Unapologetically Indigenous

I am from recycled goods, bus passes, and borrowed books,
walking in the canyons, biking in the woods,
reading about places I want to visit,
hearing about people I want to meet,
riding the bus alone.

I am from homes with no electricity and hauled water in containers,
brilliant night skies, ambrosial petrichor,
cutting wood for winter, baking bread for dinner,
watching bootleg movies on a duct taped television,
hitchhiking to get to the city.

I am from game stews, bowls of mush, squash and frybread,
sweet mush with clumps when my mom makes it,
mush plain with black coffee when my father makes it,
blue corn mush with juniper ash when my friend’s mom cooks it,
“What is mush?” off the reservation.

I am from “What are you?” …never who,
“I thought all you guys were dead” and
“Well my grandmother is a Cherokee Princess,”

I am from “Be Proud of who you are,”
I am from places and cultures that seem worlds away sometimes.
I am from Irene and Ambrose and a cobbling of friends,
a patchwork of people met along the way,
Elders words and oral histories,
traditionalists and rebels,
caring people whose toil is quiet but the impact deafening.

- Robin Máxkii 

A graduate of Diné College and Salish Kootenai College. This poem is inspired by George Ella Lyon’s “Where I’m From.” Originally published in Tribal College Journal

Every winter, during the second week of February, tribal college presidents, student representatives, and a myriad of others passionate about tribal education trek out to Washington, DC to visit Capitol Hill for National Tribal College Week. This week, also referred to as the American Indian Higher Education Consortium (AIHEC) Winter Meeting, is an intense hive of advocacy, House and Senate meetings, and networking. Everyone who attends these meetings serves the larger purpose of moving tribal colleges forward, which in turn helps move Native communities forward.

One of the more compelling aspects of the winter meeting is the unique role that students play. Each of the 37 tribal colleges and universities (TCUs) participating can choose to send a student or students to DC; these students then accompany their college’s representatives to various advocacy workshops, committee hearings, and congressional delegation meetings. It is at those meetings where the key mission that students serve becomes apparent. This is where they share their tribal college journey with others. By sharing their own narratives, students are empowered and provide a moving testament to the diverse and often misunderstood impacts of TCUs.

OWNING MY STORY

In 2014, as the outgoing Diné College student body president, I was fortunate enough to receive an invitation to AIHEC’s winter meeting. I admit I wasn’t entirely sure what “Capitol Hill advocacy” entailed; words like advocating, legislating, and policymaking can sometimes take on nebulous definitions. After some prodding for a clearer description of my role, I was informed that I would be there to share my story about how tribal colleges affected me.

I spent the next few weeks mulling over this, namely, how would my story benefit anyone? It’s a winding and weird narrative. It lacks the glamour of Western success and perfect scores; it is void of the genius of wunderkind and the cheery comfort of normal. Dormant worries that I held prior to stepping foot on a tribal college campus began to creep in. Worries that I wouldn’t talk right, I wouldn’t look right, I wouldn’t act right. I just wouldn’t be right.

Up until that point, my knowledge of AIHEC revolved primarily around the annual spring student conference, which is a large gathering for tribal college students to bond and compete in various events. I attempted to compensate for my unfamiliarity with AIHEC by poring over the organization’s website and various related links mined from Google searches, hoping to gain more insight as to what I would be getting involved in. One of the most informative resources is AIHEC’s preliminary pre-meeting webinar. From logistics such as hotel accommodations and meeting times to detailing advocacy strategies and underscoring the key goals of the meetings, the webinar helped us prepare for Capitol Hill.

This preparation certainly helped me navigate the alphabet soup that is DC vernacular: from DOI, BIA, BIE to AICF, AIMS, TCUP, the acronyms flow freely. It also helped me grasp the general idea of what higher education funding looks like in the federal context. Yet, one thing that reading material couldn’t prepare me for was the sheer scope of issues surrounding American Indian higher education. While AIHEC’s importance is evident at the student conference, the organization’s power and magnitude are on full display in Washington, DC. From highly scheduled itineraries packed with meetings with U.S. Senators and House Representatives to the breadth of institutional knowledge TCU presidents shared during our visits, National Tribal College Week was like a deep-sea dive for someone like me who was used to splashing around in puddles.

