BEYOND THE BOTTOM LINE

Indigenous entrepreneurs and Native-owned institutions that support them are building successful businesses by prioritizing community impact and cultural preservation over pure profit—continuing a tradition of commerce that dates back centuries.

Virginia Boone prays before she gathers plans in the Arizona desert, a ritual rooted in her Navajo family’s healing traditions. What began with her father’s search for peace after World War II has grown into Medicine of the People, the Tucson-based herbal medicine business Boone has carried forward for more than three decades. 

“All I’m trying to do is be real,” Boone said. “I'm just gonna keep it going as long as the Creator helps me in the direction that is safe for the people and safe for me and the plants.”

For Boone and for a growing number of Native business owners, business has never been about only the bottom line. It’s about stewardship — protecting the land, preserving culture, and serving community. 

Virginia Boone's Medicine of the People creates herbal products rooted in Navajo healing traditions, with authenticity and cultural preservation at the center of her business model. (Photo: Facebook)

Authenticity as Advantage

Building a business model around the Native values of community and preservation has always been Virginia Boone’s approach for Medicine of the People. 

Boone’s father founded the business after looking to his Navajo ancestry for healing while recovering from World War II. He found peace walking among the plants and began practicing herbal medicine in Arizona, where Boone and her siblings live today. When her father walked on in 1990, Boone expanded her father’s legacy by bringing authentic herbal medicine to Navajos and beyond.

Carrying that responsibility forward, Boone said she became determined to protect authentic Native medicine from being diluted or misrepresented. She didn’t want so-called “Pretendians” — people falsely claiming Native identity — to be recognized for traditions that weren’t real. 

She grew her business through “networking” the Native way — laughing and crying alongside clan members, traveling to powwows and building relationships. Some of those early powwow customers are still buying from her today. 

Her approach has always been true to her Native values, operating with respect for the earth, with particular concern for how plants are being impacted by climate change.  When she and her sisters gather herbs, they are mindful of their connection to the land. 

“My sisters and I, when we go gathering, we pray and pray and cry and cry,” Boone said.

That connection — and commitment — has become one of the differentiators for the company in the broader market.  Long before “sustainability” became a corporate buzzword, Medicine of the People built its reputation on it. In an era when 70% of consumers saying they prefer buying from socially responsible companies, Boone’s authenticity continues to resonate with customers worldwide.   

“Customers are responsive to the cultural aspects of the products…we have thousands of people writing us notes on the internet. It is so crazy, beautiful, lovely and inspiring, every day,” says Boone.

Boone’s story is not entirely unique.  Across Indian Country, Native entrepreneurs are finding that community values can be a strategic advantage. But translating those values into business practices is not always simple. 

For many Native entrepreneurs, especially those based on reservations or in rural areas, running a company means facing barriers that others rarely encounter — unreliable infrastructure, limited shipping and broadband options, and the higher costs of operating in remote markets. Those challenges make access to capital and tailored financial support all the more critical. 

Native American Bank CEO Thomas Ogaard at a June 2023 event where the bank donated bikes to the Denver Indian Center for distribution to local children. The bank measures success through community impact projects that benefit Native families. (Photo: Courtesy)

Financing Community Impact

To address those barriers, Native-owned financial institutions have emerged with a different approach than mainstream banks.  One of the largest is Denver-based Native American Bank, founded in 2001 and certified as Native Community Development Financial Institution (CDFI), which positions it to expand access to capital and financial services that support economic self-sufficiency in Native communities.

“The bank is a mission-oriented bank. The charter was issued for a Native-owned bank to provide access to financial services and do so on a broad basis... to really elevate the economic diversity within those communities,” said Thomas D. Ogaard, NAB president and CEO.

NAB provides financial services and capital access in ways that traditional finance models often cannot — or do not want to.

“We’re not necessarily always looking for a project that is going to give the bank the highest return. Lending in Indian Country is difficult,” Ogaard said. "Quite honestly, there are projects that we do that nobody else will do out there.”

