenous employee of Amangiri’s experiences team — which arranges guest activities — said talking about the line between cultural appreciation and appropriation in a place like Amangiri, is “tough” because it’s “also a business.”

“Everyone’s out to make some money here in some way or another,” Johnson said. “We’re in a whole different level of this industry. This is a completely different segment, how we interact, how we communicate, the attention to detail, just everything that we do.”

Johnson is full-blood Navajo, and grew up in nearby Page, Ariz. — where more than half of the population of Page identifies as American Indian, according to U.S. Census data. Johnson said the mesas surrounding Amangiri were his childhood playground, long before the resort opened in 2009. Exploring them, he said, is what led him to a career in public lands and, later, in the hospitality industry.

Johnson said that in the region, because of the proximity to Navajo Nation, there’s a push to always be associated with the Navajo people. That can lead, he said, to people lumping all Native groups together as one.

While the Navajo influence is important, he said, there are “a lot of other names around here” such as Wahweap and Kaiparowits, two common names in the area’s geography, which are Paiute.

Johnson said in his various employment roles, he’s encountered the situation where “oftentimes, [I’m] the only Indigenous person in an entire room full of white men.” Being tasked with educating guests about Indigenous culture, he said, sometimes means “hunkering down” when being asked off-the-wall questions.

But, there is a sense of pride, Johnson said, in sharing some of his culture at Amangiri. There’s also an opportunity at the resort to push for change and to make sure they are spotlighting Indigenous culture properly, he said.

“There’s only so much that I can share,” Johnson said. “A lot of that is kept within us, that’s just who we are. But there are those small little bits that we can and do share. I would like to see a little more of that — better representation.”

For more on Amangiri, and the conversation about whether incorporating Indigenous culture into its resort experience is appreciation or appropriation, read Salt Lake Tribune culture reporter Palak Jayswal’s article.