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The Seeds of Hope
Remember this. They want us to be defined by our intergenerational trauma. Yet the blood in our veins carries wild rushing rivers of intergenerational resilience, reverence, pleasure, joy and collective creative force and a spirit fire that could never be extinguished against all odds and acts of atrocities.
Let that be our North Star, our ancestral blood memory of beautiful resistance. Make yourself into a vessel where that song can be sung…
Don’t despair. This resistance is intergenerational work and it is alive and sprouting. The seeds of hope of this movement have been planted a long time ago, by loving humans who cared so deeply that you might know no hunger. These prayers have been whispered around many fires, in birthing rooms, in final breaths, heaved towards horizons at first dawn light, to the winds, under rustling dry corn stalks during the harvests…
Don’t despair. Those seeds of hope are sprouting. We can hear the seedsongs of generations in that reverent inhale.
Let us hold the vision of Indigenous joy as we move in community and tend the hearth of dignified resurgence.
These ancestors in sepia remind us.
— Native American Heritage
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In 1913, 10-year-old Sarah Rector received a land allotment of 160 acres in Oklahoma. The…
