Black Hair Red Skin

The other day, I took my mother to see a movie. The movie was about a young Black guy that struggled within the inner city and was adopted by a white family and therefore was given opportunities. The movie was touching and heartfelt. And makes for irony...

During the movie, I was rude and highlighted my phone to see what text I had received. I admit I was being rude. But, the guy next to me then tells me that the phone is glaring in his eyes and to turn it off. I understand he didn’t like my phone but it was the way he said it that made me more alert. I glared at him thru the dark and turned my phone over in my lap. He then tells me again to turn my phone OFF. I was like, what is this guy’s deal? And I suddenly wished that I did not move my jacket and purse for him to have the seat next to me. I then told him, “Say please, asshole.”

Later in the movie, he started talking to the person sitting next to him. I then said, “Can you please, stop talking? Thank you.” He then started telling me, “You have no manners. WHERE are you FROM?” And, that is when I knew. He was a racist bastard and that is why I was so offended by him. Just because I have long black hair and turquoise on; he chose to have an opinion of me from the start.
Right when he first told me to turn my phone off, I knew. I am not sure at what point in my life, I got the intuition of the how to tell when someone hates you but I have it. I can feel it when someone simply does not like me because of the red of my skin. I hated him as soon as he spoke.

When he asked where I am from. I didn’t reply. I was silent.

I stayed up most of that night. Angered in the dark. And it was not because of the racist bastard but because I didn’t represent my people the right way. I hate how one of my rude acts translates into my whole nation. It vibrates. The things I do everyday, all day are labeled with the black of my hair and red skin.

I finally slept after I stood tall and said my reply to a man that was no longer there.

“I am from the place where the earth gave birth to me. I am from where the trees are so tall and protect my heart. I am from where the river water runs to supply my heart. I am from where the dirt made my skin. I am from the land where wind gives you life. I am from the same place my ancestors are from. Where are You from?”

And his answer would obviously be, “I don’t know.” I then knew I was blessed. I may be hated and judged upon because of my red skin and black hair but I know where I am from.

Statistic.

Today I was told that I was a statistic.

Because I am an Indian that lives at home with her parents and is unemployed.

I was mad. Slightly outraged. I don’t do drugs! I don’t have kids! I…, I…, I…!!!!

Yes, I do in fact live at home. After ten years of living away from my parents in different states like California, Texas, Colorado, I was home. I have made the conscious decision to live with my mother or father until I get married. I have realized that they both need me and my time with them is limited. I someday will have my own family and will not be able to spend precious time with them. Having coffee with my Dad in the morning and tea at night with my Mom has been my happiest moments. It has been hard at times but I would not have it any other way. The tradition that I am to live with my parents until marriage may be slightly skewed in today’s world but I know it is where I belong. Now, men are looking for an independent woman that takes care of herself. But, I am not looking for that man. I want a man that is looking for a woman that puts her parents before herself. And goes where she is needed. Takes care of her responsibilities. A true Native man will appreciate the fact that the woman is there for her family.

Yes, I am currently unemployed. I graduated with my Bachelor’s and then started on my Master’s program. I learned that being a Social Worker was not for me. I was not happy. I have decided to take a giant leap and start my own business and work on my non-profit ideas to make the difference I want. I am in the 2% statistic of an Indian graduating with my Bachelor’s and if that is not a good one to be in, I don’t know what is. I will finish my Master’s in a more suitable program such as business but not at this time. Although I am not currently earning a paycheck, I am working towards my dreams for myself and my people.

Because I am Indian I am a statistic. But, damn if I am not a good fucking number.

Somehow

Yesterday, I rocked a baby to sleep. And really, I wasn’t ever happier. My dreams have never been to stand in a court room, to sit in a classroom and I have never had a dream about my wedding but I have dreamed of having my children, surround me. I have always felt I would change the world, somehow. I would help my people, somehow give them strength. And, now I know, to raise beautiful strong children to make our next generation.

