Journey to Forgiveness & Healing

Last Thursday, Patty Grant came to campus to discuss:

 Cherokee Historical Grief & Trauma

and

The Journey to Forgiveness & Healing

Coming from a girl who is not very fond of lectures, I really enjoyed what she had to say. Her perspective was coming from not only a Cherokee from the Deer clan, but also from a social worker. She looked back on the history of the Cherokee (and American Indians in general) and examined how they were all mentally affected.... Here's a link to the website for more information on the actual Journey to Forgiveness.

I was really touched by the way she opened up to us. At one point while discussing the Trail of Tears she began to cry. Choked up she quietly said, "Before they crossed the river they burned the image of their homeland in their brain because they knew that they would never return." I immediately thought of the Jewish holocaust and how similar these accounts are. How horrible and wretched and disgusting that any human would do this to another. But, her lecture gave hope for not only us but the Cherokee as well. There is healing happening. Slowly, but it absolutely exists. A man asked during the Q&A time, "When is there going to be point where the Cherokee stop passing on the trauma & burden and start passing on an attitude of forward-thinking?" His question actually bothered me. I don't think that an entire culture can at one point just stop the hurting and trauma. Even if they could, it would be wrong to forget what happened and pretend that it ever occurred. (One reason why I don't like the term "color-blind." Instead of ignoring the differences, embrace them! and explore the life that can flourish from them). The Cherokee would not be what they are today if it wasn't for what happened (good and the bad). I'm sure that the healing wont just happen over night. Forgiveness is a slow process, but also rich and life-abounding. 

At this point I am so humbled by how the Cherokee are responding to the holocaust  of their people. They don't have to forgive anyone. They have the absolute right to be angry and furious and demand justice, but instead they are humbling themselves and attempting to relinquish the chains of Hate that have bonded them for so long. It reminds me of the time when an outsider came into an Amish community and murdered children in a schoolyard. However, instead of seeking justice, the families of the kids who were killed turned around and started a savings account for the children of the murderer so that they would be cared for. How bizarre and beautiful that is! How humbled am I by the love that the Cherokee are showing and their desire to make amends and move forward. She said something absolutely incredible: "We're taking our history and making that the healer." This can apply to any situation, but in particular the Cherokee aren't going to forget what happened. They are, instead, going to somehow incorporate everything they've experienced and come out on the other side as new creations, a new people united in healing and hope.

I'll leave this blog entry with this quote taken from the website on the Journey to Forgiveness. 

We ask you to join us in this sacred Universal Gathering. Together, we will offer our thanksgiving to Creator, asking for the cleansing Water of Life to flow through us, for the Spirit of the Eternal Flame to embrace us, and drawing us together once again in peace and harmony with All Our Relations and balance with the Universe.

There are other tid-bits of information that I learned and thought was interesting enough to share:

**The Cherokee was a matriarchal society. How awesome! The lineage passed through the mother. 

**The Cherokee was/is comprised of 7 different clans. I'm not sure if it's because I never really thought about this too much, but the Cherokee is such a large nation of Indians that it's almost impossible not to have a separate community. Grant is from the Deer clan and can only marry from someone from a separate clan. Neat....

**The first woman chief of the Cherokee was named "Wilma Mankiller." 

**The number 7 is sacred to the Cherokee. Interestingly enough the number 7 is of great importance to the Judeo-Christian culture as well. Coincidence?

**Before they were demolished, the Cherokee nation covered 40,000 square MILES (around 8 states). Now, they have 54,000 square ACRES. 

Christianity and Indigenous "Problem" of Culture

Last week, Vanuatu kept returning to my mind (for those of you who haven't followed my blog, which I don't blame you, I used to live there). These islands weren't talked about specifically in class, but the idea of missionaries dealing with indigenous people was. Numerous people brought up the issue of missionaries coming in to places and almost forcing people to assimilate to the Western ideology of Christianity.... building churches, schools, Western civilization.... etc. I've experienced this first hand, only for me, I was the missionary. When I lived in Vanuatu as a missionary, we ventured off from the main island of Efate and travelled south to one of the most remote islands of Tanna. Here's a map to get a good mental image. Besides the semi-active volcano and the array of cargo cults, what makes Tanna so unique is that they have successfully remained remote amidst the other island's vastly growing economy..... everything about the people who live there is simple: their clothes, housing, diet... here are a few pictures:

(The "stove." Don't let this fool you, I had the best bread that I've ever tasted made on top of this)

The reason this relates to class is because of what happened while we were visiting the smaller island. While we did go to preach the gospel, I came to learn their culture. I've always been fascinated by people so I dove head first and was trying to learn everything about them. They taught me how to kill for dinner, make the fire (as seen above), and even how to weave together a house. Through sharing life together, I became good friends with them, a few women in particular. We bonded as fellow brothers and sisters and I cared deeply about them. One day, the women brought me into their house and sat me down. I didn't know what to expect. I can still recall a few women shaking and giggling from excitement as they announced that they were inviting me to one of their biggest rituals that celebrated boys coming into adulthood (no White person had ever seen it, i later found out). Without a moment of hesitation I said Yes. The women instantly began designing my "outfit" (this included bird feathers, straw, and, well, that's about it besides paint).Thrilled, I raced out to express my enthusiasm to the missionary couple that I had been living with (they were in charge of the entire trip down to Tanna). I can still see their faces, lined with outrage and disgust, looking down on me as if I had just agreed to go dancing with the Devil himself. They told me "NO" and if I even spoke to the women about their event again then I would be in trouble. Believe me when I say that I had never been more confused in my entire life....................... 


