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.