A brief story about why I'm not Cherokee
I'm Potawatomi on my Mother's side. Since I've been talking a lot with my Mother's clinic lately I'm trying to make sure all of my information is correct with the Nation's records and whatnot. Consequentially it's been on my mind and I realized I've told the following story a couple of times in the last few weeks, so I figured I may as well write it down.
I grew up with the vague understanding that we were also Cherokee on my Father's side. There weren't any strong tribal ties, just the presence that someone somewhere not too far back in our line was Cherokee. Then a few years ago my Uncle, a Mormon that has exhaustively researched our lineage, mentioned that it wasn't true. I was surprised, and asked him to explain.
It turns out that Uncle Silas or whoever was in the US Army in the 1830's. He worked as a scribe for the Army on the Trail of Tears, the forced relocation by the US Government of the Cherokee from their home in Georgia to the Indian Territories, present day Oklahoma (the story of this hellish journey is commonplace in Oklahoma schools but I am surprised by the number of new, non-Okie friends I make that haven't heard it. Incidentally the enforcement of the Indian Removal Act is the reason I loathe Andrew Jackson).
I was astonished. After a lifetime of casually thinking I was a little bit Cherokee (and, honestly, I'm from Oklahoma. Aren't we all a little bit Cherokee?) I learned that in fact my ancestor oversaw the wholesale stripping of a Nation of people of their rights and land and the brutal death of over 4,000 men, women and children in the freezing winter of 1838. I wanted to scrub myself with a stiff brush for even being distantly associated with it.
After a few years, though, I softened in my thinking about it. Uncle Silas (or whoever) settled in Tulsa, Oklahoma, the eventual capital of the Cherokee Nation. He would have been surrounded by native families. His children would have grown up with Indian children, as would their children. It is understandable, then, that they would have started to identify themselves as at least part Cherokee. In Cherokee culture (as with many Native American tribes), once you live with a family and a people and contribute for long enough you are part of the tribe, no matter your bloodline or skin color or features. So I guess the thing that resonates with me is that though we are not Cherokee in the eyes of US law, in the eyes of the Cherokee we might have been.
I grew up with the vague understanding that we were also Cherokee on my Father's side. There weren't any strong tribal ties, just the presence that someone somewhere not too far back in our line was Cherokee. Then a few years ago my Uncle, a Mormon that has exhaustively researched our lineage, mentioned that it wasn't true. I was surprised, and asked him to explain.
It turns out that Uncle Silas or whoever was in the US Army in the 1830's. He worked as a scribe for the Army on the Trail of Tears, the forced relocation by the US Government of the Cherokee from their home in Georgia to the Indian Territories, present day Oklahoma (the story of this hellish journey is commonplace in Oklahoma schools but I am surprised by the number of new, non-Okie friends I make that haven't heard it. Incidentally the enforcement of the Indian Removal Act is the reason I loathe Andrew Jackson).
I was astonished. After a lifetime of casually thinking I was a little bit Cherokee (and, honestly, I'm from Oklahoma. Aren't we all a little bit Cherokee?) I learned that in fact my ancestor oversaw the wholesale stripping of a Nation of people of their rights and land and the brutal death of over 4,000 men, women and children in the freezing winter of 1838. I wanted to scrub myself with a stiff brush for even being distantly associated with it.
After a few years, though, I softened in my thinking about it. Uncle Silas (or whoever) settled in Tulsa, Oklahoma, the eventual capital of the Cherokee Nation. He would have been surrounded by native families. His children would have grown up with Indian children, as would their children. It is understandable, then, that they would have started to identify themselves as at least part Cherokee. In Cherokee culture (as with many Native American tribes), once you live with a family and a people and contribute for long enough you are part of the tribe, no matter your bloodline or skin color or features. So I guess the thing that resonates with me is that though we are not Cherokee in the eyes of US law, in the eyes of the Cherokee we might have been.