FINDING MY PLACE

In a place like Capitol Hill where there is an array of issues at any given moment, it can be easy to get lost in the shuffle. Tribal colleges in particular face an assortment of unique issues that are often overlooked or else misunderstood—whether because of a complete disregard for community definitions of success or a clumsy attempt to measure us with the wrong metric. By having students there in person, sharing their own stories, whole new dimensions can be added to people’s perceptions of what a tribal college is and what success truly means to some of us.

Yet how would or could my story benefit anyone when it feels so undone and unpolished? How does one package all of the confusion, anger, frustration, elation, and joy I’ve experienced into a neatly composed soundbite? You simply must speak of what you know.

In my case, what I knew was how at Diné College someone told me for the first time that I was more than smart, that I was a “good egg.” How I had a bed and a room and I didn’t have to worry about where I was going to sleep for the next few months. How I could just focus on the tasks at hand and how I was free to pursue my curiosities and figure out what I wanted. How I could ask questions and people didn’t chide me for not knowing what the GRE was or how to fill out an application for federal student aid. Nobody tried to touch my hair, tell me about their Cherokee princess grandmother, or refer to me as Pocahontas. Nobody gasped when I talked about my childhood like it was some absurd reality or pushed me to leave the reservation for “opportunity.” Instead, people encouraged me to create opportunity on the reservation. I went to school with students who understood, with faculty who understood.

SOME ADVICE FOR THE JOURNEY

If I am able to provide advice for tribal college students on the AIHEC winter meeting, I would say first that if you are offered this opportunity, take it. In fact, with most opportunities in life, take them. Don’t be swayed by the “imposter syndrome”: don’t fall into the self-defeating trap of questioning whether you look or sound the part, wondering what you have to offer, or worrying about measuring up to others. Remember, your story is important. You matter.

The second tip is to take advantage of this opportunity to network with other students and organizations in Washington. On the first day of Tribal College Week, there is an open AIHEC Student Congress (ASC) meeting held at night to which all students are invited. I realize the lure of sightseeing around the nation’s capital or going out to eat is tempting, but you will have other chances to do that during the week. Attending the ASC meeting is the main opportunity to voice your opinions to your peers, to brainstorm, to network, to hear what is going on at other TCUs, to talk to your student congress and find out how you as a student are represented. And find out why you are there! What are the priorities that AIHEC is looking to promote? You want to be prepared and informed. Check the AIHEC website periodically before your trip for more information and any changes to the itinerary.

Another piece of advice: dress professionally. Wear clothes that make you sit up just a little bit straighter, whether that means traditional wear or an ironed button-down with your grandmother’s necklace. During my first trip to Washington, I didn’t have a clue what to wear, as my closet was primarily host to faded hoodies and beat-up sneakers. I couldn’t afford to invest in a suit at the time, but I was able to find a blazer at a thrift store. I proudly wore jewelry from my family and paired this with my wrapped moccasins that I had made in class. I recall the seam breaking on my moccasins and borrowing dental floss from a student at the hotel so I could repair them at the last minute.

I admit I had never worn a suit before and at first I felt nervous, like I was committing fraud by wearing such a costume. I had this ridiculous worry that someone would see me in my suit and just know that I didn’t belong. Granted, I did find out the hard way that you’re supposed to cut those white strings on the blazer vents and that you should never substitute tape for a lint roller. But the point of this is to be proud and comfortable in what you are wearing, whether it’s a thrift store blazer or a woven biil dress. Your clothes merely serve to border the picture that is you and your story. Your words and how you conduct yourself are really what matter.

Also, keep in mind the amount of security you will have to go through at the numerous government buildings. All your metalware, from belts to large jewelry, will have to come off each time you need to enter a building, and there will usually be a line of people waiting to get through the metal detectors behind you.

