“If he wins I'm going to Canada.” ”I need to find and marry someone with E.U. citizenship.” “I'm going to apply for grad school in one of the Scandinavian countries!” “My family always kept dual citizenship, just in case we ever needed it.”
These are just a few of the comments I have heard when people contemplate what they’ll do if Donald Trump wins the 2020 election.
I would be dishonest if I said that leaving the United States had not crossed my mind. After all, I want to provide my growing son a high quality of life in a safe environment so he can thrive and not face the injustices I did. But hearing these things from friends and people that I consider allies is nothing short of devastating.
I am an indigenous person — P’urhepecha to be exact. My ancestral home in Michoacan, Chavinda, was founded in the early 1100’s. It was a thriving imperial crossroads essential for trade between our people and others from across Central Mexico. We thrived for centuries. We had our own culture, our own art, our own architecture, and most importantly our own language. Of course there were wars between empires. As a matter of fact, a point of pride for my people is not ever being conquered by the Aztecs from Tenochtitlan. Their weapons were made of stone, ours of copper. However, despite these conflicts, the various peoples lived and thrived and flourished for centuries.
Then came the Spaniards with their gunpowder and horses. They came to conquer, plunder, rape, and destroy. Their major foe were the Aztecs. Realizing that the P'urhepecha had a military advantage over the Aztecs, they attempted to ally themselves with my people, who refused the alliance. So, the Spaniards turned to violence and rape. Our land was taken. Our culture was destroyed. We became less than human.
Fast forward 500 years.
In 2012, I went to visit Michoacan to learn about where I am from, to discover my roots. Sadly, there was nothing to discover. I saw P’urhepecha people living on the streets, where they begged or sold Korundas (a corn masa tamale). Kids with dirty faces hawked packs of Chiclets. Others were spit on and violently removed from the sidewalks.
My family came to the United States in the 1920s as farm laborers. Like so many others, they fought, struggled, and survived, and, despite all our problems, enabled me to have a better life. I have attended some of the best universities in the country, if not the world. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t say that I had allies with access to institutions and systems and the knowledge of how to navigate them, who helped me overcome the obstacles that enabled me to study where I did and do what I do. None of us is alone; we cannot succeed in life without our allies.
As difficult as it is for some people to come to terms with the injustices their ancestors inflicted on indigenous people, we cannot forget that our allies have also faced injustices and unimaginable pain. Maybe that is why they are allies. Some have also had their homes and cultures taken away from them. African Americans, Irish, Jewish, Italian, Greek, Scottish, Chinese, and Vietnamese allies have also faced these unimaginable things. This by no means is a complete list of affected peoples. The power structures in place rob people of their dignity, their means of survival, in some cases their lives.
African Americans did not ask to be kidnapped from their land and enslaved in another continent. Chinese immigrants faced extreme racism and squalid working and living conditions. European immigrants who were not Anglo and wealthy faced housing and job discrimination. Jewish people have been oppressed all over the world.
We have all experienced historical trauma. Historical trauma is a collective trauma that has been experienced by members of the same group over generations. Additionally, it can be said that historical trauma is the cumulative, multigenerational, collective experience of emotional and psychological injury in communities and in descendants. The plight of Native Americans in the United States who experienced genocide, family seperation, and forced assimilation is a prominent example of historical trauma.
We as indigenous people can be allies to others; after all, we are from here. In our diversity, we can share in our collective trauma and help each other heal. We can work together to fight the continuing injustices thrust upon us. We can break down the power structures that break us down. We can fight to provide our children with a place to learn, succeed, and thrive. With our understanding of the science of adverse childhood experiences, we can understand that there is no “them” and “us”. We can come together and create the world that we all want to live in.
So you might understand why it hurts so much to hear my allies wanting to leave me to the struggle, alone. Abandoned.
So...where do I go? I don’t go anywhere, I stay and fight!
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