On April 12, 2014 at Mills College, I attended my very first Pow Wow. There’s so much we are not taught about the indigenous people of these lands and the mounds and grounds we walk on that often literally consist of the relics. “Indian'” blood was spilled and their bones, crushed and rolled over after the Indian Wars. All that remains is street signs with “funny” names some of us choose to gloss over.
But that Saturday I was on a campus I walked on frequently, but it was like being in another country. I watched the dancers in their regalia, sporting colorful beads, feathers and and the like and meanwhile some were in jeans and tees. I even saw a little blonde boy so white he looked albino in full dress chanting all the songs. I watched him run back into the arms of what looked like a gray haired tribal chief! I have the utmost respect to all true natives who teach and maintain traditions that feed their souls and honor their ancestors.
Seeing that little white American Indian and a little black American Indian boy carrying a staff reminded me of a quote from my poem “WAR” that states. “Focusing on hair color, skin color and a last name will not tell you if a cultural heritage and legacy is being maintained.” I undoubtedly have indigenous blood in my DNA. I could just feel it so much I felt I had to hide my tears. I’m sure a few people experience this their first Pow Wow. I just had a strong feeling like I belonged until…well.
Here’s a poem I wrote about another experience I had that day.
My First Pow Wow
By Venus Jones
before i could see anything i heard the sacred sound i felt the drums enter me the chanting was hypnotic there was healing hovering over that circle where they danced i was full of gratitude i even wanted to clap for them and god but this was not a performance when all tribes and nations were welcomed to join in it was the least i could do we were taking steps together we were the globe rotating around under sunbeams beautiful and bright i decided to wave to a friend across the way she didn’t see me for a moment her eyes staring down at the movement of feet when she smiled i began feeling it a sense of community after the song ended i went to sit down and a man in traditional garb said, “these chairs are for family.” embarrassed and hurt at first at the bitterness of his tone i just nodded and smiled i didn’t know their rituals i had to check my privilege i sat on the green grass nearby right next to an empty chair that was likely for the deceased i imagined as i sat there on the earth indian style for the remaining time i realized i was willing to earn my place i was willing to prove it i was seeking more than entertainment on a Saturday afternoon if he only knew i truly felt at peace at home
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