I am not an Amerindian; I was so informed by a friend who lived on the reservation with her Caucasian husband and blue-eyed children. My few drops of native blood, she told me, do not suffice to make me “tribal.” So be it; I am blue-eyed and blondish, depending on sun exposure in a given year. So where do I get off titling my blog with something from Amerindian life — “kachinas”?
Well, I am like my favorite pets ever, the thieving ferrets, a bit light-fingered about ideas (but not light-minded) and into mental syncretism. When an idea lights up something in my head, it tends to stay lit. I fell in love, almost 40 years ago, first with my husband and second with some native artifacts (kachina dolls) of his home state – New Mexico.
So, even though ever so white? Having been “awakened” by the first Crow Mother kachina I ever saw? I will mention the kachinas as my inspiration for exploring what my own pale American culture apparently holds holy. Generally, I may more often speak of those things I consider palpably UNholy….see you in January. That is, IF I can find the voice I keep losing in despair over my country acting like racist, gutless, spineless brats who keep hailing Donald Trump as if he is Benito Mussolini.