Identity is a strange concept. Some believe identity is how others perceive you; on the other hand, some believe it is how you perceive yourself. The struggle with identity usually begins as a teenager. Teens are faced with many difficult decisions on a daily basis. Some of the more common may include: smoking, drugs, friends, cutting class, and sexual relations. Many adults still are struggling with some of these life-altering and identity-shaping decisions. At some time or another, we will all struggle with our identity. The forming of one's identity normally consists of three stages, or struggles.
The first stage of uncovering identity is discovery. My personal struggle with identity began at the ripe old age of 11. It was then that I attended my first Pow-wow. For those of you who have never attended or been educated about a Pow-wow, it is a Native American gathering. It entails dancing, vendors, food, beautiful regalia (outfits), and music. After attending my first Pow-Wow, I had my mind made up; I wanted to dance. Later, I went home, turned on a Pow-Wow tape, and danced all night. The actual struggle began with convincing my mom to allow me to dance. I didn't understand her reason for resisting my desire to further my knowledge of my heritage and its traditions. In the following few years, I would become painfully aware of my mother's dilemma.
After discovering a new addition to identity, one must learn to adapt. Adapting can be as simple as a new hairstyle or as difficult as an entirely new lifestyle. As I continued to discover my identity, the adaptation process was very complicated. I was adapting to a new heritage. However, because the process entailed so many different areas that required personal change I was quickly overcome with doubt. A few of the areas in which change was necessary were my morals, friendships, other hobbies, and relationships. Many people did not understand the transformation I was undergoing. Other Native Americans judged me because of the pale color of my skin, jokingly calling me the Great White Native, which I later came to accept. The other Caucasians judged me because of my actions, traditions, and decreased interest in the usual young-teen type activities. I had to deal with plenty of discrimination. Being faced with racism at any age can be mortifying, especially as an 11 year old.
One cold morning, in Salt Lake City, Utah, I realized just how isolated this could make a person feel. My parents and I had traveled to Utah to attend a large Pow-Wow. We were running an hour ahead of schedule, so we decided to stop at Denny's for a bite to eat before heading to the Pow-Wow. I was partieally dressed in my regalia as I entered the resteraunt. I was so accustomed to the dirty looks, smirks, and stares, I didn't give them the satisfaction of acknowledging the hatred emanting from their inconsiderate eyes. That is, until I noticed how bad it was affecting my mother. I could see the hurt written all over her face. I could sence the regret in her heart for allowing me to begin dancing. It is in this very way that the hatred affected me; the my mother's pain. She was always so strong minded. I'd never seen my mother let others bring her down until that very day. The pain that she experienced because of their hatred of the unknown is something I will never allow myself to adapt to.
The third and final struggle is acceptance. This stage is often the most difficult to complete. Some people may not approve of the lifestyle changes that one has undergone in discovering an identity. Having a support system will make this much easier. My struggle was attempting to overcome the dicrimination by preventing it. I strived to educate my non-Native peers about my heritage. I believe that discrimination is often due to mis-education. I was hoping that by sharing my knowledge of my heritage and its traditions it would prevent my peers from inheriting the racist thoughts some older generations may have embedded subconscioulsy into their curious minds. Some of my peers were touched, others were not.
I recently ran into a gal who attended Junior High with me. She was a good friend of mine and she had attended many of the assemblies that I had organized on Native American history and tradition. On this particular day, I was walking through the casino to pick up my paycheck. The young lady that I had metioned stopped me to compliment my outfit. She told me how she liked the way the shirt looked with my shoes. I thanked her and began to rush toward the doors to "the back of the house" (businees side of the casino) when she shouted, "Christine, you are so white." I answered, assuming she was commenting on my skin tone, "I haven't been in the sun lately!" She replied chuckling, "I mean your style, not your skin color." I WAS FLOORED. I didn't know how to react to her comment. I was decastated that my attempts to prevent this situation were ineffective. I now realize that the fact that I tried at all was more than I'd expect from any other 11 year old. I've just recently accepted a previously unacceptable identity. I am the Great White Native. I am great, White, and Native. I am proud of who I am and what I've become.
Everyone struggles to acquire a unique and personal identity. I've now recognized that once can not change the way people think. One can ony educate others in hope that they cease judging. Identity is struggle, a struggle that can be overcome. Take it from The Great White Native.
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