Margo Gray didn’t waste time sugarcoating the truth. On stage at the Indian Gaming Association’s annual convention in San Diego, she opened her panel with a gut punch: The Office of Indian Energy had just been cut — or, as she bluntly put it, “DOGE’d.”
The announcement came with a mix of disbelief, frustration, and a warning. It wasn’t just about job losses. It was about the message it sent to Native communities, especially Native women, whose fight for inclusion and recognition in Indian gaming still has miles to go.
Cuts Hit Home for Indian Energy — and the Message Stings
“Sixty percent of all energy in the United States lies on Indian hands,” Gray emphasized, her tone sharp and unfiltered. That alone, she implied, should demand more respect — not downsizing.
One sentence, one shock: The Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) had reportedly laid off multiple staffers from the Office of Indian Energy. Two of them were women. And that wasn’t just a statistic — it lit a fire under the panel.
Gray shared that DOGE had justified the cuts by referencing DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) hiring policies. Essentially, they claimed the women had been hired only because of their identities — not their skills.
That struck a nerve.
Gray didn’t hold back. “If we start believing what they tell us, the numbers decrease in here,” she warned the room. This wasn’t just a government HR shuffle. It felt like a step back in a long, uphill climb.
Tribal Women Are Not Side Characters — They’re the Drivers
The panel, titled “Tribal Women Driving Profits and Purchase in Indian Gaming,” had a mission: highlight the economic force of Native women in the casino industry.
They’re not tokens. They’re decision-makers. Business owners. Power brokers.
Gray and others made it clear — women in tribal communities are often the backbone of financial strategy and local development. Yet they’re still battling stereotypes that paint them as figureheads or ceremonial leaders.
At one point, Gray urged attendees to carry the message back home:
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Don’t accept federal dismissals of Indigenous talent
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Keep challenging reductionist views of DEI
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Remind folks who’s really steering the ship
And she wasn’t talking in hypotheticals. Many tribes today are investing billions into resort-style casino properties, hospitality chains, and green energy — often led by women behind the scenes, and increasingly, front and center.
DEI Backlash Feels Familiar, But the Stakes Are Higher Now
This isn’t the first time DEI has taken a hit in federal discourse. But Gray pointed out that for Native women, this backlash can erase years of slow, hard-won progress.
It’s easy to downplay DEI when you haven’t had to fight for a seat at the table. For many Indigenous professionals, being told they “only got the job because of diversity” doesn’t just sting — it undermines their entire career.
There’s a long list of things Native women have to prove twice:
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That they belong in business.
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That they belong in leadership.
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That their success wasn’t handed to them.
At the convention, that exhaustion was palpable. So was the resolve.
Numbers Don’t Lie — Tribal Gaming is a Women-Led Economy in Many Regions
The conversation wasn’t just emotional. It was economic.
According to the National Indian Gaming Commission, tribal gaming brought in $40.9 billion in gross revenue in 2022, with projections for further growth. In several key tribal operations — particularly in Oklahoma, Arizona, and California — women serve as CFOs, general managers, and even chairs of tribal business boards.
Here’s a snapshot of women’s impact across Indian gaming:
| Region | % of Women in Executive Roles | Notable Example |
|---|---|---|
| Oklahoma | 47% | Chickasaw Nation enterprises |
| California | 42% | Sycuan Casino leadership |
| Arizona | 39% | Gila River Gaming |
Those aren’t token numbers. That’s influence.
And it’s not just gaming. Many of these women are overseeing diversification into sectors like tourism, construction, healthcare, and yes — energy.
A Panel That Turned Into a Call to Action
By the end of the session, it didn’t feel like a trade show panel anymore. It felt more like a campaign kickoff — though without the staged smiles or sound bites.
Gray reminded attendees of one more thing: “We’re here too.”
It wasn’t just about making space. It was about keeping the space Native women have already fought for — and refusing to let others rewrite the narrative under the guise of “efficiency.”
The audience clapped, not just politely, but like they meant it.
One person in the back whispered, “That was more of a rally than a panel.”
Maybe they were right.
