Episode 38

The weight of those words, spoken with such venom, still settles in my chest like a cold stone. It was a stark, brutal reminder of the deep-seated prejudice that festers beneath the surface, a prejudice that can erupt with terrifying force. Sixteen years ago, my late husband, Ny, and I walked into those dry cleaners in Tooele, Utah, seeking a simple service. We left with a searing wound, a testament to a hatred so profound it defied logic. "We don't want Your kind around here. You're nothing but a filthy savage the only good savage is a **** savage." The words, spat with such raw animosity, are etched into my memory as if they were uttered yesterday. My husband, a proud Apache man, stood beside me, his face a mask of disbelief and hurt. He wouldn't have believed it, he told me later, if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, heard it with his own ears. It’s a pain that doesn’t fade, a sting that brings tears to my eyes even now, years later. They forget, these people who spew such hatred, that we were here first. We are the true Americans, the true Canadians, the true Mexicans. This land, this continent, is our ancestral home, and yet we are made to feel like unwelcome intruders. It’s a bitter irony, a profound injustice that gnaws at the very core of my being. They see us as savages, yet it was our kindness, our generosity, that saved their ancestors when they arrived, lost and vulnerable. They brought diseases, they brought their prejudices, and they continue to treat us as second-class citizens on our own lands. It’s a cycle of disrespect and disregard that feels unending, a constant battle against a tide of ignorance and hate. But even in the face of such ugliness, the spirit of our ancestors, the strength of our communities, endures. We are not savages. We are survivors. We are the keepers of ancient wisdom, the inheritors of a profound connection to this land, and we deserve to be treated with the dignity and respect that is our birthright. The memory of those words, however, serves as a constant reminder of the work that still needs to be done, the walls of prejudice that still need to be dismantled, one conversation, one story, one act of defiance at a time.