Our Final Post - by Elias Olsen
As a part of our time at Simply Smiles, we watched a documentary titled “Warrior Women,” about Madonna and Marcella Thunderhawk, a mother and daughter duo who work together as activists for Native American rights. In the background of one of the interviews was a poster with a portrait of a Native American person with a bold-lettered caption that read “LANDLORD.”
For some reason, this image made an impression on me. Perhaps it’s because I’m currently renting my first apartment that the word grabbed my attention, but the metaphor of the poster also made me think deeply about the modern white American’s relationship with the land on which they stand.
The idea of the United States being a temporary residence for Caucasian, European immigrants is, in a way, satisfying to think about. It would mean that the people who, so many centuries ago, had their land ripped from them, would be able to say that they might be able to return home. But even then, it would not be as they left it. The homes of their ancestors have been burned, their hills and valleys warped and gouged, and their plains flooded. Returning land to Native Americans would be the start of a conversation about how European immigrants could begin to compensate for the trauma caused to those indigenous people.
Another reason that this poster has stuck in my head is that the exchange it discusses is not what we tackle on a daily basis here in La Plant. We are not dealing with problems that are immediately political or transactional. Instead, we are dealing with emotions (hopefully happiness), and trying to help children enjoy the time they spend at summer camp. If we can give a piggyback ride or spend some time drawing to bring a child some joy, then that’s the most we can do in that moment.
Marcella Thunderhawk works at the Simply Smiles facility, managing their community garden to teach children about traditional indigenous agriculture and the benefits of cultivating fresh food. To me, her work has served as an example of how we can begin to approach the problem of the trauma experienced by the indigenous people of the United States. There is a time and place for engaging in politics on a national and international scale, but sometimes the most meaningful work can be done within local communities. Her story serves as reminder for me to step back from the political entanglements of a larger problem and to be present in the moment in a way where I can simply bring a smile to a child, which is the most meaningful work that we can do here and now.


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