Within me, I hold fear about being a mother. I wonder if I will make mistakes or somehow lead them in the wrong direction or I may not be able to provide for them as well, as I should. I always wonder about the mothers and fathers in this world, how do they know they are ready to be parents? I don’t know that I ever will be ready but I know it is something that I want to do and be.

There are children out there that need good homes and I may have my own or I may adopt. I believe I will do both. If you are a mother, you are a mother and it should not matter where the children come from. It is a responsibility of mine, I feel inside; that I have to acknowledge and respect.
My fate, fortune and future is to be a mother. I will provide love to the next generation and what else could I ask for?

Dream on, Lady

I met my perfect man, in my dreams. He had dark hair, strong arms and was confident. He was so handsome to everyone but only there for me. He took me to a baseball game in a big city I had never been before. The simple surrounded by the fascinating. We had beer and popcorn. He never left my side and I was the most important thing in the universe. And the universe it was. The night sky was above, just us and the stars. He was possessive but in a good way.

Later we went to his condo. There was a small party, we laughed the rest of the night on the patio over wine and berries he picked himself. The night was amazing.
And how do I know he was perfect? Because, he was Native.
I can’t see myself with anyone that wouldn’t understand why we have to get up in the middle of the night to put more wood in the fire. Or that wouldn’t understand why everyday is a struggle. Or understand why I carry tobacco in my purse and randomly sprinkle it out. Or why I will always love those who make mistakes because of alcohol.

A friend asked me how I could know this man existed and why would I hold myself out for him. “You shouldn’t limit yourself to one race.”

I was then told I was racist because I chose to be with Native and Native only. No, it is a preference. I want my children to be surrounded by the beliefs that my unity with their father could only bring. I was really hurt by the thought that because of my dream that I was racist. I believe we should all be treated equal but I cannot fathom having children with someone that their beliefs were not my own. I am not racist. I am real.

Men Continue the Circle

My dad has told me that it has been estimated that by 2020 there will be no more registered Menominees. We will have lost the battle that was started 500 years ago. And so, I feel as if it is my duty to search high and low to possibly make Menom babies but I whine to daddy, that I can’t find any Menominee man to suit me. And, then he tells me a piece of his mind.

Half of the guys in jail right now are there because of unpaid child support. And yet, how are they to pay it when they can’t even find jobs? So, basically, the system is punishing men for something that is not under their control. I could understand imprisoning a man that has a job and refuses to pay but is it fair when a man chooses to live on his reservation and there are no jobs for him to work to support his kids? And, then we talk about my cousin brother. He is a good guy with a lot of kids. He has four kids and two more on the way. He raises three of them alone and yet he still pays the mother child support because the courts won’t let him have custody. After, paying child support his check of eight hundred every two weeks is down to sixty five dollars. He works but can’t afford child care and he doesn’t qualify for any government programs that are designated for women only and for people that have no income; which he does but not enough to support himself or his family. And the circle continues.

Then, there are the people that are raising their grandchildren and the children don’t help support them. But, the parents receive child support, WIC and welfare but don’t have the children. The grandparents that should be retired continue to work the long hours at the casino to support their grandchildren. And the circle continues.

I have never really thought of the NDN men that raise children and I have to say, that they are here and you now have my utmost respect. The good NDN men are punished by a system that was made to support the women, but only the women? It's not fair and I am glad my dad pointed out, that I should not whine but recognize and realize. There are great NDN men that stand up and fight the fight and I am so proud of you and sorry that I have not recognized you sooner. You will forever now, be in my prayers. And thank you for continuing our circle.

Dad says, kids shouldn’t have kids then. Yeah, that is a solution but to what end? How long would our tribe continue to exist if babies weren’t born? Am I the only one that worries at night, how long my tribe will continue to survive? I have no worries that there are going to be plenty of Navajos for the time being but I do feel that I want to continue the Menom legacy. I have made the choice to wait to have children, for marriage and yet I get the constant question, where are your babies at?? Your dad needs grandchildren. People tell me it is good to wait and I have but have I cost my tribe?? If I was young and reckless, I may have had Menom babies by now and that wouldn’t be such a bad thing….yet, the search continues for me to contribute my part of the circle. My blood will count!

