Uncovering more and more with my Ancestry.com membership. I discovered last evening that my beloved Grandpa Henry was Pueblo Indian from Colorado. I had heard that Grandpa was probably some sort of mix between Native American, White Man, and Mexican (whatever that meant? Aztec Indian? Spanish Invader? Mix of both?). But I discovered some census reports that gave me the names of my Grandpa's parents and siblings. This then led me to an Indian Census report (I had no idea that our country did this), and on it, I read that my Grandpa's sister was Pueblo Indian from Colorado. It said she was "F" for Full Blooded Indian. Which was so strange to me. I am still pretty sure that what my family said was correct and that this Indian Census report is just some broad strokes by a census worker. The strangest part was an Indian Allotment number? What is this?
Reading about the General Allotment Act of 1887 (The Dawes Act), and coming to understand the timing of this document and my family's migration from Colorado to the Southwest in New Mexico, and I see that I am not alone in losing a home. That my family, people that I love and had great respect and appreciation for, have also gone through this. Have faced being alone. Stripped of all grace. Taken to the ground. They've had great wrongs done to them. Lost everything. And in some cases, there was no happy ending. Sidenote: I found this book originally in the Library of Congress website when I was researching Pueblo Indians of Colorado (which is where our family is from), It is written by a man who was embedded with an American military regiment that did a survey of this area and its people, my people. This was compiled in 1875 and 1876. Just 11 years before the General Allotment Act of 1887 when so many Indian lands were stripped from them and sold to white men as "surplus lands". Stolen. The cruelty and theft given legitimacy by our government and the white men and women who benefited from this system of injustice and inequality. Anyhoo...It's interesting to think that this book contains an outsider's views on my ancestors. I can't wait to read it one day.
"A-Saddle in the Wild West: A Glimpse of Travel Among the Mountains, Lava Beds, Sand Deserts, Adobe Towns, Indian Reservations, and Ancient Pueblos of Southern Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona" by William Henry Rideing
I had no idea that my very happy, sweet and beautifully engaged and open Grandpa had such roots in oppression, unfairness, hardship, and poverty born out of a nation of theft. But he did. And most impressively, he only learned and grew in strength and wisdom because of these events. He knew people. He knew human nature. He was one of the wisest people I have known because of all that he went through and how it made him the wise man he came to be. And I am the same in that respect. All these things are only making me the brilliant, wise, powerful woman that I am destined to be. God is strengthening me through hardship, preparing me for my future where I will have to go up against greater challenges than I have before. And when I get to the most important battles of my life...the reason that I am here on this earth...I will be prepared. I will be strengthened. I will be hard and tough. And I will be victorious.
Somehow knowing that there has been an invisible legacy of hardship, oppression, tragedy, and loss, of being unstable. Not having a home. Not having the financial space to breathe, dream, and grow. Of never speaking of these things because to look back would bring up too many memories of pain, only making today that much harder to get through...and we are not people with spare energy to waste. Our lives are hard. We need every bit of mental and physical, energy and space. There is nothing to waste here. Knowing that my Grandma grew up in that, losing the family farm after one bad crop. Of my Grandpa's family being Pueblo Indians, who were forced to leave their tribal lands and relocate far away, eventually ending up working and living on a ranch in the Southwest. Of how they would come together and buy a home in Denver, only to have to leave when their son was stoned at school for not being white. The bank stealing my mother's home and duplex after she died, completing this cycle of theft and hardship. I see now that this was all just meant to happen. I am here to level this. I am here to break this. I am here to find a way through and make it better for all that follow me.
Reading about the General Allotment Act of 1887 (The Dawes Act), and coming to understand the timing of this document and my family's migration from Colorado to the Southwest in New Mexico, and I see that I am not alone in losing a home. That my family, people that I love and had great respect and appreciation for, have also gone through this. Have faced being alone. Stripped of all grace. Taken to the ground. They've had great wrongs done to them. Lost everything. And in some cases, there was no happy ending. Sidenote: I found this book originally in the Library of Congress website when I was researching Pueblo Indians of Colorado (which is where our family is from), It is written by a man who was embedded with an American military regiment that did a survey of this area and its people, my people. This was compiled in 1875 and 1876. Just 11 years before the General Allotment Act of 1887 when so many Indian lands were stripped from them and sold to white men as "surplus lands". Stolen. The cruelty and theft given legitimacy by our government and the white men and women who benefited from this system of injustice and inequality. Anyhoo...It's interesting to think that this book contains an outsider's views on my ancestors. I can't wait to read it one day.
"A-Saddle in the Wild West: A Glimpse of Travel Among the Mountains, Lava Beds, Sand Deserts, Adobe Towns, Indian Reservations, and Ancient Pueblos of Southern Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona" by William Henry Rideing
I had no idea that my very happy, sweet and beautifully engaged and open Grandpa had such roots in oppression, unfairness, hardship, and poverty born out of a nation of theft. But he did. And most impressively, he only learned and grew in strength and wisdom because of these events. He knew people. He knew human nature. He was one of the wisest people I have known because of all that he went through and how it made him the wise man he came to be. And I am the same in that respect. All these things are only making me the brilliant, wise, powerful woman that I am destined to be. God is strengthening me through hardship, preparing me for my future where I will have to go up against greater challenges than I have before. And when I get to the most important battles of my life...the reason that I am here on this earth...I will be prepared. I will be strengthened. I will be hard and tough. And I will be victorious.
Somehow knowing that there has been an invisible legacy of hardship, oppression, tragedy, and loss, of being unstable. Not having a home. Not having the financial space to breathe, dream, and grow. Of never speaking of these things because to look back would bring up too many memories of pain, only making today that much harder to get through...and we are not people with spare energy to waste. Our lives are hard. We need every bit of mental and physical, energy and space. There is nothing to waste here. Knowing that my Grandma grew up in that, losing the family farm after one bad crop. Of my Grandpa's family being Pueblo Indians, who were forced to leave their tribal lands and relocate far away, eventually ending up working and living on a ranch in the Southwest. Of how they would come together and buy a home in Denver, only to have to leave when their son was stoned at school for not being white. The bank stealing my mother's home and duplex after she died, completing this cycle of theft and hardship. I see now that this was all just meant to happen. I am here to level this. I am here to break this. I am here to find a way through and make it better for all that follow me.
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