Public History Talk Challenges Myths of Custer and U.S. Expansionism

Caption for photo above: Dr. Jeff Means speaks to the audience about General Custer and his impact on American History. (Photo courtesy of Taneha Watts)

On Thursday, May 29, the University of Wyoming’s Coe Library played host to an event that sought to unpack a difficult legacy embedded in street signs, monuments, and the broader American imagination. The lecture, titled “Custer: Myth and Reality,” was delivered by Dr. Jeffrey Means, Associate Professor and Chair of the History Department at the University of Wyoming. A citizen of the Oglala Sioux tribe, Means brought both professional expertise and personal insight to an evening that combined historical rigor, lived experience, and community dialogue.

The event was part of the History on Every Corner series, a community-driven effort organized by the Custer Street Project, which aims to spark conversation about place names and public memory in Laramie and beyond. This lecture was held just blocks away from Custer Street itself, a name that has become a focal point for reexamining how local geographies participate in broader histories of settler colonialism and Indigenous dispossession.

Dr. Means opened the talk by confronting the myth of George Armstrong Custer as a tragic hero. Popularized through American folklore, dime novels, and most enduringly by his widow Libbie Custer, Custer has long been framed as a brave soldier martyred at the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876. “But Custer’s legacy is more than battlefield bravery,” Means explained. “It’s a story of ambition, extermination policies, and the symbolic violence of American expansion.”

Throughout the lecture, Means highlighted the ways U.S. military campaigns against Indigenous nations functioned as coordinated acts of dispossession. He emphasized the symbolic and material role of the bison extermination campaign, which aimed to destroy a central element of Plains Native life. When asked whether any formal presidential orders mandated the destruction of bison herds, Means responded with characteristic clarity: “There’s no specific chain of documents that shows that President Grant ordered it directly. But did he support the policy? Almost certainly. You didn’t need to make it law, it was understood. Sheridan and Sherman absolutely endorsed supplying buffalo hunters with ammunition, and the effect was genocidal.”

The audience was highly engaged, asking questions that ranged from policy history to cultural survival. One particularly poignant moment came when an attendee asked about the Sundance, a sacred Lakota religious ceremony that was criminalized by the U.S. government in the late 19th century. Means, visibly moved, shared that his father had participated in the Sundance seven times. “It’s how we maintain our kinship with God,” he explained. “Even though it was banned in 1884, it never fully disappeared. People just did it quietly. And since the 1960s, it’s come back in full force.”

Means described the ceremony in detail, explaining that it often involves piercing the chest with bone skewers and dancing until they rip free, an offering of flesh and spirit. “It’s a sacrifice,” he said. “It’s about showing your commitment to community and to the Creator.”

Other moments of the lecture turned toward Custer’s character. Means acknowledged that Custer was not without courage or charisma, “He led from the front,” he noted, and “had real battlefield successes in the Civil War.” But he was also reckless, self-promoting, and, as Means pointed out, “dangerously confident.” After being court-martialed for abandoning his post to visit his wife, Custer sought redemption by engaging in high-profile military actions, one of which was the Washita Massacre in 1868, where he attacked a Cheyenne village at dawn, killing women, children, and elders.

“He wanted back in the public eye,” Means explained. “He was angling for a presidential run in 1876. These weren’t just military moves, they were political ones.”

As the event progressed, discussion shifted to public commemoration and whether figures like Custer should still be honored in public spaces. A question from the audience asked whether names like “Custer Street” should be reconsidered. Means answered thoughtfully: “Yes. But even more urgently, we need land rights, water protections, better healthcare, and tribal sovereignty. Still, renaming streets is a small but meaningful gesture. It’s a way to say: ‘We know this was wrong. Let’s fix it.’”

He acknowledged, however, the challenges of such initiatives in a political climate that often resists change. “There’s not a lot of support for Native studies or Native sovereignty in the state legislature,” Means said. “But I think UW is doing what it can. And working more closely with the Eastern Shoshone and Northern Arapaho nations, really listening to what they need, that’s where meaningful change happens.”

The event was the culmination of months of grassroots effort by local organizers who had reached out to residents of Custer Street directly, dropping off flyers and placing QR codes on street signs to encourage attendance. That approach appeared to work, with several attendees raising their hands when asked if they came because of the QR code or flyers. Organizers said this kind of direct engagement was vital to the project’s ethos: bringing history into everyday life and inviting neighbors to be part of the conversation.

The night wrapped up with announcements of further opportunities for engagement. A flyer circulated for an online event on June 14, titled “Indigenous Racism Dialogues: Journeying Toward Reconciliation,” which will be facilitated by Indigenous leaders from Canada in honor of National Indigenous History Month. Attendees were also encouraged to listen to the Modern West podcast, especially the section titled “Mending the Hoop”, which covers the Sand Creek Massacre and the cultural reckoning that followed.

Before everyone dispersed, attendees were invited to share reflections on a “guestbook” in the back of the room and to sign up for future event notifications. There was food and drink, something the organizers cheerfully urged attendees to help finish so they’d have less to carry home.

Perhaps the most powerful moment came from the audience itself, when someone asked Dr. Means what makes a good leader, and whether Custer had any qualities worth remembering. Means paused, then said, “He loved his wife. He loved his brothers. He had confidence, sometimes too much of it. But leadership is complicated. And so is history. That’s why we’re here.”