As for the weather, it rains a lot and sporadically so it might be worth packing a small umbrella. It is also winter in DC during Tribal College Week and therefore pretty cold, so bring a heavy jacket or wrap. In 2014, I thought I was being clever by just bringing a rain coat, thus saving me the hassle of dragging along my winter coat. However, the “snowpocalypse” storm quickly refuted this. We landed on a Sunday to clear skies and by Monday it was gray, with snow quickly piling up and intermittent freezing rain. We still had to walk to our meetings, albeit much more quickly. Don’t risk it: bring a coat—and gloves.

During your visits be on time! If this means setting multiple alarms and asking the hotel to provide you with a wakeup call, do it. Time in DC is monochromatic; things are very exact and focused. There is little to no concept of a grace period or a “maybe it starts around 2 p.m.” If you have 15 minutes to meet your senator and discuss budget cuts, you have 15 minutes to meet your senator and discuss budget cuts. Your congressional delegate serves a lot of people—it’s their job! So there are many other meetings they need to attend to and constituents they need to serve. Aside from time being so focused and precise, it is also scarce. Keep this in mind when sharing your story. For some states like Montana and North Dakota, where there are a larger number of tribal colleges, your meetings will be tightly packed and choreographed. There are multiple schools, students, and representatives in each meeting, so to avoid wasting time in front of the congressional delegates, a separate state meeting is usually held the first day of the Capitol Hill visit. During such visits, speakers are assigned orders and representatives are chosen. Montana, for example, has more TCUs than any state with seven; this means that it is especially imperative as a student representative to be mindful of your time limit. If you are at a 15-minute meeting with 9 minutes devoted to sharing student stories, and there are three students selected to speak, this means that you will have 3 minutes to share your story, unless you are told otherwise. Please be mindful of the other students whose stories are equally important and allow them time to share also.

Remember why you are there. You will be talking to congressional delegates who might not align with you politically on all issues. This was perhaps one of the harder things for me to learn— to hold my tongue. Having to refrain from making comments about policies to your senator while she or he is listening to you might feel akin to starving inside a bakery. But one of the many things I have learned is that there is a time and place for everything. There is also a way to make your passions known without hijacking the purpose of these meetings. You probably wouldn’t go to a vegan restaurant to endorse hamburgers. So it might not be best to attend meetings centered on education to push for the environment.

With that said, you can still take advantage of the opportunity by talking to others. I felt so strongly about certain policies and wanted more information that I asked each of the representatives along with their staff interns if I could have their business cards. This networking led to an internship the following summer in DC, where I was able to research the very policies that bothered me. That was the appropriate place and platform to pursue my interests, as I was representing myself and not a larger organization.

At this point in my college career, I have been fortunate to attend three AIHEC Capitol Hill meetings representing two different tribal colleges and the AIHEC Student Congress. Since my initial meeting, my college track has changed dramatically: I have gone on to pursue internships in the capital, spending two intense summers interning through Quality Education for Minorities where I contributed to research on STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) inclusion at TCUs, and landed an externship at the Indian Health Service headquarters in nearby Rockville, Maryland, which focused on civic media and LGBT issues. I have been invited to the White House a few times, including the 2015 White House Tribal Nations Conference, a 2016 Office of Science and Technology Policy meeting, and I was recently nominated to attend the White House Summit on the United State of Women. I also participated in an upcoming national PBS series focused on underrepresentation in the technology industry; introduced the Second Lady of the United States, Dr. Jill Biden, at the 2015 Achieving the Dream’s annual Institute on Student Success; traveled internationally for research under the National Science Foundation Partnerships for International Research; and I have spoken on numerous panels. Recently, I was a summer scholar at the National Science Foundation, focusing on data curation.

I have gone from confusing the GRE with GED to applying to graduate programs. My obnoxious loud behavior that stemmed primarily from just wanting to be heard has been curbed over the years. While at times I may still be a bit obnoxious, I don’t feel the tired drain of having to perform routines just to get people to listen. I am now in a position with opportunities—and offers! I am able to create opportunities for my peers and share what I’ve learned with my networks. I have set my sights on earning a Ph.D., and while still far off from accomplishing that goal, I feel confident that I can. Hopefully one day I can come back and teach at the very tribal colleges that helped me so much.