Sparing y'all the boring details of who said what and when and where, I'll sum up why the missionaries were so appalled that I wanted to partake in the indigenous' ritual. To begin, I'll summarize what the ritual was actually about. Once a boy in the village turns 11, he is sent out into the jungle for six months with no one to speak to except the elders (men). These boys are taught the ways of the village, how to hunt, the laws, but most importantly, how to be a Man. These boys go in groups and when they return, the women of the village throw a HUGE festival welcoming these boys back as Men. They give them gifts, sing songs, and dance all night long. My missionary friends didn't think that I should be a part of this because they were afraid for what it represented and how that may possibly "clash" with Christianity. They didn't fully understand what the songs were about so they didn't want me singing them (turns out most of the songs were about crops, such as potatoes).  They also were afraid that if I were a part of this ceremony than it would remove the invisible boundary between being a missionary and being there to have a good time. All of this I slightly agreed with (let me reiterate how slightly I agreed with them), but I still begged to go. 


One of the villagers, who had been a church leader back on the main island, told us that if we didn't go then we would be offending them and their culture. So, biting their tongues, the missionaries agreed to let me go. I wasn't allowed to participate in anything, but at least I got to witness a beautiful customary ritual in their culture. Here are some pictures that I snuck to remember the night: 

The boys arriving with the elders and mentors. It was neat to watch as the line wrapped itself around the men already there until it was a spiral.

The women and mothers dancing, cheering, and singing around the men celebrating their return to the village. (Notice the treehouse... it's much higher than it appears. Yeah, probably more badass than any treehouse in America)

Sylvia, the lady missionary, sat me down and we did have a good discussion. We worked out why I was so angry at them, which I was, and she shared with me all the boundaries that she has overstepped in her time as a missionary. She was making sure that I wasn't going to do the same. All of this to say that it truly is a difficult task to know how to be a missionary... how to bring the Gospel of Jesus but not bring Westernized Christianity. I think there is a fine line because as missionaries, we want to bring what we know about being in a Christian, but the truth of it is that Jesus's church is worldwide.... it encompasses all People, tongues, and nations. Sometimes I wonder if, as missionaries, we should even teach the idea of a Church being confined in a building..... what a Westernized thought! It honestly saddens me that when I think of Christianity I think of a building instead of a relationship with Jesus. If anything, I want to see how Christianity is manifested in Tanna's own way. How beautifully different it would be and how much would we learn from seeing Christ through their cultural lens. 

This has always been an issue and I think it always will be. There is no black and white answer on how missionaries are to be connected with the people whom their are trying to share the Gospel with....  I have seen the problems that missionaries have caused in America with the indigenous Indian nations..... forcing them to assimilate to their rigid understanding of civilization... forcing the Indians to abandon their culture for one that the missionaries believe to be more Christian....... Looking back I can't blame them. I may not agree with what they did, but I can understand their attempt to be a missionary to a people who lived entirely different than they (I hope this doesn't make me sound like I agree with the atrocities that happened because I don't). People make mistakes, sometimes catastrophic ones, but that doesn't mean the journey stops there. I think as a Christian I have the responsibility to make amends with the American Indians... to try to reconcile what my ancestors did (an entirely different topic for another day). I may never get the chance to do it personally (most likely it will be through proactive political support and awareness for American Indians) but it's something.


I can still remember going to bed that night. It was a good two mile hike through the jungle to get to their ceremony, but I could still hear their songs from where I was sleeping..... I imagined myself right beside them.... dancing birdlike around a blazing fire, singing the songs of a family, happily celebrating my friends becoming Men.... I can almost taste the dust in my mouth from the whirlwind of people... I can almost feel my sore, aching, happy feet as they've been dancing all night... I almost see it, all of it.

Going in to celebrate the first service in the brand new church on Tanna.

Relationship with Nature: A Christian's Perspective

As I've recently finished my senior thesis for the literature dept., I've had time to reflect on what it means/meant to me. For my thesis, I examined the theme of mankind being stewards of the earth within Genesis. It's a subject matter that I'm honestly passionate about and I enjoy discussing it with others.


Through the past fews years I have spent a lot of my time becoming familiar with the "Green" movement within the Church.... the call to return back to caring for the earth in a Biblical light.... remembering that we were made as stewards of the earth. This is relevant to our American Indian Literature class because so often I find myself saying "Yes! This is Biblical!" whenever I come across Indians speaking of their relationship with nature... how they respect it... how they see themselves as caretakers.... If I'm being honest, I think that every Christian should be environmentalists- and radical at that. It's something that the Church has swept under the rug. Partially I think this is due because the Church doesn't want to face up to the fact that they were responsible for a lot of damage done to the Earth, but also redeeming the earth and cleaning it up takes active effort- and we Christians are lazy. 


For the longest time, I thought that I was a crazy Christian for believing that we had a responsibility to take care of the earth. My home church thought that I was this "hippy" and "earth freak," but I saw them as ignorant and stubborn. I didn't like how the Church saw the world or our bodies as "bad," because I saw nothing but beauty. God made the earth and God made our bodies- why would they be sinful even if we treated them right? I didn't understand why they saw themselves as "above nature" because we were created from it, from the ground, from the dirt. So many questions had me distraught for the longest time and at times I didn't think anyone understood where I was trying to come from. It wasn't until I read Walt Whitman for the first time in 11th grade that I realized that someone else did understand me. Whitman saw God in nature. He saw beauty in everything- even the smell of his own armpits. 

I drank Whitman up; I soaked in his poetry and basked in his optimistic spirit. I can remember shouting, "EXACTLY" every now and then whenever I came across a lyric that glorified the oneness of his relationship with everything around him. It wasn't until I read Zitkala-Sa in humanities324 that I think something "clicked" inside of me. Here's a picture of her:

Zitkala-Sa, or Gertrude Simmons Bonnin, is a Sioux indian (you can learn more about her here) and wrote one of my favorite essays of all time called, "Why I Am A Pagan." Here's a link to a copy of it online. Basically, if you don't have time to read it, she illustrates a time when she was sitting outdoors and could feel God's presence all around her, from the sway of the sunflowers to the rolling green hills. She was then interrupted by a Christian missionary who explained that the path to being a better Christian is to come to church every Sunday. Outraged, she proclaims that if finding God in the outdoors   makes her a pagan, then she's okay with that. It's better than being stuffed up in a church. It's summed up best with her closing statement:


The little incident recalled to mind the copy of a missionary paper brought to my notice a few days ago, in which a "Christian" pugilist commented upon a recent article of mine, grossly perverting the spirit of my pen. Still I would not forget that the pale-faced missionary and the hoodooed aborigine are both God's creatures, though small indeed their own conceptions of Infinite Love. A wee child toddling in a wonder world, I prefer to their dogma my excursions into the natural gardens where the voice of the Great Spirit is heard in the twittering of birds, the rippling of mighty waters, and the sweet breathing of flowers. If this is Paganism, then at present, at least, I am a Pagan.

