I've thought about Indians my entire life, and I grew up with the vague knowledge my father's side of the family was Indian - Chippewa, specifically - as my grandmother would speak of it at times.
During the service, which I barely remember, Dad kept poking me in the ribs and trying to make me laugh. When we exited the church and prepared to join the procession to the cemetery, Dad leaned in and asked, 'So, what did you think about all those Indians?'
Something my dad and his father had in common was the denial of any Indigenous heritage. Suggesting my dad was Native made him angry. I could never understand why.
I wanted to be Indian. I wanted that identity, and I took it for myself, even if it had to be largely locked up. To me, it was cool.
[
Collection
]
[
|
...
]