Agency and Indian Agents are still among us...

Received word that the OCR within the Department of Education found no foul at Century High School, despite the fact that we had proof to the contrary, from the Mayo Clinic no less.  They found no foul because they NEVER interviewed our witnesses.

Century now gets to carry on, discriminating as before and also claiming that students broke codes of conduct with out any proof.  How utterly sad for the City of Rochester.  

It should come as no surprise because any AGENCY that has to investigate itself, will probably find no wrong against their own kind.  Ferguson, NY and OHIO bore this out and it will continue to happen because of the doctrine of discovery.  The burden is on us poor folk to prove that the dominant society did something wrong.   Now therein lies the rub.

What is wrong?  Nothing is wrong if you say, "I have no memory of that..."  Or if you say, "I just did what I usually do..." and so on.  Poor baby is just a cog in the wheel, problem is, that wheel of discovery just keeps on rolling over us poor folk.

In GOM's day, Indian Agents renamed us, decided who was Indian and who wasn't, decided who to pay, record, and so on.  They set up AGENCIES to determine that all was being treated fairly and according to the law; to their advantage.  Ah, there is the rub.  It rears its ugly head for the discerning eye to see.  Those who can see, have the wheel marks still squarely upon them, having been trampled under time and time again.

Those of us who have been raised by goodly parents who also have the discerning eye, have said, "get all of the education you can because that is the one thing they cannot take away from you!"  Yet, with all of our education and proof, the world is still theirs.  

We are left to hold our heads up high and say, my name is "Wanske" or "Hopoekaw" or Valerie Guimaraes aka "Henook Pinga" and I will be counted.  I will tell you my name so that you can record it properly, and Century/OCR you can keep your money 'cuz I don't need it!  Never wanted it, that was their fear!  We are doing just fine thank you.  You are the ones in need.  I will keep my integrity and honesty.  You however, desperately need to receive training on discrimination, institutional racism, and the law.  Oh, and perhaps a lesson on statistics would help as well because in due time, there will be more of us than you.

So Elusive is Thy Love

If I haven't said in a while, this is the view from the south of Doty Island.  This is where Jonathan Carver met Glory of the Morning in 1766, during his journey in the New World.

The Dakota 38 Ride starts soon.  I sent some maz on to one of the riders.  He and his family are such a bright star in a dark Crow Creek winter's night from where The Ride will begin.  Would love to be there, but we are off to see family.  I said in an earlier tweet that family (in-laws) are overrated.  Yet, there are those that I love. I wonder about some and the others,  well, not so much of anything.

I pondered on this.

All throughout my life growing up with Gram and Choka, there were so many family and tribal struggles and so much jealousy that it was hard to have peaceful relations with anyone for too long.  Yet, when there was great need, a death, an illness we all came together for a ceremony.  It was so nice.  There were songs that were sung, with the water drum beating ever so gently.  I miss those songs!  I still remember a few and sing them when I feel lonely for my grandparents.

These difficult family relationships haven't changed much.  Now, I must include my husband's family.  I used to be so close to some of them.  One in particular, who is now divorced from the family.  People thought we were sisters, instead of our husbands who were brothers.  I sent a note to his new wife to wish her well one day, accept her in some small way and that is when it started.

Well, it actually started with my mother in law.  Angry that I was not Catholic (never) and was very much, Indian.

This, and my note to the new wife, just fed into the life blood of this amazing family.  Each member so unique and gifted, yet I was not one of them and would never be, and neither would our adopted children.

We plodded on, until today, when I realized that we never have any contact with them and neither would my children when Paulo and I are gone.  They seem to be quite fine with this, but I am sad about it.

I won't apologize for Paulo and I falling in love and still being married after 29 years.  I won't apologize for our adopted children after years and years of trying to conceive.  One of Paulo's brothers was actually disgusted with us after we adopted Sam and then Amalia.  One he could understand, but two more, ridiculous.  What about our happiness he said.  LOL!  I won't apologize for being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints either.  I won't apologize for keeping my ways in my way, and the way that I was taught my Gram and Choka.  I won't apologize for being me.  I am so done with that!  I won't apologize for researching my ancestor Glory of the Morning who was the first and only Peace Chief of a band of Ho-Chunk who resided on Doty Island.

