A bad case of self denial

     I went to a funeral this past Monday September 15th of a man who I had known for a very long time. We fell out of touch for a while and I'll explain why that is later on. Funerals are sad occasions we all get that. There are people who mostly know each other vaguely and in passing and only by the fact that they all knew the departed. I hate the uncomfortable small talk about purse sizes, crazy Michigan weather, bathroom sink problems and of course the passing of the departed. I'm not that social to begin with and small talk seriously irritates me. My wife kept the people who kept coming over to me busy with small talk because she's the kind person who never met a stranger.

     I sat there looking at the departed's family and how utterly uncomfortable they were. See the departed was a full blooded wannabe. He was White, everyone who met him knew he was White but he was genial in the most endearing way that most Indians just bypassed that. He would come to pow wow's and be in the finest of regalia's, all handmade by himself, and stay under the radar. He said he was a follower of the Red Road but he never went to ceremonies, he never sweat or smoked the pipe.Wore a ton of turquoise and petosky stone jewelry. He wore a fancy well beaded somewhat ostentatious medicine bag around his neck and he had a bag of tobacco on his hip which he would generously offer or lay down. When asked about his Nation he told everyone he was Ojibwa. When pressed about his clan he was vague, when asked about his ties to the reservation he was even more vague. I once asked what sovereignty issues he was involved in he didn't respond. Changed the subject to pow wow etiquette.  One of his favorite subjects. I asked him what family he was related to and he mentioned a rather well known family but once more was nowhere near specific. I saw the a few members, including the elder father, and asked if they knew him. Not in a malicious way I was thinking this could be an opportunity for them to welcome a long lost relative. No one I asked knew who he was. They did point out his last name was German and that's as far as it went.

     All evidence pointed to him being a White guy. He was in his early fifties when I met him and he lived alone. I asked about his children and his ex-wife and he told me how they were all "living like the White man" with some serious resignation. He would talk about being the only one in his family who honored his Indian ancestors. Here's the problem, everything I wrote about him is like phony Indian 101. They are culture vulture's because they are obsessed with being Indian and they totally ignore what they really are. That's a DIS-honor to thier true ancestors. You can admire our culture and that's just showing appreciation for us as Original People. To "live the Indian way" when you know you're less than a 16th Original blood is sad. That's what bothered me at the funeral. I saw his family, all dressed in black and wearing suits and dresses while he lay in the casket in some of his finest regalia with painted feathers made to look like Eagle feathers adorning the casket and the tables around him. The family meandered around unsure of who was who, instantly recognizing our names, but just uncomfortable. I heard over and over from various members, "I hope this is the right way." "I hope this is what is right and what he wanted". What an ugly position to be put in all because he was ashamed of Whites. I can't tell you how many times I have heard from a wannabe how ashamed they are of, "the White part of me". When I don't know who they are fooling because the "White" part of them IS them.

     He was not a bad guy at all, I hope this is not coming out that way. I did like him I just got sick of the stupid shit. He began claiming he was Metis and even had a card. He had a god damned Indian card. It was worthless. No government, Original people of otherwise, recognized it. Metis are a legitimate group of First Nations Canadian Indian people, they are recognized only in Canada. Here in America most NDN people I know would either assume you were Canadian or full of shit. 

     The whole blood quantum deal has created this type of garbage. The romanticized version of NDN's has made this shit commonplace. Nice people or irritations aside, these people are culture vultures and they are not harmless. I was watching the news one day a long time ago and they were talking about the mascot issue, from previous blogs you should know this is a issue I am more than familiar with. They had your typical White male looking stiff and nerdy in a suit arguing for the mascot and then the camera shifted to show the, and this is what it said under the person's name, "Native American Activist" and it was a White woman with her hair in braids, wearing a dress and a turquoise ring on each finger and a garish necklace with a Medicine bag talking about how mascots hurt US. I damn near fainted. I happen to know this particular wannabe and she claims a small nation that most people never heard of. How are we going to be taken seriously when discussing racial issues when the proponents and "spokespeople" look just like the opposition. That looks more like an internal squabble than what it truly is. 

     I'm brown, I LOVE being brown. I wish I lived somewhere tropical so I could be browner all the damn time. There is no way in hell that a White person, or even an NDN with White skin, (Yes we have them and I happen to love quite a few of them. We have them because we are Original people and if it a human on this earth it comes from us si it's naturak we would have Black, various Brown shades and even White NDN's) has the same cultural and societal experiences I have. You can be a political ally of us without having to claim you're one of us. I would respect you more.

     His passing was sad and I somewhat regretted not speaking to him for years because my tolerance level for stupid shit is low. In this case I felt so sad for the family. They were so confused and there was nothing I could say to them to comfort them that what they did was more than adequate and just fine. That's what bothered me about his passing.

