Notah Begay III: #NotYourRedskin, Either

Photo Credit PGA

I love this man.

I love him for being a strong, proud Indian man who embodies his heritage even as he walks in two worlds, the second one filled with all the distractions and dangers of dominant-culture celebrity.

I love him for what he's doing in Indian Country, particularly with regard to children's health and diabetes prevention.

And I love him for standing up to the racists in and around the NFL and its hangers-on and fellow travelers.

And for the last, we can now expect him to be attacked shamelessly by many of the very pundits and fans who pretended to worship his "Indian-ness" up until now.

Last week, he agreed to appear on ESPN's Outside the Lines to discuss the racist slur that Dan Snyder insists on keeping as his vanity team's name and mascot. To the credit of the show, apparently all but one person booked on it opposed use of the slur and supported changing the name. Still, it's pretty clear from Dan Steinberg's post about the incident that they were hoping for "controversy" over it, and made sure they got it.

I have no interest in the arguments in favor of the name. I've heard them all before, and they're unmitigated crap, every one. There's not a new thought in the lot. But I want to bring Mr. Begay's words to your attention, because this is a man who has the right as an Indian man to speak to this issue, and who walks the talk, putting the blessings and benefits afforded him by his career right back into his community — into the children of the Navajo Nation, and the children of our Indian communities as a whole. And what he has to say is important.

First:

"If you ask me, it is offensive," Begay said midway through the segment, when asked about the Redskins name. "And I think it’s just a very clear example of institutionalized degradation of an ethnic minority, that being the Native American people. To classify it as simply a matter of political correctness only seeks to trivialize it a little bit, to an extent that it undermines the very human foundation of the people itself. I mean, if you look further and deeper into the issue, it’s about the culture, it’s about the identity, it’s about the history of our people. And that in and of itself is something that I think needs to be looked at further."

Boom. Down goes the "political correctness" canard.

Second:

"I don’t ever see myself going to a Redskins game,” he continued. “Or I should say, if I were to take my kids to a Redskins game, and we were to see a non-native dressed up in traditional regalia, with eagle feathers in a headdress, dancing around, basically mocking the culture and the tradition, it would be very difficult to explain to my children. And not only to my children, but children of many families across this country. I mean, this country was founded on the premise of equality and human rights and civil rights, and I don’t know at what point we decide what our tolerance levels are for discrimination. And who gets to decide? I think that’s the compelling question here, is who gets decide what is discriminatory and what isn’t?"

Boom. Down goes the "non-Indians get to decide what's racist against Indians" canard.

And third:

"Yeah, if you look at social indicators related to addiction, related to childhood obesity and Type 2 diabetes, related to graduation rates, yeah, there [are] much bigger issues that I think tribal leaders have to deal with,” Begay agreed. “But the fact of the matter is, if Native Americans can’t be viewed as an equal in this country, then we can’t afford our children the same opportunities as they seek to go to college and seek to participate in mainstream corporate America, competing for jobs. It all starts with the basic elements of who we are as a country. And I think there’s an existential issue here as well as a cultural issue. We all have to ask ourselves, how much discrimination are we willing to tolerate as it pertains to issues like this?"

Boom. Down goes the "more important issues" canard.

And coming from Mr. Begay, that last is especially relevant. Because he's already long since put his money where his mouth it. The quote may not indicate it, but he's been working for years on these alleged "much bigger issues," and he knows better than any non-Indian ever could how the racism that countenances this sort of redface minstrelsy as an integral part of this country's national identity is one of the major factors in exacerbating all of those "much bigger issues."

So let's show Mr. Begay how much we support him and his efforts, not only on the issue of structural racism but on the ground, in Indian Country. Go to the Notah Begay III Foundation's Web site. In the upper right are three buttons. Use them. "Like" and "Share" it on Facebook; send it viral on Twitter. And if you have a few spare bucks, use the top button to make a tax-deductible donation to his foundation.

And Mr. Begay, from this household: Chi miigwech and ta'a for everything you do.

Chester Nez Has Walked On

I knew this day was coming, and relatively soon. It's every bit as painful as I expected it to be.

Chester Nez, Diné elder, warrior, and the last of the original 29 Navajo Code Talkers, walked on yesterday at the age of 93.

Warrior, cryptographer, author of two autobiographical books, teacher of future generations, traditional Diné man. He was all of these things, and more, and yet listing them seems almost insulting, dismissive. He was so much more than the sum of his achievements, and although he achieved an iconic status in the dominant culture that is rare among Indians today, it is his identity as an Indian man that informed his choices and conduct and that was the fullest expression of who he was. 