If I had to identify the pivotal experiences in my college education that have helped guide me to my current course, aside from having an amazing support network of TCU friends and internship mentors, I would single out attending Tribal College Week. This was more than just an intensive experience in policy and leadership. It also served a larger purpose: it helped me connect and create networks with other students while exposing me to a wealth of Indian Country leaders to look up to—from the various TCU presidents to distinguished faculty who have worked within their communities. It was where I realized that it is possible for people like me to one day create and affect change. Washington, DC and the world as a whole sometimes feel light years away, but they are actually just there waiting for people to seize opportunity. You just have to speak up.

- Robin Máxkii 

Originally published in Tribal College Journal

https://tribalcollegejournal.org/storytelling-capitol-hill-recollections-recommendations-tribal-college-week/

I had purchased a discounted train ticket from New York to New Orleans a few weeks before the scheduled end of my employment. At the time, I was about 18-years-old and had been living in a cheap hostel, 12 people to a room, out in Brooklyn while I worked my exciting, albeit less-than-minimum-wage, job.

As what sometimes happened with my employment, the end date changed and it was now two weeks prior to the departure date listed on my train ticket; leaving me two weeks without pay in New York. Not a big deal, I tried to scramble around and find some pickup work as a waitress during those two weeks but no luck. I had to move out of the hostel 3 days before my train left because I could not afford to rent it any further. I had a total of 4 dollars and some change left in my name.

I decided my safest bet was to sleep at Penn Station. They didn’t allow you into the boarding area more than 24hrs before your scheduled departure, but they had no choice but to let you hang around the station since you could show them your purchased ticket, therefore making you a ‘customer’. No doubt I was ‘checked on’ by security somewhat frequently during those few days to see if I had a ticket.

The first day wasn’t so bad, I was thirsty and tired more than I was hungry. At least water fountains and sinks are free. But by the third day I felt so hungry and sitting on the floor across from an Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Shop and the numerous tourists walking around with pizza and other delicious food stuffs did not help that hunger. I kept trying to nap hoping the feeling would go away, but when security feels the need to wake you up every 2 hours or so and ask to see your ticket, that doesn’t help much either.

I told myself just a little bit longer and I would be in New Orleans, working a new job and would be able to buy some more food. I didn’t want to part with the few dollars I did have in case some other emergency popped up.

New York to New Orleans is about a 30hour train ride. It is slow and steady and there isn’t a lot to see. The family in front of me was eating a huge order of hot wings that smelled amazing. I tried to face out the window, hoping to fall asleep so New Orleans would happen faster. I did fall asleep, and when I woke up the family was gone but there was a paper tray filled with chicken bones, one or two with most of the meat still intact, laying under their seat.

I stared at it and thought about all of the possible germs. I also thought about what would happen if the family was still on the train and caught me eating their wings, how mortified I would be. I also thought about how hungry I was.

I ate them.

I think about that sometimes, how incredibly lucky I am now, but how scared I was then, ducking behind the woolen seats, to clean off someone else’s discarded food.

That was probably the most depressing meal I have ever eaten.

-Robin Maxkii

Originally answered on Quora

https://www.quora.com/What%E2%80%99s-the-most-depressing-meal-you%E2%80%99ve-eaten/answer/Robin-Maxkii

When I was little we lived right next to train tracks with a railyard just down the road. I spent a lot of time over the years idly watching those trains, wondering about where they went and if I could go too. 

I vividly remember a particular freight that had a wall-to-wall cover that just said “smile” and it was so intricate and yet so silly that it always stuck out to me how someone could put so much effort into something with probably no intention other than to express happiness. Or maybe there is a gang called “smile” and my whole life is a lie. IDK. But either way, it really resonated with me.

Different people make graffiti for all sorts of different reasons. Personally, I don’t expect stuff to last very long nor do I have a desire for permanence. Mostly I like to think of it as sharing messages with friends or leaving a note for someone else to stumble across. Oftentimes, I did it with a underlying hope that someone will be happy to see it or perhaps it might help some one feel less alone.

