Happy Indigenous People’s Day to me

It is not the most profound or symbolic demonstration but I celebrated Indigenous People’s Day my way. I went shopping.

I took the day off from work, that was a conscious decision but I made no real plans. With the pandemic, there were no gatherings (to my knowledge) today. So my daughter-in-law and I got out. First stop was Target. That was mundane stuff like bathroom cleaner and dish soap so no pictures.

Everything here was $1. Workout leggings $1, sloth with ice cream socks $1, sunglasses cat socks $1. From Wal-mart

New drawers from Soma outlet store. I love their pajamas. 1.99 each, from clearance. I also bought daughter-in-law’s Christmas present.

This. I bought my own Christmas present. I’ve wanted a new Columbia jacket, my old one is still good but it is 6 years old. I love how the color clashes with my hair. 59.99. From Columbia outlet store.

My tiny bathroom. I love this jacket. Don’t look at the dirty mirror.

Love that omni-heat lining. It makes this lightweight jacket warmer than a heavy coat.

I know there’s some irony in me buying a Columbia jacket on this day, or really, any day. But as far as I know, the company has no ties to Spain or plans to destroy me or anyone else. So I am content with my purchase. For now.

Seriously, I am celebrating because I can. I used to ignore this holiday, just another indignity that reminded me I was different and separate from most people who call themselves Americans. It was years before I learned about what really happened, what isn’t taught in schools, probably because it would terrify and traumatize children. It horrifies me and even though it is in the past it isn’t dead. The roots are deep and its like a dandelion, you pull up the stalk and leaves. You think that’s it, no more but look again and see a smaller version or several other companion plants. Even if you pull up all of them in a little while there will be more. That is what happened over 500 years ago and still manages to keep coming back.

I an glad to say I have no personal experience with being threatened or physically harmed because of my skin. Frankly I’ve had a relatively easy time because I was sheltered, grew up middle class in a city with a large Native population. My only real experience with racism is being ignored and frowned at by a snotty white clerk at Street’s, a woman’s clothing store that’s now closed. I would like to say that’s why they closed but I can’t take credit. I am lucky and I know it. It’s hard to talk about the oppression of my people with my background. But I see evidence of it, like the governor of my state (I claim the state but not its governor) trying to take control of tribal land and seeming to get away with it. Same governor tried to extort money from tribal gaming but was shut down by the law. I see this and think “dandelions.” Actually it’s more like @#$&!.

So I celebrate the fact I am alive and my existence is a fish slap in the face of people like He Who I Won’t Dignify by Naming, George Custer, Phil Sheridan and that bastard Andrew Jackson. That makes me happy.

It has been said that living well is the best revenge. It’s been said and embroidered on pillows that when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. So in my case, I say I have the best of both, shopping is the best revenge. Especially when I get it on sale because it’s a holiday. It is the least they can do for me.