To Play or Not to Play

I was starting to get know this certain guy. He was cool, seemed to be. He was from my part of Indian Country. He knew what my reservation was all about. Friends with my family. And then, after about a month of just texting and he tells me not to get “attached.” He has been hurt before and isn’t looking to getting into a relationship. Ohh.kay.

For one, I hate that he assumed that I wanted a relationship with him. He never made me laugh and the conversation was never deep. I am looking for that type of guy.
For two, I hate that even if he had been hurt before he was not brave enough to believe in love. It takes a real man to be hurt and believe again.
For three, I hate that he assumed that I would cheat on him like the others did. I have never cheated in the eleven years I have been in relationships but then it made me question, what he thought of himself since he already assumed I would be so disappointed in him I would cheat on him.

The outcome then leads to me to this: He assumed I would play around on him if we were together. And if he assumed that and never took our relationship seriously, then why wouldn’t I play? I would be looking for someone that would take me seriously. But, if I was not to play and he would just ruin the relationship thinking that I was. It was an ugly circle that I got out of ASAP. It would have made me someone that I was not.

People really do get what they are looking for and I wish him the best. I maybe holding out for an extremely long time for someone to make me laugh but I know I will get what I am looking for.

Menom Love

I am back home on the reservation. There has not been much change at all and yet because I have changed, it is all different. I was at the table reading when my dad’s cousin and his wife came to the house. I look at them as my aunt and uncle. Since, my last visit my aunt had to have dialysis three times a week. She is now a softer person and yet still jokes as before. She is one person that jokes with my dad and teases him. You can tell the illness has taken a toll but the bond that my aunt and uncle share is so strong. You can see the love and commitment in their eyes. It is so beautiful. Today, I was surprised to see on my reservation a marriage of love. My uncle helped her carry stuff to the car but not in a way that was over the top but in a way that the act done; as he just read her mind. I could not tear my eyes away from seeing the invisible communication. I am thankful that my uncle is there for my aunt during her hardship. She has such a battle to be fought. She had a transplant and was in the hospital for so long, far away from home. We went to their house tonight, and when we came in, they were seating right next to each other on the couch; both watching the baseball game. They both spoke of their grandchildren with such pride and that is when I notice my aunt had a hickey! I was so shocked but in a good way. It was proven then, that there is a possibility of a successful marriage and I was given hope. Their son came into the house then, my little brother and he had grown so much. He has grown over two feet since I last saw him! I went on and on about my memories of him and my aunt cried. She cries easily now, but her tears are her appreciation, feelings are realized today and that was a lesson learned for me. He is a great kid. He does so well in school and if he is not in school; he is out in the woods fishing. Today, he found eagle feathers out on the lake and he is such a blessing to our nation. He will be a great Menominee man. I then, knew that my aunt and uncle’s love had created something we all could be proud of. I forget that my aunt has struggle every day when I am far away and will remember now. Love was a dream of mine that came true. I may not know love just yet but two people that deserve it have it and that is all I ever need.