I like that idea of making things that probably most might never notice or care, but maybe one person will and maybe it just might cheer them up. It’s like a larger version of hiding letters in library books. Sometimes it’s painting things,  like worn-out trash cans or coloring on utility boxes and yeah, I realize most people will never notice a banana sticker painted on a yellow traffic post or care about the gradient on a trashcan, but who knows?

Other times, perhaps primarily, I think I did it (early on especially) because it was a way of feeling part of something bigger. Living in semi-rural areas and remote reservations can sometimes feel stark in their loneliness, so when you stumble across someone else’s art in an otherwise abandoned building or similar area - it is like receiving a faint signal on the radio. By adding on a small piece, or touching up their fill, it was a way to feel part of it, like “Hey! I’m here too!”

-Robin

Originally published to https://www.quora.com/Why-do-people-draw-graffiti/answer/Robin-Maxkii

((these are all pictures of Chip Thomas a.k.a. Jetsonorama amazing work!))

I don’t know anyone in my family who works in technology, owns their own business (aside from the occasional banana bread stand at the swap meet), or works in anything other than blue collar labor, entry level positions, or even had a college degree up until a few years ago. But you know who I do know? A lot of military.

My Dad is really proud of his service, my siblings are really proud of their service. My uncles, my aunts. On our reservation, Veterans have their own monument. At powwows and round dance, Veterans are usually the first to lead. They are the elders in our community, the council people, the people in framed photos lining the community center. They come back from service and everyone is excited. They are out there doing something.

It is one of the few employment opportunities that is actively witnessed in the community. It wasn’t as if 60, 30, or even 20 years ago banks were handing out business loans to American Indians, or white-collar industries were actively recruiting Native Americans to work . We didn’t even get our first Tribal College until 1968, prior to that there was a heavy push to ‘educate the native out of the man’. But not the Military, not only did they allow natives to join - they were recruited, and in some cases celebrated. Look at the Navajo CodeTalkers! Ira Hayes! Choctaw CodeTalkers!

When you are a kid and they ask you what you want to be when you grow up, most kids are saying what they see in media or what they see in their community. So astronaut, lawyer, billionaire, mermaid, doctor - the options are endless for most people…except notsomuch in reservation communities, we don’t see too many of those in our own communities and we rarely see ourselves represented in the media as anything other than this historical, mythical figure. Think about it. What was the most mainstream story reported about Native Americans in the last year, #noDAPL aside? Was it the historic numbers of Native Americans running for political positions this year or the purposeful contamination of Swinomish salmon fisheries or the numerous ongoing land-grabs? No. It is tied between the tiresome debate about Elizabeth Warren’s heritage and the Codetalkers at the White House. What would a kid take away from seeing those? Do you think kids on reservations look at Elizabeth Warren and go “Wow! She made it so that means I can!” or do you think they are looking at the Codetalkers and thinking “Wow! They made it so that means I can!”. I am turning this into a rant about the importance of media representation so I will digress.

So it seems like pipedream to even strive for something when society doesn’t see us that way. Last year I had to give a tour to a group of Native 8th graders who were visiting my school and out of curiosity I asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. You know what the answers were? ‘Motivational Speaker’ ‘Rapper’ “a Marine”. Yeah there were other answers but those stuck out to me. Mostly because I find ‘motivational speaker’ to be a problematic, albeit humorous, trend among Native youth, but also which one of those careers (not for lack of trying or talent) but because of available opportunity and guidance, is most likely to happen?

The military is one of the few employment opportunities that is directly aimed at Natives, has a history with Natives, and has built an employment pipeline within the community.

Most industries completely ignore Native Americans, but not the Military. The Military will populate career fairs at Tribal Colleges, billboards, employment fairs. They advertise employment at local chapter houses. They offer the opportunity to travel, to have a job, to be part of something bigger…as well as a lot of other things come with being in the military, but when you are 18 or 19 and live in a rural area - man, do the perks of the military seem enticing.

