Journey Outward

STANDING ROCK INDIAN RESERVATION, NORTH DAKOTA

There was an indescribable feeling in the air as smoke billowed from the burning homes of natives and protesters who marched out of camp, singing songs of prayer. The elders led the march in ancient Lakota songs, pounding their elk and buckskin drums in unison. It was farewell to a place many called home. For the Natives, it was more than just ‘home’ in the Western sense of the word. This land belonged to their ancestors, carried their lineage, preserved their way of life, and held the sacred burial grounds of their forefathers. The ancient songs they sang seemed to carry with them the emotional weight of the ancients themselves, evoking a visceral reaction from everyone present. Sorrow permeated the very earth we stood upon, it was impossible to escape, and I don’t believe any of us were there to escape it, we were there to stand beside one another, to grieve and to pray. For the non-Native protestors (like myself), I believe something must of struck a chord in us to have shown up in the first place. Perhaps it’s the apparent truth that many of these ‘advancements’ we’ve made are actually destructive and not sustainable, or maybe it’s the detachment we feel in modern society when our rubber soles hit the concrete. For one reason or another, we were called just as deeply as the Natives themselves to this land, these people, and this protest. The term “Rainbow Warrior” was introduced to me at the camp, it signifies someone who is willing to stand against all odds for the protection of the Earth regardless of their skin color or creed. It’s a mutual understanding that no religion or philosophy could warrant the continued abuse of our planet, and it’s a willingness to do something about it. I hope you will join me. 

Much of the world watched as the events in Standing Rock, ND unfolded. Many posted in protest of the pipeline drilled through sacred treaty protected land belonging to the Natives, some even gave their physical presence to the cause, subjecting themselves to the frigid cold, mistreatment from police officers; tear gas, rubber bullets, and imprisonment. One beautiful thing about Standing Rock was the community there, if dapl had a bright side, it’s that it brought more like-minded people together to connect over a common cause. I met a guy on my flight to ND who had actually been adopted into a Lakota family, Standing Rock gave him more than just friends, he felt at home on the reservation like he never had before. When I first arrived, it was the beginning of the end of this community. There seemed to be this confusion combined with sadness, many seemed to have found a home at Standing Rock like my friend Jahnny, but what now? Regardless of it being the end of the line for many here, I was still invited in without hesitation, given food and drink, asked my purpose for coming to Standing Rock. Everyone that showed up here, had a reason for being here, and everyone took care of everyone. At one point during the evacuation, I was running from police over Lake Oahe, I fell through ice and got completely drenched head to toe in ice cold water. In a state of shock, not fully realizing the urgency of my situation, someone grabbed me and said, “we need to get you to the med tent, NOW!” A few people stripped off my clothes, gave me a space blanket and threw me on a quad that sped me to a warm tent where I was given tea and warm clothes. I felt safe and a part of this family just for showing up and standing up for what I believed was right. 

Oceti Sakowin, Standing Rock 

Hahano Namoa, Standing Rock

Frankie, LA

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