Tuesday, May 30, 2006
...and yet again...
We stopped for breakfast in the casino of a half dead town in the Nevada desert as we headed to the city of death. I don't recall how the conversation came up, but I informed my companions that I want everything back. All of it. Everything.
Rhonda and I were the only Indians in our group of six, and when I stated this, the conversation went immediately to deportations. I never said anything about deportations. I never say anything about deportations. Never. But when I tell non-indigenous peoples this, they conversation immediately goes to deportation.
"What about me?" I will never forget those words of that white boy of privilege at Reed College during the question and answer period of Ward Churchill's speech there over a year ago. "What about me?" No one asked what we could do about that crazy piece of shit Madeline Albright who stated that it was an acceptable loss that 5,000 children a month were dying from preventable diseases caused by the United States first illegal war and the continuation of their muders under the Clinton administration. Ward brings this up in every speech, and they said nothing about this genocidal maniac and the murders that Madeline Albright is complicit in. "What about me?" was the best those highly educated white boys from families of wealth could come up with from the information handed them by Ward Churchill. "What about me?"
Whenever I tell people I want it all back, if they aren't Indian, it comes down to "What about me?" Not: "What about what's right?" "How can we make things right?" It is never that. It is ALWAYS: "What about me?"
What about the homeless in the streets?
What about the starving and dying on reservations?
What about the high cancer rates on reservations caused by mining for the wealth of already wealthy white men?
What about the continued genocide of indigenous peoples in this nation and nations all over the world?
NOPE!
WHAT ABOUT ME?
Rhonda and I were the only Indians in our group of six, and when I stated this, the conversation went immediately to deportations. I never said anything about deportations. I never say anything about deportations. Never. But when I tell non-indigenous peoples this, they conversation immediately goes to deportation.
"What about me?" I will never forget those words of that white boy of privilege at Reed College during the question and answer period of Ward Churchill's speech there over a year ago. "What about me?" No one asked what we could do about that crazy piece of shit Madeline Albright who stated that it was an acceptable loss that 5,000 children a month were dying from preventable diseases caused by the United States first illegal war and the continuation of their muders under the Clinton administration. Ward brings this up in every speech, and they said nothing about this genocidal maniac and the murders that Madeline Albright is complicit in. "What about me?" was the best those highly educated white boys from families of wealth could come up with from the information handed them by Ward Churchill. "What about me?"
Whenever I tell people I want it all back, if they aren't Indian, it comes down to "What about me?" Not: "What about what's right?" "How can we make things right?" It is never that. It is ALWAYS: "What about me?"
What about the homeless in the streets?
What about the starving and dying on reservations?
What about the high cancer rates on reservations caused by mining for the wealth of already wealthy white men?
What about the continued genocide of indigenous peoples in this nation and nations all over the world?
NOPE!
WHAT ABOUT ME?
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