WARNING: POSSIBLE TRIGGERS AND DEFINITELY INCENDIARY!!

Now that all that is out of the way....

I’m an Indigenous woman of 40 years old. I was born in Sioux City, Iowa in 1980. However, I was raised on the Winnebago Tribe of Nebraska reservation (from here on out, known as “the rez”) until I was 18 years old, which was 1998.

I grew up where white people were a novelty. The only white people I knew were the teachers at our school, and two families, until I hit high school.

My Dad was the Tribal Chairman, which is the equivalent of a mayor, I guess? We had a council made up of nine people. He did a lot of traveling in his time, and he was in the Army during the Vietnam war, and then spent 12 years as part of the National Guard.

Now, growing up with the families that I had, I was told ALLLLLLL sorts of horrible things about white people. With our history, I know there was truth to it, but I also know that it was to instill a fear and pass on hostility and bitterness.

The stories I’d heard when I was younger did fill me with fear. I know there was truth to those stories…my paternal grandmother being forced into the Catholic school, having to cut her hair, being shoved into a closet and force-fed castor oil all because she was left-handed.

I’ve seen pictures from back in those days, the looks on the faces of the kids with their nuns. I felt so disgusted. There were tales of rape, beatings, and other forms of abuse and humiliation endured by my people because white people believed “save the man, kill the indian”.

Despite all this, my parents always taught me that there are bad people in all colors, but the most important thing was there are more good people in all colors as well. Granted, there are things, after all these years of observation, that you CAN attribute to white people (that’s another entry).

There are stereotypes of ALL races, but they did come from somewhere. Indigenous peoples are more prone to alcoholism. Truth. We don’t have the genetics to deal with alcohol like other races do.

So, when I see white people with their “all lives matter” bullshit, it reminds me of my youth. I was taught by great-grandparents that white people would always find a way to stay comfortable. Anything that shakes their worldview or comfort or status will bring out their evilness and hatred.

And that’s what I’m seeing.

I had a knee scope done after a major work accident. After a few weeks of physical therapy, I was cleared to start walking on my own for longer distances. At that time, I lived on the north side of my little city. This is primarily white homeowners, which I didn’t even know or care about. There is a park where you can grill out, and they have a city pool and playground. So, there are families playing, grilling, and a white couple jogging with a dog, which I am eternally thankful for.

I have my old-fashioned earbuds in while I’m walking back to my apartment when I see a flash of lights and hear a loud chirp. I turn to see the police officer and look around. It’s just me. I take my earbuds out and ask, “Can I help you?”

Cop: Yeah, we have a report of a suspicious person in the neighborhood.

Me: Oh, I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary. (Looking around.)

Cop: Actually, it was you that was reported.

Me: (Blinks) Excuse me? I live like, a block and a half from here.

Cop: Why are you walking around here?

Me: Uh…exercise? Sweats…hoodie…music?

Cop: Give me your ID.

I throw my hands up because I just HAPPENED to look down and see his hand on his gun.

Cop: I said give me your ID.

Me: It’s in my front hoodie pocket, you can see it sticking out. Go ahead and grab it.

Cop: I SAID GIVE ME YOUR ID!

Me: Nope, I’m keeping my hands up, I’m not giving you a reason to just shoot me. I gave you permission to grab my obvious wallet in my hoodie pocket. Flip it open, ID is right there.

Cop: GODDAMNIT! GIVE. ME. YOUR. ID!

(Couple comes up and asks if I’m okay.)

Me: Would you please grab my wallet from my front hoodie pocket and show him my ID?

(White dude grabs my wallet, opens it and shows the cop. Cop is NOT happy, but changes his tone when white dude hands him my ID.)

Cop: I’m sorry for inconveniencing you, but we had reports of suspicious person in the area.

White Dude: Do you want us to walk you home? (Dude doesn’t even care that the cop is right there.)

By this time, I’m infuriated, upset, and in a weird shock that I just had that happen to me.

Me: Yes, please. If you don’t mind. I’m just a block and a half that way.

I had to steel myself, because I felt like a coward, asking for that escort home. I honestly thought I was going to be shot while I walked away, but nothing happened. We made small-talk on the way, and they told me that they lived two blocks away from me, so if I ever wanted to go for a walk again to just knock on their door.

I went up to my apartment and as soon as I closed the door, I sank to the floor and cried.

I was in my early-30’s. EARLY. 30s.

So, when I see white people talking about “struggle”, it irritates me, because they’ve NEVER known what that’s like, and odds are, they never will. Sure, there will be some form of retort, usually like, “If I went into the ghetto, that’s exactly what would happen.”

Fact is, rocking the boat is bringing out true colors. People are uncomfortable with talking about this sad fact that people of color were always treated as “less than”. They never wanted to change their ideas of people of color, and figured that, as long as they maintained the status quo, then things were “okay”, but they’re NOT. They HAVEN’T been, ever.

People saying, “This all started with Trump!”

Nah, this is the way people ALWAYS were, they were just given permission to be this way in public. So Bob in Accounting and Susan in Customer Service? Oh, they hate people of color, and they always have.

Some people will always be stuck in the past, they won’t be able to get past themselves, and that’s okay. They will die someday, and that will die with them.