I will miss The Ride this year.  It helps me heal and remember.  I need The Ride to heal.  I need to heal from so much anger about assimilation, treaties, clans attacking clans and the clan-less, families members feeling more Guimaraes or Decorah than others, church members feeling more righteous than others, the racism and discrimination in DMC, so much dishonesty and lack of integrity in and out of the church....no, I am not judging.  I am using that gift of discernment I have been given in great abundance to determine how to preserve my family and myself.

As I write about Glory of the Morning,  I feel the sting of separation and loneliness that she must have felt when up to one half of the tribe separated from one another because she was elected Peace Chief.  I am nothing special to many, but I am special to my people - my little family.  We are alone for a time, but cultivating sweet friendships from among the Creator's choicest people.  Yet, through the sting, the unkindness, the debauchery, the racism, dishonesty, the hope of the season, and the love of family I penned this poem in honor of self preservation:


Fear,
awakened in moonlight,
calms,
gives light to
anger,
with each
rhythmic breath,
fills my heart with,
loneliness.

Yearn,
overcome in darkness,
paralyzed to lose
self,
each thought,
surrenders,
accepting everything,
becoming nothing,
ordinary.


Dream,
greater than this,
ancients lived,
triumphant over death,
despair,
releases hope,
precious and rare,
so elusive is Thy love.  - Valerie DeCora Guimaraes

My new mantra: Self-preservation

Haa!  Here I am, finally with a few moments to put down my thoughts and free myself from that which weights me down.  It really is freeing to purge your mind of thoughts that you carry around for no other reasons than to preserve them, but I have found self-preservation.

It all started with the Heritage Preservation Commission and Jeff Alleman trying to squelch my heritage from shining through, silly man!  He was undoubtedly in cahoots with the History Center of Olmsted County.  At first I wanted to resign from the Commission, but one by one, Commissioners and members of the public who watch our meetings drone on, said if I left, there would be no remembrance of our heritage here in Rochester.  So, I stayed, much to the delight of our newly re-elected Mayor.  He is a good man.  Suddenly, the History Center wanted to make amends too.  Yes, I am back on the Advisory Committee there too, but oh am I so much the wiser.  Can you say "recorder"?

Then, it happened again.  This time, after two and one-half weeks of non-communication from a person in charge of this particular organization I belong to, regarding my matter of importance; I got my hands slapped back for insisting that my issue be addressed.  Apparently in this organization you must respect the office of this procrastinator and not insist on bringing your issue forward.  It looks bad.  I did the usual, laid down the rationale for my actions, cited rules or regs, stated how things looked from my perspective and hoped form some resolve.  Nope, it was not respectful enough, because this procrastinator was dealing with some personal issues (not, a family member was, but I get it) and why was I kicking the procrastinator when they were down?  What?  I didn't know about the personal matters.  I would never knowingly kick someone when they were down!  Of course, I don't need to kick at all, yet, to this very day, I am being treated as if I knew what was happening on the procrastinator's end and "people are afraid" of me.  Thanks!  My important matter was addressed and all is well... So, what I have learned here is to not kick so hard and that some people are more equal than others, still.  Turns out that the little procrastinator's personal issues didn't start until the "one half week" so, what about the "two weeks" prior to the personal issues.  Well, we don't want to talk about that.  Oh, I remember, some people are more equal than others.  I get it.  After all, I spent 15+ years on human rights commissions, and I understand.

The knife was placed cleanly and gently into my back.

After this episode, I was lost for a while.  I felt so terrible that someone would and could actually think that I could intentionally kick someone when they were down.  I respected these people and put them on a pedestal if you will and now, well I see that they are just people too.  Wrong, quick to judgement without exploring the facts, unrealistic, procrastinators, chauvinists, patronizing, but kind, patient and caring. 

