My adult children do not live in our house. Our grandchildren do not live nearby. Opportunities to teach my grandchildren about their ancestors and heritage is very limited.
How would I feel, (after I am dead) if one of my great-grandchildren wanted to learn about his heritage but when he went to ask, my relatives refused, saying that he was trying to steal the culture, that his blood was too diluted, that he did not live in the community, that he did not understand their ways, that he was too white?
I wonder how my great-grandparents feel.
I can’t help but think that my great-grandparents would have wanted to teach me the Native ways. They would want me to be proud of my heritage.
But my heritage has been stolen. Stolen by laws, stolen by White man's attitudes, and stolen by poverty, and stolen by fear. I know that my Native ancestors are from the New Mexico area. I do not know which tribe or pueblo they were from.My soul longs for my ancestors. My soul longs for the songs, the dances, the worldview, and the wisdom that my great-grandparents would have given me. Their blood flows through my veins.