Identity by design

I am from a land of jagged snow capped mountains and flowing waters.

I am from a land full of history waiting silently to be learned.

I am from parents who encourage adventure, spirit, and enthusiasm for the unknown. 

I am from a long line of chiefs and canyon runners.I am from earth, water, fire and wind. 

I am from the waters of Northern Minnesota. 

I am from solitude, independence, true thought, and travel. 

I am from my worst mistakes and largest successes. 

I am from trees, water, nature, stars, sunsets, dragonflies and the northern lights. 

I am from a land of jagged snow capped mountains and flowing waters. 

My name is Aewageshane. I am from a long line chiefs and maidens, I am from a land of jagged mountains tipped with snow and flowing water, I am from canyon lands and the hot grounds of Arizona. I am from a line of women who have taught me much of my culture through art. I have learned that art is a way of displaying a proud and unbroken tradition that links us to the generations of women who have come before us. 

Last year around this time, I attended an art viewing show hosted at the Emerson. Walking through the Montana Women in the Visual Arts Exhibit, there were many pieces that struck me with flash backs to my childhood. The elk tooth dress that had similar patterns and colors as my jingle dress I was to wear in my very first competition at the Arlee Pow-Wow was the first to catch my eye. This dress made of elk teeth and carved bone had a design layout much like my beloved dress. The way the bone curved in a half-circle around the collar, splaying outwards towards the hem, as well as the contrast in color was so similar to my very own that I felt as though it may have been mine. Comanche / Blackfoot woman Keri Jhane Myers said once, “When you wear your dress, you’re carrying the spirit of all the people who gave you the lessons of life, who made dresses before you –dresses that you can look at today and be inspired by.” Our native art and traditional clothing is such a strong link to our ancestors.  As we grow, we learn more about our past and who we are. Not only does it link us to our past, but it also bridges our culture to the future.

The next items to catch my eye were the Ya-ya dolls made out of real hair and scraps of fabric, the same dolls that I made with my most favorite and respected elder women at the Peoples Center in Pablo. I could almost smell the dried meat that would be cooking outside, and see Steven Small Salmon waiving around the tongs, laughing and telling tall tales. These elders are no longer around, however their words of wisdom remain with me today.

Then I see a piece of art that has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Caroline G. Granger painted a woman nurturing a child with her arms wrapped around, looking down adoringly. This is a picture whose pencil strokes are engrained in my brain, and is rampant throughout my house. My mother, an artist herself, has produced so many renditions of this piece incorporating the idea of Mother Theresa and a baby. However; her pieces much like Grangers, aren’t gaudy Christian pieces, they depict a dark skinned woman with long black braids wearing traditional clothing with a child in a cradleboard or wrapped in a Pendleton blanket. Throughout my infant years I was transported in a cradleboard adorned with beadwork much like the beading that was displayed on the purses and pouches made by Sioux and Chippewa women.

Finally, Edith Freeman’s painting of a beautiful patch of sagebrush completed my childhood flashback. For my people, sagebrush is very sacred. Used for medicinal and recreational purposes, this plant has always been used as a common household commodity. When burned and used as a “smudge,” it helps cleanse the individual or area. I can vividly remember late fall evenings walking along the Flathead Riverbanks cutting bundles of sagebrush to later dry and braid into long stalks. I remember the motions that I would do while getting cleansed before traditional ceremonies or before I left for my first day of school. 

This is just a single story of me. Many who see me do not recognize a woman who holds strong to her traditional roots. Many may not even see a Native American woman. But as Chimamanda Adichie said in her powerful presentation about the danger of a single story, "When we reject the single story, when we realize that there's never a single story about any place, we regain a kind of paradise." I challenge us all to not just learn one story of each other, but as many as we can, to not overlook the many other stories that formed us as individuals. 

This is but a single story.