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A Little Indian In Me?

Friday, December 5th, 2008 by Alyice

When my mother was alive, she loved anything and everything to do with the Indian heritage. She was drawn to it like a deer is drawn to water. She’d attend Indian Pow-Wows, shop at Indian stores, wear Indian apparel, and at one time, had her entire living decorated with Indian décor. And it never failed, every time she met a full-blooded Indian, they’d always ask how much Indian she had in her and from what tribe—and that’s before they even spoke to her. They said it had something to do with her bone structure; especially her cheekbones. And I’m not completely positive, but I think they said something about her spirit.

Personally, I’ve never been to a Pow-Wow—or an Indian reservation for that matter—and if you asked me what tribe they thought she came from, I couldn’t tell you. My mom was a rather private person when it came to the history of my people—as was her mother before her, and her mother before her. I actually know very little about where I came from, who my ancestors were, and what nationality I really am.

I do know for sure that my grandmother was first generation American and her parents migrated to America to escape the war. I also know that my great-grandmother (her mother) was 100% Polish and her husband was 100% Russian. And I know that my biological father has German in him. Other than that, everything is speculation. It’s been said that I have Swedish, English, and Irish in me—but I can’t prove it.

And if you ask my husband, I have Mexican or Latin in me—which is probably because I took on the heritage of my surroundings growing up. It’s really all I knew.

There are times when I daydream about having a smidge of Indian in me and wonder if that’s why I have this strong draw towards nature, the great outdoors and living under the stars—though I know absolutely nothing about camping, farming, or ranching. I do know, however, that I seem to come alive when we spend the day in the outdoors—hiking, exploring, and photographing nature.

At any rate, this is a painting I did in honor of the possibility that my mom had some Indian in her, after all. It reminds me of cave drawings, but in color. If you stare at it long enough you can see the head of a bird in the lower, left corner and just above the bird, a spirit flying free. And if you look just a bit closer, you’ll see a woman looking down upon the two, on the top, right—just within the pink.

Until next time,

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I'm a freelance writer, mixed media artist, SMVA, and the owner of The Dabbling Mum.

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