If I had not seen it with my own eyes (Part Three )

     Anthony Goulet came into the Multicultural centers office looking for Barb.  A man named David Bomar who was a member of the BSU, I believe he was vice president at the time, and an editor of the Multicultural Times had sent Tony to the office to join NASO and help us with the second Pow Wow.

     I had taken the summer and preformed imperfectly at many different Pow Wow's. I got to meet the rest of Kevin's family and instantly fell in love with Mama Gasco and his older sister Karen. She was amazing and had a strong presence. I just enjoyed listening to her, she would talk often about her own mistakes while we were talking and use herself as an example of how to persevere in difficult situations. She would talk about the importance of dancing at gatherings and of sticking close to community and family. She has passed on but she remains one of my idols. Kevin was a bit conservative in those days and we would travel and have long conversations often on opposite sides of the issue. Kevin is damn near genius and so what I enjoyed most about these conversations were that they were not the typical up all night solve all problems college situations. Kevin had real world experience and while we were both Indian men we had different experiences up to that point. Kevin would try to temper my anger towards White people by using examples within our spiritual thought. That summer was amazing to me as I also met my hero Thurman Bear a man whose feet I would sit at for hours and learn about networking and "Indian Thought" which basically is- if what you are doing does not serve the betterment of Indian people - do something else. I also met Aunt Majel DeMarsh and her mother. I LOVED LOVED LOVED her mom. She would tell me about how Pow Wow's used to be run and talk to me about racial issues and the work I was doing. She encouraged me often and was just so sweet. As I write about these people, some have passed on I think how blessed I was to get to know them personally.

     Tony came into the office shadowed by a large broad handsome man with a genuine smile and a gracious personality. He was Sam and he didn't speak. Tony was short but built like a tank and had a attituide. He seemed put out when I told him that Barb was gone for the day. I asked him if he was looking for the Latino student association and he cut me off and said, "No. I want to join the Indian group."  I told him that was my group and asked him what his nation was, he didn't understand the question so I said, "Tribe" he said he was Sioux. I corrected him and said Lakota he stuck his chin out and said, "Yeah Lakota Sioux" I didn't correct him because he already seemed just pissed. I was going to grab my lunch and then get to class and asked them both if they wanted to join me. They agreed and we went to the dining hall. Tony had some kind of benefit card and got a ton of stuff free and he seemed to know a lot of people. Sam didn't say one word and I began to wonder if he was mute or bored. I asked him if he was Grand Traverse Bay Indian considering his size and he smiled that big Sam smile and said he was Cuban. He and I talked, or I talked and he smiled and laughed, and then Tony and I began talking. He asked me what the deal was with the HRL. I had to get ot class and told him to meet me at the NASO office in a couple of hours. I didn't see him again for two weeks.

     Elections were due for our student group and Tom was graduating that year and wanted to be president. I gave in on two conditions. 1.) We had to get Ron Lewis, the only Native faculty member, to be our student advisor and 2.) I was going to continue to be speaking out against the HRL unimpeded and not being told what and how to say anything. This had become a discussion point amongst the Pow Wow committee. Some members that were supporters, the more middle of the road/conservative members, thought that my rhetoric was too heated and alienating. I reminded everyone that I was doing this all alone. I was getting threatened and beaten up and maligned in my own classes. My rhetoric then and now is actually tempered. While some were looking for White people to give us some slack by appealing to their morals I was saying that Whites are amoral and therefore are in no condition to give u what they don't have. When HRL was in public they wore suits or tshirts over a pair of Khaki pants and they spoke like lawyers. Cool and measured. They would talk about middle ground and compromise and "meting halfway" while in actuality they were a violent, racist lying pack of mutt dogs who knew no middle ground only what they wanted and they were going to put us in our place.

     Connee suggested I be vice president and we get on with the business of promoting the Pow Wow. It was suggested that I may not be the best face to put out for recruiting people for the Pow Wow considering my reputation on campus. The HRL began it's harassment almost immediately after school started. Members of the BSU who came out with me, most times because we were friends and liked to hang out, were shouted at as "Davi's niggers" and such. Board of regent meetings became more vile and the campus police were now showing up because we, the Original People, were showing up in force to counteract the HRL.

     This is the situation I threw Tony into. Barb and Connee and I volunteered him to work on the Pow Wow committee to handle all the traders and assorted miscellaneous tasks. In actuality we had him doing the shit I done the year before which was the job that no one else wanted.

     I very much enjoyed Tony's friendship and soon he was on the drum and we were hanging out n weekends and such. He was traveling the Pow Wow circuit and soon became closer than a brother. He was very close to Joe as they were both Lakota and Tony soon began absorbing knowledge about our people. The spiritual aspect of the drum was enticing and soon Tony was at sweat-lodges with us and was right along side me in learning more about our place in this world. Tony is half White but never once did he think my 'rehtoric' was racist or over the top. He never once attempted to silence me or change what I was saying. If anything he became just a big as an encouragement as Barb and Connee. Tony then took on his own style of delivering our message.

