Telling Resilient Indigenous Stories: Director Paige Bethmann on “Remaining Native”

Among the Trump administration’s many recent cuts to federal funding, one of the less discussed is $1.6 million meant to document the experiences of Indigenous youth abused in government-run boarding schools. These children were, in many cases, forcibly taken from their families, punished for expressing their culture, and beaten, starved, or subjected to hard labor, sometimes leading to their deaths. Native storytellers continue to share these narratives, illuminating a moment in history worthy of reflection and reckoning. 

In Remaining Native, New America Fellow Paige Bethmann tells the coming-of-age story of 17-year-old Ku Stevens as he tries to become a collegiate runner while grappling with the history of his great-grandfather’s escape from a compulsory boarding school. The documentary won the Special Jury Award and Audience Award at SXSW this spring. It also recently received the Special Jury Mention for Cinematography at this year’s Dallas International Film Festival and the Emerging Documentary Jury Award from the Milwaukee Film Festival. Remaining Native will be screened at DC/DOX on June 15. 

In an expanded interview with our Fellows program below, Bethmann, a first-time feature filmmaker, discusses the experience of creating her debut documentary, reaching both Native and non-Native audiences, and finding her voice as a storyteller. 

How did you come to the story told in your Fellows project, the film Remaining Native?

In 2021, news broke in Canada of 215 unmarked graves of Indigenous children at a former residential school in Kamloops, British Columbia. I was working at Vox Media at the time producing longform nonfiction content for a current affairs show, and I started seeing an outpouring of reactions from relatives, community members, and folks all across Indian country. I came across an article [in the Reno Gazette-Journal] that a family friend shared about Ku and his plans to retrace his great-grandfather’s 50-mile escape from Indian boarding school at just eight years old. I was so inspired and moved, not only by the visual opportunity of filming running across the high-desert, but because this teenager was doing something to honor his family’s story. In that moment, I knew I wanted to find a way to honor my family and acknowledge my great-grandmother who was a boarding school survivor as well.

How did you build trust with Ku and his family as well as others who have shared personal stories around sensitive subjects like Indian boarding schools? What was that process like?

It was nerve-wracking reaching out to strangers asking to film their lives, but Ku, his parents, and I felt the importance of raising awareness about Indian boarding schools. I decided to move from New York City to Reno, Nevada, to be closer to the Stevens family and the community. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t parachuting in and out while asking folks to share sensitive stories, and I knew I would have to be just as vulnerable and open to earn their trust. 

I spent a lot of time without the camera, going to community events, playing video games with Ku, and fishing with his father. While I am Native, I’m not from Ku’s community, and it’s important to not treat shared history as monolithic. Most importantly, I wanted to be on the land. Land holds so much of our stories and I wanted to get to know this place that’s so connected to Ku and the Paiute people. 

What is it about running that makes it such a compelling metaphor for telling Ku and his family’s story?

Ku trains on the land that holds so much history and the story of his great-grandfather. Throughout the film, Ku learns to tap into ancestral muscle memory channeling his great-grandfather’s tenacious spirit, allowing him to connect with his identity in a way that propels him forward towards his dream. Running is rhythmic, patient, and meditative, opening a whole world for the film to explore while keeping the pace.

As your film continues to spread, what do you hope the audience will take away from the film? Do you have different goals in mind for Native or non-Native audiences?

The film places emphasis on healing, hope, and joy, showing one young person’s journey towards a deeper understanding of self, community, and culture, learning to balance individual success without abandoning identity. I hope Ku’s story is a reminder that we can run in parallel with our histories, simultaneously remembering our past while moving forward towards a future that doesn’t have to be defined by trauma. I want audiences to feel empowered to look inward and interrogate their own relationships to land, culture, and history. For both Native and non-Native audiences, I hope they feel inspired and understand that healing is possible, while never linear. It can exist in spaces where we come together with openness, respect, and love.

You have a background in making nonfiction television for various digital and broadcast networks. How did you find your passion for storytelling and your voice in storytelling? 

When I was a little girl, I used to sit at my grandmother’s feet and listen to her tell stories about the Haudenosaunee. A traditional Mohawk storyteller, she explained to me how the birds got their songs, how maple syrup was made, and who Sky Woman was. Story after story, I was in awe of my grandmother and her ability to articulate every detail from memory. One day, I asked her how she could recall these stories without a book. She smiled and said, “When stories are passed down, they remain in the heart, not the head, and I always remember what’s in my heart.”

My work as a filmmaker has often been driven by stories that encourage introspection. I push myself behind the camera with the passion that my grandmother had for storytelling, taking time for every detail whether or not it’s deemed “important.” While I think working in mainstream media and nonfiction television gave me a skill set and a platform to hone my production knowledge, I think my time creating Remaining Native is where I’ve started to find my voice, one that’s speaking from the heart.

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