Sunday, March 4, 2012
A Friend Who Went Ahead
Two weeks ago a dear friend passed to the other side. One of five siblings, she was the fourth to go in the last five months. A proud Burns Paiute woman, she left the earth a better place for having been here. Her kindness to those around her will never be forgotten. Hearing her gentle voice and incredibly funny giggle was always a delight. The week before she passed, I thought of her daily. She remembered me to her children and her daughter called to tell me the news. I am glad we were friends. I will always remember her. Take care Minerva.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
THE GIFT OF FEAR
Several weeks ago I received a call from a friend. She was attending a conference in Eugene and wanted to invite my husband and me to dinner. Never ones to pass on a free meal, we quickly agreed and arranged to meet the next evening for good food, conversation, and trading NDN (Indian) thoughts on politics and life. We had a lovely time and when everyone else had wandered off to check out the desserts, my friend’s lovely granddaughter and I were left at the table. It was then that she disclosed to me that she had been abused by a young man she was seeing. I became immediately upset. A beautiful and strong young Indian woman, just past her teens, was being hurt by someone she was casually dating.
As she shared her story with me, she did so with the eternal optimism of youth and told me that she wasn’t afraid and that she “could handle it”. I was very quiet for a moment and replied, “You are going to die”. She, like many Indian people had been taught to not show fear and when she started to cry, I understood that she had shared her story with me because she actually did know the relationship was toxic and dangerous to her.
I realized at that moment why my friend had brought her granddaughter with her to the conference. It was to to save her from being stalked and abused. The entire family had taken all of the appropriate steps of working with both the Tribal police and with the local authorities to ensure Granddaughter’s safety, however, the fear remained.
As an older Indian woman, I am often given the opportunity to listen to and hear stories told by young folks. This was not the first time I had heard the cry of an abused young person who thought s/he could “handle the situation” so I did not let a moment pass before I shifted into advocacy mode. I told her of a book I had read many years ago. It is titled, The Gift of Fear, and was written by a retired police officer who when he was on the force saw too many instances when people are abused because they don’t see fear as a gift that could save their lives. I suggested that I would deliver the book to her that evening at the hotel where they were staying. I figured that my friend would be the one to read the book but wasn’t sure if Granddaughter would do so.
A month passed and I received another phone call. This time the call was from Granddaughter, she was crying and she had called to thank me for the gift of the book because she felt it had saved her from further abuse. It seems that the young man had continued to stalk her and had attacked and attempted to strangle her as she left her place of employment. I was so relieved to hear that by simply reading the book she learned enough survival techniques that she was able to save herself.
Through reading the book Granddaughter had learned to remain calm and think her way through the situation. She learned that rather than argue, she should agree with her abuser and to run away and scream for help if she was being struck. Unfortunately, the young man was an astute observer of ethnic prejudice and as Granddaughter ran screaming through a parking lot, he ran after her and yelled, “Don’t worry, she’s just a drunken Indian. I am trying to calm her down”. People who were there simply turned and ignored what was happening. Fortunately she was able to get to a friend’s home before the abuser could catch up with her.
My reason for posting this story is that understanding fear as a gift can alert you to dangerous situations long before physical abuse is evident. Even if you live in the most peaceful rural community in rural Oregon, you may know of someone, or are someone, who is in an abusive relationship. There is help for you! Take the time to visit websites that offer services for folks who are suffering abuse in their domestic relationships. Read books like: The Gift Of Fear and Codependent No More. By simply speaking to someone about your situation you may just save a life. It could be yours.
As she shared her story with me, she did so with the eternal optimism of youth and told me that she wasn’t afraid and that she “could handle it”. I was very quiet for a moment and replied, “You are going to die”. She, like many Indian people had been taught to not show fear and when she started to cry, I understood that she had shared her story with me because she actually did know the relationship was toxic and dangerous to her.
