Looks Like Daylight (20 page)

Zack, 16

First Nations suicide rates are twice as high as the rest of Canada, according to the Aboriginal Healing Foundation. Young people between ten and twenty-nine living on reserves are six times more likely to die of suicide than other youth in the country. Getting help for those in remote communities is difficult, expensive and often not culturally appropriate. Suicide is the second-biggest cause of death for Native American youth.

In response, the Indian Health Service sponsored an Action Summit for Suicide Prevention in 2011. Communities all over North America are looking at what can be done and what is needed to make it happen.

Experts have made a link between Indigenous teen suicides and lack of proper housing, sewers and access to clean water
—
conditions that can make young people feel that their lives are not valued.

Zack is one young activist who is reaching out to other kids to help save lives.

I'm president of the St. Ignace Tribal Youth Council and part of the Sault Tribe of Chippewa Indians.

Chippewa history is all over the St. Ignace area. It's just across from Mackinac Island. It used to be called Michilimackinac, which is Chippewa for Great Turtle. It looks a bit like a turtle if you look at it in a certain way. But the name got shortened over the years. There's a lighthouse from the 1800s, and colonial Michilimackinac. It's a tourist attraction now, but it was built by the French in 1715, then sacked by the British in the French and Indian War.

The Chippewa didn't like the Brits any better than they liked the French. I'm a descendant of Chief Mackinac, who went to war against the colonials back in the 1700s.

My family has lived on Mackinac Island and around it ever since anyone can remember. Lots of people come here on holiday, especially during the summer, for boating and camping and fishing. It's really beautiful.

But it's a small town, and it's hard to be young and gay in a small town.

I figured out that I was gay when I was in eighth grade. I've always been gay, since I was born, but it took me a while to realize it. I was lucky to realize it when I'm still young. Sometimes people go for almost their whole lives, knowing that something about themselves is different from others but not being able to say what it is. They're so afraid of how others will treat them that they can't even admit it to themselves.

When I came out to my mom, she said, “You're my son. You be a good man and I don't care about anything else.”

So that gave me courage, knowing I had my family behind me. And the response from the Native folks I told was — nothing. I was the same person to them that I was before. No difference. That really told me a lot about who we are. I felt very proud.

The white community? Well, that's another story.

I came out to people in the white community when I started my freshman year of high school, and I've been tormented for the last two years. It's been brutal — name calling, harassment, lots of anti-gay and anti-Native stuff. Very ignorant. Very unimaginative.

I can't even walk into school with another kid or they'll get tormented too. So I take care to try to protect the people who are decent to me. It means I'm alone a lot at school.

I spoke to teachers, but they wouldn't back me and wouldn't do anything to stop the bullying. I'd say something to the bullies, and the teachers would write me up for bad behavior. My school operates on a point system. You get so many points and they give you a suspension. I've been suspended a few times for answering back.

But that was last year. I'm heading into the eleventh grade and I'm not worried so much. Words can't hurt me anymore. Plus it's the second-oldest grade in the school. I think I'll be left alone.

Still, I can't wait to get out of here. The town is too small-minded. It's overall too difficult.

But like I said, I'm not too worried. I have a lot of other things to think about.

I'm involved with STAY — Sault Tribe Alive Youth. The goal is to keep our tribal youth alive.

The Sault Lake Chippewa have a suicide rate that's twice the US national average. Twice!

STAY does a lot of presentations to youth groups. We talk not just about suicide but about overall well-being. What do we need to feel well in our spirit, in our bodies? Exercise is a great path to preventing suicide because it makes you feel better and it's good for you. So we organize a lot of long-distance biking for the community. We got more than seventy-five people of all ages out biking with us. We do teen dances, put on a youth empowerment powwow, and do Friends Helping Friends suicide prevention, training ourselves and other kids how to be a good support to someone in trouble. We've reached out to youth who are literally dying to be heard.

I'm president of my local tribal youth council. I started out helping in the community as a youth education assistant. I worked with little kids in the third grade, teaching them things about our culture, showing them how to make dreamcatchers, helping out on camping trips, things like that. As I got older I asked to be part of the tribal youth council.

