Why do you think, it's so important for Indigenous voices to
be heard in their most authentic way as opposed to being told from the view of
somebody on the outside?
As I reflect on my childhood, from the very early ages from
the time I saw my first non-indigenous person. As a toddler, then at age five, then
when my parents started travelling into South American and then at age ten,
they went into India. Even attending the City of Calgary Public School system,
I have engaged with seen people engaging with my community. Reflecting back is
important into wondering why my family allowed ‘white adjacency’ influences in
our lives. At first, people within my community will say ‘its because your
family, my step-grandfather was hereditary Chief or that my uncle was Chief, or
my aunt sat on Council. It didn’t occur to me that childhood trauma was
connected to this notion that my people, my indigenous people engaged with people
who hoped to fix things, exploit us, exploit our land and our resources by
saying that we as indigenous peoples were doing these things to ourselves. Let
me call it what it is, we were poor, and we were uneducated. Generations had
gone through a systemic racist system called ‘Indian Residential Schools.’
Having ‘White Adjacency’ was like being smart by just having some DNA that came
from European bloodline. Its still a misconception amongst older indigenous people.
As for me, I pray to my Creator to protect such people, as I do not know what
they see in me. Think about it, when a non-indigenous person reads this blog about,
the exploitation of a young so called ‘Medicine Man,’ Nathan Chasing Horse.
I now think about how I look at this blog, I know now as I
knew then, some seventeen years ago, that like a indigenous woman who a victim
of sexual assault or family violence, there would be others. Single moms, she
might be on welfare, she might get onto the internet, social media and even
google the name, Nathan Chasing Horse. She might see this blog from me, an
indigenous woman, from intergeneration trauma circumstance, right. Seventeen
years ago, I was looking, googling his name trying to get references from
people whom he worked with in any youth programs. I thought there should be
more about him as he was in the movie ‘Dances with Wolves.’ I was looking for
an indigenous voice out there in cyberspace. In reflection, I know its
important for indigenous voices to be heard from within our own authentic way
as opposed to being told from the view of somebody from the outside.
This year, after January when Nathan Chasing Horse was arrested
in Nevada, I put myself out there in the ‘public eye.’ It’s this transition
from being a private person being unknown on this blog site. Without ever
mention my real name, I accepted being interviewed. Along with is choice came
some problems. For decades, I associated myself with ‘white adjacency,’ like a
so called thirty-year so-called friendship with a forensic psychologist, and then,
a ten-year relationship with my therapist. All these years, their voices were
there telling me from their perspectives. It was not so apparent. Until they
realized that my blog was getting international attention. I needed to step
back. Their behavior towards me changed. I needed to look at myself and look at
my entire story. For a long time, these
people engaged with my community, with the hope of fixing us, saving us, by
knowing us, and I think they never wanted that.
As I’ve stated, my parents and my grandparents experienced
intergenerational trauma at the hands of missionaries. Even when they were
selected to travel around the world for two years, it was under the umbrella of
being good Christians representing Capitalism. This love addiction to ‘white
adjacency’ for me, was a delusional response to not dealing with our own trauma.
This seeking of acceptance and this validation from the other, ‘white adjacency’
had nothing to do with physical sexual needs rather it was all emotional needs.
Reflecting on this vulnerability toward ‘ritual abuse’ through the lens of ‘white
adjacency’ in any organization was like being addicted to missionaries or people
who seemed to ‘know the answers or the solutions’ to our social problems and social
norms. Writing this blog and stepping back or cutting the strings I detached
myself to with ‘white adjacent’ people by getting to understand myself better.
I realized I did this blog all by myself and I lived within this blog for
several years all by myself. I shared stories about Nathan Chasing Horse hoping
that someday he would get caught, tried, and sentenced for his crimes against
indigenous girls and indigenous women. “Whtie adjacency” would try to diagnose and
watch rather than engage.
I could have stopped writing this blog back in January, but
I didn’t. I could have left everything up to the news media outlets throughout
this world to interpret their own storytelling about this Plastic Medicine Man
or Credit Card Man, but I didn’t’. I’ve struggled trying to update this blog
and will continue writing and hopefully create a podcast dedicated to understanding
the long-term effects of intergenerational trauma. This is not some scenario of
having a magic wand or a professional ‘white adjacent’ solution looking in on
me or my community thinking or saying they have the answer when really, they
have their own traumas. Its easy for them to bask in the glory of acceptance
and validation that ‘white adjacency’ give them, that warm and fuzzy feeling. It’s not an easy road to live within a
community where the drama of inappropriate or lack of coping skills is constant.
Yet, I am blessed. I am truly grateful for all the education skills I’ve acquired,
and I’ve achieved. I write hoping other indigenous girls and indigenous women
read about my life and understand that those who came before me had no voice
and over came so much. They struggled to have a voice. I am here to acknowledge
them as without them teaching me throughout my entire life about trauma through
their example and their love with sharing their stories. I know I would have not
found the courage I needed to move forward. So, many died before they could heal
and so many tried to make amends.
This past week we honored those indigenous girls and indigenous
women who went missing. I heard a woman speak about the death of her daughter.
I heard within her voice, the voices of the indigenous women I helped bury, who
never got to heal to this point. Hers’ was an indigenous woman talking about her
life and her regrets. Hearing her healing journey where she can let go of her
daughter’s tragic murder by not blaming herself. I thought, I wish my friends
lived. I wish they were this woman talking about their life.
Marina
