Enduring Legacies: Ethnic Histories and Cultures of Colorado

15: When Geronimo Was Asked Who He Was, He Replied, I am an Apache

273 I was born in Trinidad, Colorado, in the 1950s, a decade when American society’s zealous homogeneous policies began to take hold all over the country . These policies took place within the context of the greatest prosperity Americans had enjoyed, with the end of World War II, when the United States rose to the top of the world. By the 1950s, along with prosperity came the oppressive societal definition of who is an American. As an Apache woman, my journey toward self-identity begins within this climate.1 The definition of an American included the ideal physical appearance of having blue eyes and blonde hair, along with specific gender roles and class status. I did not fit into this definition of an American, and I can honestly state that neither did millions of other Americans.2 White women especially suffered when their gender role was redefined—a definition that encapsulated all American women’s gender role, including mine, until the 1960s with the insurgence of the Women’s Movement. White women were also forced back into the home, after their brief breath of freedom working for the war effort. Their homes represented another aspect of oppression for White women when they were built in isolated areas in the ever-growing popular suburban design of Levittown.3 The When Geronimo Was Asked Who He Was, He Replied, I am an Apache 15 Helen Girón 274 When Geronimo Was Asked Who He Was, He Replied, I am an Apache isolation of homemaking and the breaking up of extended families took the greatest toll on these women’s transition to suburban life.4 Even though for most White women prosperity came in the form of oppression in their redefined roles of the 1950s, they did partake in “the belief that hard work would enable a person to rise in society and that their children would do better in life than the parents. The United States was indeed the land of opportunity.”5 The United States did indeed represent the land of opportunity for White women and the White race; however, the same could not be said for Native Americans. The prosperity enjoyed by Whites did not trickle down to them, even though Native Americans were forced to live under the same societal and political pressures in the 1950s. In addition to the 1950s being a time of homogeneous identity policies for White women, my birth also coincided with the U.S. policy to terminate Native Americans’ identity and replace it with the identity of an “American.” This was how the U.S. government decided to solve the “Indian Problem.”6 The Termination Act became official on August 1, 1953. With the stroke of a pen, the identities of millions of Native Americans were wiped out. Many Native Americans protested this act. An Apache’s statement from the San Carlos Reservation encapsulates the condemnation of the Termination Act by many nations of Natives: “Today some people in Congress and the Department of the Interior would destroy our people with laws which divide us, endanger our property, and violate the provisions of our sacred treaties. . . . We will not let that happen.”7 Unfortunately,itdidhappeninthemidstof thehomogeneous1950s,when women’s roles were redefined and Native Americans’ identities erased. Thus, my birth became a symbol of this social and political environment. I would live in the margins of White society, forced to begin an odyssey in reclaiming what was taken from me the day of my birth—my identity.8 I have always known that I am Apache; I even knew it before I was born.9 The first time my identity was challenged was when I entered public school. I remember running home one day from kindergarten, my eyes filled with tears and my heart broken because my classmates had taunted me, called me a savage, and then spit on me. Once at home, I searched for my father. He saw the tears in my eyes and asked what was wrong. My reply came in the form of a question. I asked him, if he knew they were not going to like me because I was an Apache, then why did he not have me as a White person? Tenderness came to his eyes. He hugged me and said, “You are an Apache, and you will have to fight to be one.” Although this event took place almost fifty years ago, Helen Gir...