In our tribal school we put in a Three Sisters Garden — corn, beans and squash. We open up our dances for everyone. We try our best to help the whole community, the white community too. It gets hard to do that when they throw it back in our faces. They do that a lot, making racist comments. It gets me mad. I'm working on learning how to control my anger so that I can still get my point across. Anger is useful only if you use it to get yourself to do something positive.

I lived on the reservation from third grade to seventh grade and then we moved into town. The reservation is three miles out of town. There's a lot of really nice, really great people living there. There's also a big drug problem and drinking, and that can make for a lot of nastiness. It's hard to go out there and see how people are living. People who are addicted need help. Narcotics addicts can be very stubborn. The drug makes them selfish. Makes them think, “I can do what I please and I don't care about anybody else.” It's not just Native addicts who think this way. Any addict — white, Asian, whatever. It's a nasty thing.

A lot of white kids come to school in brand new clothes, driving a brand new car. They get everything given to them so nothing has any value. Native kids, we have to work for what we get. My mom had me when she was seventeen and has worked really hard for everything we have. I owe her a lot.

White adults have said to me, “The only thing Indians are good for is getting drunk and dying. Their silly traditions are a waste of time. The whites have the majority. Indians? Who cares?”

They say these things because they lack information. They're just people. We probably have a lot in common. We may even like each other if we got to know each other.

One thing that I think a lot of non-Native people don't understand is that there are so many different tribes and customs and languages. There's not just one Native American community. There's many! All different. People watch bad movies and that's where they get their information from.

I think growing up gay in a small town — and Native gay at that — is really a blessing, even though it's been really difficult at times. It's a blessing because in many ways I'm on the outside of things. This allows me to look in, kind of like through a window, and see things clearly. And it's helped me to have more compassion for others, even for white racists. Something bad must have happened to them for them to behave that way.

I don't know exactly what my future will be. I know I'm going to keep involved in working with Native people. On a personal note, my two big hopes are to travel to Paris and to one day meet Shania Twain.

I had the honor once of being able to listen to a talk by Arnold Thomas. He's with the Shoshone-Paiute Tribe of the Duck Valley. When he was in high school he was really good at sports. All the universities wanted him. Then his dad killed himself. Arnold took it hard. When he turned eighteen he tried to shoot himself in the head, but the rifle slipped. Left his face mangled, left him blind. He couldn't even speak for years. But his community stayed by him. He went on to get a master's degree. And now he helps others who are thinking about suicide.

In his speech he said do not be ashamed of who you are. If you are ashamed or afraid, it could cost you your life. He said to give the people you live with a hug, because they are teaching you how to be, whether they are teaching you good things or bad things, you are learning from them, and then you can go out into the world and decide.

When his talk was over, I went up and asked him how he felt when he realized he had survived the suicide attempt. He said that initially he wished he could turn back the clock and do it right. But then he wondered how far he'd have to turn the clock back. His dad committed suicide, his grandfather committed suicide. He had a lot of time to think while he was in the hospital.

Then he told me we are a powerful, strong people. They tried really hard to kill us all off, and we're still here!

I guess that sums up my philosophy too. I'm hopeful about the future of Native Americans. I've been able to meet Native youth from all over, and I've seen first hand what we can do, and what people did for us before we came along.

We're going to keep moving forward.

Arnold W. Thomas can be reached at www.whitebuffaloknife.com

McCayla, 12

Powwows keep traditional Indigenous practices alive and share culture with others. For families that have been torn apart by violence, addictions, residential schools or adoption, powwows can help people to find their way back to their home.

Powwows can be found all over North America, and people of all cultures are welcome to attend in respect and celebration.

I met McCayla at the Black River Pow Wow in Wadhams, Michigan.

I'm Ojibwe, and going into the seventh grade in the fall.

This is my third year at this powwow.

All the regalia has a meaning and comes from a tradition. The feathers are sacred. The fans are to worship the Creator. And the ribbons — when you move, the ribbons flow like the wind.

My grandmother made my dress. I think it's beautiful and I love wearing it.