Just about this time, I got another blow.  It came out of the blue as they say.  It's cliche but very true.  These things come when you least expect it.  I wasn't filled with pride, or in need of a good chastising or thinking I was all that, quite the opposite actually.  It involved the NPS and Park Department and Indian Heights Park.  We have been working on a master plan for some time, over a year.  We can't seem to get beyond trails, a fire ring and the kiosk.  The committee is comprised of "stake holders" as they say, Friends of Indian Heights (white group), GRADS (Indians), and the NAC SE MN (white group).  FOIH, wants a specific trail.  NAC wants a fire ring.  GRADS wants to do its part to meet the park board's recc'ds to recognize IHP as a sacred site used by the Dakota.  I met with the new director of the park dept. and explained my situation.  I brought along another GRADS member to help, or so I thought.  I showed all of my cards in this meeting, which is unusual for me, but I did it.  I showed him Governor Dayton's mandate for government agencies to work with INDIANS regarding INDIAN issues.  He accepted it and I said, "This is a type and shadow of things to come and I would think the Park Department would want to comply as a gesture of using best practices."  I tried not to kick so hard, but I kicked baby!  Then I asked, "Why does the NAC of SE MN, namely Jim Wilson, who is white, no disrespect for his ethnicity, have any say in Indian matters?"  No comment.  "I have been patient, I think, a year in fact.  I have put our history down on paper, here is a copy.  It has met the approval of Mr. Leonard Wabasha.  I am willing to write the grant to the Minnesota Historical Society since they already funded the grant for obtaining the history you have in your hand, but there seems to be some problem with FOIH and NAC.  It appears to me that they do not want me to do this.  They think that I am not being 'inclusive' enough of others.  I remind you that it was not the 'others' that designated IHP as a sacred site."  No comment. "Oh, and could you please put your decision in writing for me."  The other GRADS  member said, "Yes, we've been called racists when this isn't what it is about, its about our history.  Now I know Dawn (Littleton) won't let you do anything to Jim Wilson, she will insist that he stay on the committee and represent the NAC."  Seeing the worry in the new director's eyes, I said, "It all came out before you were hired.  The NAC and Jim Wilson admitted they were all white with no ties to any reservation or enrolled in any reservation.  It was in the paper, two summers ago."  Finally,  a comment, which was no comment really, but it was something about working with FOIH, their organization was the "go to group" for the Park Department.  Ah, I get it, some groups are more equal than others.  I know this song very well.

I didn't resign from this committee until I received an email from our GRADS member stating that she met with Dawn Littleton, and said, in sum, poor Dawn is working so hard to complete the master plan (she's a librarian), she has the input (strategies and objectives) from all the stake holders, except ours...can't we just give it to poor Dawn and let her complete our work on the grant (namely cut and past all of our hard work)?

The knife was plunged deep in my back.

Recognizing that I was now alone on this committee, I fired off an email to Holly Larson with the NPS, and cc'd all the rest of the group.  I gave her all of my info, along with a copy of our history.  I said that I could no longer remain on a committee that doesn't respect our history or my efforts.  I couldn't remain on a committee that chose to NOT respect Indians enough to turn to Indians when dealing with Indian issues.  I let her know have done my best under the conditions I have been working under for over a year now, but recognizing that I was alone in this effort, I could no longer remain on this committee,  I needed to preserve my well-being.  I wished her all the best.  Said she could contact me anytime.

And then it hit me!  I wasn't a "quitter" or "giving up", I was preserving myself.  I suddenly realized what our ancestors must have felt.  No, the government would never truly help them.  No, greedy white men were  going to keep coming.  They were going to keep you down as long as you fought for your rights; it was time to preserve what was left of your family and your self.  It was time to fortify your family, gather what was left of your people, take stock of what was left of your ways and gather your strength.  I tell you this discovery of mine gave me shivers!!  It was as if I could feel an outer shell forming over me, molding to my way too round curves and heightening my awareness of my surroundings.

I thought of my Gram.  This is what she did to survive in boarding school.  This is how she remembered her language after all of those years of being unable to speak her language or take the risk of being severely beaten or killed.  This is how she went on to teach her language at the U of M.  Shivers!

I took all the knives out of my back and started to severe the ties that were trying to hold me down.

