Where do I fit in?

I’ve always known I was Cherokee. Ok, not always, but I remember when I was seven my grandma telling me my Papa’s family was Cherokee & walked the Trail of Tears. And that started my love for genealogy & all things Cherokee. I learned everything I could which wasn’t much in pre-internet, 1990s Seattle. It doesn’t help that my Papa died that same year so I only really knew what my (white) Grandma had on paper.

Luckily, my grandma had quite a bit and we could trace our family back to one of the Cherokee “Old Families.” My 5x great grandfather’s former home is a registered trademark and I’m intentionally being vague so pretendians can’t jack my family history, but more on that later.

I’ve always felt, or maybe I just wanted to be, not quite white. With my long, dark hair & tan skin (helped out by tanning beds) I was always asked, “What are you?” I remember laying on my parent's bedroom floor, listening to my Dad's Cherokee language cassette tapes when I was 7 years old. The only thing I could remember was how to say "Turkey," and I was pronouncing it incorretly. I’m also probably the only kid who asked her dad to take her on a family vacation to Oklahoma, but not during tornado season.

But, I didn’t feel Native enough either. I felt like maybe I was just a white girl who wanted to be Native, but all the real Natives would shun me & make fun of me for not knowing our language and our customs. I read & learned everything I could, I had dreams of moving to Oklahoma to learn, but not during tornado season.

One of the things I always heard about being Native was “Who claims you?” No one claimed me. I claimed Cherokee & care a lot about contemporary Native issues but no one tied to the tribe knew I existed.

Last year, or maybe it was even this year, I began to feel a change. And it all started with my favorite podcast.