Unapologetically Indigenous
“Survivance is an active sense of presence, the continuance of native stories, not a mere reaction, or a survivable name. Native survivance stories are renunciations of dominance, tragedy, and victimry” (Vizenor, 1999, p. vii).
“I teach because the world needs Native leaders, teachers, voices, and ideas.”
I grew up with incredible teachers who I admired. They were passionate and dedicated but taught the same settler content as they were taught. I was dressed up as a paper-headressed Indian with a coffee-can drum and as a pilgrim in elementary school. I was intellectually challenged with new and exciting ideas but was never engaged with the Native experience. Public education was not intended for us.
See, my ancestors were part of the “Indian problem.” As a California newspaper put it in 1861, “A mean “digger” only becomes a “good Indian” when he’s dangling at the end of a rope or has an ounce of lead in him.” My great-great grandfather, John Martin Davis was listed as a digger in the census. “Digger” is a historical racial epithet that dehumanizes California Natives. I was taught the dangers of presenting as Native and speaking openly about my culture. My grandmother wasn’t allowed to learn to speak Wukchumni out of fear of the harm that could happen if she spoke it publicly. Just one generation back, my mother was suspended as a young student for mentioning her tribal identity in school.
In graduate school, I threw myself into Native education and had to advocate for my decision all the time. As I had to advocate for my education, I knew I wanted to do it for others. I also had to challenge traditional notions of what education is and who educators can be. My cousin was a major influence on me as a teacher. She began my education by inviting me back to our homelands and taught me songs, stories, history, and about our environment. We began with grounded normativity. I needed that cultural grounding and strength for my journey.
Reclaiming space is ongoing, necessary work. Throughout my career as Native educator, I’ve carried the burden of having to explain what, how, and why I do my job in detail not required of most teachers. I’m proud to be a square peg in a round hole. I’m proud to be increasing visibility for Native students and Native educators. Our ways of knowing and being shouldn’t be minimized anymore. Our communities and the world have been denied ingenious talent and ideas for too long. I teach to create inclusive spaces for Native students, our experiences, epistemologies, and ontologies. The world needs Native teachers, leaders, ideas, and voices. It’s why I teach.
Sometimes, being a “problem” can be a powerful inspiration. For me, it has represented resistance, resilience, and the liberation of being unapologetically indigenous. I wanted to be the teacher I wish I had. I teach to honor my ancestors who survived hardships with the faith and strength to let our culture sleep until it was safe again to be who we were.
Like many California Native people, I grew up a long way from my homelands, urbanized and white-coded, but always Wukchumni. I didn’t grow up knowing another California Native other than those I was related to. I bring that upbringing to my teaching to help my Native students find strength and pride in the diversity of their identities and their histories with colonization. Whether growing up on a reservation closely attached to one’s culture or dispossessed and urban, they are all valid Native experiences. I work to support the value of all of our Native youth and bring visibility to the often overlooked urban Native presence.
“The California Indian was usually called the lowest mentally of all American Indians, and thought to be hopeless in the matter of civilization…of these same former much despised Digger and other Indians.”