“Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped.”-Elbert Hubbard

Why are we savages? Why is it considered okay to point out the differences in another and not ever have to face the abnormalities in yourself? Why is it that when faced with something that breaks the monotony, humans tend to ridicule it and make it unwanted, despite what the disturbance may have done for the majority? Why is there prejudice? What exactly is it that gives the United States the nickname “Melting Pot”? It’s the different cultures and traditions, actions and beliefs, the very things that receive so much punishment. What about contributing to the great quilt called the United States makes one worthy of such barbaric treatment? I have plenty times before been the victim of this punishment, the words and laughs of the ones who are perfect. When I was as young as six, we did a unit similar to one we are now, one about ethnicity and diversity, and I was excited to share what I was. I am a Native American. When I told my kindergarten class that, they had much the same expression as a wall. Stunned. Silent. Even one of the other kids that I KNEW was a Navajo, just like me, was silent, forced into submission by the rest of the class. Then one of the boys in my class broke the silence. ” Hey, you can’t be an Indian. You don’t have a bow.” When I was six, I couldn’t be very offended beyond the frustration that I felt trying to prove the truth to what had to be one of the most idiotic kindergartners anyone could ever meet.

The Navajo people have been subject to some harsh treatment over the years, the most famous of which is probably the Long Walk of the Navajo. This forced march was a transport from the traditional land of the Navajo, called the Dinetah, to a reservation in New Mexico. Everyone that went and survived long enough to actually get there, including my great grandmother, faced very difficult conditions that included being cold at night because of the lack of firewood, cramped because the facility was built for only half of the people that were forced in there, or hungry because they weren’t getting enough food. When, four years later, the experiment was finally declared a failure, the government decided to relocate the Dine, as the Navajos call themselves, to their native lands, granting them 3.5 million acres inside their sacred mountains.

Even though the prejudice has changed over the years since the Long Walk, my shield doesn’t protect me. Just having a few photographs of a flag, some children, and a coin on a peice of paper can’t erase the pain I feel when somebody judges me before even really getting to know me. Every syllable of laughter still hurts, every name, every arrow, still hurts. Nothing will ever change that. The embarrassment I feel, the frustration of knowing that they are only looking at me like I’m a color, isn’t going away because of a school project. Judge me if you want, but give yourself a chance to know me first.

I don’t think prejudice can be completely gone, or even partially gone. I think that prejudice is just a part of life we’ll have to deal with. Like bad food, or Bush. Except if you take a sip of water, you can’t taste the food anymore. And Bush is going to be gone soon. Prejudice is like bad food that sticks to your tongue, and won’t go away no matter how much water you drink. We just have to suck it up and deal with it, and keep up things like this, where we all teach each other about what our ancestors had to deal with, and what we ourselves have had to deal with.

My people, the Navajo, have contributed to the American Quilt a lot. Navajo tacos, jewelry, music, sports, law, war. We’ve covered a lot of bases. We have professional sports players, good food [mostly], everything. The Code Talkers of World War II made an uncrackable code that allowed the Allies to defeat the Axis of Evil. But still we are walked upon, my family cheated, and I myself discriminated against by my own family members [on my dad’s side]. Still we are considered savages.

Why is the question I ask. Why am I a savage? Do savages try to get along with their lives and bear the laughs and points of the others? Or are they the ones that point and laugh? I think it’s both, because everybody on this earth is somehow guilty or related to this powerful subject. Nobody is better than anybody, and I’ll be damned if I’m told otherwise. Savagry isn’t inherent in my blood as a Navajo, it’s inherent in my blood as a person.

We’re not savages.

We’re people.

We’re you. And that’s how it is. Put that finger down and stifle your laughs, because I’m just as human as you.

“Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped.”-Elbert Hubbard