I penned a nice note to the GRADS ladies and explained that I couldn't go on in this same way.  I gently told Betty Smith how Dawn Littleton was using her and tricking her to divulge our plans.  I said that it seemed to me that she and her sister Shirley would rather keep the peace rather than assert their right to have our history told by the Dakota and that all matters related to the Dakota should be kept in Dakota hands, not the pretentious NAC.  I understand keeping the peace, but I will not betray my people on this committee.  I would rather work from afar as I gathered my strength.

After two weeks, they were ready to figure out how they could continue on the committee since they didn't understand how to write strategies and objectives.  I reminded them that it was already done and that I sent it to Holly, not to worry.  Oh, and by the way the Winona Dakota Unity Alliance wanted to partner with us and see how we could all work together to further the cause of the Dakota and the Ho-Chunk!  Yes, Bill McNeil and I have been discussing this very issue for the past several months, while you and Shirley have been busy keeping the peace.

As I reflected on these precious learning experiences, tailored just for me, I check my calendar and saw that I had a presentation to give in the Dover-Eyota School district the very next Monday.  I gathered all of my things, check my USB and I prayed to Heavenly Father and begged for his strength as I had none, I was tapped. 

I gave the best presentation I ever gave.  There were 4 classes of 6th graders.  It went so very well and I can take no credit for it.  It was as if the words were coming from a higher power and they were.  I can take no credit.  This is what I wanted!  I wanted to share our history with the rising generation and those that need to know about the Dakota Conflict. 

I have refined my presentation, yet again,  as I have several more to give during National Native American Month.  See I talked to the GRADS ladies before I put this out to the school district and sadly the sisters, as sweet as they are,  were just too busy to give these presentation to the youth, not enough limelight I fear.  Yup, its just you and some kids talking about the Dakota Conflict.  Uh, and you have to know your history to do this.  See that is what they are doing to you.  They are keeping you busy making "peace" and keeping you in line, and then you forget what you are all about.  It's about remembering who you are, where you came from and where you are going.  It's about preserving your family and your self, and honoring your ancestor's sacrifice for you.  It's about honoring the Creator enough to plead for strength and not to kick others too hard, because he sacrificed for you.  Yes, self preservation is my new mantra.

Won't the GRADS ladies be so sad to learn that there was a reporter at the presentation in Dover-Eyota.

A marker tree at IHP.  Very stark amidst oak savannah, prairie grass, rock formations, and deciduous trees.  This marker tree stands out very plainly to the learned eye, though it is vastly outnumbered by the surrounding greenery and man made edifices.  When I first saw this tree my heart swelled within me.  We were here!  We shaped our surroundings and they still stand as a testament to our people, even though our many burial mounds were desecrated for farm land by the dominant European cultures.

Last night at a soccer game in Lake City, my son played an outstanding game.  He is defense and has earned the nickname "The Wall" over his playing years.  He stood tall and straight as he played the ball, even though his man was pulling and pushing him, he did not give up. He shut down one of Lake City's better players much to the dismay of his daddy.  So much so that he had to yell racial slurs.  He was talked to, he quieted down, but my son heard it.  My heart swelled with anger and my thoughts were dark.  I looked for this ignoramus after the game, but he was gone. 

Racism like this rampant for our people in SE MN.  We left a school in Rochester, Century High School, which is 85% white, because of this.  The administration, the principal, assistant principal, the activities director, Hal Houghton, Otto the math teacher, were all biased.  What was even worse, is that each one of these people lied about my son, lied about following the 504 plan, and even lied to my husband.  Apparently there is a culture there that predominates at Century and that is you do not question their authority.  Uh; no!  Meetings were held to point out their racist attitudes and behaviors and words, but they could not or would not understand.  They think that just because a child of color attends "their" school, they are tolerant and not racist.  Yet, when you try to level the playing field and bring to light oppressive tactics, they get angry, say you are intolerant because you are "pulling the race card."  We left Century and moved on to better things like Lourdes, a private school.

Like the marker tree, my son is here.  He is a good soccer player and he has the God given right to play just like everyone else.  Just like the kids from Lake City and at Century.  He was one of 4 kids of color on the Lourdes JV soccer team.  At Century, he was among the many kids of color on the C squad.  There were NO kids of color on the JV soccer team or Varsity team.  He can become a light to others if he continues to play the ball and stay focused on his abilities and not other people's character disabilities.

