Personal History

Today I wrote a response to a discussion for my Native Americans in American History class.  The original question each group member had to answer was, basically, "Should Native Americans have a larger place in American history?"  I said yes, for many reasons.  (MANY reasons, which, after seeing how much my group wrote, totally made me feel like an overachiever.)  Two agreed, one didn't.  I wrote the first response.  The member who said no did so on the basis that our education system bases historical thought on what makes us, us.  That which directly led to the culture and civilization we have today.  Technically you can argue that, because without the original indigenous peoples, we wouldn't BE the "us" we are today.  But I didn't go that route.  I went with "What exactly makes "our" history ours?"  Ostensibly Native American history is "theirs," meaning less important to us because we are not descendants of it.  Okay.  Except I'm not a Daughter of the Revolution.  No family member of mine (that I'm aware of) fought in the Civil War.  As far as I'm aware we were too poor to own slaves even if we lived in the right state (which we didn't), and half a blink at my hyper-pale skin proves there were no slaves in my background.  Heck, my maternal grandmother's people didn't even get here until somewhere around 1900.  Yet as a nation, we consider that all "my" history.  (On the other hand, the Berrykin will be an almost-direct descendant of a signer of the Declaration.  All of it will be Berrykin's history no matter what definition one uses.)  Do I consider it "my" history?  Sure.  My direct people weren't here for it, but my cultural people were.  Do I consider Danish history "mine," too, though?  Absolutely (not that I study it, but that's more because I haven't gotten around to it yet).  Immigrant history is "mine" because my people weren't here beforehand.  But personally, I consider Native American history "mine" as well, because it's in the land I live in.  Just like all that other pre-1900 stuff, I consider it my national heritage, if not my genetics.  I have touched objects that hadn't felt a human hand in 150 years; those soldiers and their wives were just as much a part of "my" history as were the puebloans who erected the Great House at Pueblo Bonito, Chaco Canyon.  We shared the same home sky, the same home dirt.  But then, I'm an Anthropology major with a History minor.  I don't expect everyone to be as nostalgic and interested in the past as I am.

Really, I posted all of that to get to one integral idea.  That is all "my" history, but some of it is distant and related only geographically.  Or at least, it was.  The Berrykin will also be (non-documented, so legally and tribally uncounted) Navajo.  As well as very distantly (potentially) Aztecan (or one of their unconquered neighbors).  The Jeremelon has very little interest in his heritage.  When his great-grandfather moved the family out of Mexico, they dropped all traces of their heritage they could in order to become American (minus, much to my stomach lining's dismay, their food).  And when whoever could have signed the paper declaring himself a Navajo, he refused to be part of a list.  So there is no pride in his family in their non-European background.  I find myself saddened by this all the time, but never moreso than today, when I suddenly realized that my baby will be all those things and not have the opportunity to connect with them.  Maybe there will be no desire to; I can't say.  But I want to be able to encourage an appreciation of those who came before, an understanding of cultural heritage, and a desire to preserve the past, especially that which is genetically ours.  Because if we don't, who will?

The Irish language should have died centuries ago, did you know?  The English tried their darnedest to stamp out Gaelic and all other forms of Irish tradition.  As long as the English wanted it gone, the Irish hung on to it, made it their life's breath.  The second the English stopped caring, so did the Irish.  My linguistics teacher at UNM (who spoke the language fluently) said it would likely be dead in another hundred years because nobody took the time to learn it anymore.  Heritage thrives in adversity because it brings people a symbol of unity.  It happened with slaves everywhere, too.  But for those that are allowed to practice as they please?  Usually they embrace what's new.  It's human nature.  In a lot of ways, I think we need to embrace more than we do as Americans, especially as our culture grows to other continents across technology.  I firmly believe the richness of other cultures and society can only enhance our own.  Not because we're lacking, but because they can expand the way we think.  Inspire us to try new things, create in ways we might not without them.  Cultural sharing has always been a massive part of the innovation of technological improvement, and I fear we may stagnate as a nation and as a culture if we view ourselves as the source from which all innovation flows.  That's another beautiful thing about expanding cultural understanding: it makes arrogance self-limiting.  It humbles us.  It connects us, too, in ways we would ignore otherwise.  It reminds us that humanity isn't just one thing.

I want to raise my children with that same appreciation.  I want them to know where they come from, both genetically and culturally.  I want them to reach out and embrace differences.  To unify, rather than divide.  To see how much of who we are is where we've been as a culture, and how much that influences where we're going.  If the Baby Boomers built a strong, sound generational nation on hard work and strict rules and Generation X perpetuated it into individualism, and if Generation Y totally drops the ball and forces a reinvention of how we do things (which is probably a good thing), then it will be Generation Z and whomever comes after them to build whatever follows.  With the rapidly expanding global systems, they will have to be flexible, understanding, and conscientious to succeed.  That's what I think, anyway.  I could be totally off the map, or world events could shake everything up completely, like WWII, in ways we can't foresee.  Still, that's what I believe, and that's the sort of people I intend to raise.

Children make the strangest things hit close to home!