Posted on February 15, 2019
by Steve Janowick
I know the place well where the man came to play
All dressed in red his intentions to stay
I watched as his ships came to the shore
Then I sharpened my spear and prepared for a war
He came at us hard showing off his skills
But he underestimated our hearts and our wills
He said pray to our God and speak our tongue
But we danced around his dead while beating our drum
The original homeland defense
We protect our own at any expense
And history fails to portray
The heart and soul of the Cherokee way
Centuries before your imperial quest
We lived in peace-our hearts at rest
So, let it be known, invader of my land
I’ll fight to the death or ‘till your scalp’s in my hand
History fails to show
The repercussions of the seeds we sow
And history fails to portray
The grit and the guts of the Cherokee way
I recently came across this little ditty penned in 1984 by an insufferable, hormone-raging, pissed-off 10th grader. Always the outsider feeling misunderstood and disrespected, I could really relate, back then, to the plight of the underdog. The victim. The American Indian.
I wasn’t that well versed in our history as a teenager. But I read a few books and saw a few movies and had a sneaky suspicion that what they were spoon-feeding me was utter bullshit. Native Americans (always played by corny white actors) were usually depicted as brutal savages. Barely human. Only interested in raping and scalping.
But I was no dummy. And my ambivalence led me to seek out a more objective truth. Thankfully, Funk and Wagnalls was there to provide it. Yes, my encyclopedia set, the internet of the 80’s, told me a much different tale. And I realized as I grew older (and wiser) that the indigenous man was no better or worse than I was-with the same feelings, concerns and red blood. Some good in him and some bad in him. He was simply a man-no more or no less.
But there are two facts that are indisputable with zero ambiguities…
He was here first…and I was uninvited.
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