I wrote about Haastiin Nez on three occasions over the last year or so, all related to his service as a Code Talker: 

• here, discussing his then-new memoir; 
• here, as part of a broader discussion of Native Words, Native Warriors, a traveling exhibition exploring in depth the role of American Indian Code Talkers in World War II, and coordinated jointly by the National Museum of the American Indian and the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service; and 
• here, in a piece covering the designation last year of August 14th as National Navajo Code Talkers Day. 

August 14th will be especially bittersweet this year.

I found the photo above in my Photobucket account from a long time ago, showing him as a young soldier 70 years ago and as a traditional elder today. I suspect I initially found it in the promotional materials used for his public appearances and teaching engagements. I once actually had a photo of Haastin Nez himself, along with three of his comrades in arms and tradition. You see, a little over seven years ago, I was privileged to meet him and three of his fellow Code Talkers. As I wrote last year:

About six years ago, I and my mother were privileged to meet Hastiin Nez, along with three other original CodeTalkers who have since walked on. It was a chance meeting in Albuquerque; even then, he was wearing his signature yellow traditional shirt, as pictured in the photo. My mother, who regarded them as the heroes they were, desperately wanted to take their photo, but I wasn't brave enough to ask. Their driver, however, realizing what she wanted, agreed to introduce us. They graciously welcomed the woman who wanted the photo, and seemed pleased that her daughter, despite being non-Navajo, could say Yá’át’ééh properly. They generously allowed us the photos (which are currently packed away), a few wartime stories, and their thanks for our respectful interest even as we were thanking them for their kindness.

When I wrote that passage last year, it was with great sadness at the realization that the other three men I had met on that morning had already walked on. It was also with profound gratitude that chance, or fate, or Spirit had seen fit to afford me the opportunity to meet them in person.

Today, the world is a little dimmer, knowing that Haastin Nez and his stories, and his bright yellow shirt, are no longer a part of its physical realm.

Mine.

Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.

All mine.

Just because.

Well, he amended that to say that it's because he loves me (true); because I work so hard and do so much (also true); because I love him and take care of him (very definitely true). 

But really, that's all "just because." He gave them to me last night, just out of the blue.

Reason #1,957,428 why I love this man.

Two years ago this morning, . . .

Grace
Photo copyright Wings, 2007, 2014; all rights reserved.

Wings's brother, Roy Wayne Bernal, Black Shouting Water, walked on.

Here's what I said on this day last year, when I was still able to post "This Week In American Indian News" at Daily Kos:

It was one year ago this morning that Roy Wayne Bernal (Black Shouting Water) went to Spirit. 

Roy was a warrior for his people, a leader, someone who successfully walked in both worlds his entire life and made a difference while doing so. He was also Wings's brother.

But while the latter part of his identity is what was most important to us, the impact of the former is what's felt by Indians around the country, even if they've never heard his name. The imprint of his life enfolds Indian Country like a blanket, and in ways large and small, he dedicated his life to protecting and preserving the people and traditions he loved so much.

With that in mind, I've chosen for today news stories that touch on causes and issues that would have had particular resonance for Roy: the environment, justice, sovereignty, respect for our ancestors, and preservation of cultural traditions and customs. None of them has anything to do with Taos Pueblo, but all concern topics that were important to him. 

Today's edition is dedicated to the memory of Roy Bernal.

Roy and Carter knew each other, once upon a time. I like to think they're together again, doing what they've always done, helping the people. And probably dancing.

We love you and miss you, Roy.

The Ice Chronicles: Quick and Dirty

Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.

Quick because that's all I have time for. Can someone get me more hours in this day, please? And dirty because . . . well, look at the poor guy. Needs a bath desperately.

And again, fair warning: Don't read this with dinner, and don't read if issues of the equine digestive process will skeeve you out too much.

We took the cath out his neck ourselves over the weekend; jeez, but that sucker was long. He had his last dose of antibiotics yesterday. If the diarrhea doesn't resolve pretty fast, he'll have to go back on them (abrasion and inflammation of this magnitude causes colitis), but we're going to try it for now and hope he heals fast enough to avoid a third go-round with them.

Today, the only remaining medication (v. supplements, of which he has several) is Banamine. We've been syringing him with the injectable form, but since it's liquid, I decided to see whether we could avoid traumatizing him this morning and simply added it to his grain mixture. It worked. 

