Native American tribe reacts to Billie Eilish’s remarks about stolen land during the Grammys.
The collision between celebrity activism and historical truth often produces tension that reveals more than the moment itself. At the latest Grammy Awards, pop star Billie Eilish used the global platform of the Crypto.com Arena to deliver an emotional and politically pointed message about “stolen land.” Her remarks echoed throughout the arena and quickly ignited widespread praise across social media. But while her words traveled instantly across digital spaces, they reached a much closer audience in a very different way—the people whose history she referenced. The Tongva, the original inhabitants of the Los Angeles Basin, viewed the speech through the lens of centuries of endurance, responding with a tone that blended diplomatic respect with a clear, unmistakable challenge to the idea of contemporary allyship.
For the Tongva, Eilish’s comments carried two distinct edges. On one hand, the visibility mattered. Having a globally recognized artist acknowledge Indigenous displacement on a broadcast seen by millions marked a significant moment for public awareness. On the other hand, tribal leaders highlighted the disconnect between symbolic acknowledgment and lived reality. In a formal statement that cut through the immediate media buzz, representatives reminded the public—and Eilish herself—that her Southern California home stands on their ancestral land. More strikingly, they revealed that despite her public advocacy, there had been no outreach, consultation, or direct relationship formed with the tribe.
Their response shifted the broader conversation, which had quickly devolved into predictable political noise. Following the Grammys, figures such as Florida Governor Ron DeSantis mocked the speech as celebrity “virtue signaling,” while social media critics sarcastically challenged celebrities to “return their land” to prove sincerity. The Tongva declined to engage in that spectacle. They did not call for property transfers or fuel cancel-culture debates. Instead, they asked for something more meaningful and far more difficult: a shift from performance to partnership.
Their statement functioned as a powerful example of modern Indigenous diplomacy. They called for recognition that extends beyond scripted land acknowledgments delivered for ceremonial effect. Their message to Eilish—and to the entertainment industry as a whole—was to move past symbolic gestures and toward genuine, sustained relationships. For the Tongva, land is not an abstract political concept. It is a living relative that demands stewardship and respect for the people who have remained connected to it. They envisioned a Los Angeles where their name, culture, and presence are spoken as naturally as the celebrities who now dominate its global image.
In a notable step toward structural change, the Tongva have begun collaborating with the Recording Academy to ensure future land acknowledgments hold deeper substance. By working directly with industry institutions, they aim to formalize processes that include Indigenous voices before events ever reach the broadcast stage. The goal is to transform major ceremonies like the Grammys into spaces for real education rather than fleeting symbolism—shifting from talking about Indigenous communities to engaging with them directly.
The cultural implications of this exchange run deep. It exposes an ongoing tension within modern society: how to reconcile contemporary celebrity culture and infrastructure with the unresolved injustices embedded in the land beneath them. Eilish, reflecting the socially conscious activism common among Gen Z public figures, likely intended her speech as solidarity. Yet the Tongva response underscores a critical distinction—solidarity without relationship can unintentionally perpetuate erasure. If one believes land was taken, they suggested, the first step is not public declaration but personal connection with the people from whom it was taken.
The Tongva concluded their statement with a phrase that carries both welcome and firm affirmation: “Ekwa Shem – We are here.” It stands as a direct counter to the long-standing myth of the “vanishing Indian.” It reminds audiences that Los Angeles is not only an entertainment capital but also Tovaangar, ancestral homeland of a people who endured Spanish colonization, Mexican rule, and American expansion. Their message asserts that they are not historical references for award-show scripts but a living sovereign community with an active future.
The aftermath of Eilish’s remarks has prompted rare self-reflection within celebrity spaces. It has sparked dialogue around place, responsibility, and what it truly means to occupy land shaped by colonization. As public figures increasingly align themselves with social justice causes, the Tongva’s response offers a model for meaningful engagement—one that requires moving beyond speeches into sustained consultation, collaboration, and respect for treaties and cultural continuity.
As political commentary fades and the media cycle advances, the Tongva remain rooted where they have always been. Their presence does not shift with headlines or award outcomes. The lasting significance of the Grammy moment may not lie in Eilish’s speech itself, but in whether it inspires genuine outreach and dialogue.
The question that lingers is whether the entertainment world will respond to the challenge issued from within its own geographic heart. The Tongva have extended an invitation to partnership, urging society to look beneath the concrete of the Crypto.com Arena and recognize the ancestral ground below. In doing so, they remind us that accountability is not found in applause but in the patient, ongoing work of relationship-building. “Ekwa Shem” is more than a declaration—it is a call for everyone living on that land to acknowledge that its story is still unfolding, guided by the people who have been part of it all along.