     The attacks on Tony were swift and vicious. In the classroom, while walking to class, while in the hallways, from cars and windows and across the street Tony became the newest target. HRL became bold around him. Once Tony and I were manning the NASO booth at a beginning of the year event where student groups had booths talking about what they did and recruitment members. Some asshole thought it would be funny to put the HRL and our booth across the hall from one another. HRL was constantly sending members over to question us and keep us away from doing what were were there to do. The old crone I wrote about earlier Ila, came over and while Tony was explaining the racism behind the logo she pur the back of her hand next to Tony's face. "He's White just like me, why is he aying we are racist he's White too. He's sitting with that one, meaning me, who's the real racist calling us racist when he is White." I swear to you those were her words and I will never forget them. I told her, because Tony was just about to slap this old bitch, to "Get behind me Satan!" which got me laughing which in turn made Tony laugh. Some other cave bitch in a HRL shirt came over and told us to respect our elders. I told her that Ila wasn't a elder she was just old and she needed to back up because I wasn't beyond punching a White woman. I sufficiently stunned her so she walked away. Then here comes this Black woman who began acting stupid about the logo. It would have worked had I not seen her speaking to the leader of the HRL a few minutes before. She spoke innocently asking if we were perhaps sensitive and why we couldn't see that it was an honor to be a mascot. It kept us in the public mind. Tony being a pro by now, nothing like a good baptism by fire. God bless him he answered every question she had but she was on a mission and then turned it to what she was really there for. She said she supported the name change back to Huron's and as a woman of color did not see it as racial at all. Tony tried to explain that in our view it was and he had a paper we were passing out talking about the psychological effects of negative stereotypes. She was relentless and began telling him how unfair it was to call people who just want to honor us racist and that it musst be the furthest thing from the truth. She busted herself when she said, "We had hoped a changing of the guard would bring a more open understanding". I jumped! I interrupted and it was clear by the look on her face that me speaking to her was repulsive. I said something along the lines, "We are asserting our rights to be recognized as humans and not mere mascots. We are making a stand here in order to rectify the oppression that plagues our people by the use of us as non-humans. We are here, we are Original people and this si something you morons can't understand. We are Original people and thus we can come in any color on the human spectrum because all colors of mankind come from us. Our people can be a light as Tony and as dark as Geronimo. Done talking now move along. The logo is gone and it is not coming back. Period. You lose. We won." She was pissed and told me to go to hell I told her of course I would be in hell because someone had to hold the door open for all these devils.

     I could write pages and pages of shit that happened to me and Tony and Carla Collins and Tonya Jackson and Roberta Simpson and on and on and on. My points are that there were those of us doing the damn thing long before these johnny come lately's come and sit on the water tower, or write a 'stern' letter or starts a petition or whatever. The thing that makes me most happy is that after all these years I've been proven right. All this talk about the Redskins was talk I had made twenty some years ago but back then there were those of us too busy tying to see if "we could all just get along" and poo pooing my talk of White Supremacy and Institutionalized racism as overheated and demagogic speech. Now, it's known the effects that logo's have on our people, it is obvious that Redskins or any name using a Native person or Nation is racist. I've been saying that for twenty plus years. Tony, Barb, Stacie, Connee, Desha and Aunt Majel, Uncle Thurman we were way ahead of our time and we paid the price of it from Whites AND our own people. Those of you fighting this are walking on trails burnt before you by those of us who sacrificed ourselves with our time and energy.

     Just this last year the new President of EMU allowed the band uniforms to have the Huron logo stitched into the inside the vest pocket. This is unacceptable. This is a slap in the face to those of us who did this damn work before. What are we doing about it? Do we need a Idle No More rally? Do we need to go back to the Board of Regents? I learned from Charity Hicks, the Queen of Shut 'em down, Tony and I started it but we actually did shut that University down. We took over the admin office, we were not alone of course not. We had learned a couple of things about Unity in order to get something done. We didn't unify with the FOI or BSU for the sake of numbers, we recognized family as family and our cause as one and the same.

     The Huron Restoration League is a violent racist group. They want things 'back to the good old days' which were days when we, the Original People, knew our place and let them run roughshod over our reservations and communities. These are people who have been driven to madness because we are chipping away at their well placed foundation and returning to our way, one more thing I was doing before it was cool, we are no longer waiting around for that White savior to come and make sense of it all, we know a return to our true roots is key. Our roots have nothing to do with Europe and as we can see that entire thought process has led to devastation across the earth. We are not going to be relegated to a mascot or an inanimate object. We are a living, breathing, beautiful, strong, divine, complex, vital people who by divine right deserve better. We can't wait for them to come around, being quiet allowed them to put the logo back in their uniform, we must stand now because we are already late.
   

If I had not seen it with my own eyes (Part Two)

     Steve 2X was a member of the BSU but more importantly than that he was a member of the Nation of Islam under the guidance of The Honorable Minister Farrakhan. That was how he introduced himself. We met in the main room of the Multi-Cultural center and for two hours we spoke and found commonality.

