Personal Narrative: Transition To The Native American Culture

We are often told that it’s ok to be different. My younger version would definitely agree. Growing up Indian, I had the benefit of teachers repeating instructions a bit louder and slower. I never worried about getting injured on the baseball field, because I got to sit on the bench. My parents never had to worry about driving me to sleepovers, though I was seemingly friends with everyone in school.

The Powwow: A Culturally Significant Event On April 28th at 2 PM I volunteered to work at the powwow. The powwow holds a cultural significance for Native Americans and celebrates heritage. I observed a beautiful display of culture and I gained a real understanding of diversity. As someone from a Hispanic background I understand the significance of keeping culture alive.

The first thing I wake up to was the stench. “Hey, move along! Do not slack behind.” Someone yelled in the front of the line. We are moving through the muck in Song Tra Bong.

I am a pioneer! My pioneer story isn’t your average Latter Day Saint pioneer story, as far as historical LDS stories go! I was raised by goodly parents, I was born and raised in Spokane Washington. I am the youngest of three children born to Jim and Shannon Newell. My brother James is the oldest and four years older than myself.

Childhood barriers growing up and being Native American was growing up poor. Being raised by signal parent and eating foods that are far unhealthy. Food that was prepared or bought were so unhealthy which caused some family members to be overweight. Being poor made it hard for mother to provide proper nutritious foods. Food we eat where either fried, had to much salt, and high in fats.

I was a fourth grader when my dad told me that we were moving to the Unites States, “land of wealth, excitement, and fabulous cities.” But there clearly was a mistake; I was brought to the middle of nowhere in the arid region of the Hopi Native American Reservation in Arizona. Our family’s migration to the United States was not a well-planned search for lucrative opportunity, international education, freedom, or happiness. Rather, it was a call to mission. Yet I struggled to accept it, because I thought that I was only forced to follow my parents.

For the past twenty-five years my close friend has attempted to enlighten me to the teachings of her ancestor's each time I questioned her reactions to such things as death, disaster, injustice, and also to her seemingly insane determination in the face of sure defeat. As she gently explained, the sound of her word's went into my ears. I comprehended what she was saying, however I didn't really understand until I was browsing through some pictures on the internet using a key phrase I had heard her say so many times; The Trail of Tears. A particular image caught my eye and as I looked at it, the flat words she had said to me began to come to life. Each word with it's own shape and rhythm began to come alive and together poured out to me a beautiful

Growing up in an immigrant household in America, was difficult. I didn’t live, I learned to adapt. I learned to adapt to the fact that I did not look like any of my peers, so I changed. Adapted to the fact that my hair texture would never be like any of my peers, so I changed. Adapted to the fact that I was not as financially well off as my peers, so I changed.

Life as a Native American sucks. I realized this when I was a little kid. I’ve come to accept that what other people label or describes us as are true. I’m not happy to admit this they are right. My people don’t do anything to prove these people’s claims, or better known as stereotypes, about Native Americans wrong.

If I were a plain’s Indian living in the 1900s my reservation would be the Choctaw reservation. I would explain to my grandkids that us as plains Indians we were great wanderers, travelers but we did not like farming. We were greatly known for being great warriors and fighters by using the tactic of gorilla warfare as a sneak attack.

I used to have this grudges in my heart when everything go hard that would made me wanted to blame my parent. But I can’t because I was not raise to think that way. When I come to America, I was eleven years old and no one asked me if I wanted to come it just happen in a second. I was in a cold place with extended family that I never met before and that one person who raise me and made me feel secure was still back in the country. I had to lived months without her and next thing you know I adapted and convince myself they are doing this because the wanted the best for me.

If my Native American tribe was to choose a side between the French and the English, I would pick the French. Firstly, the French have a small population in America. Therefore, they aren 't as demanding for certain supplies since there is less of them. That will leave more supplies for the Native Americans. Also, this means that they won 't take up as much land in America as the English do.

There has never been a greater disturbance in our tribe, than the one we experienced this morning. This could change the way we think and live for the next thousand generations. And to think, everything was starting out just like any other day. We awoke at the crack of dawn as always to attempt to hunt for buffalo; until we heard a scream from a child coming from the shore. The whole tribe dashed towards the beach, following the horrible shrieks the little girl was making.

I suppose when i used to think of cultural identity, i perceive it as what racial background we come from, what race we are. Whether it’s Mexican, Asian, French, etc… I assumed it meant what special foods we eat, and events or activities we participate in according to our background. Little did i know this is a misconception; quite a common one actually. Cultural identity is actually how you live your life and how you express yourself, the things you enjoy that make you, you. I am someone who enjoys many things, ranging from A-Z.

My native language is Spanish, yet I have always craved the English language. This unexplained desire has shaped my most significant life decisions, and I believe was triggered as a result of being born in a foreign country. I was born in Hong Kong, China, due to my father’s job. During my pre-school years in China I attended an English/Chinese dual-language school which I believe was where I first dipped my toes into this small puddle containing the English language. It was later in life that I discovered there was an ocean of knowledge available and I wanted nothing more than to let myself sink into it.