I realized at that moment why my friend had brought her granddaughter with her to the conference. It was to to save her from being stalked and abused. The entire family had taken all of the appropriate steps of working with both the Tribal police and with the local authorities to ensure Granddaughter’s safety, however, the fear remained.
As an older Indian woman, I am often given the opportunity to listen to and hear stories told by young folks. This was not the first time I had heard the cry of an abused young person who thought s/he could “handle the situation” so I did not let a moment pass before I shifted into advocacy mode. I told her of a book I had read many years ago. It is titled, The Gift of Fear, and was written by a retired police officer who when he was on the force saw too many instances when people are abused because they don’t see fear as a gift that could save their lives. I suggested that I would deliver the book to her that evening at the hotel where they were staying. I figured that my friend would be the one to read the book but wasn’t sure if Granddaughter would do so.
A month passed and I received another phone call. This time the call was from Granddaughter, she was crying and she had called to thank me for the gift of the book because she felt it had saved her from further abuse. It seems that the young man had continued to stalk her and had attacked and attempted to strangle her as she left her place of employment. I was so relieved to hear that by simply reading the book she learned enough survival techniques that she was able to save herself.
Through reading the book Granddaughter had learned to remain calm and think her way through the situation. She learned that rather than argue, she should agree with her abuser and to run away and scream for help if she was being struck. Unfortunately, the young man was an astute observer of ethnic prejudice and as Granddaughter ran screaming through a parking lot, he ran after her and yelled, “Don’t worry, she’s just a drunken Indian. I am trying to calm her down”. People who were there simply turned and ignored what was happening. Fortunately she was able to get to a friend’s home before the abuser could catch up with her.
My reason for posting this story is that understanding fear as a gift can alert you to dangerous situations long before physical abuse is evident. Even if you live in the most peaceful rural community in rural Oregon, you may know of someone, or are someone, who is in an abusive relationship. There is help for you! Take the time to visit websites that offer services for folks who are suffering abuse in their domestic relationships. Read books like: The Gift Of Fear and Codependent No More. By simply speaking to someone about your situation you may just save a life. It could be yours.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Do I Sell My Work?
Several folks have asked if I sell my art work. OF COURSE! If you are interested in purchasing artwork from me please send me an email at azcarmenindianart@gmail.com.
Thanks for the interest and I hope to hear from you soon!
Thanks for the interest and I hope to hear from you soon!
National Indian Child Welfare Act Conference and Art Sale
April 11-14th is the NICWA Conference and Art Show. My work will be displayed at the event all four days. If you are in Portland, Oregon on those dates please come visit all of the great artists at the:
Doubletree Hotel Portland
1000 NE Multnomah Street
Portland, OR 97232
Phone: 503-331-4910
It would be great to see you there!
Doubletree Hotel Portland
1000 NE Multnomah Street
Portland, OR 97232
Phone: 503-331-4910
It would be great to see you there!
Monday, January 4, 2010
NDN Issues On RIPPLENW.org
I have been asked by the folks at the RIPPLENW site to blog about issues in Indian country. My first blog post received some fairly interesting responses. I wrote the first post to share how Indian Nations are back buying lost land to preserve their traditions and culture.
The second post is in regard to the 2010 Census. I am concerned about under reporting and the subsequent loss of financial support for Indian programs by the federal government. Make a difference be counted!
If you get a chance check out www.ripplenw.org. I will continue to write on my personal blog, so if you stop back by I would love to hear from you.
The second post is in regard to the 2010 Census. I am concerned about under reporting and the subsequent loss of financial support for Indian programs by the federal government. Make a difference be counted!
If you get a chance check out www.ripplenw.org. I will continue to write on my personal blog, so if you stop back by I would love to hear from you.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Should Non-Indians Write About the Indian Boarding School Experience?