The term derives from the extremely horrific and racist act of selling Native scalps, ‘skins’, to the United States government. Here is an actual advertisement from The Daily Republican newspaper in Sept. 24, 1863:

Look, non-Indigenous can run around claiming it is non-offensive and it is somewhat common to find Natives who aren’t particularly perturbed by this, mostly because in the hierarchy of needs, the NFL falls way under land rights, clean drinking water, food deserts, etc. I have family members who used to proudly wear ‘Red***n’ apparel, because they were excited it ‘had a Native’ on it. Any representation is better than none, to some people.

With that said, finding one Native who approves of something, who you can then trot out as a spokesperson, is a racist act in its own right. You are essentially telling us that our identity is singular and represented by your designated colonizer.

I don’t care if the term was supposedly created by a Native Person or deemed okay by an Indigenous person. That is like saying that Stella Kübler was the expert spokesperson for all things Jewish or that Ben Carson speaks for the entire Black American community. The term is extremely offensive. There should not even be an argument about this. Instead it should be an education. Indigenous people are not mascots or pets that people can selectively choose to highlight when it is beneficial or supports whatever myth they are trying to sell.

I have been fortunate to have had some exciting opportunities as a college student. I was invited to the White House and held internships at the National Science Foundation and at a university in New Zealand. I co-starred on a PBS series called CodeTrip, with two other computer-science students and I drove an RV across the United States, visiting top professionals in our field. My secret to landing these opportunities? It was my decision, as a Native American, to attend a tribal college — first Diné College, a Navajo institution where I earned my associate degree, and then Salish Kootenai College, in Montana, where I recently graduated.

The nation’s 37 tribally controlled colleges and universities are rooted in a unique mix of Native tradition and innovation, providing students with cultural knowledge and opportunities for academic and personal exploration. Many of them are located in rural communities often overlooked by mainstream institutions. Students can earn degrees or take general-education requirements without having to move far away from home or pay huge tuition, room, and board fees — which are out of reach financially for many Native students. Tribal colleges also collaborate with other universities in the region to create an easy transfer process. And students represent various tribes, ages, and cultural backgrounds, helping ease worries about being the odd man out.

Despite all these benefits, there is often still a stigma associated with attending a tribal college. After I earned an associate degree from Diné, I did an internship in Washington, where I was lucky enough to meet students from all over the country. When I discussed my plans to continue my education, some people would ask me: “Are you going to transfer to a real university now?” My answer was, I don’t think any institution could be more real than a tribal college. These colleges don’t have fancy advertising campaigns, strategic recruitment policies, or lucrative football franchises. They were created by and for Native communities not only to provide students with an education, but also to promote their cultures, languages, and histories.

I am often asked, “Why did you attend a tribal college?” I can’t offer a quick response, because I have to sift through many positive reasons. Growing up, I often felt either too Native or not Native enough. I was born outside Houston, but raised in a household where we proudly observed our Stockbridge-Munsee culture, as part of a Native community whose reservation is in Wisconsin. Often, as the only Native student in my classes at school, I would find myself having to balance these seemingly contradictory aspects of my identity. I had two choices: I could defend my culture while still trying to understand what it meant to me, or I could serve as the resident spectacle for students who had never met a Native person and felt no qualms about touching my hair or pulling at my beadwork.

When I tested into a magnet program at a high school on the other side of town, I was suddenly surrounded by wealth and privilege, as well as offensive caricatures of my culture. The “Redskins” were the school mascot, and I found myself trying to reconcile words like “Scalp ’em, Indians” with who I was. I became discouraged thinking about pursuing a higher education. After working random jobs for a few years, I found myself still longing to continue my education but I didn’t know where to go. How do you attend college when no one else in your immediate family has had that experience?

In 2012 I enrolled at Diné, after selling my car to pay for my first semester. The college walked me through the financial-aid process and explained the differences between degree programs. My course catalog, which stressed the importance of culture and education, became my bible. I found myself not having to take on any unwanted roles at a tribal college: I was not the school’s resident “Native expert,” or “that Native girl over there.” I was able to be me.

