Thoughts I had on Indigenous People’s Day, yesterday:
I was born on land disputed by the Iriquois Confederacy and the Cherokee, land where the Shawnee moved when the whites forced them out of Virginia.
I grew up on the land where the Baxoje (Iowa) lived, where once the Dakota and Sauk roamed.
I live now on land fished and farmed by the Olohne, and where the Muwekma and others still live.
The land I live on, from which I derive my life, is Native land, shaped by Native lives, soaked with Native blood.
I remember. I will not let others forget. I will pay the debt incurred by my white ancestors, as best I can, to the descendants of those they wronged.