    "Do you know what the Fruit of Islam or F.O.I. is?" Steve asked, I told him I had personally seen Farrakhan speak a few times and was familiar with them. "Did you know that you are an Original Man?". Steve asked leaning forward. This caught my attention because I had only ever heard other Indians refer to ourselves as that. "What do you know about us being the Original People?" I smiled. Steve broke it down for me. According to the teachings of the Nation of Islam, Blacks and Indians are actually the same people. We are just different in our complexions a little. He pointed out that his eyebrow hair and my hair are the same, we both come from spiritual practices that emphasize service to our people and submission to the will of The Creator. We have a warrior spirit, not a warrior mind, but it, the warrior in us, is as natural as breathing. We are made in God's image and as such we have a divine direction to work with our people to bring us out of the condition that we were put into by White Supremacy.

     For hours we spoke, we left and had dinner together, Steve only ate once a day and I was suprised at how much food this guy could put away. We drank coffee and spoke about our people's shared history that is kept from us by White's. Steve put a spin on why the HRL was so adamant about getting back the logo. As he told it I still believe it until this day as it is something that is just logical when you consider the depth of twistedness within White Supremacy. What the original crew of NASO did when they made logical and rational arguments about using Native Americans as mascots and logos was strip away a bit of White power over how we, as Original People, are projected through out the world. We had managed to add one more chink to the armor of the oppressor by asserting our rights to be respected as human beings. When people ask me what the logo was all about that is always m answer. We Native Americans, we Original People, had the audacity to reclaim a bit of ourselves and how we are presented. Back in the early 70's AIM bought pride back to our people but they soon lost sight of the goals and we became complacent in doing for self and kind. It's coming back around more and more with Idle No More and of course many other programs put on by certain bands to focus on their people first and leaving the education of Whites aide for a bit while we save our own.

     I told Steve of the problems we were having and asked if he could maybe bring some people out to support us when we have to go to these regent meetings. I needed someone to watch the sisters so I could focus on what I was going to speak about. Steve nodded in agreement and assured me that next time there would be no problems.

     Barb was so well loved by all the student groups that many members of the BSU stopped by to ask why she had not brought to their attention that there was harassment aimed at her and Connee. They assured her that she would not be alone on campus again. They all kept their word.

     I had become in demand by professors to talk about the issue and I used that as a springboard to discuss other issues important to us. I spoke on names, I asked how they felt when they heard the name Jesus or Moses. I used that as a tool to show that names are important and carry depth and weight that will invoke emotional responses. I explained how all Native nation names translated into First or Principal people thus Huron s, like Cherokee or Apache or any of our names as a handle for cars, war machines or what have you is not honoring us. I worked on this with Kevin to seek out a kinder gentler way to introduce our way of thought to Whites. Kevin hated it when I pointed out the mental process of White Supremacy and would often ride my ass about "picking on White folks" or being a racist. Joe would jump on that but not as much as Kevin. Joe told me he thought I might be trying to prove something because I was not a full blood. Then and now that is a stupid statement. My blood quantum is not my measuring stick to how I'm a native and besides I'm damn near close enough to full blood for government work.

     The tact of appealing to White people's sense of fairness and justice was an utter failure. The threats were now coming to my room by notes left on the door and phone calls at all times of the morning warning me to shut up and go away. My poor roommate and his girlfriend were disturbed and worried about me to no end. We would stay up late and have those great college conversations that would go on for hours about different issues and how to view them. They were both hardcore democrats and was forever trying to get me to become a democrat. They are still trying!

     Barb asked me to go to the next board of regents meeting and tell the regents to do something about the increasing hostility on campus towards Native American students. She had been getting phone calls and letters also. The newspaper was giving editorial pages over to the HRL and none to us. The Multi-Cultural Times came out once every two weeks and no matter how many articles me or Charity or David Bomar would write we could not keep up the heat. There was a real swell growing to bring the name back and we were worried that President Shelton would bow to the pressure. The next meeting came and Barb pulled an old Roberts Rules of Order trick and had others sign up to speak and speak in half the time and pass it on to the next person so that when it came my time to speak I had damn near ten minutes! Barb was legit old school.

     I answered my dorm room door 90 minutes before the meeting and outside stood Steve 2X and three other casket sharp Black men in suits and bow ties. The Mighty F.O.I had arrived. I smiled and welcomed them in. I gave them all coffee and finished getting ready. Just then my roommate and his girlfriend came in. Did I mention that he was White? He was Polish white! Freckles and red hair and everything. His girlfriend was just the cutest little White girl who was whip smart and kind hearted as they come. The FOI stood when they came in and Dan O, my roommate, introduced himself and his future wife Kristen. The brothers were more than polite and Steve made a joke about me taking so long to get my hair just right and they all sat around chatting talking about their majors and what have you. It's a damn shame the Nation of Islam teaches hate like they do. The way the FOI treated my roomie was appalling!