Red Skin

Growing up in Wisconsin I was young when I noticed that I was different than all the others. I would look at my hands and then look at other kid’s hands. I would just stare at my hands and see the design of what looked like spider webs. It would get more and more visible when summer came around. But, if I looked hard enough I could see the webs during the winter. I always wondered if all the other kids in school noticed how my skin was different than theirs in more ways than just color.I had a design. I thought it was because I was tangle clan and therefore the spider made my skin. The spider was the mother to my skin.
On a trip to New Mexico one summer, my parents were inside the hogan speaking with grandmas. My sisters were told to play outside. We turned around and wondered what we were to do? There were no rivers to play in, no forest to hide in. I stared at the sky and the open desert. The wind was blowing our hair all around. I kneeled down towards the ground. I glanced down at the earth and there was my skin. The dirt was dried out from a recent rain, cracked in a design that was on my hand. I sat there and we found out what to play with. We picked up the dirt that came apart like a pieces of cake. It was our fun for the time that my parents spent in the hogan. We would just see which one of us could pick up the pieces whole and then we would crumble them with one hand. My skin was a sister to the dirt outside the hogan.
My father took it upon himself to teach us about astronomy. One summer night we all stared up in the sky, with our dad showing us the book and pointing to the sky. I thought it was so boring and wish I could be inside, away from the mosquitoes reading my book in bed. I wanted to get through my Babysitters club book before bedtime. I finally just laid down in the grass. My youngest sister was already heading towards the swing set and my middle sister was listening to dad, trying to learn. A few moments later, my dad connected the stars and I realized that once you connected the stars, my skin was in the sky. My skin was the stars and the stars were my skin. The stars were father to my skin.
Recently, in line at the store, behind a Navajo grandma I noticed my skin was the same as hers. The design was the exact same without the wrinkles. My skin, had a mother, father, sister, and grandmother and I knew that I was blessed to have a design on my skin. The design on my skin was evidence of my family that consisted of creatures, earth, sky and my ancestors and I was proud to be different.

Zia Connects

Lately there has been huge news cast over and over, here in Albuquerque, NM. It is about a Native woman that had murdered her own son. It has been news casted repeatedly over and over. As a Native woman, myself I am trying to relate and understand. I feel as a Native woman walking around Albuquerque I am associated with her. And I feel that I need to represent her and defend my sister. It is so tough when our culture is portrayed in this light. As alcoholics and now murderers. I know each culture has its stereotypes and we all have to suffer through them. Now a huge new story seems to be making a new name for Natives and not in a good way. It upsets me that the bad news is always so much more appealing and therefore makes it so much harder for Natives to have a positive reflection of worth and a positive association in society.

My deepest sympathy goes towards the woman and her family. There are so many stressful situations in the world today and especially if you are Native. I am extremely lucky that I have both my parents in my life and they were both able to achieve higher education but we are still struggling. And many of my relatives on the reservation are struggling. It has become harder and harder for us because we have our traditional ways and yet have to live in a white world. Traditionally, the elders would be assisting with the children and helping a woman cope with motherhood. I am not trying to make excuses for the woman, but I am trying to understand the situation. In a perfect world, the grandmas, mothers and sisters would be taking care of the grandchild and the mother would be assisted. But, now our grandmothers are having a hard enough time providing for themselves and now it is extremely hard to be a single mother and live successfully. I am not sure what drove her to end her child’s life but I do know that this is not our way. Suicide is a huge problem with our culture and it seems that it is becoming easier and easier for our people to end a life rather than continue. It is a horrible truth. We need to reconnect with one another; I try to have my friends all together as often as I can, because when Natives spend time together we are a happier people.

My immediate thought when I heard of the little boys death was the mother suffered from Postpartum Depression. I know that, especially single mothers can struggle with the illness. There is no way to monitor the illness especially when our healthcare is not necessarily there for the Native people. There are so many what ifs and all I know is that this tragedy has the ability for each of us in the Native world to take a step in connecting. With our sisters, our mothers and our daughters. If you know of anyone that is raising a child alone, offer to help. Or even sincerely ask how they are doing. I am going to use this tragedy to move me towards making my connection projects a success. I have learned that one sincere comment to another goes a long way. Words are so important. By giving one compliment can go a long way. We as a people have to take this situation and make it, make us, take a step forward in preventing tragedy and create connection! Prevention is in our hands.

