In my early years of school, learning become much more physical than mental. I have no regrets.
I want to start with the statement that I absolutely love school!! I have pretty much always loved school and found it to be a safe haven from being at home. However, we all have that early memory that just kills us every time we think about it. Maybe it was cutting your own bangs in kindergarten, or the cruel name students used to call you on the playground. For me, it was being teased for being Native American.
I was in Kindergarten at a public school in Norman, OK, and a group of children decided to, once again, approach me at recess, and proceed to yell war hoops while running in circles around me. They continued to yell the name "Pocahontas," at me while I sat on the ground unsuccessfully fighting back tears. What was worse, is I could see a teacher looking in our direction and do nothing.
I went home on those days and told my dad what happened. My dad, being the amazing AIM supporting, Free Peltier, history buff that he was, decided to teach me how to box. He then let me take classes in Tae Kwon Do. He told me that it was important that I learn to protect myself and to not let the other children feel like I was less than them because I was Native American. I kid you not, my dad and I would practice punches, and uppercuts after dinner. I was maybe 5 or 6 years old at the time.
Not long after that I was being sent to the principal's office for fighting and beating up the children who were teasing me.
My relationship with school became very difficult for my first few years. I was constantly worried that I would once again be bullied like I was in kindergarten. Years later when I became a teacher, I often thought about the experiences I had as a little girl and hoped to never be like the teacher who watched those children surround me on the playground.
In retrospect, this experience really taught me a lesson in being a fighter. To believe so passionately in my understanding of my identity that no one could tell me different. I still believe this today. I am an Indigenous person. There is no measuring stick someone can hold up to me to convince me that I am more or less Indigenous than another person. I feel like in this situation, I came out of it stronger (physically and mentally, ha!). On the other side, my former bullies may still be living in their ignorance, I'm not sure. But why did these young 5 year old children see a brown girl as a threat or a target? What compelled them to go out of their way to hurt another human being? A part of me can't help but think, perhaps it is because they themselves had no strong sense of identity and thought it comical that I discussed my tribal background with no shame or hesitation. There is also the real possibility that the people that raised them shared similar beliefs, and subscribed to some distorted understanding that Native Americans no longer exist.
I doubt I will ever truly know.
I wanted to share this memory because I think it created a deep value of mine and many life-long lessons. For one that I was different, that my identity was only understood through old Hollywood movies or cartoons, but more importantly, that I truly believe that NO ONE can tell me how I identify. Through the years I have had to face this battle from non-native people, as well as, native people. I'm not sure what hurt more, the hurtful comments from non-natives or the teasing coming from my own community. Somehow not being fluent in any of my languages was sufficient enough for others to look down on me with disgust and judgement. For being so dark that many of my peers swore I was both native and black (I was so self-conscious about my skin tone for years after this). And the worst of all sins, not being from the rez. Yes, I am an urban native, and because I was not raised on on the rez I am somehow viewed as "less native" by others, or so I've been told. It may have taken me over 25 years to accept this fully as my truth, but I have accepted that I am a modern Indigenous person. I have no responsibility to your understanding of what a Native person should and shouldn't be. I no longer have a need to bust out my retired Tae Kwon Do skills on anyone these days, but I can certainly walk away from these encounters less bruised than I was before. For that I am very thankful for my dad.
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