Why I observe Indigenous Peoples Day on Oct. 12

Growing up, I always had October 12 off from school in honor of Columbus Day. I remember because it offered a school free day just in time to appreciate the feeling of autumn. It had no other real meaning to me than that. Still, I was taking part in an annual celebration of colonization— even in 1992, when my class held a party honoring the 500 years that had passed since “Columbus sailed the ocean blue.”

The worst part was, I didn’t know any better. It’s not an excuse. It’s a confession. For a good portion of my childhood, I didn’t even know that Native Americans still existed in the modern world. I wasn’t even exactly sure about what happened to them, something about blankets.

I didn’t have the privilege of experiencing life in Indian Country. However, I did live just east of the city of St. Louis, Mo., where the structural remains of a massive pre-Columbian settlement speak to a civilization that flourished from 800 A.D. to 1300 A.D. This civilization, known as Cahokia, quickly became a great source of mystery to me, and ultimately fueled my interest in archaeology.

Thanks to new and urgent construction, I was able to take a job with the archaeology crew with virtually no experience. I cleaned and categorized countless items that ranged from modified bone tools and stone grinders to worked points and intricately designed ceramic pottery. Sadly something was missing, and it took me a bit of soul searching and a move halfway across the country to realize what it was. I was missing the draw of living breathing people.

Having made a move to the wilds of Wyoming, I found myself coming in contact with people who identified as Shoshone, Arapahoe, Blackfeet, Crow and more. I was both humbled and intrigued, and rather than tiring out my colleagues with incessant questions, I decided to add a minor option of American Indian Studies to my graduate degree program.

I learned about American Indian history, literature, mythology, philosophy and more. But perhaps the best experience that came from the course of study was one that took place one warm afternoon in June on the Wind River Reservation.

I had attended a day trip to the reservation with my class to participate in an Arapaho culture camp. While there, we learned about the Arapaho alphabet, listened to creation stories, enjoyed a traditional meal and watched the tipi demonstration.

It is important at this point in the story to mention that I was 8 months pregnant. So, by the afternoon I was quite uncomfortable. That was when one of the leaders called out to me, “You— hiding in the back, come help!”

The mallet he held in his hand dropped straight to the ground when he saw me waddle toward the front of the demonstration. The gentleman tried to backtrack his request, but my reply came without a second thought as I declared, “I’m sure I’m not the first pregnant woman to stake down a tipi.”

From behind me, a group of elderly women hooted in agreement and continued to cheer me on as I hammered the stake in place. It was an experience that left me feeling a little bit wiser about who I was in the world. I wasn’t just a 24-year-old pregnant student from the suburbs. I was one of the many humans who have walked upon this earth and experienced all the pain and joy life has to offer. I was connected to these women simply because I recognized our similarities were far more important than our differences.

Indigenous Peoples Day offers an opportunity for each and every one of us to embrace the ideas of inclusivity and interconnectedness, and ultimately challenge the antiquated mindset of colonial discovery.