A Role to Happiness

I have had a lot of conversations with my close friends about me taking care of my man. My man will never have to worry about his laundry, cooking or cleaning. The house will always be taken care of. And not only because I enjoy it, but because that is what my role is to be. There are man and woman roles and it gives me happiness to respect our traditional roles. But, my man better be able to get his ass off the couch and take the trash out, carry the heavy stuff for me and haul wood and hunt. Traditionally, the roles were respected, in our Native culture and when I think about it. The woman’s role has not changed. The cooking fire may now be electric or gas but the men, no longer have to hunt since the creation of the grocery store. Men’s roles have had the biggest adjustment. And in MY opinion, the man’s role has diminished to almost nothing and it has caused huge problems in our Native society. The boys do drugs and join gangs because what is their role? What are they to be doing? And what did their father’s do? And don’t get me started on how the rise of gay men in the Native world is. (No judgment but is it because woman have stronger roles now???) I understand that girls do drugs and join gangs and I am being somewhat obtuse but…still. I am not placing blame, but I think that in order for me to be happy, I need a MAN. A friend of mine recently said that she wasn’t interested in this guy because he was just not man enough. He was so nice to her and was in adoration of her but in reality, his role just did not add anything to her life.

I feel comfortable hauling wood and fishing and being physical especially on the reservation is something that I enjoy, I am not afraid of hardwork and yet I believe a majority of men are today. I am not looking for strict roles but I do believe that males and females if they each have roles in this life; we would all be much happier as Native peoples. If men had their roles restored, our culture could be even more successful.

I have struggled with this problem. And I am not sure what the solution is. My mother went to church one morning and the minister spoke about a couple, that the man was being so quiet now in the past few years and the woman was feeling unhappy. There was no interaction and no communication in the relationship anymore. The minister than stated, maybe he was getting in touch with his feminist side. WHAT? Being quiet is a woman thing? I am shocked. Navajo woman certainly are not. And Native woman in general are not. We are vocal. And, vocal is not a wrong way to be and yet woman are now being quiet about their unhappiness with men now. I don’t want to be a single mother but in reality, what are my options? I want to have children and yet, I don’t want to take care of a man, that won’t take care of me and our family. There are only a very few times that I remember my father sitting on the couch. And it was usually on holidays when us girls were opening presents for Christmas or hunting eggs on Easter. My father worked hard for us. A man like my father is impossible to find. A man that works constantly for not only our family but our people. My father did not go to school just to have a Dr. before his name but because with Dr. he could earn the respect from the white world in order to compete to gain success for our tribe.

Someone once told me that my problem was that I was looking for someone like my father. I can see that as an excuse that a guy would say and it was a guy that said it. It is an excuse. I have dated men that are the exact opposite of my father also and was never happy. I have given everyone an equal chance and I know that I would be happiest with someone that truly represented the traditional male role. A successful relationship is one of sharing and respect of each other's roles, I believe.

My uncle recently spoke of how he went to a laundry mat on the reservation, and a Navajo husband and wife arrived there at the same time. The wife started carrying the bags of laundry and the man sat on the bench outside watching her. What THE F?! My uncle went and finished helping her carry THEIR laundry in. The husband made no move to assist and maybe he was ill or injured but there was no evidence to that effect. That is my problem with Native men today. It is a perfect example of what Native woman are left with. I would rather be single than have my man sit on a bench watch me carrying shit. I need a man of action. And that is what our traditional Native men’s role is. I know that there are Native men out there that are hardworking. I do know. But, I have yet to find one for myself.

P.S. and no, I will not date someone that is non-native. It is very important to me to carry on my culture and share that with my husband and children.

Quotes from Navajo Studies Conference, 2009

"...states that the Navajo are disconnected and separated by chain link fences and it is not the Navajo Way. We are a social, connected people and we are denying our ways, our blood and we cannot be successful in the European ways. We have the ingredients to be successful but we deny it. We need to not redefine ourselves but rediscover ourselves.

White American Values: We see the problems in the Navajo Nation. All Indigenous peoples have an attempt in language revitalization; need to stop switching to English. Schools are now the home to teach the language. Navajo has always been diverse and always have been a challenge to unify.
Indigenous peoples have adopted other ways and have inherited more problems. We have instilled the idea in ourselves as a people that the “white” way is better and we are still struggling to adapt to their government."