     We arrived at the administration building just as Connee and Barb were arriving with Charity in front and two very tall very muscular Black men in back. The gathering crowd of HRL members outside in front of the door parted like the red seas as the FOI made a hole for us to walk thru. Not one single word was uttered. If I had not seen it with my own eyes...............

     There was an especially vile old cave bitch named Ila who tired to get through the FOI in front of me to, as she said, "give him a talking too". I had become enemy number one to the HRL and someone decided to bring their great grandma along to help get the logo back. It was funny to see her say over and over, "excuse me" and try to push her way through the FOI to get at me. I was actually laughing at this sister of Yoda. Charity was right behind us and in her glorious loudest Sunday done caught the holy ghost voice kept saying, "It's a new day today! Family reunion happening here and there will be no foolishness from now on" She actually had a smile in her voice. Two members sat behind Connee and Barb Charity sat next to Barb and I sat next to Connee with the guys Charity bought along book ending us. The HRL members were confused and not quite sure what to do. They were intimidated by four Black men in suits with stern looks on their faces. Standing tall and walking straight with determination and conviction. The brothers that Charity had brought along were dressed in button up shirts and black pants. I don't see how they could be intimidating at all but I knew that the HRL members were intimidated. It felt good to not have to do this alone and to know I didn't have to worry about Barb and Connee.

     As a drum group we were getting better and better as time went on but for all of the events I was going to and gatherings trying to get help with the cause was not happening. U of M students were too busy running the machine that is their pow wow and could not come to our aid. At least that's what they told me. Back then this issue was so hot and contentious that most of  the Indian community did support us they just didn't bother to do anything about it. For the most part I was alone going to classrooms and speaking at ever free minute I had, writing articles and sitting on panel discussions and meting with other student groups who had by this time become more curious. It was not enough because each time I spoke I heard the same old refrain, "We didn't even know that EMU had a NASO" or "I never would have looked at it that way if you had not come around".

     This was the time I began getting phone calls saying, "You are a dead red nigger" and "for your own safety leave school". While in my own classes I had classmates constantly making snarky remarks about "them Indians" getting back everything that was taken from them." and worse. I had full cans of beer and soda thrown at me from car windows. Water poured on me from the dorms along with the threats and HRL memo's and flyers pasted to my dorm room door. I once had a message to call this number and it was answered by my sister. They found out where she worked I never knew the number but I recognized her voice right away. That scared the shit out of me. I had the FOI but as a non-member I didn't want to use them as a security force even though Steve insisted they were just, "taking care of family" and the members of BSU were fighting their own battles and I could not expect them to do the work that the surrounding community should have.

     One night, it was past ten in the evening I was leaving by the backdoor of the Multi-Cultural center after working on an article that I was going to put into the next issue of the Multi-Cultural times when I had my mind on seeing my girlfriend because I was late getting to spend time with her and that was becoming old hat. Her name is Rebecca and she was and still is cool and kind and just a hippie at heart. Creator bless her. Anyways I remember dropping my keys, actually her car keys, and bending over to pick them up. When I stood up there was a guy about my age wearing a military jacket over a plain t-shirt and jeans. He asked me if I was "Davy" I smiled and told him how to pronounce my name and he punched me in my chin. I fell back and was caught bu two guys who pulled my hair and slapped me. I struggled but they held my arms as the one guy punched me in the stomach over and over. He grabbed me and turned me to one of the guys holding my arms and he punched me in the mouth three times and pulled my hair. They dropped me and I was kicked in the face and pushed into the cement leaving a gash on my forehead. "Once a Huron always a Huron" one of them said to me and with one last kick to my side they left. I laid there for a while thinking about the pain and I asked myself what the fuck I was doing to make so many people so angry. I sat up, leaned against the door and smoked a cigarette. A brother with dreadlocks came walking out and saw me. He rushed to my side and was checking if I was OK. It was hard to breath but otherwise I was fine.  I told him what happened and he walked me to my car. He said he would follow me until I got to where I was going but I really needed to see the doctor.

     I got to Rebecca's and she met me at the door pretending to be mad about me being late but saw my face and began crying and asking over and over what happened. I told her and she insisted I go to the doctor. I wouldn't go but I did promise to go to the medical building the next day. I was just a little bloody but my bottom lip was real swollen. Rebecca took me to the doctor and he said I more than likely had a fractured rib but nothing severe. "I've had my ass kicked plenty of times, I know the deal." I told him and Rebecca. He insisted I make a police report I did not want too. Whites cover for Whites. They got each others backs like I only wish we did.I filed the report and the cop was smirking at me and shook his head a couple of times as he was writing. He did tell me his Great grandmother was a Cherokee princess but her papers were lost in a fire at the courthouse. I hear the most incredible shit still and without one trace of irony in their voices.