I often return to this essay in my mind. I think about how for Zitkala-Sa, nature was her way of connecting to God, but for the missionary, it was inside the church. I have to remind myself that there are many, many, ways that God is able to reveal himself. For me, before writing my thesis and afterwards, I have a deep, intimate relationship with the earth. I like the imagery that the American Indian nations depict: all of the earth are our brothers and sisters, from the tallest tree, to the smallest rock. Beauty is in everything. Everything is connected. Everything has purpose and everything has soul. As a Christian I believe it. I don't just know that the trees are beautiful, but I feel their soul, their heart, their longing to have a relationship with me. While nature is a tool to experience God, I don't think that it stops there. God wants us to experience nature, to enjoy it, to relish in it, but most importantly take care of it. One of my favorite authors, Wendell Berry, writes, "The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and after all our most pleasing responsibility." I could go on about this subject for long time, explaining how God has commissioned us to be stewards of the earth, so if you ever want to chat, please do!

Reflection on Classroom Learning: Part 2

Something that I had not realized before our writing assignment today is how deeply I desire the approval of my peers, family, and respected community. I'll preface this blog with what I wrote today in class:

White guilt is another theme that I've explore this semester... i've realized that the reason i've felt it is because I didn't want to be associated with the "White Anglo Saxon" colonists who committed the monstrosities against the indigenous peoples... it sounds ridiculous that that would worry me but it does. This even applies to Christianity. I don't like being associated with the hoards of those who don't take it seriously... who commit absurdities in the name of God... who abuse, misuse, and rape the world while tucking a Bible under their belt. All this to say that if I look at the problem underlying it all then I realize that it boils down to my basic human desire to fit in, to belong.

To take this even a step further, the reason I am longing to fit in is because I don't have a complete, all-satisfying relationship with God. It was lost at the Fall and ever since then humanity has been reaching for something to fill the void that only God can fill. Music, clothes, hobbies, friends, school, boyfriends are all attempts to find that perfect love and approval from God. I'm not saying that they are wrong because everything has the opportunity to be beautiful if used/done properly, but to create an identity apart from God will never work. One of my absolute favorite authors, Donald Miller, recorded in one of his books an interview that he had. The press asked him why he wrote books and what about it attracted him. I'm terribly paraphrasing, but Don responded something along the lines of "I just want people to like me." And it's so true! I know it sounds ridiculous but I can't stand the idea of any American Indians hating me because i'm White... I hate being the cause of any pain or frustration... I like things in order, harmonious, peaceful, and I know I had no control of the whirlwind of monstrosities that happened to the American Indians but I just don't want them to associate it with me.

All this to say that I've realized that I while I don't have complete control over how they view me, I can have peace in the realization that I am willing to open up, be humble, search for answers, and make things right when I can. It's not this overwhelming burden that I feel anymore, but an optimistic hope that I need only focus on building friendships, one person at a time. This is a topic that can be discussed in many areas, not just race: cliques in school, teams in sports, gangs, country-to-country politics..... the list goes on. I truly believe that if people were more willing to be honest with people about what they don't know, then a lot of problems could have the potential to work out. I've seen it with my good friend, Zarian. I don't want to say that we are "better friends", but since we've had that initial conversation about politically correct racial tags, I think that it's enabled and positioned our friendship to allow deeper conversations.... to have a richer, fuller friendship... all because we have made an environment that allows questions and confusion and a desire to work through it all.

Reflection on Classroom Learning

Today in class we were assigned to reflect on what we've learned thus far, as well as how we learned it. I sat in my chair for a good five minutes not knowing what to write about because I couldn't choose just one topic! So I started writing about the main "theme" that I've been chewing on for the past few weeks ever since we watched "Business of Fancy Dancing."

Here's what I wrote in my journal:

To begin, I think I've not only reflected on the struggle for identity amongst modern/contemporary American Indians, but the identity struggles for every human. No matter what culture, there are social pressures that drive a person to be shaped a certain way. But the interesting thing for me is the reactions of the community when people choose an identity that's different than their collective, "homogenous" identity. It's as if they are witnessing some of betrayal on the part of the "deviant." In reality, there are no rules or laws that say you have to be a certain way. The need for people to create an particular, concise identity or to cling to the mass' identity is just fascinating.


I know I've already blogged about this once, but I just can't get identity off my mind. I was in my French class and we were talking about something (sadly I forget) but the topic came up and I whispered to my friend, "I think identity should be fluid" and she laughed an quickly imitated my words while pretending to be hippie-like... adding "yeahs" and a few "that's heavy, man"s. I laughed, but I also realized that how a lot of people understand identity... ridged. unchanging... like you have to declare what you believe and then stick to it. I don't think that's the case. I think people grow, change, evolve, develop into new people every day. Who's to say that I can't like both UNC and Duke. Who's to say that a former country music-lover like myself could ever learn to love it? One of my favorite lines from Whitman's, "Song of Myself" reads:

"Do I contradict myself? 

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.) 

(My eerie-looking pal, Whitman.)

It's so harmful to relationships to hold people in strict boxes that not allow them to be who they choose to be. On the other hand, there is something beautiful about a close-knit community of people, a culture that celebrates their history and traditions. I struggle with this a lot. I don't know how people are to be individuals within a larger community. What freedoms are they going to sacrifice in order to submit to the larger body of people? Should they have to? Or if they don't will the very foundation of that community crumble? I don't think these questions have answer. No doubtably it changes and varies from every group of people. One solution for this group may not work for the other, and visa versa.

