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It Ain't Easy Being Indian
It Ain't Easy Being Indian: July 2015
Thursday, July 16 2015
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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riceywild-web.jpg If you were to ask me if I am an environmentalist I would shout, “Ooonh YAH!!! You betcha!” and I would describe my almost OCD passion for recycling, my disgust for all GMO products and my mission against Monsanto. I want to eat ‘clean’ because I already have enough miseries in my life to just passively accept more unwanted poisons. If you’re on my Facebook friends list you know I compulsively post everything anti-environmental because Someone, Someone somewhere may not have seen it. Plus we are bombarded with lies about the proposed KXL pipelines that completely annihilate the environment and yet with every new oil leak or spill we are told the whole process is completely safe.

When I was a kid about 12-13 years old I began learning the true history of this Turtle Island of ours and the atrocities being committed upon our Mother. I raged and cried; I stomped around uttering awful deaths for the people who were responsible for the degradation, knowingly destroying our Mother for material wealth. I told my mother I wanted to “go back to the blanket” which is a euphemism (I think) for Indians who just got sick of the white man’s alleged ‘civilization’ and went back to the old ways of being and living in accord with Turtle Island and continue the gifts of wisdom and respect down to our descendants and theirs.

So the Gal’s and I went a’campin by a lake in the north woods very far from the big city lights. Melissa had posted she was bringing the coffee maker and my brain did a little “huh?” Then I thought she meant a percolator. I wanted to listen to music while we were out there asked if someone had a boom box. Denise did so it was cool. I figured we would need to buy some batteries. Turns out the campsite was wired up with GASP! outlets for electric stuff!!! I admit now being completely astounded but didn’t say anything at the time. I was just glad I could charge up my phone. Turns out the campground had bathrooms, showers and laundry too. Not very hard core ennit?


It Ain't Easy Being Indian: June 2015
Friday, June 05 2015
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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riceywild-web.jpg Last month me and the ‘gals’ had a funktastic night out at a George Clinton concert at the famous Cabooze in the Big City. I insisted that for one night we refer to each other as D-Funk, M-Funk and K-Funk because I’m weird like that. Yah George, Bootsie and Parliament and Funkadelic were awesome as usual but oddly looked very young … as we three Funk Sisters agreed. Or were we just feeling the years in our bones? I know I did but I managed to wobble in time to the familiar beats and not fall down. I wore my sunglasses. You got to have your sunglasses … so you can feel cool.

It was a gorgeous night in the Big City where we three used to live but we now reside in small rural towns so it was a huge treat for me to be there. I felt happy just seeing the skyline and jostling for stage view with people who weren’t my cousins. Ya’ll Indians know what I mean; it’s why before snagging up we recite our lineage as we know it before applying any hickeys. So I was feeling da Funk and partying as hard as my old carcass could handle. When Bootsie came my way I reached for his hand and licked the back of it. He just laughed. That man is still fine!!!! M’wah!!!!

So it was a funktastic night out; no one needed to get bailed out and M-Funk was still with us and not aboard the band’s bus. We ended the night at a place the locals call “The Smelly Deli.” The late night boogitus emissions sleeping at the hotel proved that to be an apt name and the next day I insisted going to Popeye’s Chicken so I could bring some home, I gotta have red beans n rice.

The night before the show I got to hang out with my lovely friend Rachel sitting on her porch and watching humanity walk by. Rachel burned sage and sweet grass so the entire neighborhood was smudged. She and my ex, Dan, live in my old ‘hood’ so it was like going home for me; Rachel and I talked like we just saw each other and I so love and appreciate having good friends I share that with. Plus she and Dan spoiled me with the T.L.C. I needed and my Dear Daniel gave me $40 for drinks for us gals!!! It was money well spent my love!!! Miigwech!


It Ain't Easy Being Indian: May 2015
Monday, May 04 2015
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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ricey wild.jpg … My bad. Or am I?

