Hello, this land is MY LAND.

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Hello, this land is MY LAND.
Native American/First Nations Woman Writer of the Week
DEBORAH A. MIRANDA
Deborah A. Miranda is poet, professor, and recipient of the 2000 Wordcraft Circle of Native Writers and Storytellers Writer of the Year Award. An enrolled member of the Ohlone-Costanoan Esselen Nation of California, Miranda was born in Los Angeles to an Esselen/Chumash father and a Jewish-French mother—a mix of cultures that play a central role in the author’s writing.
UWM Special Collections preserves a signed presentation copy to our library (which is named after Golda Meir, who grew up in Milwaukee) of Miranda’s 1999 poetry collection Indian Cartography: Poems, published by the historically diverse Greenfield Review Press. The book received the Diane Decorah Memorial First Book Award for Poetry from the Native Writers’ Circle of the Americas, a special honor as it is one of the few literary awards presented to Native Americans by Native Americans. The book’s cover is a monoprint, called “August Sky,” by Kathleen R. Smith of the Mihilikawna Pomo and Yoletamal Coast Miwokwhich. Our collection also holds a signed presentation copy of Miranda’s 2005 poetry collection, The Zen of La Llorona, published by Salt Publishing. This collection was nominated for the Lambda Literary Award, which celebrates “vibrant, dynamic” LGBTQ storytelling.
Deborah A. Miranda
Gender: Two spirit (she/her)
Sexuality: Lesbian
DOB: 22 October 1961
Ethnicity: Native American (Esselen, Chumash), French, Ashkenazi Jewish
Occupation: Poet, writer, editor
Northern California Esselen tribe regains ancestral land after 250 years | California | The Guardian
The tribe purchased the 1,200 acre ranch near Big Sur as part of a $4.5m deal and will use it for educational and cultural purposes
Deborah Miranda (Ohlone/Costanoan-Esselen). Bad Indians: A Tribal Memoir (2012) #queerindigenousstudies #queerindigenouswriting #esselen #esselennation #deborahmiranda #writersofinstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/BumfhYVFNou/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=y9wn2p425gbf
Giving Honor Eni mucha elpa mishmaxanano, I feel you in my blood, nishiyano, nishiti'anaxno, nishuhurno. in my bones, my gut, my teeth. Name sikosura niche a'kxi, You rise all around, kolopisik xulin opa. return like a lover. Nishkuuh, niche lahake. My basket, carry me. Nishimila, niche lasapke. My ocean, bathe me. Eni namexumunipsha, I am your hummingbird, name hi'iyatan neku masianehk. you are a flower of the heart. Name cha'a nishkxatasaxno, I feel you in my head, nishxushuno, nishkeleno. my hands, my feet. Uxarat kai pire. We dance off the cliff of the world. Name cha'a nishchawisaxno, I feel you in my spine, nishxorksno, nishsixihano. my throat, my womb. Namesanaxkak opa, eni inamkak opa. You are a river, I am the rain. Mantuxite, mantuxite, It is true, it is true, Mantuxite, mantuxite, It is true, it is true, Nishwelel, lexwelel: My language, our language: maksiri maknoco breath of life.
Deborah A. Miranda. Ohlone/Costanoan-Esselen, Chumash.
My trip on El Camino Real- reclaiming the colonial trail as part of California Indian history
Thursday and Friday, I was lucky to have my mentor invite me to go on a trip down El Camino Real to Mission Santa Barbara. For those of you who don't know about California Missions, they were institutions built by Indians under the direction of the Spanish invaders in the late 1700s and early 1800s. 21 of these Missions were constructed along the coastline of California from San Diego up to Sonoma connected along a trail called El Camino Real (the king's road). The goal of these Missions was to teach California Indians how to be good Catholics (keep in mind that these people already had their own religion(, and teach them to essentially be European so they would one day be Gente de Razon (people of "reasoning"), as the Spanish saw themselves. Eventually, about 10 years after studying and learning these "skills," the land would be given back to the Indians. They would then be good taxpaying, pious citizens of the Spanish Empire, and the region we call California would be forever a part of Spain.
As we know, that didn't occur. California isn't a part of Spain anymore, and Indians (especially Ohlone) got the crap end of the deal after each wave of invasion and intruders that came into traditional Indian lands.
So why when I traveled El Camino Real did I feel good about it?
Long answer short, because I felt connected to my own history, the beauty of my homeland, and the I felt inspired by ability of California Indians to survive the colonization and still be vocal about our existence. From the Chumash in Mission Santa Barbara, which is 400 miles from Ohlone territory at Mission Dolores, to the Esselen, our neighbors to the south... we are all still here with our culture still strong.
My trip started at Mission San Jose, where when leaving my mentor drove past the Ohlone cemetery in Fremont because he "always says bye to them" he leaves on a road trip. We drove through Esselen country, our neighbors to the south until we hit Mission San Antonio de Padua, which looks pretty much like it did in the 1700s, a complete structure that showcases much about the history of the region before the Spanish arrived.
Our drive through California's golden hills and oak trees inspired me, I see more than ever why people wouldn't dare leave this land of such beauty.
Our next stop was Mission San Miguel, where I was inspired by how the Esselen Indians who were coming into that Mission "graffitied" the back wall of the Mission Church by drawing Esselen mythical figures into the back walls of the Mission, hidden from the Spanish priests. They wouldn't let go, a persistent story for all California Indians. This is survival.
We crossed into Chumash Indian country, and made a pitstop at Mission San Luis Obisbo. Their museum was remarkable and worked to showcase Chumash Indian achievements, showing jewelry, weapons, musical instruments, tools, amongst others all displayed proudly. An ancient civilization that still exists in the modern day.
We passed up the rugged interior to San Marcos Pass where the hills covered in chapparal look like they did before any Europeans were here, and San Marcos Pass descends dramatically into Santa Barbara; Chumash country.
I got to stay the night at the Monastery inside the old Mission where the priests told me stories of a beloved lady at that Mission, Ernestine, a Chumash woman who keeps the Chumash presence alive at Mission Santa Barbara. They let me see the record books from the 1700s, the musical books, pick some massive lemons from the old trees there.
I saw how Chumash had implemented their culture into the Mission wherever they could, such as putting their mythology onto the ceiling of Mission Santa Barbara like how the Ohlone painted our symbolism on the ceiling of Mission Dolores.
My stay at Mission Santa Barbara was fantastic, as I learned the Chumash survived very similarly to how Ohlone did-- by quietly hanging onto native identity, and stubbornly clinging onto the old ways, but blending them with a new force coming in. This is how we survive.
We as California Indians need to reclaim all of this as an integral part of our history, as our ancestors' labor built these Missions and, in turn, El Camino Real.
We made a stop home at the Mission Santa Inez, followed the Chumash Reservation where they have a casino, and I won 50 bucks... which was nice. The sun set, the moon rose and we drove back up El Camino Real till we got to Ohlone territory, home. We keep going, looking back to respect our past and looking forward to a bright, bright future. This is forever home.