     Greg People's was a dean of students and he saw the report and told Barb that it was all probably self-inflicted. Barb was livid and told me and Connee about it. I remained cool and didn't say a word but when I saw Greg the nest time, which just happened to be in the Multicultural center, I ripped into him like I have never ripped into someone before. It was cathartic I called him a buck dancing uncle tom and asked him how White dick tastes. I was saying everything I could to get him to swing at me, his only comeback was, "I'm Black Davi! I am Black!" He still a Tom sellout good for nothing coward punk. Still.

     In the coming month I would finally get some help and we would become known as Pit-bulls with a attitude problem.

   

   

If I had not seen it with my own eyes.

     I worked at the Girl Scouts for 13 years and one day. While I was there I saw racism and sexism and ageism in each of it's ugly forms. I'll give you an example. I was in charge of the Pow Wow that Girl Scouts held at Camp O' The Hills, when I say in charge I mean I handled the MC duties, recruiting the dancers and drummers and vendors and everything else you could think of. The staff helped the first year but after that they didn't do a damn thing. That's not my story, one day we were getting reservations for the program, yes I even designed a program and patch for the pow wow, this woman who looked like a bad transvestite came over with some paperwork and said 'HOW", I said, "No let's not get into that, that's racist" she was taken aback, shocked that she would be called out, White people hate when you talk back to them. "No it's not!" she exclaimed loudly. I explained to it that she didn't get to decide what was racist, it's up to the person that a racist statement or act was directed at she told me I was sensitive. She then said, "you make White people jokes" and when I asked her to tell me the White people jokes I made she couldn't. That's when the manager of the office Priscilla Smith came out and attempted to diffuse the situation and of course stood up for her White companion.This entire thing became my fault. Now while I am used to Whites making excuses for each others behavior I thought that at least in Girl Scouts a bit of honesty and diversity or sensitivity to racial matters would play. That was not the case and thus if I had not seen it with my own eyes.....

     When I got to Eastern Michigan University I was 20 years old and so excited to be at a school of higher learning and away from home. My home life absolutely sucked but that's a book and not a blog. My roommate and I had known each other for a couple of years and our plan was to be dorm mates for a year and then get an apartment the next. We moved in a week before everyone else because we had jobs in the cafeteria and thus got a good deal to get acclimated with the area. I did not have a car I had a bike to go everywhere and so I was up close and personal with the terrain. The day came when everyone was moving in and getting books and such. The was a ton of commotion, the book store had a van coming by all of the dorms to take people over to the bookstore, the restaurants and stores were passing out coupons and flyer's and student groups were making themselves known. One group had a van and members with clipboards and free shirts and what have you. They were loud and enthusiastic and very much in your face. They were so enthusiastic that I couldn't tell what they were about I only knew they were pissed about some injustice. I've been Native American for 20 years at that point and injustice especially social injustice was an interest of mine. I approached and saw that they had a Indian logo on their shirts and on the side of the van.

     A girl about my age, long brown hair and pale as the horse of death came over to me and asked if I wanted a shirt, I looked at it and it read ONCE A HURON ALWAYS A HURON. I was confused as hell. Ghost girl told me that the beloved logo of EMU, the Huron, was unjustly, " without a vote and everything" was removed because of a small band of politically correct American Indians who coerced President Shelton into changing the name to Eagles. When she said "eagles" it was like she was spitting it. I looked at the shirt and then at her and told her she was not a Huron, at least she didn't look like any Huron I ever saw in my life. She then told me that the Chief of the Hurons was appalled and that he supported having the logo because it was an honor. I found that suspect but didn't say a word. I told her to keep her t-shirt and I would have to learn more about the situation than just one side before I could make a judgement. That's called 'critical thinking' and it's an acquired attribute.

     I joined the EMU English club because I am a intense nerd. I need info and I read two to three books a week and have since I was young. While in college I grant that the majority of my reading was for class I did enjoy the occasional brain candy and that's what the group provided. It was a great little group with kind and very intelligent people. We would share things we wrote or tips on writing better and even our poems. The student advisor was this little old white woman who also was the student advisor for the Native American Student Organization, NASO, and I should go to that group and help. There was a pow wow they were planning and could use the help. I went to the group and met two women who would become closer than family and my mentors, idols, and biggest influences when it comes to love and appreciation of Original People. Barb Gentry was the head of the Multicultural center and she was like a mom. She and her good friend Connee Sagataw, who is my big sister, welcomed me and then had me get to work putting together packets to send to dancers and vets and vendors and assorted others. While I was there I met Kevin Gasco who is still my big brother, he was cracking jokes and working on something much more important than what I was doing but he and I would end up traveling the road together sharing many memories. Barb and Connee were asking questions about my background, my family, my views on some social issues and such. I told them about meeting the Huron Restoration League, HRL, and how weird they were over something as un-important as a mascot. Connee then began to break down the psychological effects of the logo on Original People and then gave me a short history of the struggle to get rid of that logo. Two members of NASO that had graduated from EMU were in fact the most instrumental in getting rid of the logo were coming next week and I could ask them more about it. Barb told me to join NASO and since I was raised by a Indian woman I was used to taking orders from them so I did as I was told.