Today is National Indian Heritage Day and ironically, I was contacted by a non-Indian woman who wanted to interview me re: Indian Boarding Schools and the legacy left to the progeny of the attendees. Her seeming assumption that Indian people's families are inheirently flawed due to their mother's and father's incarceration in the residential schools irked me. What frustrated me even more was that her thesis appeared to be designed to cure the ills of indigenous families that have resulted from the experiences of the Indian Boarding Schools. I couldn't help but wonder if she thought she could cure us with an academic attempt at reporting out our problems? Or could she make it all better with a finger stroke on a keyboard?
Clearly, there are problems relating to the after effects of the imprisonment of our family members that remain in our families today. However, a question that I wondered at is; would an Indian person writing a book on the same topic assume that our families are elementally flawed or more acurately assert, that we are heroic survivors who face generational challenges that are not of our own creation? As I continued to try and understand my negative response to the woman's request I became concerned that I have not read one report where a writer has thought to interpret the majority population's historic attempt to imprison, dehumanize, and torture small indigenous children as what it will always be---demonic acts of depravity against the most vulnerable segment of humanity. Children.
The actions taken against our families were nothing less than war crimes perpetrated against the most innocent. Beatings, rapes, brutilization, isolation, and outright hatred of an innocent child for no other reason than who she or he is, has to be defined as a crime against nature. Perhaps a book should be written recreating a reality that is more truthful, one where these horrific educational insitutions of physical and emotional torture would be described as what they really were, charnel houses purposefully designed to strip Indian youth of identity, family, humanity, and ultimately life.
Destruction and maiming of young children for no other purpose than land aquisition should not be seen as an admirable and patriotic act of an emerging nation. If the real story of heartbreak and sorrow were to be written of the Indian children forced into residential schools, would non-NDNZ be angry? Would they be frustrated? Would their hearts break when they read of the little boys and girls broken, bruised, and buried in forgotten secret graves without tradition in fields surrounding the schools? Would they feel shame? Would they weep for the broken hearts of the mothers, the fathers, the grandmothers, the grandfatheres, the brothers, the sisters, the aunties, the uncles, the brothers, the sisters, those who loved and remembered them?
As a community, a country, a world, we are only as honorable as the way in which we treat the most vulnerable segments of our population. What can be said of a country that built its honor, its political philosphy, and its memories of history on the burial ground of chilhood lost?
Clearly, there are problems relating to the after effects of the imprisonment of our family members that remain in our families today. However, a question that I wondered at is; would an Indian person writing a book on the same topic assume that our families are elementally flawed or more acurately assert, that we are heroic survivors who face generational challenges that are not of our own creation? As I continued to try and understand my negative response to the woman's request I became concerned that I have not read one report where a writer has thought to interpret the majority population's historic attempt to imprison, dehumanize, and torture small indigenous children as what it will always be---demonic acts of depravity against the most vulnerable segment of humanity. Children.
The actions taken against our families were nothing less than war crimes perpetrated against the most innocent. Beatings, rapes, brutilization, isolation, and outright hatred of an innocent child for no other reason than who she or he is, has to be defined as a crime against nature. Perhaps a book should be written recreating a reality that is more truthful, one where these horrific educational insitutions of physical and emotional torture would be described as what they really were, charnel houses purposefully designed to strip Indian youth of identity, family, humanity, and ultimately life.
Destruction and maiming of young children for no other purpose than land aquisition should not be seen as an admirable and patriotic act of an emerging nation. If the real story of heartbreak and sorrow were to be written of the Indian children forced into residential schools, would non-NDNZ be angry? Would they be frustrated? Would their hearts break when they read of the little boys and girls broken, bruised, and buried in forgotten secret graves without tradition in fields surrounding the schools? Would they feel shame? Would they weep for the broken hearts of the mothers, the fathers, the grandmothers, the grandfatheres, the brothers, the sisters, the aunties, the uncles, the brothers, the sisters, those who loved and remembered them?
As a community, a country, a world, we are only as honorable as the way in which we treat the most vulnerable segments of our population. What can be said of a country that built its honor, its political philosphy, and its memories of history on the burial ground of chilhood lost?
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
