Naomi Leigh
Member
- Joined
- Aug 17, 2014
- Messages
- 22
- Reaction score
- 43
- Location
- Syracuse, New York
- Website
- www.facebook.com
"I am thankful you are well."
This is how we greet one another in my native tongue, Seneca or Onondawaga.
I grew up on the Allegheny Indian reservation in western New York about an hour south of Buffalo my whole life. My tribe has more amenities and opportunities than others but it is at the same time still a P.O.W. camp. The poverty, hopelessness, drug and alcohol abuse, sexual and physical violence, etc. that is the Native community has been a part of my life ever since I could realize what was going on around me.
Ever since I was eight years old I dreamed of travel and made plans with my Native and non-Native friends to get out of there and see the country. When I was fourteen and consumed by my alcoholism and self destructive behaviors coupled with my parent's crippling heroin addiction I became ensnared in the youth judicial system. I was on and off probation from the ages fourteen to sixteen but one incident in general is what I recall about this period of time.
I had gotten arrested, violated probation, and was told I would be sent to a juvenile detention facility the next morning and they released me to my parents. My mom is Seneca and my dad is non-Native and were both Dead Heads and travelers and I remember telling them that night that I was going to pack up and jump on the on ramp of the 86 that runs straight through our rez. They said two things: "Okay." "Do it." They knew it would be better than being locked up. All I can remember is that this was the first time I saw "the line" or "the wall" that was my reservation. As if the world was cut off past that line. It wasn't so much that I was afraid of what was on the other side, we would go into the non-Native towns nearby all the time to shop and whatnot, but this was the first time I really realized that I was meant to be kept inside of those lines for a reason. I didn't know if I was a threat to society or society was a threat to me. Either way it was enough for me to hopelessly give up and surrender to the court system and my addictions.
Fast forwarding a bit: I was in and out of rehabs and detention centers for two years. I finally got tired of being part of the system and succumbed and tried to be as "normal" as I could. I totally let them beat any sense of rebelliousness out of me.
My senior year of high school I was off probation and all that and I started dating a Dead Head and taking and selling psychedelics and going to shows and festivals. Kind of stereotypical but everybody has to start somewhere and this subculture led me to believe that there was a space in American society where a Native girl could (relatively) fit in and be accepted. I did this for four years but began to see the consumerism and competition in this "scene" and became really disenchanted with it. I was looking for more than they could offer me.
I had been attending university on a scholarship based on my ethnicity since 2011 and was studying Sociology, Philosophy, and Native American Studies and although I am incredibly passionate about these subjects, they are really heavy and made me cynical as fuck. I also began training to be a yoga teacher and studying the Tibetan Buddhist tradition and meditating daily for hours at a time. I mistakenly coupled this state of mind with L.S.D. and lost it. Completely lost any sense of self and really felt like I was dying. I wasn't ready for that. I began to have bad anxiety attacks and couldn't really integrate with people the way I used to. I quit everything cold turkey then and there for the next year or so.
I broke up with the Head in the fall of 2014 and began doing my own thing. I was hanging out with this guy and at a Phil Lesh show in N.Y.C. he offered me *a* hit of L and I was thinking I was in such a good place mentally that I was ready to do this. This was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. He dropped the liquid on the star tattoo on my hand and after I ate it his friend told me "That shit was microdotted so high that you could have taken anywhere from 35 to 100 hits of acid. We'll never know." Even longer story short: there are no words to express what I went through that night. The whole situation was equal parts terrifying and beautiful. I hope to never have to undergo a wash again but it really helped me lose any sense of fear or ego that I was holding onto.
I was really disenchanted with school at this point, newly gained my driver's license and had my own Chevy Tracker, and just decided to take a break from school and left with my student refund in late January and to head to Ocala, Florida in the sun and to meet up with some road dogs. This was the best decision of my life.
I met my partner there, and although he is a chronic alcoholic, we have a beautiful relationship and have traveled coast to coast four times with one another since February. He rode freight and hitched before he met me and I picked him up hitch hiking and we have been rubber tramping it ever since. We have an apartment for the semester in Syracuse, New York so we can save up money to pay off our "new" set of wheels and then it is back to Ocala in January and then to Europe after that.
Even through all of the lonely nights, the jail time, the hunger, the lack of spange, the empty sky, unforgiving weather and people, etc. it still has been the most beautiful ride of my life and I wouldn't trade this lifestyle for the world.
I read this cool book of poetry called "American Gypsy" and it talked about how Natives are displaced and we have been wandering this continent looking for a home that we will never get back. It is our curse/blessing to continue searching for something we may never find. But the beauty in it is that we find ourselves, and each other. This is true for all American Gypsies. I am thankful I have found you.
