as an white inhulalata not living on the tribe, my choctaw grandmother worked hard to teach me our beliefs. mind your elders, and your manners. learn as much as you possibly can. never break tribal code, even when you arent on tribal land. make your ancestors proud, because they died so that you could live. those are just the main rules i can remember off the top of my head. they were never written down, because the last time my ancestors did they, they were raped and pillaged and had their information stolen, burned, and destroyed. the best way to keep tradition alive is through word of mouth. my first gathering of the nations was when i was fairly young. i was the little white girl who stood out from all the rest. my blonde hair whispering words of oppression, and i didn't know how to tell them i wasn't here to harm their culture. over the years i have silenced myself greatly, as i should, because i am not native enough to understand. i wont be oppressed, and instead, and more likely to be the oppressor. i wont be killed and assaulted for my skin color and features. people don't sexualize me for being unique and different. people dont appropriate my culture. i am not affected, and i have a duty to use my voice when they cannot. remember Angela Rodriguez-Maynahonah, remember Kasey Russell, remember Tessa Curley, remember Mona Lisa Two Eagle, remember Clay Hagel, remember Lloyd Bald Eagle. remember every murdered indigenous member of the community. find Franklin Joseph Little Bear, find Shacaiah Harding, find Mary Eleanor Thacker, find Tyana Whitehawk, find Levi Brian Yellow Mule, and find every missing indigenous person ALIVE. stop disappearing our communities
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