Questions that were cool, “Who’s ancestral land are we currently on?” “Has anyone ever been anywhere in California that wasn’t in the Bay Area? Lets find out what tribe belongs to that place.” “What does indigenous mean?” “Are you indigenous just because you were born here, or do you have to have to be culturally tied and invested in a place for a long time, like generations, to be indigenous?” “What can be indigenous?”
Then they crossed off Ohlone after we had the discussion about who’s land we were on. Really good day. Also I made them read the names back to me when they got BINGO so they had to practice difficult pronunciations of tribes like Cahuilla or Acjachemem.
ALSO when I said “Ohlone” one of the girls squealed and shouted, “I’M OHLONE MY DAD IS FULL OHLONE AND I’M HALF.” And then I realize she has a restraining order on her dad which makes me sad about how she will grow up hella disconnected, so I’m going to work to talk to her more while she’s this age about being disconnected and appropriateness of reconnecting to indigenous communities and maintaining her indigenous identity since she is luckily not going to experience diaspora but may now/eventually have questions I want to be able to get her thinking about and be upfront about what I know.
So, FUCK COLONIALIST EDUCATION that ignores basic concepts like our names, our existence, and what it actually means to be indigenous. My kids now have a basic interest and knowledge about California tribes, what indigenous means, and know some of their names (especially Winnemem Wintu, they wouldn’t stop practicing saying it all day omg).
Having some serious breakthroughs about my work, the stories from many that I hold and the ones I’ve yet to tell.
This world is changing immensely in ways I can only begin to fathom. It seems as if these changes spiral infinitely out beyond us, impacting the worlds that surround, but are also infinitely bound within us. This turmoil is marked and thorough and deep but, I also sense a rumbling. This rumbling is from within my own body, from the stories in my blood, from the earth my ancestors were crafted of, from the struggles of generations, from the unquiet dead, from the spirits who share their resistance to fuel our own. So, it makes sense the work that has sustained me throughout one of the hardest times in my life, a time I feel I am just moving out of, is situated in place. This navigation of the layers of time and imprints from history on the physical realm, whether our bodies or the spatial landscape, is what I am being pushed to work with, to spin, to unravel, to weave.
My family survived the genocidal mission system and the AIDS epidemic. This is not just my story, but the story of many that I choose to tell with the weavings of words, of image, of spirit. This is not exclusive to here; we must all heal where we are. This is my intention, with every offering.
With every offering I leave for the bones of the ancestors of others surrounding the Mission Dolores, I leave an offering for my own bloodline, impacted so greatly by the epidemics emanating from this place. And while I am a Chumash and Yaqui woman on the ancestral and unceded homelands of Miwok and Yelamu, Mukwema and Chochenyo Ohlone people, I will continue honoring these layered histories and living present with the respect that every guest should have for their hosts.
We must heal where we are, what’s within, and what’s beyond.
Here’s to the intersections, these paths like blood, like tributaries.
In regards to that Mexico thing: I think the focus is more on the people/culture and less on the empire that spread it in this case yknow? Wasn't the average Mexican's fault and yadda yadda
ehh, yea i see that, but its still broadly ignorant of history while claiming historical superiority..
That focus is still on americans being upset at the growing presence of
mexican culture in it’s south west, yeah? As if The region of alta california was truly mexican and not temporarily
inherited colonial claims mexico only had for 20 years.
speaking, the United States or even the Spanish have a better claim to
the region, because they’ve held it longer. Americans were even present
in Mexico’s northern territories in such great numbers, that it lead to the secession of Texas.
the post of:
Duh… wtf yu think it’s so many Spanish street names lol
ignorant of the fact that the Spanish names are from the Spaniards (not
the Mexicans) who founded the settlements, such as those mentioned in this post:
^ and whole cities. Los Angeles? San Francisco? lol
Which is ignorant of the fact that cities like San Francisco were initially founded by European Spaniard explorers in areas that were originally populated by it’s surrounding Ohlone population. Or how by the time the Mexicans did inherit it, post-independence, it included Russians who had been living there long before the Mexicans inherited the city,
because there were Russian settlements and forts all the way south along
the coast from Alaska to yeah, San Francisco.