Like I said in class, this topic comes with a multitude of layers and variations. Nonetheless, I have found a lot of growth in my own understanding of identity and I think a continual reminder of this topic will reap huge benefits whenever I interact with someone different than myself- or even with my own close friends who suddenly decide to like rap music....

Eno Indians? That's a river right?

Earlier last week I had a semi-revalation. I was talking to someone about the colonization of the African nations into distinct countries as we know them today, and it occurred to me that I have never looked at the American Indians that way. I wasn't sure if the same thing had happened to them like what happened with the Africans. Were there tribes that were completely gone? Did colonizers force tribes together regardless if they were friend or foe? I was a little nervous to raise my hand in class because I wasn't sure if it was an obvious answer. So I secretly sent Dr. Hobby an email and this was his response (I'm hoping your Okay that I share):

You're asking great questions. In answer to the first, MANY tribes were annihilated. We now have a rough guess that there were around 18 million indigenous peoples living in what is now the United States. By  around 1800, only 600,00 remained. By the 1890s the populated had dipped down to 250,000! Staggering numbers, aren't they? Also, some tribes were forced together and other banded together, bringing together a scant few survivors. Try Googling a few more things about tribes, their numbers today, and the estimated number of original tribes. And, of course, after you do that, I hope you blog.

......And my hunch was confirmed. While I didn't immediate research it, or blog about it for that matter, it was on my mind for a few days. I kept coming back to the realization that whole groups of people, were gone. Cultures, rituals, languages..... gone. All gone. And while there may be some historical recordings and drawings of the indians that are lost, that is entirely something different than experiencing a culture that's alive... that breathes and sings and explores the world through a cultural lens that is very distinct. This brought be back to me the wonderful class, History of the English Class (a class that I recommend to any non-literature majors). My beautiful teacher, Dr. Downes, is now retired, but she had such a passion for languages and cultures.... anyway, she was always talking about whenever the world loses a language, then we also lose another perspective of the world. Meaning, when we lost those tribes of American Indians, we also lost cultural insights into the world.... something we could have benefitted from as well as learned from....

As I was doing a little research, I came upon something very ironic. There was a festival that my grandfather use to take me to almost every summer: The Eno River Festival.

It's a favorite of my grandfather because it's right next door to where he grew up (Durham, NC). Every summer we would go, hike the trails, eat funnel cake, go bird-watching, enjoy the live bluegrass, and just enjoy the forrest. I have nothing but great memories of these trips to the Eno river. Little did I know, there used to be a tribe of Indians living there. Named after their chief of the time of discovery, Eno Will, in 1714. Long story short, Virginia came in and decided to settle down, thereby kicking the Eno out of their indigenous land. Little is known about the aftermath of this tribe, but historicists have guessed that they joined with neighboring southern tribes like the Catawba or even moved up north to Ohio. All in all, the Eno as a nation does not exist any longer. They have either disappeared or completely assimilated into another tribe. 

It saddens me to think about the loss of an entire culture. They probably had customs, songs, tales, beliefs, or languages all distinctly their own. But now, it's just a river. As hard as I look back, I cannot recollect a single monument or exhibit at the Eno River marking the original inhabitants. Even at the festival, which celebrates the river, didn't have anything to do with American Indians. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. (I can't say for the current festival- haven't been in years) It's sadly ironic, but yet this is the reality. I wish I could change it, but I have to try and rid myself of this White Guilt.... the past is the past... those are our country's skeletons, and now our country has to figure out how to live in the now. Between skeletons.

For more information about the Eno, go here!

The Education System

As an fellow education major I'd like to think that I know everything there is to know about the education system. Reality check: I don't. But I do think I have at least some platform to discuss the problems that are currently widespread throughout the entire education system- including college... which is what we discussed in class today. I had a lot of thoughts boiling inside of me, but I decided to save them for the blog.

The class discussion launched on the topic of "what would be the ideal higher education for an American Indian? And would UNC-A be fitting?" Like many people said, the question is flawed. It's primarily due to the fact that I don't think the higher education is fitting for the vast majority of White Americans. Why do I say this you ask? Well, maybe you didn't ask, but I'll tell you anyway. The way the education system is set up now, teachers lecture, students write down, teachers test, students take the tests, repeat, and hope that something sticks with. While report after report have shown that lecturing does not work, TEACHERS AND PROFESSORS CONTINUE TO CONDUCT THE CLASSROOM IN SUCH MANNER (Reason #1 why I think the Humanities department should have a major reformation).

I think it's partially due to the fact that lecturing is very comfortable. Professors don't have to relinquish some of the power in the classroom over to students and they maintain all the control of what's happening, what's said, and where the classroom is to be led. But I think another reason why lecturing is so popular amongst teachers is because it's a teaching method that blends very "nicely" with standardized testing.... and that is how 99% of the education system measures if the students have successfully "learned" the material that they were supposed to learn. But not everyone is "designed" to learn a certain way, and to force them into a system that makes them learn a certain way and then test them on it.... it's madness. I saw this on the web the other day and it is exactly right about teachers:

The last box, for those who are unaware of teaching pedagogy, are just a few of the many teaching methods, strategies, etc that a teacher must be aware of when designing a lesson plan to fit each classroom. Differentiation- meeting the needs of all types of learners. Now I know what Matt had to say today is right- is it really possible for a university to accommodate all types of cultures and learners? Realistically? I don't think so. But that doesn't mean universities aren't to at least try. I mean, how can a university make such strives to reel in diverse students but not make any attempts to change their own style of teaching? And I strongly believe that that is truly the root of all the problems- not taking into consideration the needs of all types of learners. This crosses over from not just "races" but to socioeconomic levels, too. Looking at a regular classroom, I can guarantee only a small percentage of the students can learn from simply oral lessons? What about kinesthetic learners? Bodily learners? People who learn best when talking in groups? From writing in blogs?

