Indigenous, I Am

by Niltooli Wilkins

This collection is for any young or old soul that feels as if their voice goes unnoticed or does not matter. It does, it always has, and you will find it again.

I was so young, seeped in adolescence It happened within the four walls of my childhood home My parents and brothers in other rooms oblivious to any danger

They know me, so what they are doing must be acceptable My insides unnerved My skin crawled as they took turns with me I am at a loss as to what is transpiring around me and inside me That’s when my voice left my body and my words were so far away, so out of reach Silent, mute, speechless These snapshot images and scenes flickered in my mind throughout my young adulthood

Did this all happen or was this one of my reoccurring nightmares?

My childlike brain had done its part after it happened It protected me as a mother bear protects her cubs By storing those memories away in a locked chest and shoving it into the depths of the sea

Why didn’t I say no? Why didn’t I trust myself and not them? Why was my voice useless to me then? Rage, confusion, betrayal All these new emotions swirled above, around and through me

Into a pillow, out of my car window, at myself, at them But nonetheless, I can scream. I don’t know silence like I once did

Avoids seeing her reflection, she doesn’t love what stares back. She sees dirtiness splashed across the mirror paired with what was behind it. Dirt, dirt, dirty.

Soil is the birthplace and home of the ground we walk upon. She didn’t know she carried all of this power and wisdom with her. She only thought she was a brown-eyed native girl.

How do I love the parts of me that I don’t even like the sight of? What I see in my mist-filled bathroom mirror may differ from what others see. Bushy, brown, hair. Frantically trying to tame the light brown baby hairs shaping my oval full face.

“You’ve gotten chubby little one.” I try to swallow this with a pressed smile while inside it feels as if a quarter horse kicked me in my gut.

The heat of others’ eyes scorching my skin’s surface. I can’t hide my body anymore. Do they see the handprints seared on to my skin? Do they see how dirty I feel? All the parts of me I keep behind closed curtains. Myself versus everyone. And I feel so, naked naked naked

Mind, body, spirit. Their strength and pride hanging in three strands past their backsides. My younger brother’s hair was thin and honeyed at the ends. His baby hairs a lighter shade, resembling the delicate tips of a paint brush’s bristles.

Merging hair pieces together creating a rhythm. Interwoven. The mind, body and spirit.

I saw their length, and their braids gave me conviction. Interweaving us in mind, body and spirit.

I fucking hate being a statistic.

My mother was abused, and her mother and her mother before her. This entity lives and travels from body to body being passed on through generations.

The women before me witnessed horrific scenes. I carry those with me wherever I go. They live on and steal the breaths I take. They blur my vision making my path slippery and unsteady.

This cycle of continuous merry-go-round pain, circular and up and down we ride. This entity that has created a home inside me has served its time. I will write you out of me, sing you away, stomp my feet into the earth and dance away from you, ending you with poetry slowly grasping the life out of you.

My jaw relentlessly clenches, the tension continues to unfurl down to my shoulders. My hands grasping nothing but nothingness. My lower body devoid of all feeling, movement, awareness.

Heart has a mind of its own and is singing and dancing so loudly. It wants to be heard. I’m sitting in this. This deafening silence. My blood is boiling over, and the little girl in me is howling. Look at me. Notice me. Hear me. Validate me. Listen to me. Believe me. And above all, protect me and wrap me in something or someplace safe.

The wall seemed to diminish before us. As I saw my mother’s pain displayed in tearful sobs, I saw where my wisdom was born. I saw where our pasts intertwined, and that her blood and sorrow circled through me. I saw our fears and trauma under a telescope. Connecting us and giving birth to this new bond.

I am alive, and I hold everything I need.

You inspire me to be just as I am Vibrant, striking, dancing through life The desire to be myself speaks so loudly alongside the hum to blend in So I will share my beauty I will dance in the wind I will stand tall I will only lower myself to sit with you, and say thank you