In the future, every U.S. citizen will get to be Sacagawea for 15 minutes. For the low price of admission, every American, regardless of race, religion, gender and age, will climb through the portal into Sacagawea's Shoshone Indian brain. In the multicultural theme park called Sacagawea Land, you will be kidnapped as a child by the Hidatsa tribe and sold to Toussaint Charbonneau, the French-Canadian trader who will take you as one of his wives and father two of your children. Your first child, Jean-Baptiste, will be only a few months old as you carry him during your long journey with Lewis and Clark. The two captains will lead the adventure, fighting rivers, animals, weather and diseases for thousands of miles, and you will march right beside them. But you, the aboriginal multitasker, will also breast-feed. And at the end of your Sacagawea journey, you will be shown the exit and given a souvenir T shirt that reads, IF THE U.S. IS EDEN, THEN SACAGAWEA IS EVE.
Sacagawea is our mother. She is the first gene pair of the American DNA. In the beginning, she was the word, and the word was possibility. I revel in the wondrous possibilities of Sacagawea. It is good to be joyous in the presence of her spirit, because I hope she had moments of joy in what must have been a grueling life. This much is true: Sacagawea died of some mysterious illness when she was only in her 20s. Most illnesses were mysterious in the 19th century, but I suspect that Sacagawea's indigenous immune system was defenseless against an immigrant virus. Perhaps Lewis and Clark infected Sacagawea. If true, then certain postcolonial historians would argue that she was murdered not by germs but by colonists who carried those germs. I don't know much about the science of disease and immunities, but I know enough poetry to recognize that individual human beings are invaded and colonized by foreign bodies, just as individual civilizations are invaded and colonized by foreign bodies. In that sense, colonization might be a natural process, tragic and violent to be sure, but predictable and ordinary as well, and possibly necessary for the advance, however constructive and destructive, of all civilizations.
After all, Lewis and Clark's story has never been just the triumphant tale of two white men, no matter what the white historians might need to believe. Sacagawea was not the primary hero of this story either, no matter what the Native American historians and I might want to believe. The story of Lewis and Clark is also the story of the approximately 45 nameless and faceless first- and second-generation European Americans who joined the journey, then left or completed it, often without monetary or historical compensation. Considering the time and place, I imagine those 45 were illiterate, low-skilled laborers subject to managerial whims and 19th century downsizing. And it is most certainly the story of the black slave York, who also cast votes during this allegedly democratic adventure. It's even the story of Seaman, the domesticated Newfoundland dog who must have been a welcome and friendly presence and who survived the risk of becoming supper during one lean time or another. The Lewis and Clark Expedition was exactly the kind of multicultural, trigenerational, bigendered, animal-friendly, government-supported, partly French-Canadian project that should rightly be celebrated by liberals and castigated by conservatives.
In the end, I wonder if colonization might somehow be magical. After all, Miles Davis is the direct descendant of slaves and slave owners. Hank Williams is the direct descendant of poor whites and poorer Indians. In 1876 Emily Dickinson was writing her poems in an Amherst attic while Crazy Horse was killing Custer on the banks of the Little Big Horn. I remain stunned by these contradictions, by the successive generations of social, political and artistic mutations that can be so beautiful and painful. How did we get from there to here? This country somehow gave life to Maria Tallchief and Ted Bundy, to Geronimo and Joe McCarthy, to Nathan Bedford Forrest and Toni Morrison, to the Declaration of Independence and Executive Order No. 1066, to Cesar Chavez and Richard Nixon, to theme parks and national parks, to smallpox and the vaccine for smallpox.
As a Native American, I want to hate this country and its contradictions. I want to believe that Sacagawea hated this country and its contradictions. But this country exists, in whole and in part, because Sacagawea helped Lewis and Clark. In the land that came to be called Idaho, she acted as diplomat between her long-lost brother and the Lewis and Clark party. Why wouldn't she ask her brother and her tribe to take revenge against the men who had enslaved her? Sacagawea is a contradiction. Here in Seattle, I exist, in whole and in part, because a half-white man named James Cox fell in love with a Spokane Indian woman named Etta Adams and gave birth to my mother. I am a contradiction; I am Sacagawea.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
i'm better! i found that i did not have pneumonia, but instead a bronchial infection that caused some bad bruising of my left ribcage. so, i got lots of rest with the help of some serious pain medication and read to my heart's content (see www.goodreads.com and join!).
so fortunately, i could mend fast enough to get back to work and focus on my ever-growing inbox. and because i usually write my entries at work (bad!), i haven't had a bit of time to post.
but i've come across a few things i wanted to share:
-funny science experiments e-article: "juicy beans" and other hilarious science projects
-www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com: funny and sometimes painfully accurate list of things white people like
-www.myspace/diablocodyblog.com: specifically, diablo cody's oscar win!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
well, for sucks. i developing pneumonia as the chaser to that lovely flu that i only just/somewhat recovered from. i was afraid of this, because i knew all the stress i've been under (and the long hours put in at work trying to keep down the reason for stress) wouldn't mean a complete recovery. and the flu i had was just so damn respiratory.
also, something is wrong with the internet at home, so i can only interact electronically at work, which is rare because i'm swamped under reports that are all due NOW!
i need rest.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
note the amount of exclamation points in my title for this entry. i'm excited to say the least.
cara, my best lady friend, and i are leaving early may for a two week vacation volunteering in tanzania. i think we'll probably work in some field related to AIDS prevention, as tanzania has the highest percentage (per capita) of persons with AIDS. the photos i've seen from a trip like this (one featured, right) make the trip seem like an absolutely unforgettable experience.
cornball alert: i also want to say, that i am thankful to karl for being so supportive of me (financially and emotionally) in regards to this trip. he's been nothing but supportive. to some degree, i know it sounds backwards to acknowledge that of my husband, but i'll be gone for two weeks and traveling like this is no small price. the airticket is pricey and so is the lodging, meals, and organizational program fees--all of which leads me to my question for you, reader (especially one reader named sati).
i know i can eke out the funds to make a trip like this happen (with tax returns and a weekend job at my office) but i was hoping that i could also (as the organization we're going with suggests) fundraise the funds. what's the best way to go about asking people for money? who should i ask? is it uncouth to ask co-workers (especially faculty that i work with)? is there a website that is helpful in that regard? should i ask members of the community (though i don't really know them personally)? businesses? everyone, please give me your thoughts and advice.
also, i've never traveled to an african country, so advice in that regard is helpful too. what kinds of clothes should i pack? what kind of pitfalls can i and should i avoid? what am i not asking about that i should?