Someone said it best today when he said, "We have to start with education first." I couldn't agree more. Once a classroom is designed to welcome all types of learners, then that branches off to different ethnicities as well. So to say that American Indians would or would not find a good fit here at UNC-A is irrelevant. We could have all the clubs in the world, and the teachers could lecture all they want about "diversity" but until there is an environment that enables learning, nothing will change. And that is the point of higher education, right? Learning? Yes, the social aspect is huge. However, students, regardless of "race" should be able to learn their trade......

...And as much as I think about this, I still have to wonder. How much should the university or professors of particular majors bend to accommodate all learning styles? I look at the literature program and silently cry a little inside. I love reading literature. I love diving into the scene and exploring alongside characters, crying with characters, and learning a little bit more about myself through my experience with a book. But the literature department is more concerned with how well we can articulate a specific argument about a novel or poem. No longer is there much enjoyment because i'm too busy trying to wrestle a novel to the ground and beat an interpretation out of it. It honestly sickens me. I rant and moan about this, but then I stop and think about what the literature department is preparing me for..... the "academic realm" of scholarly thinkers where they do nothing but write articles and books about more literature. So when I stop and think about it, the many essays and explications that I am called to write do help me prepare for this world (a world that I have decided from the start to not enter).... I don't disagree with that at all, but I am saying that the way the professors go about teaching me is painful. Teachers should be more "guides" than anything- allowing the students to explore the material and derive what they will from the literature. And if their interpretation is different than the professors then the professors should be okay with that!

There are exceptions, though. I've had a handful of classes that have been designed around multiple intelligences.... This class being one of them (and I'm not just saying this because Dr. Hobby is reading this). Personally I learn best when I get to interact with the text..... I especially don't like standardized testing or lecturing- my attention span is way too short for that. Anyway, the point of this entire post is to say that diversity of "races" should not be the primary effort of the universities... but to make an effort to diversify the ways in which students learn. As for which university American Indians should attend, given their financial aid help and distance from close family (that is if they are close relationally-wise) then they should choose the best institution that's conducive for their specific type of learning. If they hate lecturing, then UNC-A probably shouldn't be their first choice.

Identity: Do We Even Have a Choice?

Before I talk about the movie that we watched in class today, I wanted to firstly discuss the idea of identity. This topic has been on my mind lately, luring and creeping behind almost all conversations that I have had. Identity. Who am I? What do I represent? How have my surroundings shaped my identity? How has the culture I've been raised in affected my identity? Identity. Does my family accept who I've become? Does my family feel that I've chosen correctly, or betrayed them? Where do I have multiple identities? Could I change my identity if I wanted to? Who says I couldn't? If I can't, why not? What's so important about my identity? Identity. Identity.

I have a hard time trying to understand identity. Not the concept because that's easy enough, but why people feel the need to protect or change. It's interesting, watching other people get defensive in class about their culture and opinions. Yet, it's also interesting watching people not really care at all finding the entire concept fluid and changing. One person today (and I'm apologizing in advance where I'm going to counter-argue what you said. I see where you're coming from, but I just don't agree. I hope that this doesn't offend you in a manner that prohibits future conversation on the topic) had a brief discussion on why he doesn't see why the American Indians are so resistant to evolving/assimilating to Western/American culture. He didn't understand why, in the movie, Seymour's tribe was so angry that Seymour left the reservation to be his own person. As I was listening to him talk about it, I realized that he was taking a very Western approach to the problem. As Westerners, we think and act and understand and perceive things very differently than other cultures. I'm thinking specifically of the American Indians. Take for example, Thomas Jefferson, a very White man, thought that the American Indians weren't humans because they didn't have monuments... written books... etc. He couldn't understand how a human wouldn't want those things? Therefore, by deduction, made the Indians less than humans. So back to topic, I don't think we have any understanding (or at least not the full grasp) of how American Indians view the relationship that they have within their tribe... the closeknit-ness of the people... the way the tribe is dependent on the unity, the wholeness, the collective people. I may only be getting at the surface of this, but I can only guess that in this Western culture that encourages people to be "their own" or to "do what you think is right" will only come in sharp contrast to a culture that seeks the benefit of the tribe over the individual. So what happens when there's someone like Seymour who wants to leave the reservation?

Going off this, the idea that American Indians should just assimilate to Western/American culture is just.... wrong. Maybe if they want to assimilate, that's one thing, but to give them no choice but assimilation is essentially squeezing their culture out of them until they're just the faded memories of what Indians used to be. We have created a society where we've forced our culture on them, yet, at times we get mad at them because they're mimicking us "White folk customs" and not being true to their roots. But how could they not? We've made a system that doesn't allow for people to not conform? But to say "why don't they just evolve because that's what culture's have been doing for centuries?" I just don't agree. I understand the evolution of language, or the invention of different aids for agriculture, roads, etc..... but to suggest that aboriginal indians and America should just merge.... would never work. Both cultures think so vastly different..... and think about what what each would gain and lose. American would gain more and the Indians would lose more. It's about choice, not forceful assimilation.

Looking at the movie that way, I can understand how betrayed Seymour's tribe must have felt. Betrayed and unworthy. However, as much as I can understand that, I have a hard time with it. I think about where I've seen this happen in my life. Take for example, I was raised in a very Southern town so it wasn't uncommon that most of the towns stores were family owned and operated. The usual thing for families with sons would be that once the father was too old to take care of the store, it would be passed down to the sons. Simple as that. It was an expectation of the sons.. of the community.. without this tradition then the town would fall apart. But what about the kids who wanted to leave the town? To be more than a Tire Store owner... to be a doctor. or a philanthropist. or a teacher. or a missionary. I knew of a few people that chose their own path in life over what their fathers wanted. How can I say that their choice is wrong? I think it's great to seek after your hearts desires, to not settle for less than what you deserve. But I also think it's wrong to abandon your family and your community who are dependent on you.

