Episode 33

The sting of those words, spoken with such venom, still burns. Sixteen years. Sixteen years since I stood there, my hand instinctively reaching for my husband, Ny, as the dry cleaner’s owner spat them out like poison. "We don't want Your kind around here. You're nothing but a filthy savage the only good savage is a **** savage." The sheer, unadulterated hatred in his eyes, and the chilling echo of it from the other shop owners… it was a physical blow. Ny, bless his patient heart, stood by my side, his face a mask of controlled hurt, but I saw it, the deep ache in his eyes. He didn’t believe me at first, not fully. He’d heard whispers, felt the subtle currents of prejudice, but to have it laid bare, so brutally, so publicly… it was a wound that still aches.

We were standing in Tooele, Utah, a place that felt like home, a place where Ny had grown up, where his family roots ran deep. And yet, in that moment, we were aliens, unwelcome, reviled for something we couldn’t change, something that was, in fact, the very essence of who we were. The irony, the sheer galling irony, was that we were *here* first. We are the original inhabitants. We are the true Americans, Canadians, Mexicans. We were here when the ships arrived, when the settlers trekked across this continent, when the Chinese laborers laid the tracks that would bind this nation. And we didn’t invite them. Yet, we saved them. We shared our knowledge, our resources, our very survival skills when they were lost and starving. We sheltered them. We offered them a place in our world, and this is how we are repaid? With slurs and exclusion?

It’s like a constant, low-grade fever, this prejudice. You try to ignore it, to push it down, to focus on the good, on the kindness you *do* encounter. But then something like that happens, and it rips through you, a reminder of the deep, ingrained hatred that festers just beneath the surface. The White House lied, way back before the Trail of Tears, they lied to steal our land, our gold, our silver, our gemstones, our minerals, our wood – everything. They didn't care then, and they still don't seem to care what happens to us. The Bible says to turn the other cheek, and I’ve tried. We’ve all tried. But a person can only do that so many times before you get a severe case of whiplash. There has to be a point where you stand up, where you say, "Enough."