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It was an obvious a-ha moment. One where you realize that all of the cliches people tell you about how you should “always be yourself no matter what people think” actually clicked. Growing up as a Native American on a small, secluded reservation (Round Valley, CA [also known as Covelo]) had its downfalls, especially within the education field, but it also had its perks. I was taught about the many different traditions that were left by my Yuki ancestors, hunting, fishing and gathering, and how to navigate my way within the deep mountains that surround the beautiful valley I call home. I was always proud of who I was and where I grew up, and always made sure people were aware of that. Well, almost always.
As I grew older and started traveling to different places for sports, I began to hear comments about my people and my home town. “Watch out for the savages” they would say. Savages? Why are we savages? I would hear members of the audience whisper from the stands, “Be careful when playing against Round Valley, they might take it too personal.” Be careful? Did they really believe we were going to hurt somebody? Now this experience was bad enough to make me reconsider being proud of who I was, but what made it worse was a specific moment that I remember as if it were yesterday.
It was when my basketball team was at a tournament. Before our games we always liked to watch other teams play to analyze potential opponents, or sometimes just to pass the time. During half-time, I decided I wanted to go get a soft pretzel. I dug my wallet out of my bag and walked to the concession stand. I ordered my soft pretzel and was told I would need to wait five minutes because they weren’t ready yet. I nodded and decided I would wait there. The lady who was running the stand then asked me where I was from. As the words “Round Valley” came out of my mouth, she stared at me for a while, then replied, “Oh, you don’t look like you’re from Round Valley.” I didn’t know what she meant by this, so I asked her. The lady then asked if I was Native. I nodded yes, and she proceeded to tell me, “You don’t look like you’re Native American.” She must’ve seen my confused facial expression because she followed up her statement with, “Don’t worry, that’ a good thing” and handed me my pretzel. The rest of the day I asked myself the most ridiculous questions you could think of. Is my hair not dark enough? Is my skin too light? Do I have to wear my regalia all the time so people can physically see who I am inside? Is being Native American not as special as I thought? It was a couple of days later that I made a decision for myself that I still regret looking back on today. I would not mention my culture and if people asked me where I was from I would just say northern Mendocino County. I stopped going to traditional dances, I didn’t wear my regalia often, and started to break away from my heritage entirely. I despised who I had become but what other choice did I have? I didn’t want to be looked at as a “savage” or someone who couldn’t fit in with society so I locked that part of myself away. It was about a year and a half later when I had my moment of awakening.
It was on a field trip my class took to Anaheim. As we were waiting for our table in Marie Callender’, our class advisor and English teacher started talking to a random stranger who was waiting for his table as well. She began to tell him where we were from and how we were all Native American students. However, this man had the audacity to tell her that it must be difficult as a white teacher to be surrounded by “savages” and having to educate us. Infuriated, she defended us by explaining to him how well behaved and smart we were.
From that day on, I never tried to hide who I was again. For the past year and a half I had been trying to fit in with society when in reality, society should have been trying to catch up to me and learn what my culture has to offer. So, when someone tells you for the hundredth, or thousandth, time that you should always be yourself, listen to them. You should never go through life pretending to be someone you’re not. Embrace your differences and let them be known to all who cross your path. Now, to formally introduce myself. Hi, my name is Taylor Gravier. I am a Native American from the Yuki tribe of Round Valley, CA, and I am proud of who I am.