I've also seen this in a more racial context with a few of my Black friends from high school. The culture in which the majority of Black people fell under in my town looked kind of like the movies... by this I mean they lived in a separate part of town and fit a lot of society's "stereotypes" about Black people. However, I had one close friend, Latoya, who chose an identity that contrasted with what she was raised. Instead of listening to Lil' Wayne and dressing like a "thug", she loved country music and "nice" clothing. (I put " "'s on things sometimes because I truly think that taste is relevant and none are better than others) Latoya was chastised for it. The Black community hated her because they thought she was being too White... Latoya once told me that her neighbor said she spoke "like a cracker." She was hurt deeply by it and began to hate a lot of the Black people in Fuquay-Varina, however, part of her hated herself, too. As much as she wanted to get away from the poisonous environment that her Black friends lived, she still felt like she was betraying her own blood, like a part of her needed to represent her Black heritage- even if today's Black heritage is nothing like African culture.

A quote from the movie that we watched, The Business of Fancy Dancing, that I really liked was when Seymour and Aristotle got in an argument. Aristotle kept yelling at Seymour, "Im not just ANY Indian!" I felt bad for Aristotle... You could tell that he felt used by Seymour. I could also tell that Aristotle understood Seymour as family and because of that, the betrayal was that much more. When watching this part of the movie, I kept thinking that Aristotle was acting as Seymour's skeletons. No matter how much Seymour wanted to get away and be his own person who was not defined by his race or reservation, his skeletons followed him everywhere, reminding him of who he was, calling him home. I don't think that Seymour will ever, if the movie continued, get away from his racial identity. For some reason, humans have linked race and identity so closely together making them almost inseparable. I wish that they could be malleable, flexible, but i think the reality is that they're not. They coincide. Not entirely of course, but they do have a strong connection that even distance cannot break. No matter how far away Seymour moved, he couldn't get away from his reservation.

All of this to say, identity is such an extremely complex and convoluted issue. And I truly don't know if there IS a right and wrong answer for whether Seymour, Latoya, or anyone else has actually "betrayed" their culture if they choose a different path. It's all relative, really, and depends specifically on the philosophies of each person, family, community, tribe, and nation. But even then, it's still murky and polluted and full of history and no matter how hard people try to get away from it, it follows you everywhere like skeletons.

Senegal Folklore

In my French class the other day, we were assigned to read a short story from Senegal. As I began reading it I was immediately struck that it was a trickster tale! I raved about it in my French class, but I'm not sure anyone knew what I was talking about or understood what I believed was significant. I searched high and low for a copy online, but I couldn't find one so I had to resort to my cellphones "awesome" camera quality. Here it is below: 

Essentially, the story begins with Uncle Hyena and Uncle Hare frolicking through Senegal and both are very hungry. They come across a tree and decided it was time for a rest. Then they realize how cool and fresh the shade of the tree was, therefore prompting them to see if the leaves tasted just as good as the shade felt (if that makes any sense). The tree told them they could eat the leaves but not the bark. Of course, they ate the bark. Then the tree told them they could eat the bark, but not the inside of the tree. And of course, they ate the inside of the tree, too. Then, Uncle Hare was so greedy that he wanted to take the tree back to his village so that the entire village could eat the tree as well. The tree, hearing this, offered the suggestion that the tree be carried on top of Hare's head, on the cushion that he uses to carry buckets of water with. Hare agreed and took the tree back to the village. However, when he got back to the village, the tree wouldn't get off of Hare's head so he called for help. But even with all the village's help, Hare couldn't get the tree off his head. So he was crushed to death. And the tree walked happily back to where it came from. The end.

As I was reading this, I found it very significant because it's confirms that other cultures have trickster tales like the American Indians. It may have not been the coyote, but the hare closely resembled him. He had power and intelligence and a supernatural element, but he also had flaws like greed and naiveté. It was pretty neat to me how in American Indian oral tradition they incorporated elements from their environment, and that also played out into the Senegal tradition as well. Oh, both are originally meant to be in the oral tradition, as well. In this story, if you look closely enough to the picture, there is a part where the narrator actually has the audience interact with him or her- it was so important to the story that even when they wrote it down they had to include it. This story even had a moralistic element to it- it's clear to me that the audience was suppose to gain an understanding of how greed can take someone down the wrong path... sound familiar to the trickster tales?  

Jordan's Manifest Destiny

Today I randomly remembered a running joke that my American Indian friend, Jordan, had with our group of friends growing up. Whenever Jordan would want something (i.e. I was holding a can of Coke or a DVD that he was looking at) he would snatch it out of our hands and scream, "MANIFEST DESTINY, BITCH" and then run away laughing. We all thought it was hilarious, but a part of me thinks he was doing it for a reason. Like he wanted to subtly remind us what happened to his ancestors. It could also be Jordan using humor as a way to make light of the past. I may or may not be thinking too much into it, but I don't think he would purposely quote our own Western terminology back at us. Come to think of it, I kind of find it offensive now seeing that he turned around the situation on someone (me and my friends) who had nothing to do with manifest destiny to begin with. But knowing Jordan he was probably just making the joke for joke's sake because he wanted to fit in with his new friends any way possible even if it meant making a joke at his dispense. 

In Class Discussion: Group 4, #17.

In the story, “A Drug Called Tradition,” how does tradition function like a drug for Native Americans? What does it offer them? What does it let them dream of?

When I think about the character of Thomas, especially in the film version of this book, it's obvious to me that Thomas feels that he has to prove his culture, always tellings stories even if they were made up. It wasn't until I read this question that an idea dawned on me. The American Indian culture is based heavily on oral tradition, but since the Westernization of the North American continent, American Indians have lost a lot of who they were. They have started merging into a new generation of Indians--> the American Indians, part aboriginal and part Western. I think that for a lot of people in the American Indian nation they have a difficult time trying to decide what to do with this predicament. America has created a country and government that makes it almost impossible to live completely separately as the American Indian people... even if it's small, they are still dependent on the US government.

