Life is sacred. This conviction is nothing short of revolutionary when those in power are calculating how many Black, Indigenous, and Brown lives society at large will quietly accept in order to go “back to business” and reopen the economy.
As I develop this relationship with something greater than myself, navigate this pandemic as best I can, and struggle in my relationship with my white roommate, I am learning a lot about judgement and forgiveness.
They say there’s comfort in familiarity, but there’s horror there too. I find myself considering this as I watch my people suffer across the country, each and every story about tribes hit hard by the Pandemic bringing me closer to tears with every word no matter how many times they flow.
I’m come from the land of red dirt and red canyons
Welcome to “Indigenous Stories of Uncertain Times,” an ongoing open call series to share perspectives and reflections on the pandemic from Indigenous people and communities. For each post I’m donating to a cause supporting COVID relief in Indian Country. For more information on the series, submission instructions, or if you would like to contribute to author honorariums and donations, please …
This pandemic has awakened something old and deep within me; a thing that lives in my body, and is as resilient as my grandfather and as clever as my grandmother. My knowing is ancient and is being cultivated in prayers and silence and stillness.
I am a reluctant gardener. In late winter I buy seeds and peat pellets and fill trays with little packages of misguided hope that sit in my bathroom for a few weeks. The ones that survive my inadequate and unpredictable watering get put outside on sunny days, and sometimes forgotten overnight. The hardiest of them make it to the end of May. Then I need to actually get them into a garden, by which time I’ve moved on to other interests.
Creating an open space for Indigenous stories and reflections during the COVID-19 pandemic. The world has changed in the last few months, and the world continues to change. The media has shown us plenty of footage of armed white protestors at state capitols demanding haircuts and gyms, but still largely leaves out the human stories of struggle and survival, the thoughtful, first-person perspectives and reflections that bring a face and voice to the reality that is right now.