Thoughts to think about...

For Why?

The other night, I had a change of plans and ended up at an event that I hadn’t planned on. It was exactly where I was to be. There was this little boy, who sat behind me and became someone that gave my heart a warming, it desperately needed. I was disappointed in a guy, once again. At this game, M gave me his age right away. Counting from one to four on his fingers; to visually show me. And, it was lovely not to have to give my number! M then, stood behind me and played with my hair. I can’t remember the last time I let someone touch my hair…and yet, it was just the thing I needed to calm my inner, invisible tears. M then came up and told the woman next to me to move and once she did, proceeded to take her seat. M told me about his pet monkey and during his story, I asked “for why?” This little white boy looked so confused! What were the words I just spoke?! What does “for why?” mean? I had to giggle at his confusion of native (Navajo?) lingo. And, then “for why” made me think of another time I giggled at the same question. I miss “Mittens” and not for any other reason than I miss him making me smile….the night continued with us singing to SpongeBob Squarepants! SpongeBob Squarepants!! M was getting tired and fell asleep on the big foam finger with me rubbing his back. That is the point, I realized that I would make a great mom, and that suddenly became a real dream of mine. A few moments later, it was time to leave. M waited for me holding out his hand, as if it was the most natural thing. I asked if he was gonna take care of me, crossing the road and his reply was, “No you are taking care of me.” Duh, typical male response! But, it was just so adorable. I do need to take care of someone, it is time. M asked if I could come home with him, there was room in his car. I said, “I couldn’t.” and yet, he kept stating, that is how it should be. M wanted to know where my car was, he wanted to see it. I was like, man, this kid is gonna be a heartbreaker, oh wait, he already was. Mine was in pieces! I got the best hand holding, ever. The last time my hand was held, it came with rejection soon after….and M gave me, just what I needed….to hold my hand and a hug with nothing but affection mixed with adoration…it was the best. M, gave me a glimpse that what I deserve, can be a reality.

Father's Borkum Riff

There is always that certain song, that certain smell that takes you back to a memory. The smell of my dad’s certain tobacco, trips me back, with my eyes tearing up. There is this place in my soul that is protected by his tobacco, for all of my life. I carry it with me everywhere, never go without it. In Wisconsin, there is no sage or corn pollen but tobacco and cedar. My dad would smoke a pipe with Borkum Riff tobacco and that smell of tobacco is something that will never leave me. His home, our home on the rez would smell of his scent that was of tobacco. In my homes, I would burn our cedar with the tobacco. And pray. My father would protect from all those many miles away. I would open my post office box to an envelope of our cedar back home. Still fresh and soft.

My dad and I would go fishing together and the first thing before all else would be to light his pipe. The smoke would keep the mosquitoes and gnats away from his face while we were out on the lake or river. We would go night fishing, my favorite and I could always see his pipe burning and the scent, and I would never lose him in the night. There was always loose tobacco in our fishing basket to bless the fish, and we would always spread tobacco in the river before and after we fished, thanking the river. Tobacco is my thanks, for everything today.
There is something about this scent, that when I was in the parking lot yesterday and smelled his favorite tobacco, I was suddenly back on the rez, in our trailer, warm and protected surrounded by my forest. We are one of the few tribes that are lucky enough to have our reservation where we resided before the white man came. I know that my ancestors are out there, protecting my family and I. I know that I have to be away from my land in order to help my people and the tobacco, makes it possible. All the miles that are between me and my land, are hard but tobacco is always on my journey with me to be my land away from home.

I can relate to a plant, a plant for protection, a plant for wellbeing, a plant for happiness, and for that I am blessed.

