Iná says she didn’t realize that for eleven years she had been holding her breath, careful not to make mistakes, wanting to make a good impression so others would respect Dakhóta ladies and see how capable we are. When she was home, standing atop a prairie hill where the wind seemed to flow toward her from every direction, she was able to breathe all the way through her body. “I came back to life again,” she says, and I can’t help but cry a little to think of Iná strapped so tight she was a living ghost.