One example is the Pawnee Nation Behavioral Health Facility in Pawnee, Okla. The center opened in May, providing care to nearby rural counties and creating jobs for both Native and non-Native residents. Before then, the nearest quality behavioral and mental health services were 40 miles away in Tulsa. 

NAB has also financed projects with direct community impact, including a grocery store for the Red Lake Band of Chippewa Indians in northern Minnesota. The store created 27 new jobs and improved access to fresh food.

“I think there's a triple bottom line there: the impact to the community, the impact to the individual, and what the tribe was able to do for their tribal members,” Ogaard said. 

These projects require navigating the unique legal systems of 574 federally recognized tribes. That complexity is compounded by federal processes — for example, securing a certified Title Status Report from the Bureau of Indian Affairs, a requirement for lending on trust land, can take over a year. 

Despite these hurdles, NAB has grown 43% in the last 12 months. The bank plans to open additional regional offices and remains optimistic about the future of financial services for Indian Country. For CEO Ogaard, the measure of success is less about financial growth than about projects that deliver tangible benefits to Native communities.

“Being able to bring a project across the finish line, in and of itself, is a success. Watching the community grow as a result of that is a success … both from an individual tribal member or business owner, and certainly, having the tribal leadership feel like, ‘Okay, we had a successful endeavor here. Let's do another,’” says Ogaard.

Andrea Condes of Four Directions Cuisine leads a dining experience that connects guests to Indigenous foods and culture. “We are not just selling meals. We are reconnecting people to something bigger than themselves,” she says. (Photo: Four Directions Cuisine)

Generational Game

Andrea Condes, who founded Arvada, Colo.-based Four Directions Cuisine in 2017, has led her business with a similar approach grounded in uplifting Native communities.

Four Directions Cuisine uses food as a vehicle for educating future generations and supporting Native suppliers and producers — even when that choice costs more.

“We could make a lot more money if we cut corners. If we stopped sourcing from Native vendors, or used cheaper ingredients. But then we are not doing what we set out to do. And if we raise prices too much, some of our elders can’t afford it, so sometimes we just give the food away,” said Condes.

That commitment extends beyond the kitchen.  Rejecting mass-produced, factory-farm food in favor of locally grown and Native-sourced ingredients, Condes has turned her philosophy into a range of businesses — catering and private chef events, cooking classes, food sovereignty workshops and a seasonal outdoor dining experience that connects guests to the land while showing Indigenous foods. 

The business also invests in programs aimed at preserving traditions and providing tribal education for future generations. 

“We're teaching youth from four years old to young adults in their 20s,” Condes said. “If just one of them in each group decides that they're going to be a grower and a land steward, that's one more that we didn't have before, and that's one more in that generation, and they're going to pass it on.”

Preserving and passing along Native traditions is especially important to Condes, who reconnected with her Native roots later in life. An Indigenous Andean adopted from Venezuela and raised in Ohio, she found her way back to Native culture after a divorce. Women of the Oneida Nation took her in and taught her the fundamentals of Native cuisine — the foundation for Four Directions Cuisine. 

“We are not just selling meals. We are reconnecting people to something bigger than themselves,” says Condes.

That philosophy echoes a much older tradition. As legal scholar and author Robert J. Miller noted in his 2012 book, Reservation Capitalism, tribes engaged in trade and enterprise long before European contact, often structuring commerce to strengthen communities rather than maximize individual gain. 

Today, Native entrepreneurs and Native-owned institutions are carrying that tradition into new markets — from food to medicine to finance. The potential for scale is significant: according to the U.S. Census Bureau, American Indian and Alaska Native-owned employer businesses generate about $78.5 billion in annual receipts and employ more than 333,000 people.  

For Condes, success is measured less in sales than in what gets passed on. “This is a generational game,” she said. 

Brian Edwards contributed reporting.