Lucky

I have been silent far too long on the matter of the Dakota Access Pipeline. I share videos and links on my social media accounts in favor of the Standing Rock Sioux tribe, but it is not enough. I react swiftly to my fellow natives live feeds and posts with far too many angry and sad reactions. Last week, in the fading hours of the day and in the confines of my home, I watched the video of wild buffalo that appeared at camp. I didn’t try to hold back the tears that broke free. In the quiet of my room, alone with my thoughts, I reflected on my life. I wanted to make sense of the strong emotions I felt when it comes to this topic.

One memory stood out to me. As a sophomore in high school, I was beckoned to the school counselor’s office. As soon as I sat down, the counselor bluntly asked “Do you know how lucky you are?”

Suppressing a laugh, I replied, “Umm… sure… Why do you ask?”

He said there were three things going for me. “One, you’re a woman. Two, you’re a Navajo. And three, you are smart.”

I smiled politely and awkwardly nodded my head. Turns out, the point of that meeting was to set my course for college. Of two points, I had no control as to how I identified—a Navajo female. Yet, I knew the implications of his statement. So long as I maintained my resolve and curiosity to learn about this world, I would be able to afford a college education through scholarships that sought candidates like me. 

As a woman, I am bonded with half the world in the shared experiences of sexism and double standards. As a full-blooded American Indian, I am categorized into less than 1% of the United States population (1). We are bonded by a tragic history of ancestors being forcibly removed from land, delayed equality, and broken promises which reverberates in unseen and palpable cycles of poverty and dismal health rates (2).  My school counselor did not voice those thoughts.  Honestly, I doubt he could fathom the statistics or realities I faced. He was simply aware of organizations that foresaw the need for greater representation of women and minorities in society. I was simply a smart girl who fit the bill.

To fast forward, I went to college at the University of Arizona and chose to study something I did not fully understand—physiology.  I took many science courses and participated in summer research projects. It was not the easiest workload, nor the simplest information to discuss with others, but the science was stimulating and rewarding. Science blew my mind and I put in the effort to learn what had to be done. That type of dedication followed me to graduate school at the University of Minnesota. Though it was a more grueling challenge, I completed my doctorate in cancer biology. I fulfilled every requirement stipulated by the graduate program, as did my cohort of classmates—which was a composite of women and men, Anglos, Latinos, African Americans and Asians. I was the only Native American (3). 

In the summer of 2015, as a postdoctoral fellow, I wrote a blog post titled #distractinglysexy. The post was steeped in sarcasm over the comments made about women in science from a Nobel laureate. Who would have thought that my “luck” as a woman would persist into 2015 where sexism was alive in the STEM fields?

Fast forward one more year to 2016. Thanks to social media, the world can witness firsthand the dealing of Native issues. As history repeatedly reveals, Natives have risen in defense of something precious, something sacred. They are standing together to protect our Mother for future generations to enjoy. This time, the world can see what I have always recognized in my fellow native peoples. The Standing Rock Sioux demonstrate an unyielding steadfastness in their roles as guardians or water protectors. They lead the peaceful protestations on the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline. With the alliance of more than 300 indigenous tribes, the world can see an unprecedented resilience of cultures that have survived colonialism and assimilation (4).

I share my memory because teenage Xazmin could not effectively discuss the irony of the word "lucky" as it pertains to underrepresented groups. As the years since that discussion have passed, I have become a well-educated scientist. I learned in greater depth the tragic history of native peoples. I identified from personal experience the ramifications of broken treaties and reservation lifestyle. As a scientist, I became informed of the dismal health rates that are so disproportionately high amongst Natives. Unsurprisingly, whatever "luck" I have as a Native woman, has only motivated me to try harder, run faster, climb higher, and to stand longer. 

I choose to stand with Standing Rock.  

My nephews, with one dressed in traditional Navajo clothing.  

A lucky Navajo girl- my cousin Vasey. 

(1) As an enrolled member of the Navajo tribe, I am further categorized into less than 0.1% of the US population.

(2) Double whammy, as a native woman, I am well aware of the 67 percent rate of sexual violence inflicted upon my beautiful native sisters by the hands of non-native and native men. Who knew this could be described as “lucky”?

(3) I received my doctorate at the end of 2012. That year, 102 Native Americans received a doctorate in the United States.    

(4) And who continue to battle cultural appropriation.