I sat at the edge of the cliff. Wind kicked up my hair and it flourished in the wind. Not gracefully. Not like the stereotypical Disney Indian. Man, I wanted to look like her when I was young. Her hair was perfect and acceptably magical. Mine was straight and thin. Not very magical. It flew up, down, and sideways tangling and whipping about my face. I turned to give my face a break and noticed someone pointing at me. They were on the other side of the gate I had hopped, to walk down a little path, to sit on this cliff. This privately "owned” hunk of rock that my ancestors had stories about, long before the colonizers killed them and claimed ownership to it.
The white lady pointed at me and from behind the bushes and trees. It's roots stood unwillingly tied to the staunch gate. Another woman came to stand next to her. She gasped. And after her sharp inhale another younger white woman came to stand beside them. She was on her phone. I turned back around. The salty air that rose from the ocean filled my nose and the light of the setting sun made my eyes tear and close.
My hair threatened to strangle me again but I persevered. Determined to stay at this spot. If I didn't turn around then maybe they would disappear. “Or Maybe I would have my fifteen minutes of fame and tragedy,” I thought, as I heard the young woman giving my description over the phone. Fuck I'd be long gone before they showed up, whether I fell or ran.
“Fuck them,” I thought. I won't be embarrassed or ashamed. I know what I'm doing. Whatever happens to me out here at least someone noticed. Maybe they'll wonder about the strange little indian girl on the cliff. What was her life like? They'll be asked. Someone will want to know who I am right? Someone might even write a book about me. And if I survived such an event, whatever the event is, maybe I'll find a purpose. Maybe I can save someone else. I'd love to save others. I'd stay if I could save a life.
Somewhere in the cacophony of waves beating the side of the cliff, and white women telling me to be careful and in the same sentence calling the police, my cell phone rang.
I pulled out the device wondering why I brought it. Auntie's picture looked at me from the screen. I let it ring. One, two, three, times before curiosity sat in. Maybe she'll worry about me. Maybe she'll be so overcome with worry that she'll curse the stars, and they will come down to give me a purpose. Imagine being loved by the stars.
I picked up the phone trying to sound unbroken, but somewhat wounded. "Hello?" There was no answer. And right before I said hello again she broke the silence. "Where are you?" She asked, a little worried. I took a deep breath in and my chest trembled under this sharp long inhale. I cursed my hesitation for giving me away. "I'm right where I need to be. I'm not good, Auntie. I'm fucking done with this." I let my anger rise in my voice. Trying my best to believe that risking my life on this cliff was the answer to feeling alive again. And that's when the weight of my anger fell away and all I was left with was this confusing feeling.
"I know." She said. "Where does it hurt babe?" I looked out at the horizon and tried to feel my body, to try to figure out what this feeling was. I felt something churn slightly below my sternum. I felt immediate rage as my hair flung about blocking my view of the horizon. "FUCK!?" I yelled, "what do you need Auntie?"
She remained quiet for a few moments and I felt my anger crash like a wave against my chest. That churning feeling enraging me and egging me on into hysteria. Then intense fear and the need to run set in. Run hard, fast, recklessly, not caring if I ran into others and left their broken feelings in my wake. Fuck them I thought. I just wanna feel something, anything other than this. Maybe I could run and jump and be ok with not feeling hope. Auntie cleared her throat, "I just wanted to tell you what I found today", she said in a somewhat annoyed careful tone. "I was at the Heritage office doing some digging around through camp pictures and I found a picture of you with my Mom, sitting on her lap covered in chocolate from head to toe. Boooy you were a mess. Your Gran kept telling your Grandpop, 'Man that kid had it rough got to sweeten her up so she don't grow up bitter." My Auntie chuckled. After another long silence she continued. "She was a good woman. She fought hard for the rights of our people. Not so she could be seen as equal but so you could. That's her blood running in your blue veins. It may have had to get through your mother first but it’s her blood."
I let tears fall silently. I remembered all the good times I had when Auntie would take me to Grans on Sundays. I would sit and watch her tend the veggie garden sipping on ice tea until she would ask me to pick tomatoes for her. And after every dinner she would tell me stories about her brother and sisters when they were young, playing in the creek and fishing with her cousins. Before she was taken and they tried to “teach” the brown out of her.
"She fought for you. Maybe you should too." Aunt Cassie said in a stern voice.
"Ok," I said softIy. Remembering how it felt when Gran held me. Warm and like nothing could take that feeling away. I righted myself on the cliff, more aware of my surroundings. I was high up and the intimidating sound of the waves crashing sounded like millions of rocks rolling along its stony surface. It was suddenly deafening. I pulled the hood of my hoodie up over my now matted hair. In all my anger I forgot it was there. I wiped my face with my free hand and stood up. Vertigo threatened to push me over the edge. I stepped back slowly until I felt comfortable to turn around. "Ok." I said again more firmly. "Good," She said, "now get home before those pigs try to pick you up and make you six o’clock news." And with that I hung up and ran. I ran and hopped over the fence, I ran with urgency. I ran towards hope. I ran towards the purpose that I would create. I ran with desperation of wanting to feel that warmth again, not from others but from inside me. Hope of finding peace while still carrying a beating heart. Hope that one day my body and my mind would be free. I ran to live and fight through another day.
©️ Amber Walker 2023
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