-Robin Maxkii

Originally published in Chronicle of Higher Education

https://www.chronicle.com/article/Why-I-Attended-Tribal-College/241161

Please don’t ask someone ‘how much Native’ they are. I am not a dog. You are not entitled to check out my pedigree. If you must, ask the person what tribe they are. I say American Indian/Native American as a default, to avoid overwhelming people who are not familiar with Indigenous americans. If you seem interested I usually break it down further. If you are Native, I break it down to tribe/region. If you are from my tribe, I break it down to clan/fam.

Please stop using the word ‘pale face’ to describe yourself in jest. Just don’t. I don’t use it. I don’t know any Native that uses it. But I see a lot of people using it in jest online and have run into people who jokingly refer to themselves as it. I find it offensive because it is a stereotyped patois that is based on a stunted form of ‘tonto-speak’. This also includes words like “squaw” “fire water”.

Please stop asking me about sweatlodge. Chill out. Go to the sauna at 24 fitness if you want to feel dry heat. You don’t ‘need’ to experience an ‘authentic native ceremony’. I will invite you to something if I want to or am allowed to. I don’t have an obligation to expose every part of my life to you. I don’t constantly ask hipsters I have just met to take me to Urban Outfitters or brunch at a microbrewery.

Please don’t act like I am your personal historian/expert on ‘all things Native’. It isn’t my responsibility to educate you. Asking is different than expecting.

Please stop asking me what my thoughts are on the ‘reds**ns” or “#nodapl” when you first meet me. I understand you might be trying to demonstrate an awareness of Indian Country (thanks!), but you don’t have to feel like proving it to me. This makes me feel like you are being super conscious of my ethnicity and not of me as an individual.

Please don’t ask me if I know “John, he is like Cherokee or Chickasaw or something”. We don’t all know each other.

Never, under any circumstances, call me: Squaw, Thunderbird, Indian Princess, Warrior, Chief, or any other racial slur that you find cute. Don’t. 

Understand that if I don’t want to talk about something, it is my right. I really enjoy talking about my culture and sharing it with others. But sometimes I don’t want to discuss certain topics. Asking me about alcoholism on reservations while I am trying to chill out at the pool or prompting me to discuss land rights during intermission at the Symphony is weird.

Which reminds me, please don’t assume correlations based on stereotypes. If I tell you I don’t want a drink, do not automatically assume it is because ‘I am Native”. This seems so outlandish - yet if I had a quarter for every time someone has said this, I could probably afford to separate my laundry at the washateria.

Please don’t compliment me with a “for a Native”-qualifier. I love compliments! But when someone tells me “I speak really well for a Native” “Smart for a Native” that hurts on a lot of levels. You are basically saying you have lowered expectations of me and my community while having the gall to patronize me with your unwelcome approval.

Be aware of your own culture. When I am being nice enough to share stories of my culture with you and you automatically respond with “that’s so weird!” think about what you are saying. You are calling my culture weird because it is not your culture. It’s a default of a lot of people to assume that their culture is the ORIGINAL! AUTHENTIC! OG BEDROCK! culture and that everything else is backwards or a subgroup.

Also put some thought into your questions. When you say something like, “Why are reservations so poor?” “Why don’t Natives get jobs?”. You are basically assuming that these are issues we don’t discuss ad nauseum on the rez. You are also showing off your ignorance of basic American History and Policies, like the Indian Termination Policy and historical oppression.

Please don’t immediately ask me about casinos. Not all tribes have them. It is just a stereotype. Don’t ask me about ‘free money’. Not all tribes get per capita payments. It is just a stereotype.

Please don’t feel the need to ‘top my nativeness’. When i tell someone who asks what tribe I am, and they reply ‘Never heard of it’ and then proceed to continue with “…But I am a Cherokee Princess”. I don’t know what you want me to do, Congratulate you on something impossible? Genuflect?

And this is more personal and perhaps it is just indicative of the phase of life I am in right now, the annoying ‘opinionated-Tribal college-educated-politically active’-phase, but people using the word ‘savage’ bothers me so much. I get that it has become super mainstream slang and it is not uncommon to see sorority girls with “savage!!!! <3 <3” captioned all over their instagram. But I find this usage so offensive. If your people were never considered ‘savages’, if you have never been called ‘a savage’, if it is a slur that has never been applied to you, don’t suddenly reclaim it as a positive word.