And that’s besides the fact how, when Mexico did indeed inherit San Francisco, it remained a religious mission and military outpost until an Englishman established the first actual homestead in San Francisco, precipitating it’s development into a metropolitan
centre. And this was in 1835, just over a decade before it became
“Mexicans didn’t cross the border, the border crossed them.”
Ignorant and simple fucking perception of history simply to fit with contemporary demographic trends and political faultlines.
sure looks like 100% always and prehistoric ethnic mexican clay, but
only if you squint at an imperial territorial claim map that was only
valid for two decades.
So yeah, the United
States does have a right to express demographic concern and ownership
over places like San Francisco, when their 169 years of sovereign
control outweighs the 27 years that Mexico laid claim to cities like San
Francisco. Or hell, let’s throw in the time the Spanish held the area
from which San Francisco arose: That’s still 72 years against the USA.
And there were literal Russian graves there by the time people started
really living there and anglo descended americans all fucking over.
There’s a reason why Texas burst into revolution barely a decade after
Spain lost it’s claim to “New Spain” to the Mexican Empire.
you are going to assert that San Francisco is traditionally and
characteristically Mexican, then you should also post a map of the Dutch
empire when discussing New York and how the dutch coming to the United
States don’t “cross the border,” but how “the border crossed them.”
you are going to argue for the right for people from mexico to come
into and reside in the United States, try to avoid claiming the position
of historicity and asserting that it was as Mexican as Tenochtitlan,
when first nations outpopulated the primarily white mexican/spaniard settlers during their brief time in control of the area.
It would be
more apt to grasp for the braceros and other mexicans who came across
the border since the establishment of those borders. Arguing on their right to stay shouldnt have to rest on pictures of their old empire.
One needs to look at the distinction between and
ongoing dilemma being Tejanos and mexican americans in Texas. Tejano
being descendants of original spanish colonial settlers (including
mestizo people) who identified with an independent texas as opposed to
other mexicans to the south, as they united with their anglo/american
neighbours in revolt against Mexico’s tightening central grasp on Texan
affairs barely a decade after independence.
I feel history defies a
simple OH SNAP facebook shit post as shown in that image. Especially when considering that the Mexicans were engaged in desperately killing the Apache and
other indigenous people in the area who resisted against mexican
colonization from the south.
It’s inherently ignorant and begs deconstruction/criticism in favour of a more comprehensive awareness of history around the issue.
I shopped in this area of Emeryville, CA a few times without knowing about the desecration of these sacred lands. If you know the SF Bay Area, you definitely know this area where Ikea and shopping area in Emeryville. Please please please educate yourself and think twice before you shop there. Think about the people who this land belonged to, and who’s ancestors were buried there. This area is sacred OHLONE LAND. Please RESPECT.
OHLONE are INDIGENOUS PEOPLE of the BAY AREA Remember what is being taught here before going to shop on the desecrated burial sites in Emeryville (E-ville).
Yes on Proposition 30. If it doesn’t pass, 150 sections will be dropped at Ohlone Community College (and it cuts the budget for other colleges) and it puts back this and the future generations’ future even further.
We arrived in the Ohlone Wilderness to find it in a mournful mood, wearing both the brown grasses of summer and the bare trees of winter. Bob and I began our voyage ruing the absence of companions to enliven the landscape: Jones off chronicling in the Carolinas; Billy unmanned at the hands of the veterinarian.
But as is often the case on a journey, with each step our memories grew lighter and our packs heavier, until we were in full perspirant vigor. Open lungs and pores aerate the mind, and we began to see the many subtleties of hue and form within the wintry spectrum of golds and browns. We made camp atop a ridge overlooking the valley, marked by noble oaks and rugged rocks, and took off on a sojourn, burdened only by notepads.
