My great-grandmother Minnie (Who did not speak English) was told that she could not have her daughters back.
Undeterred, she went back in the middle of the night and helped her daughters to escape.
I am proud of this blood running through my veins, my great tota Minnie and my tota are warriors.
But the story doesn't end there.
For the rest of my life, my tota was terrified.
When she had children, my tota fled from Akwesasne (in New York/Canada) all the way to California.
My mother had me at 17. I spent my formative years with my grandmother, my tota.
In Native culture, it is part of who we are to share traditions, our language, our songs.
But my tota was much too afraid to tell me anything that was Mohawk.
I can only guess how terrified she was that if I learned Native ways, the authorities would think I was a Native boy that needed to be taken away to learn white ways.
In the several baby and toddler years I spent with my tota, she NEVER spoke a Native word, spoke a Mohawk song or shared a tradition with me.
She did sing, but they were American songs.
She became a hairdresser and dyed all of her daughter's hair blonde ...
She warned her children about staying away from the beach to avoid getting too dark.
She was in a constant state of fear and protection.
Today, I don't speak my language fluently.
Today, I don't know all of my traditions.
Today, my family still struggles to learn Mohawk culture.
Many of my family members died at about 50 ... never having danced the Smoke Dance ...
Hello Twitter family.
Right now I'm sitting at my father's bedside in an emergency room.
He has a fever (not likely COVID) He is elderly and sick. He also has dementia. He is 72.
It gives me a lot of pause and thoughts.
Can you please read and share this #thread about my father.
I think of the 54 years I have known my father. And I realize there is so much more I could have learned from him. So much I don't know about his life, his feelings about things.
There are things that I will never know. Things I never asked him.
What did his room look like as a kid? Did he read comic books? What was his favorite subject in school?
I realize there is so much.
I'm a journalist, I ask people about their lives every day. I ask them questions I have never asked my father.
Dammit ...
If you want to wear my headdress
Then wear the blood that fell down our temple as we were beaten by a settler's rifle
If you want to wear our feathers
The wear the cries of animals killed for sport when we were left starving
(cont.)
If you want to wear paint on your face as my ancestors did
The wear the mud stuffed into the mouths of babies, silenced and suffocated
to let the tribe, hiding from hunters, survive
The land we belong to, gifted to us by the Creator
Was stolen from under us
(cont.)
Our children ate ‘candy’ which was urine mixed with sugar from laughing soldiers
Our elders were killed and handcuffed
They were forced to walk barefoot in the snow
After being told to leave their homes