Thomas is the embodiment of this dilemma. He's growing up on a reservation that's far from traditional, yet he still clings to the oral tradition of his ancestors. He feels like he has to incorporate these stories into his daily life- like it's all he has left. I can't be sure that Alexie did this on purpose, but it's very clear to me that how he represents a culture that is struggling to understand who they are in America.... the Western America.

I noticed this same dilemma when I lived in Vanuatu. The village that I resided in, Eratap, was on the outskirts of the main city and capitol of Vanuatu: Port Vila. After World War I, and using Vanuatu as a base for the army, the people faced unwanted Western invasion.... and whether they liked it or not they were becoming a popular tourist site for Pacific Islanders and an extremely accessible port city for trading and economic disturbance by Asia. Even though it was never spoken aloud, I could sense that my people have lost a lot of their cultural identity that is rooted in their traditions and simple living. Take for example, they have started incorporating tvs in their "houses".... below, during the World Cup, they even went to lengths to tie a satellite to the top of a palm tree to get better reception:

Even the houses have started becoming more Western. On the smaller island in Kiramasanga Village, where not many outsiders have ever been, one can find the living situation that they have maintained for thousands of years: 

It's simple and basic, but they pride themselves on not using more than they need, taking from replenishable sources such as shrubbery and trees. It's part of who they are. It attributes to their culture, their traditions, their identity. And when I see the houses that they are now constructing, made of concrete and metal... I am sure that they are being swayed by Western thought and the belief that what they have isn't enough. Here is the house of the Chief of Eratap, the very Westernized village:

This pacific island culture, who has remained isolated for thousands of years, has now been exposed to a way of life completely different than their own. I don't know where they are headed from here, but I do know that there are very few traditions that the main islanders still hold on to- the smaller islands (Like Tanna) has a handful more traditions that i observed, but I can only guess it'll be a short time until they begin to morph like their mother island.

It doesn't matter that they are not American Indians, because a struggle for identity and maintaining culture despite an evolving global community is a very real and alive dilemma. It's happened in Africa as well, like a classmate pointed out today. I see it with my old village, but I especially see it illuminated in Alexie's novel and characters. I don't know if that was Alexie's motivation behind writing, but I do think he wants to draw attention to this global problem. How can every culture in the world co-mingle without merging or morph into something different? Begin to look like their neighbor? How can they exist in a system that doesn't provide the necessary room to live like their ancestors?

In Class Discussion: Group 4, #16.

In the book’s opening story, as Victor’s uncles, Adolph and Arnold, fight in the yard, and someone shouts that they might kill each other. But the narrator writes,  “Nobody disagreed and nobody moved to change the situation. Witnesses. They were all witnesses and nothing more. For hundreds of years, Indians were witnesses to crimes of an epic scale” [3]. What are the crimes Native Americans have witnessed? What effects do these crimes have on the circumstances and behavior of the characters in Alexie’s stories?

The first thing that my mind recalls is where one of the characters (I couldn't find it in the book) comments that they don't trust papers anymore. I instantly remembered the

 incident with Chief Seattle and the broken treaty from the early 20th Century. I'm not sure of all the details and intricacies of what happened, but I do know that the U.S. government broke a treaty that they had with Chief Seattle and his tribe (I think it had to do with land rights). Maybe this could be what the character of Alexie's novel was talking about? Maybe they don't trust papers (or written documents) because of what happened to them in the past. Maybe they hold spoken vows and oaths high above that of written documents because for American Indians value upholding promises and keeping secrets. 

Another crime that American Indians have witnessed include the fallen battle at Wounded Knee. I think about the massacre that happened there and it's no wonder that American Indians still hold resentment about what happened. If the table was reversed, I don't think I would find some peace or understanding about that as long as I lived. It's so easy for me to say "get over it, that was in the past, we're different now" but events so vast, so large, which hold a magnitude of sorrow don't just disappear over one generation's memory. I think this is very applicable to the characters in Alexie's novel. I think that when the narrator refers to them as witnesses it makes everyone just onlookers to what is happening- which is how it's been for many generations for the American Indians. So many times they were helpless and unable to do anything about the absurdities that were happening to them. Yes, time helps to heal wounds, but sometimes that's not enough. Maybe that's why most tribes are turning to alcohol because they need something to mask the pain that they still have inside of them; a coping mechanism if you will. I don't think they believe that it will solve their problems, but it's a way for them to carry on without being consumed by sorrow.

-Matt talked about the dehumanization effect that the American Indians have faced due to their history. I found this very true, but it manifests itself in a myriad of ways other than with the American Indians that I think is relevant enough to discuss. Take for example those sweet doggie commercials with Sarah McLachlan or the grief-strickening commercials about starving children in the margins of society like this one: 

The more people are exposed to this type of media (the heightened pain, the global disasters, the millions of children suffering from starvation) over and over and over and over and over again, i truly think people being to become numb to it. They just see the next commercial as that- just another commercial with more starving children. And maybe, just maybe, this is what has happened to the American Indian nation. I'm not saying that they don't feel any pain or grief about the past, but I am suggesting that because they've been exposed to so much, that they have become used to that way of life (i'm also not saying that that makes it okay to futher oppressing that nation).

Book Review on Alexie's YA Novel

A year ago I was in Adolescent Literature with Dr. Jeanne McGlinn (an extremely wonderful class that I would recommend anyone taking) and one of the first books we had to read was Sherman Alexie's The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. 

Of course it was fictional and it was written for teenagers, but a lot of it spoke to larger universal topics. The basis of the story was that an Indian boy wanted to transfer to a school outside of the reservation because he excelled in his studies. The books revolves on the main character (i've forgotten his name since last year) dealing with leaving the reservation and how others (on both sides of the reservation) treat him as a traitor; his own didn't seem him as a Indian, but the White school saw him as an outsider as well.


