I wonder what it would look like if my tribe wasn’t corrupted by Christianity. To actually have ndn people participate in their culture, instead of rebuke it. To have people dance and sing at powwows instead of going to church.

When you have ndn leadership that don’t want you to burn sage because it’s “not Christian,” something has went astray.

When you have ndn people not allowing their children to dance at powwows because “dancing is a sin,” something is fucked up. 

To have a tribe so large and so “proud” to be Native, but then try and cast off their Native identity at any point in “the name of God." 

To have ndn people say "Yeah, white people did us wrong, but if it wasn’t for them then we wouldn’t have Jesus” makes me want to fucking scream.

It makes me so fucking angry that it eats at my soul. 

And then you have younger people who are trying to participate in the tribe, in the culture, keep our identity alive only to be met with resistance by our elders.

Our elders.

The ones who we are supposed to be looking to for advice. The ones we are supposed to learn our culture from. The ones who are supposed to help us become a part of our tribe; they are the ones holding us back the most.

And I have all this anger and I want to blame our tribe and our elders, but for what? I know that it’s not all their fault. When they were forced to be Christian, how is it their fault? 

I just wonder what it would be like.


under the cut, you will find a list of native american & first nations fcs ! you will also find info of which tribe/nation they’re affiliated with beside their names. i made this because representation is very important and i’d love to see more people use native fcs in their rps.

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Unrepresented People: Indigenous Americans Master Post

So for Columbus Day this year, I thought it would be more appropriate to draw attention to the histories of the various indigenous peoples of the Americas. As such I have created a master post of all my Unrepresented People posts on indigenous Americans. For those of you who are more recent followers, Unrepresented People is a series of short posts I do on minority people, cultures, or regions around the world. While the posts I have here deal with Indigenous Americans, I have done posts on people from around the world, so be sure to check out the tag. The series is on a bit of a hiatus as I’ve just started grad school and an internship, but I hope to restart it soon. 

Note: Names marked with an apostrophe (*), are people of mixed indigenous and European/African descent

Creepypasta #1282: In The South, We Don't Question Things Much

Length: Medium

Living in South Carolina has its own pros and cons that don’t involve the supernatural or abnormal shit that occurs but, when it does, none of us tend to play with the concept of speaking on it. Everyone just moves along and pretends that it never happened for fear of being the next target of whatever the fuck dwells in the woods late at night.

We just don’t question things. I guess now I’m playing with my own fate by even choosing to acknowledge it although I’d rather do it now then be forced to keep my mouth closed about it.

I’ll give you a little background about myself. I’m Indigenous and black, my tribe is Lumbee and although we aren’t federally recognized by the government we sure as hell exist in numbers out here. Growing up was a struggle for me as well as my family seeing as the south ain’t a really ideal place to live unless you have the money for it but we were all grateful for whatever came our way.

My momma always told me that little girls born here were meant to stay here and I guess she was right because I’m still around. I guess this place has a way of charming ya and I couldn’t really imagine moving into the city. Nevertheless, if you plan on moving here then I’d suggest being prepared for a shitfest of superstitions to be thrown in your direction.

I guess this’ll either help you or hinder you.

The first rule I can recall was told to me by my older brother. We were sitting on the back porch just watching the sun set when he ran back inside and returned with a plate of greens and sat it down on the edge of the step, positioning it carefully before instructing me to go inside. I didn’t really question it seeing as my brother wasn’t a bossy person and I wasn’t really a brat either however my curiosity only grew as he bolted the door behind us once we had stepped through the entrance, muttering something about “lousy Sundays” and “no-good fuckers.”

We both clearly knew that he was too young to be saying such things but it was never without reason and I couldn’t help but ask what he meant. With a solemn face, my brother leaned down in front of me and shook his head before reaching out a large hand to pat mine. 

“Sis, don’t question things much. Yous too curious and it’s gonna backfire on ya but I’ll let ya in on a little secret.” Leaning in, he whispered something that was enough to keep me awake for the following nights:

“If we don’t feed it, it’s gonna find its own food and when it does that it won’t be pretty. Collard greens is enough to keep it at bay and yous would do best to remember that because eventually I’m gonna make yous do it instead.” I was around 9 when the tradition was passed down to me and I’ve only missed one night in my lifetime.

My brother went missing a week later.

The next rule that was given to me came from the mouth of my neighbor as we were walking home. On the days where my Momma worked overtime, the old woman next door would walk me home once I got off the bus. I don’t remember her name seeing as it was so long ago but I do know that she always carried a pink sweater with her and I recall that being so peculiar because it was six sizes smaller than her person. Like what a child might wear.

Upon asking her, she smiled gently at me as an adult would with a naive child. “It’s always good to have an item on your person from someone you’ve lost down here.”

“Why?” I asked, my hand gripping hers tightly.

At this, she frowned momentarily. “Honey, don’t question things such as that. Lord knows why but my mama always told me that it makes it so you know that the person callin’ your name at night ain’t the one that died two days ago.” Looking back on it, after the disappearance of my brother I carried around a watch of his quite a lot. Now, when I hear him whispering my name at night, I know not to respond.

The last story I’ll tell you for now is one that I’ve experienced myself. A friend and I were heading home from the bar and were driving down a road that we usually took seeing as it was quicker when what looked to be a young man ran out onto the road in front of us. I immediately pressed on the brakes and my friend began to shout when I held up a hand, rolling down my window and managing to get out a shaky “you okay?”