I was raised to mind certain traditional beliefs (which is what I assume you mean by Native American religion) and our family also participated in Native American Church (NAC [not what I assume you mean by NA religion]) and we also have a lot of relatives, including my dad who were boarding schooled and indoctrinated with Christian religions.

Keeping in mind that Native American religion and traditions are not homogenized or monolithic, but as a general theme, Indigenous beliefs are usually meant to explain the world around us, teach us to respect our bodies, and teach us about our own respective histories. For example one of my tribes has a creation story that involves canoes; our land is surrounded by many lakes, so why and how this story was created is fairly obvious. Another creation story I was told a lot as a kid involved a turtle - turtles are one of our clan animals so this connection seemed obvious. I was taught our stories about why the sun is bright, why we bead, why we harvest rice, among other things. There is even a story about why we tell stories. Sometimes there are milestones and events within our life that call for ceremony, which is usually private and whose structure and tradition is passed down and overseen by our elders.

When I was a tiny tot, there were these really thick and really exciting (in the way anything unexplored is) woods near our house. We were told to stay out of the woods because of the little people and what these little people would do to us if they caught us. I was slightly skeptical until I went for a walk my aunt and we heard a blood-curdling shriek from the woods. ‘That’s the little people’ she told me. I never wanted to go near the woods after that (though I did spend a summer constructing elaborate traps with some friends). How cheated! I felt once I found out about possums and their unique shrieks and put two and two together - but I must say even knowing this and being much older and hopefully at least a bit more wise, I still pause before entering the woods and will often leave an offering especially if I am taking something out (like firewood) just because beliefs and traditions, like religions, can be hard to shake. Also, it’s not even an issue of ‘shaking’ one’s religion, sometimes it just makes sense to me. By pausing before I enter, by giving thanks and being grateful that I am able to take firewood, by doing these actions I am being mindful of my actions which is a helpful practice (at least for me).

Native American Church is a bit different. Our family refers to it as a ‘meeting’, some people call them peyote ceremonies, and they are usually what gets cheaply depicted in movies when they are stereotyping Indigenous cultures. We participated as a family when we were in off the reservation, and while the city we were is fairly large and diverse, finding other Natives can sometimes be difficult, let alone finding someone from your specific tribe. The closest reservation was a few hours away and whose traditions were quite different than ours. Contrary to popular myth, we don’t all know each other or get along. So we would end up at NAC as a way to convene with other Natives. I was pretty little and mostly remember the ceremony being very different than ones back on the rez. Not just the protocols and stories but the manner of how the ceremony is held is quite different. Even later as I have attended NAC on a few other reservations I find it different than my tribal practices, but there is a similarity regardless of reservation or tribe and that in of itself can be comforting. Even at Azee Bee Nahagh meetings some of the songs I’ve heard were christian hymns. I would say these meetings are closer to the Western concept of religion than our actual tribal traditions and beliefs, but even then I don’t think an outsider would have an easy time following along if they were even allowed inside since paperwork can be required to attend.

I think it is also important to be aware that we didn’t even get the right to practice our own religion until 1978 (American Indian Religious Freedom Act) and even though the act passed - considering the many laws and policies that still prevented us from gathering or access to ceremonial objects - this is like cutting off our legs and telling us to run. There is also an entire bloody history of invasion and conversion that I won’t detail here but whose history is widely available online or just by looking around. My father was forced into a christian boarding school as a kid, as were many other relatives - so this is also going to factor heavily into traditional outlook. In 1993 the Religious Freedom Restoration Act was passed which further helped us gain access to objects used in ceremony - but again, these are major roadblocks and obstacles spanning years and thus preventing practice during those times. Even now it can be difficult to practice a religion when the things we keep sacred and revere are being carved up. The idea of having to produce paperwork and performing the ridiculous acrobatic routine that is filling out federal paperwork just to attend a ceremony can be tiring, frustrating, and upsetting.