Your Unifier Allies

My father and his father preserved the peaceful traditions of my people, stayed close to the land and led through their presence, not their words. But when I was young, I was kidnapped by the State and forced into a boarding school run by the Church. They taught me that my people were heathens, and that our way of life was no good.

Over time, as my spirit broke, I deferred my power to the teachers and eventually forgot the ways of my people. I thought, spoke and acted like the white man. Years later, when I returned to myvillage,Ilookeduponmypeoplescornfullyandwithpity. Iarrogantly believed that if they wanted to survive and put an end to their suffering, they needed to drop the old ways and join the rest of the world. I addressed my people, infusing my speech with feigned humility and native phrases. I spun a tale of future promise and prosperity, if only they would follow me.

As I spoke, I felt confident and special. My father and grandfather just sat in silence. When it came time for my people to follow me out of the reservation and into the future, no one moved. Instead, they looked to my father and grandfather for guidance—two men who had no interest in arguing or imposing their agenda on anyone.

As my grandfather spoke on behalf of the community, in simple yet potent words, I was hit by a deluge of pain and humility. I hadn’t scratched the surface of my people’s reality, or my own suffering. Why on earth would they want to follow me? I went on to spend years listening to and recording the stories of my people— the elders, the people who had also been torn from their homes and put in boarding schools, the women, the children. It wasn’t until many years later, long after I had given up on wanting to be a leader, that I found myself sharing these stories in a way that moved the hearts of the white man, and inspired my people to participate in their own liberation.