What it means to be Navajo at Duke

When people think Native American they think teepees, bow and arrows, and warriors – but mostly people think “savage.”

I am Navajo. I am fresh off the reservation. My name holds the meaning “sun rays,” and little do people know, but when they call my name they are practicing the Navajo language.

What is the significance, if any, of being Navajo? More specifically: What is it like to be a Navajo and in college? I really had not put much thought into who I am until midway through my first semester at Duke.

Of course I received the ignorant questions: “Do you live in a teepee? Is your hair real? Are all Native Americans drunks?” And my personal favorite: “Does the government really give you everything for free?”

The questions, which seem to be getting increasingly offensive, never end. Can you begin to see my frustration? No, my people do not live in teepees, our homes are called Hogans. My long black hair symbolizes knowledge I have obtained throughout my life, and that is why it is so long. Alcoholism is a problem yes, but no not every single Native is a drunk. And the answer to the last question is a big fat NO.

On a campus full of the country’s brightest students one would think, and even expect, a little knowledge about Indigenous people. I chose Duke because of the diversity pitch I was thrown (and I’m also a Duke Basketball fanatic – emotionally invested), still I knew I simply was not going to be welcomed with open arms.

There are challenges I wake up with, that I was born with, that nobody who grew up off a reservation can relate to. Still, I understand I am at Duke and I am grateful for having the privileges of learning from renowned professors, and screaming my heart out from the front row in Cameron as Grayson Allen soars for another superhuman dunk!

But my heart deflates when I realize in a crowd of thousands of people I am the only Navajo. I stand alone. I do not have the privilege of waking up within our four sacred mountains to my Navajo language as Shima (my mother) cooks spam and potatoes (a rather recent Navajo delicacy) with her famous fry bread.

I cannot dance to the beat of the drum in my jingle dress Shima hand-sewed. But what really hurts is knowing that I cannot be proud of who I am in a prestigious environment like Duke.

The name of my Dine people resides in textbooks, articles, and in historic context. And when I first heard a reference to Indigenous people I sat there wondering when my professor was going to remember that I was in his class.

Finally he glanced my direction, quickly changing the subject as he remembered that I am Navajo and I still exist. Astonishingly a common misconception is that all Native American tribes have become extinct – but here I am.

For those who do acknowledge our survival, it is usually only to declare how we have all become government-dependent lazy drunks. This is the stigma that my tribe, along with so many others, have to deal with, which really is unfortunate because it blinds the rest of the world from seeing the beauty in our culture that I cherish so deeply.

So back to my question: what does it mean to be Navajo?

Navajo is a language we saved for our children. It is a way of life which few are privileged with. It is kinship and an undying love for culture and nature.

Navajo is not a stigma, it is the purest form of existence. Our great Chief Manuelito told our people, “Education is the ladder, tell our people to take it.”

At the time, he understood that the world was evolving and our way of life was going to have to change to foster our survival. So here I am, embracing each day of this journey confused and afraid of losing myself in the emersion of “White” culture, but knowing deep down I must not forget the resilience of my people nor ignore the tenets I was raised with.

So who am I? I know that I am a student trying desperately to stay afloat in this crazy environment called college. I know that my success here is not only my own, but shared amongst my people back home on the reservation. I know that my tribe believes in me and said, “we are going to send one of our own to learn with the Biliganas (White Man).”

And I know that at the end of the day I represent a race so strong and so prevailing that I have the right to say I am Navajo. I have the right to be proud.