     In the meantime I heard about the logo issue from many of my dorm mates who were actually ambivalent about it or actually understood why it was removed. The word Politically Correct was bandied about quite a bit but I never saw it that way. My classes were a different story, many students there were pissed off and vehement that the logo should be brought back. I didn't speak out because I was still shaky on my info, not that I was afraid. The issue seemed to be a touchy subject even off campus. I would hear about it in restaurants and even in the coffee house in Ann Arbor.

     As the months went by Kevin began taking me to drum practice and there I met Joe Braveheart and joined Massasauga Hill drum. We were a traditional drum group that did not 'practice' we 'performed imperfectly' as Joe would tell me once. The older members of the group, Joe and Kevin were the leaders and they were big brothers to us and teaching us traditional ways and protocol. They both assumed the role without being asked they just naturally wanted to help those of us who were younger to become good and honest Original Men. Joe is Lakota and he stressed the spiritual aspect and Kevin is Anishnabe and he stressed the more intellectual side of gatherings and treatment of each other and elders. He had a pipe and was always willing to get it out for us whenever needed. Joe ran the swealodge and we became a force to be reckoned with on the pow wow trail because we stood out. We were traditional drummers, prayerful and sober, honest and kind. We would go where ever we were wanted for gas money and nothing else. Sometimes we didn't even get that, we were there to serve. As I was on my travels and would hang with Connee and Barb I listened more and began to understand why it was important to remove that logo and political correctness did not come in to play. I wanted to serve my people more than anything else and Barb had just the opportunity for me to do that.

     The members of NASO, except me, Stacie Sheldon - the original rabble rouse, Tom who was president and Connee and Barb had purchased a painting of an Eagle for President Shelton as a way of saying thank you for his support and the Monday before the pow wow there was a board of regents meeting. Tom and Stacy could not make it and Desha had a full time job and could not be there but he would be at the pow wow. That left Connee who laughed when I asked if she was going to present it. Barb told me I would be doing it and to come up with something good. I had five full minutes to fill and I did not want to leave time to anyone else as there would be HRL members there. I declined saying that Connee was the font of information and I was just the newest member of the tribe and had never spoke to a group of people before. Barb said, "We like the way you put things and explain things. You have good passion and we need that." I politely declined and Barb said, "You're the only one to do it and I will buy you dinner if you do." Being a college student living on starvation wages and eating cafeteria food I would give out a lap dance for restaurant meal so I accepted. I read up on Eagles in the library about their nature and habits, I called Kevin and he gave me may examples of Eagles and why we Anishnabe looked at them in such high regard and Joe and I talked coming up with a small outline of what to say. This was important, this would show everyone in attendance that we, the original inhabitants of Turtle Island, were smart, educated and thankful and caring of our living and vibrant culture.

     When Barb and Connee and I walked into the building I could sense that these two beautiful Original women were tense, that upset me, I could also tell that the vibration in that building was heavy with anger. Not a great environment to debut my speaking skills to the world at large. The foyer leading to the Board Of Regents room was packed wall to wall with people. There were a lot of those "Once a Huron Always a Huron" white t-shirts and many old people dressed in church clothes. As we filed past them I heard them name calling us under their breath. Barb physically pressed my shoulders leading me into the room. I was told to check in with the secretary and I would be given a indication as to when it was my turn. I was asked to phonetically spell my name and I repeated it to her three times. I was right after a woman who wanted to commend the board and the faculty for helping her and guiding her in getting her degree under crazy difficult circumstances. She wanted it all on record. I thought that was awesome and EMU seemed like a legit friendly place. It came my turn and the HRL members hissed audibly. I turned to look at them and they all sat still like manikins. My speech lasted four minutes and 38 seconds. I used my stopwatch and was quite pleased with myself. After me came a long line of HRL members and they were unhinged. I could not make sense out of anything they were trying to say, I got the point that they were angry about the logo, I understood that some "liberal agenda" was at work but everything else they spoke about was garbage. They berated the board and President Shelton, they talked about a boycott of all games and school activities and the withholding of alumni donations until the name was returned. Garbage.

     As we left Barb pointed to a guy, a tall smug looking frat boy type, and told me he had kicked Connee and her before. He led a group of people who threatened them with physical harm and violence. I asked what Tom did while all this was going on and was told he did nothing. I would come to find out that Tom was a coward and a two faced political game playing punk. He would downplay his role in NASO during classes and would fence walk when asked for his stance on issues pertaining to American Indians doing a ton of double speak. He would not face down these demon coward bitches that threatened OUR sisters and had the gall to touch them. Where I'm from when you see a person, especially an Original Woman, mistreated you step in and rectify that situation.When Tom was out of college and safely away from campus he wrote a article for the student newspaper and came off strong and militant even. Truth is he's an Uncle Tomahawk then and now. Real talk? I got no love for someone like that.

