Lately I've been thinking about my grandmother. Her native American side that was suppressed. It was almost a burden to her. It was rarely discussed in the family. I don't even know my tribe. It was known growing up but I just knew to not ask questions. It's a shame to not know this piece of lineage. I can't get anything from the government because my portion of the blood line is too small. Not that I would anyhow, but it's a shame my family did not use it to their advantage. My mother could have went to Haskel, she was the last least bit.
I miss not knowing my heritage because they were to afraid to speak about it for so many generations.
Maybe my grandma didn't even know herself.
1 comment:
Shala, I don't know if you appreciate commentary on your blog or not, but I wanted to say hey and that I am a regular reader and also that I sure miss seeing you here and there! Thank goodness for FB and blogs or we would have become complete strangers by now. I have a native American greatx2 grandmother, as well. All we really have is stories. I don't know that anyone actually knows now because of the shame, as you discussed. Not with my generation but with generations before us. I always found it sad that my grandfathers sisters wouldn't claim that part of their heritage, but I have found a lot of familiarity in literature about native Americans and I've always imagined her influence is here still with my family, carried down through the generations.
Post a Comment