The Spirit of All Nations.
I was sitting at the park a few nights ago watching my kids play, when out of nowhere a little girl came racing toward the jungle gym squealing with excitement and shouting, “My play! My play! I’m so HAPPYYY!” Her enthusiasm was contagious and I thought to myself – that is exactly how I feel at pow-wow time.
Earlier this year I wrote a story asking the question, ‘how does one decolonize’? Well just a few weeks ago the Oneida Nation did something fantastic in efforts to do just that. They held a nation wide meeting to discuss Oneida Nationhood, and welcomed all Oneida people to attend. Former candidate for Six Nations Elected Chief Yukiyatakenhas was there and shared the experience with me.
This morning I woke up in one of those beautifully peaceful moments that the Creator orchestrates to demonstrate His Love for us. The sounds of a gentle, far off thunder called me up and the steady pulse of falling rain enveloped everything to make for a blessed awakening.
My “Canadian Friends” were taught to value their Canadian culture and to de-value the things “Six Nay Me” values! On the flip side I was taught to value my “Six Nay Me” culture and to despise my “Canadian Friends” values. “Multi-Cultural” school my foot! No one ever instructed us on how to practically empathize with one another’s stories or to respect each other’s sufferings. We were never taught how to effectively engage with “the other culture” using tact and real understanding. Sadly, while learning to survive in our society, we became the pillars of our cultures that fortify the chasm between us and keep it gaping wide open.
Last week Six Nations Elected Council made a choice – after being presented with an official complaint – to send a letter ordering a young non-status man off the territory. There are many facets to this dispute; including details about what happened between the evicted and the family who lodged the complaint. My condolences to both parties. Your pain is evident and I’m very sorry you have had to walk through this.
As I listened to the water pouring into the bath, a million emotions began pouring out of me as well. I expected that the first time I saw my chest I would have some sort of emotional breakdown. Oddly enough it was the exact opposite. Seeing my own reflection and facing my truth, perhaps for the first time in my entire life there in my messy bathroom – I felt triumphant.
About a year ago I was filling up my truck with gas in Ohsweken. When I went inside the store to pay, there sitting on the counter was the most adorable newborn Ongwehowe baby girl. She had black fuzzy hair, dark eyes, beautiful brown skin and the tiniest pink lips. Mama was proudly showing her off to friends around the village in what I can only assume was her first day out since giving birth.
We in the indigenous world are so familiar with mainstream media ‘Spam’-flavoured framing on stories dealing with indigenous matters, that for the most part we don’t even take mainstream news seriously anymore. How often are indigenous truths spun out of control from the work of a network journalist? When was the last time network news covered an indigenous story and you walked away going, Wow! What an accurate portrayal of what is going on with my people’?
I can’t speak for what went on Down Below, but on the Upper End of Six Nay during the Eighties it was quite traditional for kids to team up at someone’s house with a gang of other 8-13 year olds and walk around in a pack until it started to get dark.
As I sit, peacefully reflecting on the last week, I am enjoying the most perfect bowl of cornsoup. My children are resting peacefully in the living room eating the soup I made. My husband is away working but I will keep this soup warm until he comes home. Love is definitely in the air in my indigenous home.
Fewer things are more distinctly Six Nations than Bread and Cheese Day. For those of you who don’t have a clue what I am talking about, allow me to explain.
It’s an exciting time for rez families when a non-native person is seeking initiation. It is the proverbial turned table of colonization, and it typically begins a very long process of humiliation for the non-native person. How you ask? We tease them. And then we re-tell the story of their humiliation over and over like a war story to all our other Ongwehowe friends and relatives and then they all laugh too. Non-native friends take note: in most cases if you’ve made it this far…you’re in.
It’s a really taboo subject to discuss out loud. If babies are born to Haudenosaune mothers with white men, they are sometimes granted a nation, a clan, and a name through ceremony. Less likely if the child is born from a white mother and a Haudenosaune man. Similarly, what about “full blooded” Haudenosaune who lost their lineage because of colonization, or children from Ojibwe mothers and Haudenosaune fathers?
Last week I wrote about decolonization, specifically asking the question “How?” We got a lot of good responses to that and this week I’d like to share a letter sent in by a self-described “white girl” about her thoughts on Decolonization. I loved it. I’m sure you will too.