Cobell or to not Cobell

Today I received word that my records have been lost somewhere in the miasma of the BIA, Cobell, US. Government Data Banks.  How odd.  I am a member of the Ho-Chunk Nation.  I am the granddaughter of Henry Decorah.  I am the daughter of Vera Kingbird.  There are records of my Choka, my Gram, my mother, my daughter; but none of me.   I am disturbed on many levels.  There is nothing in the BIA, US Government or Cobell to tie to me my Choka or to my mother or daughter.  I almost cried over this, but realized that what happened to so many of my early ancestors, is still happening; it happened to me.  Oh, it hurts, and I am at a loss as to what to do, but I am still here. 

I could challenge this, but I do not care to at this time.  There is so much bureaucracy involved in this that it would be just a waste of time and for what?  A few hundred dollars?  I am reminded of the time when my grandfather died.  Everyone wanted his money from his IIM account.  I cared for him for the last year of his life and no one came to visit him, but everyone came out of the woodwork and wanted a share of his pittance.  My cousin and mother accused me of taking all of his SSA benefits and lived high off the hog as they said.  Never mind that I was a BSN/RN working full-time for the county or that my husband was a doctor working for Meritcare Health Systems.  Never mind that no one had to pay for his final funeral expenses except for me and my husband.  Never mind that he left this world owing nothing.  Yet the accusations flew.  It was a dark time.  Choka left a will and left everything to my cousin, Ella.  Choka changed Gram's will, who left everything to me, and now Ella stood to inherit the pittance.  I am reminded of the harsh words, the accusations, the treachery and the pain.  I lost my Choka and people were fighting over his money.  In the end I forced a law judge settle the claims and I received his money too.  I did this just for spite.  A law judge had to review just what I did for my Choka and with his money, and he found no reason for the hateful allegations.  Choka's probate was settled and closed.

I am glad that the land trust debauchery was settled.  I am happy that a settlement was reached though it was a far cry from what was taken from our people and other tribes.  I would like to be a part of this monumental decision, but I can't because there is no record of me in any of the databases as ever having an IIM account.  I received my money when I turned 18, yet there is no record of me.  I just don't know what to make of this other than this is a test of my character, just like when everyone was fighting over his money while slinging accusations at me.  I don't want to fight over money.  I don't need it and I am grateful that my life has been blessed in this way.  I do not want for anything and neither do my children.  Yet, I am sad that there is no record of me in the "data bases" that show that I am not tied to my grandparents according to the government.

I know that I am their granddaughter, even if no one else does.

This also reminds of of GOM.  There are those that do not believe she was a Peace Chief over a body of the Ho-Chunk who resided on Doty Island and feel that her descendants wanted to make her a Chief.  How sad for them.  Thankfully, there are those who know the story and believe in our oral tradition. As my great aunt Adelia said, "She didn't make herself a Chief!"

In some odd way, GOM softens this blow that was dealt to me today, and once again I am grateful for her legacy, and the legacy my grandparents left for me.  What they have given me can not be found in any data base.

Glory of the Morning: Glory of the Morning

Glory of the Morning: Glory of the Morning: This is my standard picture for my blog.  This is Doty Island.  This is where Glory of the Morning resided with her people and family unti...

Glory of the Morning

This is my standard picture for my blog.  This is Doty Island.  This is where Glory of the Morning resided with her people and family until later in her life.  When I first saw Doty Island, I read Jonathan Carver's description of his personal discovery of Doty Island and Glory of the Morning.  I believe I was standing in the exact spot that he first saw GOM.  It gave me such a shiver!  It was a beautifully sunny day.  The temperature was perfect.  Just for a moment I felt that I was transported back to GOM's time.  I stood in the park next to an enormous willow tree and imagined Carver looking upon the great Ho-Chunk Nation that resided on Doty Island.  He recorded that they lived in great abundance.  How true!  Except for scrimmages with other tribes and wars with the British, we lived in abundance and still do.  We just don't know it.  I marvel at GOM's ability to defy tradition and carry on with the responsibilities thrust upon her.  I am so amazed that she rose up to her role as a Peace Chief despite the rift that her election caused in the tribe.  Such courage is worthy of remembrance and emulation.