Indigenous Activists Take “AIM” at Fake Tribe

Indigenous activists are asking a faux tribe in Pensacola to stop mocking Florida’s Indigenous people. 

The fake Mayoki Tribe held public events throughout Pensacola in early June, with women and men wearing short skirts, headdresses, and face paint— brighter and skimpier than most Indigenous regalia. 

“This is nothing but a mockery of the native Florida community,” said Robert Rosa, chairman of the American Indian Movement of Florida. AIM is active throughout the U.S. as a nonprofit grassroots movement for Indigenous rights formed in 1968.

“Even teenagers know that these aren’t costumes, but rather regalia worn with honor and intention,” said Jessica Namath, an Indigenous activist in South Florida and daughter of professional football Hall of Famer Joe Namath.

The fake Mayoki Tribe was established in Pensacola in 1961 when a Gulf Breeze businessman, Alan Davis, created the Mayokis as part of Pensacola Mardi Gras. The Mayoki Krewe participates in the annual Fiesta of Five Flags celebrations. Though they have publicly claimed support from tribes and Indigenous people in the past, there has been no verifiable source to confirm that claim. Florida’s federally recognized Seminole and Miccosukee Tribes did not confirm an affiliation. Ann Tucker, chairwoman of the Muscogee Nation of Florida’s Tribal Council, which is in the process of requesting federal recognition, said she has “never heard of the Mayoki.”

“No tribe would support this,” said Rosa.

During the Fiesta season, the Mayoki Court takes part in a “light-hearted parody of what might have happened when Spanish Conquistador Don Tristan DeLuna first landed on the shores of Pensacola Beach in 1559.” It’s a celebration of establishing that European settlement.

Mayokis travel to local businesses, childcare centers, and nursing homes throughout Pensacola and Gulf Breeze areas with the intent to provide entertainment and spread Fiesta cheer, according to their organization’s description. They go decked out in brightly colored faux Indigenous outfits with bells on their ankles and headdresses on their heads, dancing to pop music. 

In early June, the group visited the Summer Vista Assisted Living Facility in Pensacola to entertain residents and staff. People reported enjoying it in online posts. A man dressed in pink, red, and white headdress with a shiny silver open-chested vest, short skirt, and a red painted hand mark over his mouth caught the attention of recognized tribes in Florida and throughout the U.S., including members of the American Indian Movement.

The red hand is a mark raising awareness of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and people. The mark over the mouth represents the silence of the media and law enforcement during this ongoing crisis of Indigenous people - especially women - brutally attacked and missing throughout the U.S. 

“It’s appropriation at its worst,” said Rosa. He continued: “It hurts to the core, you know?” 

It’s been controversial for years, and this year hit a breaking point for AIM.

The Mayoki did not respond to requests for comment.

Members of the Pensacola community defended the Mayoki tradition.

Namath reached out to leaders of the events and copied this journalist on the correspondence. Pensacola Mardi Gras leaders stood up for the Mayoki’s false representation of Indigenous people.

“They are at the top of non-profit work in Northwest Florida. And they seem to always follow the rules while having great participation,” wrote Danny Zimmern, president of Pensacola Mardi Gras.

According to the IRS, however, the Mayoki have not been a nonprofit since 2019. As of 2019, Mayoki Panzacola Indians Inc. was no longer recognized by the IRS as a nonprofit organization after not filing 990s for three consecutive years, according to Candid’s GuideStar, a nonprofit database. Their last 990, a nonprofit tax form, was in 2019, indicating they earned $112,970 and approximately $150,000 in prior years.

Since then, they operate as a not-for-profit named Mayokis of Panzacola, Inc., according to the Florida Division of Corporations.

The main difference is a not-for-profit serves its members versus a nonprofit intended for the public good.

“They’re not representing anybody but themselves. They’re not teaching any culture. 

It’s totally disrespectful,” said Rosa.

“Florida is so lucky to have so many Native American events and organizations willing to come forth and take a stand and do a parade and educational events. If they really appreciated it, they’d get real Native Americans,” said Rosa.

No one has been able to verify any actual Indigenous influence in recent years, which is the crux of the painful false representation that is confusing for children who may not see an actual Indigenous person otherwise to differentiate what is real.

Attempts to contact the Poarch Creeks, who are in North Florida and are the latter descendants of the Alabama Creeks not forced to move to Indian Territory in the 1830s, were not immediately successful. 

Rosa invites the people of Pensacola to visit a reservation. 

“We’ve had it out with them before and they had stopped,” said Rosa, who is Taino, the Indigenous people to the Caribbean and Florida. “AIM has been there before with that and it stopped for a while,” he said.

Fiesta, the non-profit organization that oversees the festivities, attempted to distance themselves somewhat from the Mayoki in 2023, but not enough to change the culture of appropriation. Fiesta leads more than 40 annual events and receives funds from Escambia County, the State of Florida, and corporate sponsors. 

“Fiesta’s tacit endorsement of Mayokis presents a public relations, reputation, and potential financial risk to Fiesta that we are no longer willing to bear,” wrote Jeff Phillips, chairman of Fiesta Association, in a January 27, 2023, letter addressed to the Mayoki and posted online.

The letter announced the cancellation of the landing ceremony and requested formal attire in lieu of Mayoki costumes. But the costumes continued in 2024, including at area bars. 

This perpetuates a false reputation of Indigenous and tribal people as drunks, Namath warned.

When Indigenous people dance wearing regalia, there is spiritual meaning and significance, said Namath. 

“In 1978, AIM and all Indigenous folks got the right to hold ceremony, speak the languages, practice their culture freely because before that you could be arrested for dancing, singing or having ceremony,” said Rosa. 

“And now you have people who think they can do a fake one?” he asked.

Pensacola residents have become more used to the Mayoki than true Indigenous people, creating a culture of concern, Namath said.

Still, leaders defend the Krewe.

“Our friendship goes back over 60 years, and we all want that to continue,” wrote Phillips in the letter to Mayoki that was also signed by Tom Owens, president of Fiesta Foundation.

“We value you and are not suggesting you change. We simply must control what is best for Fiesta,” they wrote to the Mayoki.

Despite that letter, the Mayoki continue throughout 2024, seemingly going as far as using the MMIW as entertainment as well.

AIM of Florida compared what’s happening now in Pensacola to the atrocious events in other Florida cities in the past, calling it a celebration of genocide and assimilation. One such example is the Chasco Fiesta, located in Pasco County’s New Port Richey, where non-Indigenous people there mocked the Calusa. Now, after action from AIM over the course of seven years or more, true Indigenous people are involved to provide accurate information at their Fiesta. 

Rosa hopes the same kind of change occurs in Pensacola.

“We’re watching. We’re coming for them,” said Rosa.