For those keeping track, what that means is that in the morning, he gets a small amount of grain mixed with some molasses and water, a good dose of probiotics, and extremely generous helpings of powdered flaxseed and powdered psyllium (in other words, the new-ish, water-soluble version of generic Metamucil), all mixed together, with a decent dose of aloe juice and the Banamine.  The point of all of this is to continue to stimulate peristalsis in his intestinal tract, keep everything moving and doing in so in the proper direction, and also grab onto as much sand from the impaction as possible along the way, carrying it on out. The Banamine is to prevent the build-up of endotoxins that can cause infections and sepsis, and the aloe juice is to heal the intestinal abrasions from the sand particles.

He's drinking plenty of water now, which is good. He has his appetite back, apparently in full, which is also good. He now expects to be let out to graze at will (not happenin'), and puts his head over the bars and gaze longingly at the fields. He also gives me the stink-eye a dozen times a day when I don't drop everything rightthatsecond to take him back out again.

Yeah, he's feeling better. 

Now, about those extra hours in the day . . . .

Triggers

Photo copyright Ajijaakwe, 2014; all rights reserved.

Author's Note: When I first published this at Daily Kos, I was more than a year ahead of the curve. Then, I couldn't foresee what would happen over the past week, and I had no way of knowing just how many of the women who are part of that community, women I know and love, had similar stories. I suspected, of course; there's a reason this week's viral hashtag began its life as #YesAllWomen. And having not merely suffered and survived my own history of abuse(s) throughout my life, but also having spent a decent chunk of my adult life working with and on issues related to violence against women, I probably have had a better grasp than most of the notion that we're not alone in what we've endured, that it's as close as it gets to a true Universal. The problem is being able to communicate it safely. The larger problem, of course, is in being able to ameliorate it; more, to eliminate it. This post touches on other issues besides misogyny, sexism, discrimination, and violence against women, but really, it's all bound up in a tightly woven larger social, societal, cultural, and structural dynamic. I know that there are readers of this blog who have not seen this, and perhaps it will do something to help them comprehend the sheer volume of the pain and rage being expressed lately by us women. I also think it's a good time to get it back out there, preparatory to doing more writing about my own experiences: as a woman, as a woman of color, as a mixed-race woman, as a "half-breed" woman, as all of the labels that society puts on me without my consent, and as all of the interstices, named and unnamed, in which I actually live and exist.

Her memories go back to infancy, probably no older than age one. It's not a talent or a skill; it just is. It always has been.

The earliest memories are mostly not so bad — neutral, at worst. Until somewhere around age three, when the bad dreams began.

Actually, that's not accurate. Even by age three, she'd had bad dreams. But these are different. These are nightmares. Night terrors, really.

Black. Pouring down, down. It's going to get her. She can't breathe. She wakes up screaming and sweating, dissociated and disconnected from her soul.

It's no use trying to explain it; she's tried that already, but they can't understand. It's also no use when the nightmare grows and expands, encompassing more recognizeable people and places and things. Or when the accompanying dissociative states begin to occur during waking hours, unbidden, unexplained.

It goes on for years, and she doesn't dare tell anyone anymore. She knows she'll get into trouble if she does. She doesn't know why, exactly, but she understands all too well that she will.

Eventually, the dissociative states become an old friend — welcome, safety, something that is hers and hers alone when nothing else is. And when they finally recede in adolescence, she mourns them like a lost friend.

And still, she doesn't tell anyone.

Announcement: Watch This Space

Image copyright Wings, 2007, 2014; all rights reserved.

Or, more, accurately, watch this space.

Sometime this week, if all goes well, we'll be relaunching our gallery Web site on a new platform with a whole new look. I'm told that it will be mobile-optimized, so the folks who use only smartphones and tablets will once again be able to see the content. 

In between everything else we've got going on right now, I'm trying to cadge as many hours as I can whenever possible to update the content, but it's a huge proposition. I can pretty much guarantee that when the new version goes live, there will be glitches and errors, and I'll do my best to take care of them in as timely a fashion as possible. When it does go live, though, I'll be asking you to share the link with your networks again; the lack of a fully-functional, updatable site has hurt our sales badly lately.

Oh, and if you're an artist type who needs a Web site to market your work, and you want something tailored for you that is both cost-effective and doesn't require you to become a coding genius (and if you don't mind working with someone who lives here), leave me a comment or shoot me a message. The guy who is handling ours is a local artist, in both traditional and digital media, and he's both brilliant and a really, really good guy. We've been working with him for seven years now, and he's been very, very good to us, and I truly cannot say enough wonderful things about him.