Turns out this story is extremely autobiographical for Alexie. In this book he recalls many memories from his teenage years and accounts many instances of death, alcoholism, bullying, violence and you name it.... And while many read this book for enjoyment or pleasure (it, on it's surface, is highly comedic and entertaining; the book even has pictures and who doesn't like a book with good pictures?) there are dark, horrible realities just beneath the surface waiting for the reader to uncover them. This book does a great job at presenting the outside reader an account of living on a reservation through the eyes of the main character, who, despite all that happens to him, remains in a sort of innocent state.


I would recommend this book to anyone, especially those in this class because it gives a lot for you to digest on. If you do read it, I would suggest doing it with another person so you could discuss and work through the issues that are presented for the protagonist.... or even blog about it... anything to cultivate what Alexie has presented through this YA Novel. Below, Alexie reads a snippet of the book and answers some brief questions. Stay tuned because he talks about everyone's favorite topic: boners.

Grotesque Humor

Today in my first class, the Faulkner seminar, we had the privilege of hearing Dr. Gillum speak about what he calls the grotesque humor of Faulkner's As I Lay Dying. He calls it, "art with bad manners that's mixed with comedy.... it's funny but also deeply shocking and disturbing." It was a fascinating lecture (I say that with a grain of salt because lectures are rarely interesting). What I kept mulling over was how something is labeled "grotesque" and who decides what is grotesque and what is not. The body, for example, is often seen in Western culture as disgusting and filled with unruly desires and smells, but according to the American Indian culture there is nothing gross or disgusting about it. I thought this was interesting.


But i'm more concerned with the comedic aspect of grotesque humor. Why do we laugh to mask our uncomfortableness? Why do we beautify the horrific, gross aspects of life such as death in As I Lay Dying? Specifically in that book the Tull family goes to extreme lengths to honor their mother's last wish to be buried in her family plot the next town over... the only problem is after she dies they have to drag her rotting, smelling body across the county.... the comedic property of this novel is how they deal with it... the events they must overcome to fulfill Addie's dying wish.... So the readers, while understanding that Addie's death is very much the gravity of the story, still are able to laugh at the situation. How is that?


While our American Indian Literature class was watching Sherman Alexie's movie, "Smoke Signals" the same thoughts about grotesque humor continued rolling around in my head. Here the audience is given two characters; one who has severe anger towards the past and the second understands his history and is able to make light of it all. Thomas, the second aforementioned character, embodies what Dr. Gillum would call grotesque humor, the deeply serious intertwined with humor and comic relief. It illuminates what the documentary Reel Injun said about humor being all the Indians have left. They keep it, use it, and hold on to it for dear life in order not to be overcome by the horrors of their past. So while they can talk about the genocide at Wounded Knee they can also make humorous comments because that's their way of dealing with the past. This is most clearly obvious when looking at how different cultures deal with funerals. Are elaborate funerals for the deceased person? No. They're for the ones still living and who have to deal with the aftermath of death. So also the American Indians must use humor as a way to deal with the aftermath of all the death and destruction that they've experienced as well.

Ni-Vanuatu Bred Kastom

All the talk about fried bread made me remember my time that I lived in Vanuatu. No, this is not a country in Africa like most people think: It's a pacific chain of islands here. Anyway, they have a very similar "bred kastom," or "bread custom." In Sherman Alexie's Smoke Signals, the reservation had one particular woman who was infamous for her friend bread; everyone knew she had the best bread out of anyone. Her recipe was passed down from her grandmother, who got it from her grandmother, who got it from her grandmother... it was the same in my village! My neighbor, Nongo, would make a batch of fried bread almost every morning. In fact, here's a picture of her cooking it over the fire: (she's on the right)

Everyone knew that Nongo had the best bread (all ants aside) in the entire village and at every gathering she would bring some. I never asked her where she got the recipe, but I could almost put money on saying it was from her mother. The reason I bring all this up is because I find it beautiful, just like the fried bread tradition of the American Indians that Alexie knew. It's a small part of both cultures, but both peoples celebrate it with zeal... attributing to the mere bread an intricate role in their daily life. I also like to think of how rich both cultures are, going back further than I can even comprehend. Both bodies of people have a history that incorporates more than song, or stories, but the earthly elements of life such as food. It's beautiful. It's something that all cultures, no matter what continent or chain of islands they're on, have in common. All have to eat, it's just how and what the people choose to eat that adds flavor to their identity. Interestingly enough, fried bread can be said to have the same affect on the Spokane as well as the people of Eratap, Vanuatu.

"I am not the Land-O-Lakes girl."

For the first time this morning, I was actually awake enough to look at the bottle of creamer as I was pouring some into my coffee (on normal days I use my sense of touch to get the coffee task completed because my eyes don't quite work until i'm half a pot in). Low and behold this was what I found:

Can't quite see what I'm referring to? Here, i'll make the image larger:

It may just be me, but I somehow feel that this is wrong on so many subtle levels. Maybe it's because they're depicting an entirely stereotyped image of an Indian woman holding their product, who probably has no actual affiliation with the product whatsoever. (This butter is also made in Minnesota and the last time I checked is vastly far from the Plains Indian tribes) Or maybe it's because the woman depicted appears to be submerged in nature and by association making the butter appear environmentally friendly? So I did some research and found the original depiction of the Land-O-Lakes Butter Maiden:

She almost looks Caucasian in this picture doesn't she? Like they just took the girl next door and dressed her up in "traditional indian clothes" which we all know now are completely stereotyped from the Westerns. I couldn't really find anything on how people responded to this logo, but I found a few interesting tidbits of information. The first, halfway through the page here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Land_O'Lakes, mentions that they purposefully re-did the Butter Maiden to look more modernized. This "earthly friendly" butter was also accused of animal abuse to their cows. This, I think, is what made me the most upset... the fact that they're just using the imagery of these people to make their product seem better than it really is. Also, I did find the top five most politically incorrect food icons. And surprise, surprise look who made #1 http://blogs.houstonpress.com/eating/2011/07/top_5_politically_incorrect_fo.php

Lets just say I am going to the store and buying the fancy Laura Lynn brand of creamer next time.