Beige autumnal pools Shadows made of shed oak leaves Wintry underglow
As we strolled the gentle breeze grew into a forceful gale. We found ourselves sheltering beneath the canopy of an oak with its leaves still intact, nestling gnomelike in its gnarled palms while the branches applauded nature’s display of force. Vistas beckoned through the foliage, and we ventured out to sketch, gripping our pages tightly and bracing ourselves against the oncoming waves of gale that swept through the grass.
Back at camp we huddled around our stoves to shield them from the gusts, and dinner took a long time to arrive. But as we ate, the moon rose gibbous and grand, and the winds died down. After dinner we climbed into our sleeping bags, and I wooed the night, calming it with song before bedding down.
Alas, my serenade was in vain, and the gales soon began to blow again with renewed force. Every time my astral self ascended, a gust swept it off the ridge and out over the yawning valley below, and I woke with a start. My stirrings roused Bob, and with the winds still rising we beat a hasty retreat beneath the moonlight, decamping to a hollow among the oaks several hundred feet below. Calm fell as the dawn rose.
We woke to the sound of birds and the sight of hillsides stark and still. Dazed though we were, we each quaffed an ample draught of coffee and set to sketching the morning. The tempestuous ruckus of the windstorm took a long time to clear from our ears, but it eventually yielded to a silence deep and complete. Clad in t-shirts, too tired to care about much other than what lay before us, we chronicled freely.
Long lonely calm In the gaps between the gales Gives oaks time to think
Flocks of song and shade Birds a mobile blessing In this barren place
Earliest European view of the Coast People. Unique among California Indians, the double-bladed paddle was a special innovation of the coast people. With its pointed prow the buoyant balsa could carry four people, swiftly and easily, into inlets and coves, from island to island in the bay. The Spanish invention in this view is the woven, striped blanket, made by the woman neophytes at the mission. This is the earliest view we have of the Coast People, made in 1816 by Louis Choris, a world traveler of acute perception who wrote, “I have never seen one laugh. I have never seen one look one in the face. They look as though they are interested in nothing.” By 1816, this was true.6
Image: Bancroft Library (brk00001587_24a)
It is uncertain when the wandering coast people first appeared on Mission Bay. Burial mounds with artifacts and middens dating back to an estimated 3,500 BC were found on Hunters Point, some near the shore at Candlestick Park.9 The people of these mounds may have been the ancestors of the Costanoans, as the Spanish named the coast people. The Costanoan linguistic group, comprised of eight separate languages spoken by 50 autonomous tribes (each with its own dialect), has been traced to 500 A.D. At the time the Spanish arrived the coast people had fished the waters of Mission Bay for 1,275 years. They numbered 10,000, all in the same linguistic group, of which 1,400 are thought to have spoken Ramaytush—the language spoken by the group most closely associated with Mission Bay.10
So I was running late for class for the first day at college and as I was getting ready in a hurry my friend Jose calls me for a ride to Ohlone callege so he wont be late to his class (btw I have not taken a shower or got anything to eat). I didnt want him to be late so since I was already late I gave him a ride. Once at Ohlone I found parking very fast and so we went to our clasess (I never saw him again… for the reast of the day that is), Then I ran as fast as I could to my class and in my mind I was thinking that this is just like one of my jappaness animes. After going up 2 flights of stares I made it and the teacher was chill about me being late since I was gasping for air. Class ended 30mins early, I walked around for a bit after I remember that my friend, Steve, is back at Ohlone after not being back for a yearish I think. We talk for a bit as we look for his girlfriend Samii, we walk for about a good ten minutes and then we find her. After finding out that we all dont have class untill 6pm, Steve drove us to Samiis family restoront, She made use Pizza and a vanilla banana shake with a hint of cinnamon, (Oh my god it was so good both the food and the drink) with a soda on the side (Dr. Pepper) after killing about 5 hours we went back to Ohlone talked for a bit then we went to our classes, My class was chill and we got out an hour early, I drove back home relaxed and now I’m typing this out and listening to Dvorak - New World Symphony - Part One: 4th Movement, Dublin Conductor Derek Gleeson, but yeah that about it, so how was your day?