"Look at her, bitch thinks she's better than anybody else, lookin' like a whitegirl. Thinks her shit don't stink, probly". Why can't I be dark, like Ramona? "Scholarship huh. Well of course, teacher's think she's white. Don't need no college anyway, any job would think she's an American and hire her. She got it made". It isn't fair. Mom was dark. "Your sister's so beautiful! It's hard to believe you two are related....Hey I didn't mean nothin', you look, you know, exotic or something. But your sister could be Spanish!" Why does Luisa get to be light? It's so easy for her. "Poor thing, Ramona's always outside and she's so dark already...oh mi hija, of course it's not your fault! You're beautiful, so exotic looking". I look like Dad. Why do I have to be dark like … [Read more...]

The woman made her way between sage and chaparral, having left no footprints in her wake. Small animals froze in the underbrush, crickets ceased their chirping. No birds flew overhead. She would make it safe for her children; they were ready to return. She had all the time in the world.   The observer clambered down the makeshift ladder, dropping the last few feet before pitching face first into the dirt. Regaining his footing, he scuttled towards the center of the Plaza. "Interloper! Interloper!" A Guardian returns with the observer, ascending the steps ahead of him to peer over the wall. "Mud person", he said at last. "Female. Harmless, probably". Considering a moment, he added "Let her in. Keep an eye on her".   The woman spent the afternoon under a … [Read more...]

  This is another beautiful piece of work by our new contributor, Dana Lone Hill, cross-posted from 'justarezchick'. Please enjoy her artistry. push play and read on… http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=gVAnlke_xUY   I have a dear friend, whom I have had for almost 10 years. I met him online long time ago when I was looking to talk to someone from Iran because I so vainly thought that every one knew every one there and somehow I would find my step-dad from the early 80′s. Well instead I found a friend whom I will call Farid. We have both been there for each other through highs and lows. He watched my daughter grow from an infant into the sassy little girl that she is. I saw him get married and I saw him finish school, I have no idea how … [Read more...]

Somewhere north of  Hermosillo, Sonora, a father contemplates the evening sky and thinks of his headstrong daughter, his thoughts an intermingling of  love and hope and memories - and regret, regret for promises not yet kept. The evening air is cool, a welcome respite from the oven-like heat of the day. While small creatures traverse the desert floor in their endless search for sustenance, somewhere north of Nogales a soft breeze caresses the hair of Marisol Ruiz Gutierrez. Marisol takes no notice of the soft breeze. Marisol no longer takes notice of anything. Marisol would not marry, nor raise children, nor drink horchata on the porch at the end of the workday. She would never again listen to music, watch a novela, purchase a new pair of shoes, or walk in the rain with a … [Read more...]

Cross posted from Dana Lone Hill's blog JUSTAREZCHICK. We are so excited to have Dana join Roundtree7 as a contributor. If you haven't read her stuff, you are in for a treat - and an awakening.   I had read a comment the other day by someone who said “racism was not important” and pretty much acted like it was non-existent. Now, I am not saying this to be racist, but the person that commented was white. And truth be told, you don’t ever feel racism when you’re white unless you are out of your element. Like my reservation, I once had a white boss who was stopped by the tribal police and given a ticket for speeding. He was going 90 in a 55, granted it was the middle of nowhere, but they called it a felony because he was speeding with intent to do deadly harm, or something … [Read more...]

 Eighteenth Dynasty, New Kingdom. 1458 BC   Pharaoh paused before entering the central hall of the palace. Head bowed, she reached deep within, gathering strength. The pain in her bones grew more wearying with each passing day. I am Hatshepsut, divine daughter of Amun-Ra, builder of temples, conqueror of Nubia and Punt, ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt. I will show no weakness before my subjects. Narrowing her eyes and thrusting her jaw forward in determination, she shakes her head and strides into the Great Hall, her most favored scribe joining her.   Work continued apace on the royal tomb, intended for her earthly father Thutmose but expanded now for herself. Not long for this world, Pharaoh prepared for the next; she also prepared the proper spells so that she … [Read more...]

Since awakening early that morning she'd crossed in front of the mirror several times without glancing into it, unusual because she rarely let pass an opportunity to judge herself critically. In this final vignette her subconscious mind may have found such vanity meaningless; acceptance likely would be the state of mind she carried into eternity. Presently she stops to regard her image.Expecting to find dread and panic vying for attention, she is mildly surprised to find instead a stoic resignation imprinted there, the reflection an abstract of 500 years of Indian women's guarded expressions when facing an incontestable adversary. Had visitors been present they might have seen a skull-faced old woman turn away from the mirror. Serpent woman has joined the party. A final cup of … [Read more...]

They watch. They have always watched, and always mourned. Alexander's legions marched past them, their presence sensed but unseen. Timur may have seen them, a ghostly presence of women and children alongside his Golden Horde, glimpsed briefly then forgotten as further triumph beckoned. The Great Game found the imperial troops of Tsar Nicholas and Queen Victoria hearing faint whispers in the desert, murmured prayer from those who watched them. Her Majesty's East India Company felt the eyes watching, soldiers spinning around in panic during the ill-fated retreat thru the gorges above the Kabul River. The hair on the back of the American's neck stood up as he walked past the apparitions, he shivered briefly then began swearing. His compatriots laughed, alcohol and adrenalin fueled … [Read more...]