     Barb gave me a huge hug and so did Connee. She told me how proud she was and that she had a lot more talks for me to give. The deal became that after every talk I would get a meal that was not dorm food. I think they regretted it.

     HRL became a very vocal group and I was the only on campus resident student counteracting them. Sure there were elders to help and of course my brothers at the drum but they all had full time jobs and this group was working every day all day. They were constantly having "mixers" and recruiting people for the cause. I had me. They grew in numbers and threats against me grew. The pressure I was feeling was immense. I would go to class and some asshole would tell me to shut up or " you got a casino so give up the name" or "maybe if we gave you some firewater and a blanket we could trade for our logo" or the old "we are honoring you and you're being politically correct". I was trying to turn over a new leaf and not be violent so I would count to ten or do deep breathing and try to explain our side. They were never interested in hearing it. I would ride my bike and hear shit yelled out to me from cars and windows. I would be eating in the cafeteria and people would put flyer's for the HRL on my tray.

     Like a moron I went to one of their mixers and thought I could talk some sense into these people and I was dying to meet this chief everyone was talking about. Bad idea. I went there and that frat boy was there with a three of his buddies. Everyone was wearing a HRL t-shirt and here I was, long black hair, brown skin and a AIM shirt......yeah I know but hindsight is 20/20.

     I found the leader and told him I wanted to discuss this further so we could stop wasting each others time. Maybe there was a compromise or something. I told him about the threats and actions against us which he immediately disavowed. I told him that there had to be a way to solve this and he agreed. He wanted the logo back. I told him that was not going to happen but if he was genuine in wanting to honor Original People I had some ideas. He wanted his logo back. Here is what I learned. White people do not compromise, they demand, they take, the rob, appropriate and steal but they do not compromise. To them a compromise is you giving in to what they want. Think I'm lying? Look at politics. They invented that shit storm and they play it like no tomorrow. I told this little hobbit looking 'leader' I could see he was not interested in honoring us or in compromise. He winked at someone standing over my shoulder and the guy grabbed my arm. 'Time to leave" this lurch looking fuck said as he turned me towards the door. I shook him off and told him to not put his hands on me unless he wanted to swallow his Adams apple. I got to the door and frat boy and his buddies followed me out. I got outside next to my bike and stopped. "Be fair ladies" I said, "Let's dance one at a time" just them a bunch of people from the dorm across the street came out singing some show tunes. Drama department. They went inside and I went home. I was awake all night thinking about how I would have gotten my ass kicked and how I was trying to be nice but nice wasn't working. Maybe they could sense that I did not trust them or like them and that just fed the fire they already had going. I needed help and I needed it immediately.

     After speaking with Joe at whose suggestion I sought out the presidents of other student groups to stand with us. My mother is Brazilian and to top that off she is of a certain Amazonian nation. My father is half blood of a certain nation here in North America. I don't stress any nations because we are all in fact Original People. I went first to the Latino Student Association. I figured since we have a similar background they seemed the natural choice. What I stumbled on was a group of elitists who denied the Indigenous nature of themselves and instead considered the Spanish culture their own. They confused Indigenous adaptations to a European culture to be their own. I was not received well. The leaders of this group actually made jokes about me to one another in Spanish because they thought Portuguese and Spanish were far removed and I couldn't possibly understand them. Some Mexicans make jokes about Indians like people here in Michigan make jokes about the Polish. I would be getting no help from them and honestly didn't want it. I thought they were timid and cowardly in the face of White people. They acted like if they only had their own little spot they would not bother anyone or become too political a long as they could be left alone. I was right. I asked the leaders to explain to me why they considered themselves "Latino" and never got a good answer. They provided no support as they saw themselves beyond such an issue. I was offered a declaration of support and a fat lot of good that would do me when our women were being assaulted and we were being verbally harassed everyday. I made an enemy when I told them to roll it up like a burrito and stick it up their collective asses. If I had not seen or heard what they said I would not have believed it.

     The Christians, The Jews, The Homosexuals, The ROTC and the Student Council all offered support in the form of a declaration but nothing else. I found out that day that there were three members of the HRL on the student council. I thought that was a good thing to recognize my enemy and at that time the HRL was most definitely the enemy.

     I went to the office of the Black Student Union, BSU, and met Charity Hicks. She was glorious in her African dress and her manner was stately and motherly. I was immediately comfortable with her and explained my plight. She was very close to Barb and wondered when she would send someone to ask to join the cause. She told me that whatever I needed, manpower or anything else, let her know and she would ask her group. I told her about the abuse and threats and she told me to go see a man named Steve 2X. I said, "2X like a Malcolm X?" She smiled and said, "you two could be twins".