Thanks for reading,
-Naomi
This is how we greet one another in my native tongue, Seneca or Onondawaga.
I grew up on the Allegheny Indian reservation in western New York about an hour south of Buffalo my whole life. My tribe has more amenities and opportunities than others but it is at the same time still a P.O.W. camp. The poverty, hopelessness, drug and alcohol abuse, sexual and physical violence, etc. that is the Native community has been a part of my life ever since I could realize what was going on around me.
Ever since I was eight years old I dreamed of travel and made plans with my Native and non-Native friends to get out of there and see the country. When I was fourteen and consumed by my alcoholism and self destructive behaviors coupled with my parent's crippling heroin addiction I became ensnared in the youth judicial system. I was on and off probation from the ages fourteen to sixteen but one incident in general is what I recall about this period of time.
I had gotten arrested, violated probation, and was told I would be sent to a juvenile detention facility the next morning and they released me to my parents. My mom is Seneca and my dad is non-Native and were both Dead Heads and travelers and I remember telling them that night that I was going to pack up and jump on the on ramp of the 86 that runs straight through our rez. They said two things: "Okay." "Do it." They knew it would be better than being locked up. All I can remember is that this was the first time I saw "the line" or "the wall" that was my reservation. As if the world was cut off past that line. It wasn't so much that I was afraid of what was on the other side, we would go into the non-Native towns nearby all the time to shop and whatnot, but this was the first time I really realized that I was meant to be kept inside of those lines for a reason. I didn't know if I was a threat to society or society was a threat to me. Either way it was enough for me to hopelessly give up and surrender to the court system and my addictions.
Fast forwarding a bit: I was in and out of rehabs and detention centers for two years. I finally got tired of being part of the system and succumbed and tried to be as "normal" as I could. I totally let them beat any sense of rebelliousness out of me.
My senior year of high school I was off probation and all that and I started dating a Dead Head and taking and selling psychedelics and going to shows and festivals. Kind of stereotypical but everybody has to start somewhere and this subculture led me to believe that there was a space in American society where a Native girl could (relatively) fit in and be accepted. I did this for four years but began to see the consumerism and competition in this "scene" and became really disenchanted with it. I was looking for more than they could offer me.
I had been attending university on a scholarship based on my ethnicity since 2011 and was studying Sociology, Philosophy, and Native American Studies and although I am incredibly passionate about these subjects, they are really heavy and made me cynical as fuck. I also began training to be a yoga teacher and studying the Tibetan Buddhist tradition and meditating daily for hours at a time. I mistakenly coupled this state of mind with L.S.D. and lost it. Completely lost any sense of self and really felt like I was dying. I wasn't ready for that. I began to have bad anxiety attacks and couldn't really integrate with people the way I used to. I quit everything cold turkey then and there for the next year or so.
I broke up with the Head in the fall of 2014 and began doing my own thing. I was hanging out with this guy and at a Phil Lesh show in N.Y.C. he offered me *a* hit of L and I was thinking I was in such a good place mentally that I was ready to do this. This was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. He dropped the liquid on the star tattoo on my hand and after I ate it his friend told me "That shit was microdotted so high that you could have taken anywhere from 35 to 100 hits of acid. We'll never know." Even longer story short: there are no words to express what I went through that night. The whole situation was equal parts terrifying and beautiful. I hope to never have to undergo a wash again but it really helped me lose any sense of fear or ego that I was holding onto.
I was really disenchanted with school at this point, newly gained my driver's license and had my own Chevy Tracker, and just decided to take a break from school and left with my student refund in late January and to head to Ocala, Florida in the sun and to meet up with some road dogs. This was the best decision of my life.
I met my partner there, and although he is a chronic alcoholic, we have a beautiful relationship and have traveled coast to coast four times with one another since February. He rode freight and hitched before he met me and I picked him up hitch hiking and we have been rubber tramping it ever since. We have an apartment for the semester in Syracuse, New York so we can save up money to pay off our "new" set of wheels and then it is back to Ocala in January and then to Europe after that.
Even through all of the lonely nights, the jail time, the hunger, the lack of spange, the empty sky, unforgiving weather and people, etc. it still has been the most beautiful ride of my life and I wouldn't trade this lifestyle for the world.
I read this cool book of poetry called "American Gypsy" and it talked about how Natives are displaced and we have been wandering this continent looking for a home that we will never get back. It is our curse/blessing to continue searching for something we may never find. But the beauty in it is that we find ourselves, and each other. This is true for all American Gypsies. I am thankful I have found you.
Thanks for reading,
-Naomi