Whilst ‘Under the Clock,’ which is a euphemism for being in city jail, I experienced some of the greatest terror and trauma up till then in my life. My repeated queries as to why I was being detained were only answered with “probable cause.” Being the law-abiding citizen that I am I didn’t know what that meant. Now I know it means that any and all law enforcement can pick you up for no other reason than they feel like it.

Just because. Because there was a lull in arrests and the officer was getting bored and didn’t like the look of you; because someone did something somewhere and the vague description is most likely you especially if you walk around being brown, black and not-white. Because of false accusations that are probably a cause so you get taken downtown cuffed up in a cop car in a state of utter panic and disbelief. Because I found myself wearing big white underpants in orange scrubs and some type of plastic sandals on my feet carrying a small toothbrush and toothpaste, a thin mattress and blanket and later at some point I got a nubby pencil with no eraser.

Later I found out I was placed in the less-violent cell block so my new companions were prostitutes, junkies and women who committed misdemeanors (I guess). I shared a cell with the trustee; I had the top bunk and tried to sleep with the light that never shut off. No sleep was to be had anyway as I had no actual contact with guards at all in order to question them. There was only a slot just big enough to slide food trays through and that, except for a static voice that gave orders or reprimands on the intercom was the only contact to be had with the outer world. The large windows were frosted over too.


It Ain't Easy Being Indian: April 2015
Friday, March 27 2015
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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ricey wild.jpgA few months ago my son Steve visited me and my friends at the Risky Raccoon Kasino Hotel where we were staying for a powwow. My son told us he got pulled over by a cop and my mother’s heart skipped a beat; I immediately thought he was being racially profiled and thoughts of all the recent slayings of unarmed black men by police made me catch my breath.

Steve pulled a copy of the report out of his pocket and showed it to us, it was a warning and then he said, “Look closer.” The police officer had checked the ‘white’ box where there was a choice for race. I looked at him and said “Whaaaaaat?” He was still pretty brown as far as I could tell, I mean I’m Native and his father is African-American so his being mistaken for white even though we also have French ancestors was rather a stretch. So I did what anyone would do. I laughed but since then I have pondered why?

Why? Why did he let him go? It came to me that police officers have to turn in their papers after each shift and perhaps the cop didn’t want his brethren to know he let an innocent brown man off with only a warning! I have convinced myself that was the why and wherefore because of the extreme racist atmosphere that is law enforcement culture. I add here I do not paint all police employees as being racist; instead I will let the glaring facts speak for themselves. My concern is not only people of color but anyone who takes up activism for the benefit of all peoples.


It Ain't Easy Being Indian: March 2015
Thursday, March 12 2015
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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ricey wild.jpgAfter 10 years without I have satellite again thanks to my Brother Mike W. I’m absolutely addicted to the H2 channel when it’s about Ancient Aliens and America Unearthed; both are very well produced in that they bring up more questions than answers that leave the viewer to make up their own mind. In fact, they are the very opposite of organized religion. I love especially when my own belief that we here on this Earth have been created as an extraterrestrial alien ant farm science project is validated though not in those words. Ayyyyy!!!!

Yeah, yeah, yeah believe what you like but please don’t deny or diss other people’s creation stories, which are every bit as valid as any other that have millions of followers or just a relative few. Just to reiterate: the Great Flood must have been an actual event because most cultures have their own stories about what happened; not just the Judeo-Christian story about Noah and the Ark.

In fact I saw an episode generally about North American Indian Peoples’ Creation Stories, NOT MYTHS, about how the flood wiped out the previous civilizations because the people became wicked and then the creation of our Turtle Island where we live now. In addition to oral history there are also really big in every sense of the word signs on rock art, in caves, hieroglyphics, pyramids, ancient cities; and texts, mounds, artifacts, human remains and even colossal figures drawn in a desert that can only be seen from the air like the Nazca Lines in the plains of Peru and the Carnac Stones in France.


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