In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

260 Sherri Mitchell (b. 1969) Sherri Mitchell was born and raised on the Penobscot Nation, Indian Island, Maine. She has worked as a program coordinator for the American Indian Institute’s Healing the Future Program, is a participant in the Traditional Circle of Indian Elders and Youth, and is an alumna of both the American Indian Ambassador Program and the Udall Native American Congressional Internship Program. Sherri is executive director of the Land Peace Foundation and an attorney for the Native American unit of Pine Tree Legal Assistance in Maine. She is the recipient of the 2009–10 International Human Rights and Humanitarian Award for her research on nation-state complicity with human rights violations against indigenous peoples. Nokomis Speaks: Message to the Seventh Generation My grandson, for so long I have awaited this day. For this opportunity to sit with you, eye to eye, heart to heart, and breath to breath. I have longed to see your face, to touch your cheek, and to smell the sweetness of your breath. I have longed to hold you in my lap, to know how your head would feel nestled against my breast as I sang to you. Grandson, take my hand, walk with me, and listen to my story. Let me tell you who I was, so that you can remember who you are. We are of this land, Penahwapskek, the place where the white rocks come out of the water. We are of these people, the Wabanaki, the people of the dawn. You were born Awesus nuga; Kakagoose, bear and crow, medicine clans. The land that you place your feet upon contains my footprints; the air that you breathe contains my breath. In your blood, your dna, you carry the wisdom of seven mothers’ daughters and seven fathers’ sons. You are the seventh generation. The circle ends and is renewed within each cell of your body. know this. For just as I was responsible for carrying the seeds of your being within me, so too are you responsible for carrying the seeds of the seventh generation yet to come. Sherri Mitchell 261 The blood that runs through you has nourished the soil beneath your feet. Millions have died to ensure that you would live. The road that you walk upon has been paved with the blood of your ancestors; do not dishonor them. Walk this red road with your head held high. Place your feet with certainty, knowing that the answers you seek lie within you. You are never alone. You carry a piece of us all in the matrix of your spirit. The time that I live in is one of crises. As the caretakers of this Earth our people have been charged with a heavy burden. Many have lost their way, blinded by generational wounds that have been ingrained into the public psyche, deafened by the sounds of justifiable homicide and historical references to a people “destined to be conquered.” Warriors of today do not wear leathers, feathers, or war bonnets. Warriors of today wear business suits. They battle in the courtroom, boardroom, and before Congress. They are in our schools, our clinics, and our banks. They secure our future by preserving the past. They teach the truth of our history and inspire us to remember who we are in accordance with ancient kinship roles. They protect traditional lands, repatriate the bones of our ancestors, and secure funding for the health and well-being of our children. Warriors of today carry the seeds for sustainable agriculture, they harvest medicinal plants and teach our young people how to survive with honor and respect for the Earth. They do not kill their grandchildren to feed their children. The warrior of today may look different from those listed in the history books, but their mission remains intact: to serve and protect their people and to ensure the survival of generations yet to come. It is this mission, this responsibility, that you must never forget. My grandson, for so long I have wanted to stand beside you; to walk upon the banks of this river that has sustained our people for generations; to fish the waters that my grandfather taught me to fish; to navigate these islands that have provided us with shelter; and to tell you the stories of our legends and our myths. I have wished to sing you the songs of our people as you drifted off to sleep. To share the beauty of our language, to describe to...

Share