It Ain't Easy Being Indian


ricey wild.jpgAfter the last bite of pie was

swallowed, after the leftovers were doled out, after the family had a

wonderful time together eating a magnificent dinner of tender turkey

and scrumptious sides, after hugs were exchanged and many kisses

given, after pictures and “selfies” were digitized, after

everyone else left to go beach themselves in the privacy of their own

homes to freely boogit, after all that food and love three of us sat

at Gramma Rose’s house, two of us just about to leave.

My Unk Koon, Gramma and I had a silent

moment of ahhhhhh!!! Just being happy and satiated and secretly

relieved there was no family dispute whatsoever and I think we all

heaved a deep, grateful sigh of relief. Then we burped.

That moment of silence triggered

something in Rose’s head. She turned to me and asked, “Are you

related to (name withheld on my dad’s side)” and I said yes, but

I thought he was dead? Rose handed me a newspaper cut-out from The

Big City and it read, “Career Criminal Strikes Again” or

something very like that. I looked at my Gram and she had a

inquisitive expression on her face. I laughed and read on.

Turns out this perp (ay!) is in fact

my relation but one unknown to me until then. He is the son of my

uncle who has passed on and who’s a very colorful character and

that’s all I can say. LOL!

I looked straight at my Gramma and

said, “Yanno, we were just about to get out of here with no fights

at all and you bring this sh*t up? But Nooooo!!!! We Shotley’s just

have to go there!” I dissolved in laughter and my Unk Koon snorted

and Gramma had to laugh too. I felt better though, it was all too

good to be true so hey! I shall cherish this for the rest of my life:

did I ever tell you about my cousin the career criminal??? And how no

one at that occasion stomped out the door vowing to never darken it

again? Okay it was Gramma’s house but you get it.

Whew! Good times, good times!

For something to do I bought

Thursday’s local newspapers just for the ads so I could peruse the

“Black Friday” bargains. I admit here there were a few items I

would like to buy at that price BUT at what price to my soul? No

amount of money saved could move me to join the materially-obsessed

culture that infests this nation. Yes I enjoy modern technological

benefits but I also don’t believe that having the newest, latest

objects will make me better than yooz or anyone else.

My main purpose and concern is an

ongoing one; the slaughter of People of Color worldwide and how to

stop it. So yeah, I have a lot on my mind and hurt in my heart. By no

means am I daunted because of my small voice in a cacophony of hate

and cultural oppression, rather I am inspired by the challenge and if

I die for my spiritual cause? The more power to me because I lived

what I believe and therefore? I matter.

There is no soft or easy way to segue

into my next topic and I really don’t think there should be. I

could holler every day at the injustice of our non-white children

being murdered every week by white police officers and that is

horrendous. The worst is that no matter how much media sound bites

are dished it has become an “oh well” another dead kid, musta

deserved it, cops know what they’re doing.

Ahem! Yes, the cops do know what

they’re doing and they have never been called out for their crimes

and it is disgustingly apparent they never will. Have gun and badge?

Shoot a minority, it’s all good. You will get off and if you’re

lucky like former Officer Darren Wilson you will become a


I said to my son, at 5 years-old,

entering Kindergarten: “My love, some people are going to be mean

to you because your skin is brown.” His face was a study of

confusion and he understood the hurt on my face and wondered why I

was crying. I was talking to the most wonderful, beautiful,

compassionate and uninhibited person I knew. I don’t know who was

hurt most by this; yes I know it was too soon and difficult for my

son to comprehend but at the time I thought it may save him some

grief. I killed his innocence to prevent other people doing it to

him. How many white people if ever have had to do that?

None. None at all ever in this nation.

Do I cry? Yes but that’s not all I’m

gonna do for my son and my grandchild. This Gramma’s a badass yo!