The turning tide: Returning to my Native roots.

When my Grandparents were married, it happened in New York City, in the 1950's, during a time where racism was on full display, but, it was different in the East Coast, than it was in the South. It existed still, however. The city was very mixed, Interracial friendships were built on integrity and there were more interracially blended marriages. My Grandfather was Mojave and Apache, and my Grandmother was Black and Cherokee. He was originally from the West Coast, and her origins are from down south; where originally, the Cherokee nation was located.

My very pregnant Grandmother, pictured above on her wedding day, was a lifelong housewife. Not for nothing. She was a wife during a time where Men were men and Women were women, so to speak. I will probably be banished for saying that line. That's okay though. Back then that meant: being a Mother, keeping house, cooking, cleaning, and every other "Leave it to Beaver", sort of thing. I am not speaking negatively of that lifestyle. I applaud it, support it, and commend every husband that makes it possible for his wife to stay at home and raise her family. That is a lot of hard work in a relationship. For her, that also meant raising her family on faith and commitment to her calling to disciple her family. Times have certainly changed.

Her devotion to my grandfather was different because it was based on Godly principles, which is why they stayed married for so long. I believe that her faith in God and her fervent prayers, carried them. He was a hard worker, but he was not too committed to putting in the work with his wife. They had a lot of issues. Although, he did support her Christian faith, 100%. I also credit the fact that he stood behind her in that respect. He also converted to the Apostolic faith, himself. Not a perfect man, but he became a believing one. After she passed away, my Mom found her diary and sat on the phone with me as she read through it. Not one passage was her negatively speaking about her husband. Even though, she could have said a lot. She was so devoted to him and profoundly loved him. He loved her too, as best as he knew how. Maybe, she ripped the pages with the harsh vents, out of her diary and burned them, before she passed. I'd like to think that happened, because her possible bit of rebellion is intriguing to me.

I never saw her in any other light, but being a righteous woman of God. She had her flaws, but she was very meek and discreet. She was not known as a backbiter, which is why she had so much respect from many different types of people from all walks life. People trusted her. What truth she needed to tell, she would tell it directly to you, and not before praying about it. This was a time where, family secrets and problems stayed, within family. When therapy was not so prevalent....even though she counseled many. Alcoholism would play a part, in distancing family from Indian culture, while at the same time, introducing family to the stereotypical issues that Native families and generations, actually do face...........Addiction.

My Mom and her siblings were connected to their Native roots, but, trauma from the pain of alcohol addiction, and the severing of family ties that it causes, placed them in a position to not want to be too near, the root cause of that demon. So there is that longing to want to be near and involved with their culture, and then the reality of what they were seeing, often. While it separated, it also created addictive personalities within some of my family. That was a generational demon passed down. For this reason, I had my first bout with alcohol in my early 30's, and also stopped within the same time frame. That short window of time, with me randomly drinking, was enough to wake me up. I no longer drink and I have no desire to. I was never an alcoholic, but I knew based on family history, that it could have lead to that, easily. I learned ways to cope with life, and for me, that has mainly been through my faith in God, and release through writing and art work. I am also an advocate for calmly and clearly talking through issues within a conversation with mutual understanding and respect. I do not hold problems in, because there is no healing or relief in doing so. Another problem with holding on to pain, is that it affects the ones you love the most.....which inevitably opens that door to addiction, and turning to the wrong sources to numb pain, rather than heal from it.

Through all of the chaos, my Grandparents continued to keep a roof above their family's heads. This is not a moment of applause. I believe in healthy marriages. Nothing less. I do respect that they used what they knew, to make it work for them, for as long as they did. Forgiveness was a factor. My Grandfather worked hard on the outside of the home, and my Grandmother worked hard on the inside of her home.....even acquainting herself with a hammer and literal building. She was a very resourceful woman of her time.

I always felt like my family was at a disadvantage when it came to our Indian cultures; being members of our tribe, but never having had the opportunity to be on the reservation, where our people are from, and demographically, not having access to other Native people, where we resided. After the passing of my Grandfather a couple of years back, I felt the freedom and greater responsibility to make sure I kept my family grounded in our Mojave, Apache and Cherokee cultures. I mostly identify with Mojave, because I am a tribal member and, that was where my Grandfather was from. I owe it to myself, my son, and to our family, to re-connect us with those parts that we have been so disconnected with. My identity as a Native Woman, was not dying with my Grandfather. Furthermore, besides carrying his Father's last name, my son is the only male child that carries my Grandfathers name. I want to make way for my family to feel safe, emotionally, returning to our roots, by diving into the waters first. I forgive my Grandfather for what his choices placed a halt on, within cultural development in our family. He was battling his own demons as well, that were passed down to him, from his Father. I also wonder if he struggled with feeling displaced, himself, and disconnected, because he lived so far from his own family and away from the only home he knew for years......The Reservation. But now, it is time for the tide to turn, and for a new chapter to begin.

Raven Nicole