An Indigenous Peoples’ Day Reflection (written in loving memory of my mother)
Do not ask me for a piece of paper
To tell you who I am.
Do not ask me for a number
To prove the blood that runs within.
I am Cherokee.
My story may not be written
In the records you expect to see,
But the absence of documentation
Does not erase the history within me.
I know that I am not alone.
We are Indigenous peoples
Of many nations, many histories,
Many languages and traditions,
And many different journeys.
Some know every generation
Of the family that came before.
Some search through broken records,
Through names and stories lost to war.
Some are recognized by their nations,
Some are still searching for their place.
Some have carried their identity proudly,
While others were taught to hide their face.
But none of us should have to compete
To prove whose suffering was greater,
Whose ancestors endured more,
Or whose wounds run deeper.
Pain is not a competition.
History is not a contest.
And healing should never require
That we diminish someone else’s story
To give meaning to our own.
We have endured displacement,
Discrimination, broken promises,
The loss of land, language, and traditions,
And generations of being misunderstood.
Some wounds are visible.
Others are carried quietly.
Some are passed through families
In stories spoken only in whispers.
And even today,
The questions continue.
Are you really Indigenous?
Can you prove it?
Where are your papers?
How much Indigenous are you?
As though identity were a fraction.
As though ancestry were a contest.
As though belonging could be measured
By the judgment of a stranger.
I respect the sovereignty of our nations,
Their right to determine citizenship,
And the importance of preserving
Our histories and our communities.
But I also ask the world to understand
That the stories of our families
Do not always fit neatly
Into the records history left behind.
I do not claim another person’s journey.
I do not ask that our experiences
Be considered the same.
I ask only that we listen to one another
With dignity instead of judgment.
For the world has spent too long
Telling Indigenous peoples who we are,
What we should look like,
How we should live,
And what parts of our history matter.
But we are not simply the suffering
Of generations gone before us.
We are here.
We are living, thinking, creating,
Teaching, leading, loving,
And contributing to the world today.
We are more than the injustice
Our ancestors endured.
More than the stereotypes
That continue to follow us.
We have knowledge to share,
Wisdom to offer,
Stories to preserve,
And futures yet to create.
Our past is history,
But it is never unimportant.
We cannot heal what we refuse to acknowledge.
We cannot understand the present
Without learning from the past.
And we cannot build a better future
By pretending the wounds were never there.
Yet healing must also allow us
To be more than those wounds.
It must make room for joy,
For pride, for belonging,
For differences within our communities,
And for the promise of what comes next.
So on this Indigenous Peoples’ Day,
I ask for more than recognition.
I ask for understanding.
Do not see us only as victims.
Do not romanticize our past
While overlooking our present.
Do not ask us to measure our pain
Against the pain of another.
Instead, ask what we have learned.
Ask what we can teach.
Ask how our voices can help shape
A more compassionate world.
And when you meet someone like me,
Someone who knows the roots of their story
But does not hold every document
That others believe should exist,
Remember that a person’s history
May be more complicated
Than the paper trail left behind.
I am Cherokee.
I do not need to make another person’s story smaller
To honor my own.
I honor those who came before me.
I respect those whose paths differ from mine.
And I believe our greatest strength
Will come not from comparing our wounds,
But from recognizing what we can build together.
We are not merely what happened to us.
We are what survived.
We are what continues.
We are what is still possible.
Our past deserves remembrance.
Our present deserves respect.
And our future deserves a voice.
I am still here.
We are still here.
And we have so much more to give.
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