Change Me Not

I have been in a few serious relationships in my life. And in each one, it has been a “disagreement “of if we happened to marry would I change my last name and the answer is no. I believe that two of my boyfriends, because I wouldn’t, didn’t want to marry me. I know that there were other reasons but that was a major reason. I find it incredibly retarded since it was never our tradition as Native people. My father did not wear a wedding ring, it was not our tradition. My mother did not change her name, it was not our tradition.
I can see myself possibly after ten years of marriage; adding his name to mine but right away? Uh, no. I am one of three daughters of my father. My name is ending with me. There are no sons. W--- is an endangered name. There are very few of us left. I am my name and I would not change it for something that is not our custom to do. Maybe, I would be more inclined if my last name was popular and more people had it?

I had a discussion with someone that said that he would not wear a wedding ring but would want me to change my name. He was Navajo and believed in Navajo tradition but also wanted his wife to have his name although it is not a Navajo way. I can somewhat understand that it is easier for the children but when people noticed that my mother’s name was different than mine, I was proud. You go, Momma, represent that Navajo last name! That is who she was! If I was to change my name, I would add my mother’s.

This is a huge issue that I deal with as a Native Woman and one that I believe that I shouldn’t have to. My father was a strong enough man that he did not have to have his wife have his name. And I wonder why it is now important to our Native men to follow a white man’s way? I have done research on each of my tribes and none of them speak of a last name change. I cannot speak for other tribes. W--- was our family name for so many generations and it gives me the strength of my family, everyday. I understand the need for the man to “claim” me with overriding my last name with his, but not enough to participate in something that is not mine.
If changing my name, gave promise of a life of happiness forever with the person I marry, then the practice would have more strength to sway me but it does not. Changing your name simply means you are giving up a part of you, that your husband fell in love with. It does not guarantee happiness.
I have always wondered though, if a man loved me enough to marry me without having to change my last name, but wanted it; would I love him enough to do it? I am not sure. W--- is my core being. It is my connection to my family, my reservation, my soul, my ancestors. I hope that I meet a man someday that loves me and respects my name and what it stands for and wouldn’t want to change me.

Talkin' Indian

“We are all Indians, sitting in a circle, talkin' Indian.”
I believe that all Natives speak Indian regardless if they know their language or not. And that language is laughter.
I believe the “talking Indian” is laughter. We are a happy, social people and now I feel we are losing it more and more each year. From my own experience, we, as a people are feeling more comfortable staying home rather than surrounded by our people. Children are now happier on the internet and playing video games instead of being outside with friends. I know that this is an issue that society as a whole is dealing struggling with also but I believe it is more harmful to Native children than other cultures. Native culture is very social and children are raised within the community. And with our elders, they are getting addicted to television and casinos and why is that our oldest tradition of our elders taking care of our children is disappearing? There is constant talk of a revolution for our people and I think there needs to be a cultural revolution within ourselves. If we could start the smallest connection between our elders and our children, I believe that there will laughter to overtake the alcohol and poverty.
I don’t speak either of my languages and I have been judged by many. I hate having to defend myself especially to other Natives. People say that I think like an urban Indian when I say that we are all one regardless if we speak our language or not. But, I believe that it is true. We are a people that can connect because we all speak the same language of laughter.

A few years ago at D--- College, there was a dispute between the light skinned Natives and the dark skinned Natives. They were both against each other stating that the other was not really Native. The light skinned Natives stated that because they knew the language that they were Native and the dark skinned Natives stated that because they had the blood that they were Native. I have been in the situation were Navajos tell me that I am not Navajo because I cannot speak the language. (and each time, they were educated Navajos on college campuses) I never argued but said that I believe I am and that is all that matters.
I believe this argument is seriously silly and a waste of our Native energy. It is giving the white man even more power in this generation. The white man wanted us to fight amongst ourselves and we are giving into their desire. We need Natives, proud to be Natives and regardless if they speak the language or not. The ones that are able to speak the language should be teaching the others instead of judging them for not being able to! It is sad that this is happening at our college levels; where the most intellectual Natives reside. We should be smarter than that, to have our resources wasted on each other.
My mother speaks of when she was first in college and because she was Southwest Native in a Woodland Native dominated college, they completely ignored her. Only when she got to her Master’s program on a different campus, there was equality. I know that we all have our differences between tribes and different characteristics but we have to be accepting and smarter than our enemy. The white man’s objective of killing the injuns off will continue in this day if we dispute amongst ourselves. Be proud, accept and laugh. Laughter is the language we all speak.