It didn't take me long to learn how to dance. I wasn't formally taught, like in a school. I watched the older girls and tried to copy them. When I get more used to it I'll put my own little spin on it. I'll bring a bit of myself to the dance.

I practice a lot during the school year, although not in school. I wish I could study this stuff in school. It's as important as all the other history we learn, and way more important to me than studying wars and explorers.

There was a Native cultural class outside of school for a while. I loved going to that. They taught us drumming, what the regalia means, how to make parts for our own regalia, how to speak our language. I know how to count to ten in the Ojibwe language and how to sing some of the songs. English is my first language, but it's a new language for us, a foreign language. When I speak my own language, it's like I'm talking to my ancestors. It's hard to explain, but it's important, and it makes me feel important.

I'm a Fancy dancer. I wear a shawl draped across my shoulders and when I open it up it looks like a butterfly. When I dance it's like I'm coming out of a cocoon.

If you want to dance at a powwow, you're the one who chooses the kind of dance you want to do. But if you want to be a Jingle dancer, you have to earn the jingles with good behavior or good deeds. There are 365 jingles on the Jingle Dance dress. They can be taken away too. An elder is the one who decides. I'm hoping to be a Jingle Dance dancer when I'm a little older.

The grand entry at a powwow is really special. Everyone comes in and the audience stands out of respect. No one is supposed to take photos during the grand entry because it's a sacred time, but a lot of the white people who come don't bother to read the brochure and they take their cameras out like they're bird-watching. It used to really annoy me. Now I just concentrate on the drums and the dance and ignore them.

I want white people to come to our powwows because they'll learn more about our culture. When they don't know, they do stupid things, like say, “Watch out. That Indian will scalp you!” and other stuff. They don't know any better so you have to forgive them. That's what I was taught.

The powwow dancing takes place in a circle representing the earth. The elders enter first and you always enter and leave the circle from the same spot. And you always travel in the same direction. You always travel clockwise.

My family has always been from this area, at least as far as I know. I'm here with my mother and grandmother.

My grandmother was taken away from her birth family when she was really small and raised by white people. They didn't tell her she was Native. They raised her to believe she was of French and Irish descent. It wasn't until about twelve years ago, when she connected with some members of her birth family, that she found out she was Ojibwe.

She says it was a shock. When she was growing up, to be Native was something to be ashamed of. Native people were not allowed to be proud like we are today. People who were Native were thought by whites to have less value even than people who were Black. And if you know American history, you know that's pretty low!

But Gran also says that as soon as she heard she was Ojibwe, it felt right. It felt like a piece of her that had always been out of place fell into place and she felt like a whole person for the first time in her life. She met her birth aunt and that felt like her real family.

Being Native back then meant that white people thought you were dirty, and if you could hide it, if your skin was white enough, then you kept it secret, under wraps, and didn't discuss it. Otherwise, it would not be good.

I don't know why my people have been treated so badly. We founded this country, but instead of learning from us and thanking us, which would have been smart and polite, white people killed us.

White people still sometimes think that Indians are just like in the movies — movies made by white people! But, like I said, they don't know any better so I have to forgive them.

I have family in Michigan and family in Canada, around Sarnia. There didn't used to be a border. My ancestors would just go from one place to another, no gates or guards. It was all their land.

In school, math and English language arts are my best subjects. I've just started in the band. I'm learning clarinet. Social studies is not so good. It depends on the teacher whether it's interesting or not. In sixth grade we studied the United States, Mexico, the West Indies and South America. In seventh grade we're going to learn about China and Europe.

The other kids at my school know I'm Ojibwe and they find it interesting. They don't make fun of me or say stupid things, but if they did, it would just make them look stupid. It wouldn't touch me. But they don't give me a hard time. I'm one of the top students and I try to be friendly with everybody. You never know who's going to turn out to be a really good friend!

My hair is short right now but it used to be really long. I donated it this past spring to make wigs for kids who have cancer or who have lost their hair for some other reason. It's the second time I've done it. It takes eighteen ponytails of the same shade to make just one wig! I figure, I have hair, so others should have hair too. I don't care if my hair goes to a Native kid or a white kid. It really doesn't matter. After all, we're all human beings.