Personal History

September 17, 2016
By:
Terri Miles

I’m heading along the 1806 in North Dakota and thinking maybe when people pass through the checkpoint, er...I mean "information point" on their way south from Bismarck along the 1806 and just north of the Sacred Stone Camp by 25 miles, they should share some information with the North Dakota Nati

September 16, 2016
By:
Johnny Rustywire

Some said he was too mean; others said he was just gruff. He was a big, rough, and a hard person. His name was Hashke—it means angry and mad in the Navajo way of speaking. His name fit him.

September 06, 2016
By:
Johnny Rustywire

Sometimes I think about that place not far from Newcomb. The last night before we left for boarding school, summer had come and gone and it was the last day at home.

She was from a place not far from Crumbling House Ruins.

She stood there with long hair, eyes soft and brown.

August 29, 2016
By:
Johnny Rustywire

I was up north of the rez in Denver taking care of some stuff I needed to get done when I ran into an acquaintance whose mother I knew from long ago. She had raised her son in the city. He had recently settled down with his own family off the rez.

August 19, 2016
By:
Johnny Rustywire

There was a call. One of those you don’t like to hear. Ashie’s sister called him from Phoenix and said that their mother Nahgebah was in a bad way and that it looked like her time had come.

August 02, 2016
By:
Johnny Rustywire

Burnham Junction was dry; there had been no water all summer. The sagebrush was a dull gray; the sun had baked the color of straw out of it.

July 30, 2016
By:
Pamela J. Peters

I am Diné, an American Indian. Not the Indian princess of a Disney movie, not the enemy combatant in a Western film, not the romantic, stoic relic of an old Edward Curtis photograph.

July 23, 2016
By:
Johnny Rustywire

The Pony Soldier Motel on Route 66 was just around the bend to East Flag—as in Flagstaff, Arizona, called Kinlani in Navajo. There are a lot of rooms in that place.

July 15, 2016
By:
Hanna Velazquez

This blog was originally posted as "Words From a Woman With Tears On a Badge" on Hanna Velazquez's blog NotYett.

July 13, 2016
By:
Terri Miles

I was driving home from a night of pow wow on a backcountry road late at night. I had a kid in the car, my niece. The usual crew attending to her couldn't handle the gymnasium stairs so I was drafted to watch over her.

July 12, 2016
By:
Johnny Rustywire

Old Man Kee Bedonie sat down at the small wooden table at his place and looked out through the screen door to the east as the sun set and from there the colors of the rainbow appeared, turning everything gold, yellow, orange with a tinge of purple and finally a dark blue.

July 09, 2016
By:
Carly McIntosh

To the Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women of Canada

 

As I look into the waters,

I wait slowly as time goes by.

I have to say that I never believed

I would be here, watching my son from the sky...

 

May 08, 2016
By:
André Cramblit

My 79-year-old mom, Jeanerette Jacups-Johnny, has been staying with us recently. She fell twice in one week, hitting her head both times and getting two concussions. She has been recouping at our house for the last month.

May 02, 2016
By:
Ruth Hopkins

When my grandpa was dying of cancer, he asked for me. He wanted me to sit with him. I was about 8 years old. The cancer had metastasized and spread over his entire body so he was in exquisite pain. I can still see him lying there in his bed, bony and frail, covered lightly with a yellowed sheet.

Pages