To Reflect

I had a dream last night that keeps coming back to me today. It was of a friend of mine, if you could call him that. I was lost in his apartment building and he kept bringing up a time when I made a mistake. I have decided to start a blog to help me to discover...more about myself and my culture and how the two connect. For some reason, this friend, keeps coming to me in my dreams. It seems when I am feeling lost or confused, he visits. This is my an attempt to share my own native reflection and create a positive path for myself and possibly you...to share is to create a connection and connection creates harmony.

To Reflect: to prevent passage of and cause to change direction, to throw back light or sound, to think quietly and calmly, to express a thought or opinion, to tend to bring reproach or discredit, to bring about a specified appearance or characterization, to have a bearing or influence.

Bye, Bye 2008

Bye, Bye 2008!
2008 was my most transformational year. I have grown so much and come to understand myself and my future more than I have ever had. The beginning of this year, started off in a relationship that was not meant to be. It was a sad but I had to move on. My graduation was in April and it was a nice day. My sister, A--- and my brother, J--- were not there and that was hard. My aunt and cousin came all the way from WI to surprise me and that was the greatest moment of 2008. It was a weird experience though, to walk when I was not completely done with school. I changed my major to Humanities and it was the greatest thing I could do. I was in History and even though it was a favorite subject of mine, it was not where I was meant to be. I was a mentor in a minority science and math camp again this year and that is when I fully realized that I my future lies with helping kids, to receive a better, brighter future. Later, this past summer I went to a conference where I met other Native students and it was so good to be surrounded by people that shared my same outlook for our future. It is hard sometimes, living every day feeling that you are the only one concerned about our future; as Natives. Recently, I was again questioning how do I really know that I am Navajo or Menominee? I don't speak, I don't live. Or so I am told. But, when it comes down to it; my ancestors who I pray to, understand me no matter what language I speak. I live Navajo and Menominee; but just off the reservation. My woods and my desert are always in my heart and that is what matters. Regardless, if I know WHY: I wear turquoise or why I let elders eat first..or why….me is me and that is Navajo and Menominee.
My life has changed so much this last year. I have the greatest friends, I have ever had and I am so thankful for them. I am so glad to have met my friend A--- and have my friend S--- in my life. A--- doesn't judge but makes me laugh. S--- is always there for me; no matter the time of day. My friends are so beautiful and I love them!! : D One person came into my life this year and then left but made an imprint on my heart and future that will last forever. I took chances that I would have never done before because of him. I took off to Oklahoma, with no money and no air conditioning in the middle of June. It was an experience. To say the least. I learned a lot about myself in that weekend. Also, when I went to Los Angeles; it was so perfect. Good people and good hearts. I am so happy to have met B---and W---. The best time of my year was spent on the beach.
I also had one of the hardest times in my life in my trip to Phoenix. I really don't care for the city and what happened there. I learned the meaning of "friends". I regret that trip more than anything and yet, it had to happen for me to KNOW. Learning and growing was never so hard for me. It was hurtful and still is. I will have a scar from Phx for a long time but it has already healed and is starting to fade.
I have graduated from college; it took ten years. I NEVER thought it would happen. And it did. So, that leaves me with my next goal. To work in social services with Native kids who need my help. I found a great volunteer position that has me go to the treatment center here in Abq that provides sweats, drum groups and arts to the Native kids that are there. I am so hopeful of my future now. I am with my sisters and mom and things could not be any better.
I wish all those who are in my life, the greatest ending to 2008 and the best beginning to 2009.
I am thankful and blessed for you all this year.