For seven days she had trekked thru the snow, big with child, hunkering down to avoid the soldiers. What little food the band had brought with them was gone in the first few days, berries and a few rabbits had provided a measure of sustenance. Now they were safe, following those same soldiers to a new camp with warm lodges, protected by the wisdom of Spotted Elk and a white flag of peace. In one of the lodges Little Mother gave birth to a baby girl. The baby falls asleep while nursing at her mother's breast. Pleased by the scene, grandmother begins braiding a strip of bright yellow ribbon into Little Mother's hair. Because the child has yet to cry, grandmother suggests the birth name of Quiet Girl. Quiet Girl begins to nurse again. Her mother sings softly to her, combining songs … [Read more...]

The crowd jeers as he strides to the center of the podium. Simultaneously powerful and vulnerable, the Black man begins to address the crowd. A young White woman approaches, extending both middle fingers to the delight of nearby onlookers. Catcalls and shouted obscenities rain down upon the speaker. Their derision is cleansing and primal, justified, redeeming. Not all of the assemblage hurls invective. Some are shaken by it,  disturbed by the succession of young speakers, each attempting to surpass the previous interlocutor's righteous indignation, displacing the legitimate anger of those who had more reason to feel rage at the perceived wrongdoing. The crowd cheers each expression of that rage. If not for the bodies hanging from the trees, the photograph could have been taken at an … [Read more...]

        The hot dog vendor recognized the big red-faced guy but not the sobbing girl or her boyfriend. The two Mexican girls looked like gang-bangers in their Dickies and undershirts. You didn’t see many like them in Boise. The argument started in front of his cart; an exchange of words became an exchange of racial taunts, the taunts led to the shorter Chicana striking the White girl in her face, followed by the amusing spectacle of a large drunk towering over two Chicanas and screaming down at them as they leaned their heads back, screaming up at him. As the drama wound down the two Chicanas withdrew, returning to the cart to pick up their hot dogs and leaving – just as two Indian girls walked up to take their place. The father and daughter … [Read more...]

            For those who like me have more interest in indigenous culture than in the European, but who nevertheless hope to reinforce or find love, here is a Nahuatl poem for finding affection, translated by Francisco Alarcon: Tezcatepec nenamicoyan nicihuanotza nicihuacuica nonnentlamati nihualnentlamati ye noconhuica in nohueltiuth in Xochiquetzal Ce-Coatl ica apantihuitz Ce-Coatl ica cuitlalpitihuitz tzonilpitihuitz ye yalhua ye huiptla ica nichoca ica ninentlamati ca mach nelli teotl ca mach nelli mahuiztic cuix quin moztla cuix quin huiptla niman aman nomatca nehuatl niTelpochtli niYaotl no nitonac no nitlathuic cuix zan cana onihualla cuix zan cana onihualquiz ompa onihualla ompa … [Read more...]

Oakland, Ca 2012 "No te llores, mi hija, don't cry. La Virgen will keep you safe. I'll leave the door open so you could see the light. Duerme azul, mi corazon, sleep good and I'll be right here when you wake up, OK mi hija? Locking the door, Concepcion Vargas descends the stairs and makes her way to the bus stop. Inside the tiny apartment, an old woman bends to kiss the girl's cheek before taking a seat next to the small bed. As the small child watches, the old woman begins to sing softly. Beginning to smile, the child's incipient tears do not fall. Instead, her lips begin to move as she sings along.   Concepcion pushes her cleaning cart out of the elevator and across the hallway into yet another cubicle-filled room. Two floors to go. Two floors, two jobs. Maybe two more … [Read more...]

Just released (Jan. 2012)   "Are you here to die? Because everywhere that I go I tell myself  do I want to die here?" Robert Robideau, relating the words of Henry Crow Dog at Crow Dog's paradise. Ghost Dance 1973     The late sixties and early seventies were a time unlike any other in Native American history. For the first time a nationwide indigenous network was born, an American Indian Movement. AIM first entered the collective conscious on Thanksgiving Day, 1970 by seizing a replica of the Mayflower in Boston Harbor. The Trail of Broken Treaties, the retaking of land in Minneapolis for a schoolhouse, the standoff at Wounded Knee - it was a momentous time in history, comprised of real people and real stories. Ghost Rider Roads tells those stories. … [Read more...]

A fusillade of gunshots shatters the evening stillness, silence a brief backdrop again before a cacophony of police radios and loud voices erupts in its place. No longer cognizant of his surroundings, the young man who is the focus of the radio calls and shouted instructions attempts to rise and resume his journey.   Miles away, a mother stirs. She never truly sleeps until her son returns home.   Worlds away, a mother-deity stirs. She never truly sleeps until her children return home.   He tries to get up but his legs won’t move. It’s wet, where he’s lying. Where was he? He’d been walking home. He hated being late, hated having a curfew.Wishing he hadn’t smoked weed with his friends. His mother would know. She always knew. Looking … [Read more...]

Place of the Split Rock - 1676 Squash Blossom raced towards the Twin Oaks. Setting the small bundle down, she began hurriedly digging with both hands. When she was satisfied that the hole was large enough she placed the bundle inside, lifting the deerskin to behold the treasure within. But for the blood on the side of his head, Grasshopper could have been sleeping. Her falling tears wash away the blood. As the village of the People of the First Light burns in the distance, Squash Blossom rises unsteadily to her feet. She awaits the coat men.   Middlesex, Ma - 1678 Sarah Townsend watched Betsy's short steps as she carried the last load of firewood into the farmhouse. She would urge Hugh to remove the leg chain from the girl. It was really quite silly to imagine her … [Read more...]