my heart breaks at random times. sometimes when im driving down the road it’ll hit me. other times i can be at work walking across campus and it will dawn on me the last two years of my life was a literal upset of truth telling.
i don’t always get it, but i also comprehend its a part of the healing journey that is a daily process. just showing up for myself was a challenge and im finding meaning in the little things.
healing from emotional and verbal abuse was not easy while dealing with a parent who had been severely traumatized as a child was pretty tough at times. being yelled at and disrespected one minute and in the same minute being asked if i was coming back for dinner. all of it had the makings of abuse and each time i walked away i had to remind myself he would never be able to walk, talk, or do anything like he used to due to his stroke.
in a wicked way i stepped aside so as not to interrupt his karma. to this day i believe every female and woman he ever wronged was vindicated. no matter what anyone tries to tell me, hurting and abusing women never goes unchecked, and god is always watching.
as i process the times he said disrespectful things and then would immediately apologize, i learned he had a short window left and i pitied him. in a recent counseling session i was processing how he epitomized the patriarchy. the role my father played was more than i could fathom in what todays culture has named “in real time.”
after all the critical training i received and learned at university, there was nothing that prepared me for the reality of his behaviors and learning about all that he had hidden. i was once told nothing can stay hidden. it took his passing before things were revealed and was one rude awakening after the other.
reading critical works by feminists and learning about feminism had me feeling like i had a handle on my father’s misogynistic and sexists views of women. what it didn’t teach me was how to process the anger and frustration i held towards his inability to change. he passed just like the dying generation that raised him.
it’s interesting how society is unable to comprehend how deep the settler colonial project inflicted soul wounds on Indigenous people. the societal ills and suffering has been damaging more than our people can comprehend. due to the erasure and cultural genocide we have lost significant cultural memory that we no longer practice our culture.
listening to him shame women for wearing clothes that were for “hookers” yet also watching my niece who he raised as his own walk across the hall in similar clothes was disturbing. his misogyny knew no bounds and i was never able to comprehend that part.
why do men say and do such stupid things? i am reflecting on the way he would also subject us girls to his patriarchal princess treatment. i cringed at this because i never felt like i was a princess or incapable of standing on my own. after all, i was raised by Dine matriarchs and theres an indifference about what girls are expected to become and we are most definitely not princesses, we are raised to become matriarchs.
the bitter sweet reality of this is not all children who are born girls become matriarchs. even greater, some of these girls don’t want to become a matriarch and choose a path of their own. #Dine culture is grounded with the philosophical teachings of hozho and saagh nayeh bikeh hozho nasha.
for Dine, matriarchy begins at birth and becomes solidified in our Kinaaalda ceremony which is our rite of passage into womanhood. we receive teachings and instructions through stories, songs, family clan teachings, and are taught the responsibility of becoming a matriarch without even realizing it until we become mothers ourselves. it is a synchronous moment in a young girls life when she becomes a woman among her people.
no longer viewed as a girl Dine matriarchs are taught in the Kinaalda the meaning and significance of grinding the corn. not only is it to feed all the people in ceremony, it is intended to show the Holy People we have a young girl who is growing through the changes of becoming a woman the same way Changing Woman had been instructed. it is the ceremony Dine people revere and rejoice in celebration due to its prominence for the young girl who is becoming an important member to her family.
the ceremony is such a significant event in matriarchy because that is when young girls are taught to let go of their childhoods and are gifted new clothes as they emerge into the world as a newly blessed young woman. her red sash belt, red earth moccasins, hair tie, jewelry, and newly made clothes are all symbolic and teach the young woman of the Beauty Way blessings. each item is a blessing and belongs with her throughout her life and why Dine believe in the strength and beauty of being blessed.
as i reflect back i was blessed with a Kinaalda and this year received and welcomed the honor and responsibility of being asked to help mold my niece with prayers and teachings i received. in the ceremony we both learned what it meant to be K’é and the mutual understanding of responsibilities. to this day i am ever thankful and grateful for the life i was given as a Dine. i know now why i was born into this world especially when it comes to rematriation.
it is what helped me to dig deep and work to understand my fathers toxic and dysfunctional behaviors. after years of going head to head i realized 1.) he had not been raised in a matriarchy and 2.) i had unrealistic expectations of someone who was raised as a part of the settler colonial project.
of all the disagreements we had, i couldn’t understand why he didnt get that until i learned the patriarchy doesnt raise daughters to be matriarchs. it raises daughters to exist behind the head of household which is contrary to #Indigenous matriarchy. matriarchy is where the woman is taught she is responsible as the head of her household and food will come from her hands.
as this next generation of matriarchs emerge i look to the gods to help guide us all because the settler colonial project is still mad at work. since 1804 when Lewis & Clark arrived among the Nimiipuu, it has been working to erase our cultural memory and replace it with its patriarchal influences. as its been taught and told matriarchy is #Indigenous and patriarchy is not.
its taken me a long time to understand that my father never understood that concept because he wasnt raised in a matriarchy. the vast differences and the traumatic experiences that cut a deep and cavernous soul wound onto his life left his children with some scars that didnt belong to us.
if there is one thing i learned is that healing is my responsibility. i for sure will not bleed any unhealthy or unhealed anything onto my children. i work on myself to teach and show them unhealed pain is not okay especially when we are responsible to talk about it and seek professional help.
i see alcoholism and drug use among families who have severe trauma and exhibit codependent behaviors as reason to keep going. victimry is enough reason for me to dig deeper into my own work, and state i want more. not only for myself but especially for my children. i learned about others traumatic experiences that werent mine yet somehow i picked them up as if they were. releasing that has been work in and of itself.
as we approach Fathers Day all i can say is my Dad who raised me was no saint, but he protected me and i had a safe home. it is because of him and my Bizhii that i am able to stand here and be a witness as to what a safe home is and one i made sure i provided for my own children.
as i process this i am growing through some big changes and its all related to the patriarchy. as a young matriarch, i am growing into my womanhood and healing is eminently a part of that role. not only for my children, but for my future, family, community, and nation.
Rematriation is critical and key to every last bit of my healing.
as i close this off i share…
i am woman.
i am healing.
i am conscious.
i am love.
yox kalo and hozho nahasglii 4 times
indigenista love diaries 