I moved away from home two months ago for work. For the past six years, I’d been living on the Lake Traverse Reservation of the Sisseton Wahpeton Oyate where I am enrolled.
I was very disappointed to read Chuck Trimble’s mean-spirited, divisive commentary “Keeping Victimhood in Perspective.” I have never met Mr. Trimble, so I will introduce myself.
The plan seemed simple enough: go to the National Park office, pull a permit and be back at the park in two hours. With this in mind, I set out with two friends to find the office in Washington, DC in August of the past year.
Growing-up on the Indian-Negro color line (I am the daughter of a European mother and a black and Indian father), I lived with mixed signals and coded information by the dominant
It was earlier this month during a snowstorm that I stumbled upon an interesting tidbit of American history—the kind you’d hope would make it into inner city high school textbooks, but somehow gets omitted like so many other things.
In recent weeks, Indian Country Today Media Network has reported on apparent random acts of violence on Natives and on the unfolding mess of sexual abuse at Catholic schools in the Dakotas.
Ordinarily I would not use those two words in the same sentence. A little over ten years ago I awoke in my pickup along a dirt road that served as a common driveway to my home and neighboring homes.