The man, seemingly unhurt, ran over to my side and leaned down. Because of the fact that this road in particular had no streetlights it was rather hard to make out what his face looked like but, for some unknown reason, I had no desire to know.

“Ah, I believe I’m fine. I must apologize as I’ve been standing here all day and no one has stopped for me. I was wondering if I could tag along with you two." 

My friend gave me a look of concern however I nodded, pointing to the backseat and hearing a relieved sigh. My friend’s worried expression seemed to intensify when he settled up behind her although I could only see that he had by glancing into the mirror which hung overhead. For some reason, I felt compelled not to look.

I began driving. While my friend shifted in her seat, I once again did not look back even when there was a sudden flash of lightning and I was able to see horns rather than hair. Eventually, we reached a fork in the road and the man informed us to stop, thanking us for our time and removing himself.

I drove home without bringing up the odd encounter to my friend even when I noticed her uneasy look. Turns out, there’s been a rather large increase in accidents on that particular road.

Nowadays, when he makes himself comfortable in my car and I’m alone he chooses to sit in the front seat. The one time I chose to get too curious I ended up with a broken leg from the car overturning. The cops ruled it a drunk driving incident despite me not having any alcohol.

I guess in the south you really don’t question things.

Credits to: khoffeee (story)

“I am a proud Lumbee and Waccamaw Siouan Native American, and I am participating in Culture Not a Costume, in hopes of educating the Pack about cultural appropriation. My culture is NOT your costume!”  

It’s so hard to not want to give up when you get blogs, like this witchy-herbalism blog that further prove that native people mean nothing to non-natives. Our lives don’t matter to them, only the aesthetic parts of our cultures. We are still here despite surviving a genocide. Many of our tribes live in poverty. Our peoples get the bottom of the barrel medical care and education. But they don’t care about that. They only care if they get to wear warbonnets to festivals or pretend they’re smudging. Doesn’t matter to them what that does to us. Doesn’t matter how disrespected we feel.

There’s a reason native people have a high suicide rate. We do not have anything left to ourselves. Not our lands. Not our identities. Not even the most sacred parts of our cultures. It makes you feel lost. It makes you feel like they don’t care so why bother. But my people and other tribes all over this country did not survive a genocide for me to give up. I love the supportive messages that I get. You guys have no idea how much they mean to me.

I am Lumbee. I am Cherokee. I am native. I will continue to fight for my people.


How would you feel if your entire nation/people were represented by a sole white person??? I need physical (rather, digital) answers


WE ARE A FORGOTTEN PEOPLE. Not only to whites but nearly the entire world. This article has it right, it is not even shocking to people when a Native is killed like this. This happens every day. The race issue isn’t between whites and blacks, it is between the powerful (whites) and the oppressed (people of color). Native issues are non issues in this country and it is frustrating as hell.

I am Native. I am NDN. We are First Nations. It is things like this that motivate people to fight. This is one story. I decided to post this one just because it is an older one. Do not think that this is some isolated incident. You most likely do not know what the Native experience is in the United States.

There is power in numbers and unity. We can only do that if we assist each other. STOP PRETENDING THAT EVERYONE IN THE UNITED STATES IS DOING THIS ON THEIR OWN LAND.

Every day an injustice occurs in the United States it occurs on our land against our will. Colonists not only stole our land but decided to flood it in blood. Remember that this is the reality that we as natives live with.

“Take Mah-hi-vist Goodblanket, an 18-year-old Cheyenne and Arapaho youth, who died on December 21, 2013, after being shot seven times by two sheriff’s deputies in Oklahoma.”

“The attorney for the Goodblanket family, Ray Wall, said the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation has refused to release the police report regarding the incident. "Withholding an official police report … I think that’s a violation of the Freedom of Information Act,” Wall told me when I reached out to him.“

"It is notable that medals were given to the two white deputies in a county named for the infamous murderer and Indian fighter George Armstrong Custer no less.”


The Southern Eagle drum group performing at Dance of the Spring Moon - Lumbee Powwow.

Credit - Shannon Millard

(Part ½ of Day 20/30 of November, aka Native American Heritage Month, where I’ll be posting 2 resources of 2 native fcs a day, you can find all in this tag)

Under the cut, you’ll find #153 gifs of the 37 year old American singer and actress Jana Mashonee, who is of Lumbee and Tuscarora ethnicityAll of the gifs are 250x140 sized, textless, roleplayable, and, most importantly, made by me. Please refer to my gif pack rules here for what you can and cannot use these for/in and please like/reblog if you found this helpful.

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Shoutout to Ashton Locklear of the United States for being the first Native American woman to bring home gold medals (uneven bars and team) from an international gymnastics competition. In addition to her success at the Pan-American Games, 16 year old Lumbee Tribe member was also a member of USA’s gold-winning World Championship Team.

Shout out to Gabby Douglas, Simone Biles, and Laurie Hernandez all making the US Women’s Olympic Gymnastics Team.

I love that we are sending a team of competitors that look like a cross section of this country. 

3 out of 5 women of color (4 out of 8 including, Ashton Locklear of the Lumbee Tribe in our alternates), a variety of religions represented, all young women ready to show the mettle that they’re made of and represent their communities proudly.


Originally posted by the-monae