My Grandmother's People

A few weeks ago I came across a Certificate of Indian Blood For The Pueblo of San Juan that stated:

I, hereby certify that Aurelia (Montoya) Chavez is listed on the San Juan Pueblo Census Roll, dated October 1, 1982 an official record of this office, as being 3/8 degree Indiam blood with census roll no. 458 dat of birth 05/15/04.

Signed Govenor, Pueblo of San Juan, (unintellegible signature) Date June 29, 1990.

Someone sent this to me 12 years ago - the woman who was looking after my grandmother. It didn't come with an explanation and I don't know why she sent it. At the time, I wasn't much interested in these things, so it went into the filling cabinet and that was that.

But it does mean a lot to me now.

I started some research to find out more about my grandmother's people. I came across a story told by a woman who was made to feel ashamed of who she was. She speaks much like my grandmother spoke, and the singing in the background reminded me of my grandfather. This story is sad for me because they never talked to us about these things. I think they, too, were ashamed.

Being ashamed of who we were was something I grew up with. I was terrified of anyone in authority. Teachers in school, doctors, priests, the nuns, even shop keepers -- my heart would race and I had trouble speaking whenever I came face to face with these people. As an adult I could never speak to my managers and I am only just now getting over the fear of my doctors.

The sadness is that my father was made to feel this way. But I don't think it effected him the way it did me. He was a fighter, one of the strong ones. He kept running away from the BIA schools. In the end, this thing, this attitude about the Indian people, did him in. He could accept who he was, but he couldn't accept that the woman he loved dispised him for it.

This journey into my past, my families past, makes me want to weep. There is a little girl inside of me like the little girl in the story. But when she ran home to mama, she was told to be quiet and made to sit in the corner. The loss.... How different things would have been if we had been taught to be proud instead of ashamed. I don't blame the government, although their role in this is significant. But I do wonder about the people in my family who didn't teach us differently. I think they wanted us to be white. It was a betrayal. This must be why family loyalty means so much to me. The words "my people" are sacred.