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letra de the art of savagery - dead pioneers

i was once walking along
minding my own indigenous businesses
hair flowing like the best pantene commercial
when i was stopped in my tracks
a young girl
fair skinned
bright eyed
eager to talk
eager to ask
“are you a real indian?”, she asked
i have heard this question a million times
from a million people
sometimes with eyes shining in romanticism
sometimes with eyes shining in skeptical colonialism
but a child’s question is innocent
a true reflection of her world
without malice
without years of wolf dancing
cleveland indianing
corporate sweat lodges
lewises named daniel
dancing and playing indian all day
“are you a real indian?”
yes i am
to which her bright eyes got wide
her pigtails blowing in the wind of her flight
screaming in fear
she ran
she had not the years of the world we live in
she carried someone else’s years upon her adolescent shoulders
and now, an indian quandary…
do i chase her to set her straight?
thus perpetuating the fear she has of my perceived savagery?
or do i let her go?
securing her fear of my perceived savagery?
we are required to walk a fine line of savagery
because we simply walk a fine line of savagery
because you’re indian if you do
and you’re indian if you don’t

- dead pioneers

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