I recently visited with a young woman of mixed racial background – white, black and Native American.  Though she appears mostly white, she’s a little darker than the people around her.

And while this difference in skin tone is slight, it’s been a defining factor in her life.  There wasn’t a day go by in high school when somebody didn’t call her the N word, and even her so-called friends sometimes mocked her for her mixed ancestry.  One even drew a “funny” picture of her being lynched.  Needless to say, they didn’t remain friends.

This young woman’s grandmother is a full-blooded Lakota Sioux.  Unlike many of the Lakota, this woman’s grandmother has done very well in life and manages a large and successful company.  Yet recently a white woman accosted her, screaming at her to “go back to your own country.”  When she tried to politely explain that this was her country, the woman struck her in the face.

I have a little Native American ancestry and white people sometimes notice.  I can remember being taunted for it in school, and years later, when I had a good suntan, I was refused alcohol in Rapid City because they thought I was an Indian.  Both of these things bothered me – neither had anything to do with who I was as a person.  But this has only happened a few times, and not all the comments have been negative.  I can’t really imagine what it’s like to endure this type of racism and discrimination on a daily basis.

Perhaps it’s my Native ancestry that has helped me to not be afraid of people with different colored skin, and my life has been richer as a result.  I’ve never been treated better than by black, Native American and Asian people, people who welcomed me into their homes and their lives and made me feel like I belonged.

Thanksgiving weekend the young woman I’m writing about traveled to the Pine Ridge reservation (she did not grow up there) to receive her “Indian name.”  Surrounded by people she hardly knew, she was welcomed into the tribe and given a special name.  It was the name of a respected tribal elder who had passed away long ago, a woman who was still remembered for her kindness, her wisdom and her talent for needlework.  The tribe felt this young woman is growing up to be much like this older woman; by bestowing this respected elder’s name on her, the tribe is providing her with a role model for her life.

I asked this young woman how this made her feel.  She said the experience change her and that for the first time in her life she feels like she belongs somewhere.  She said that growing up not belonging left her broken inside, but that this is helping her “put the pieces back together.”  She said she still has days when she doesn’t know who she is or how to move forward.  But on those days her new identity helps her find her way.

People have a need to belong, and I wonder if our society sometimes does a poor job of providing this.  I know non-believers who join churches to feel like they belong somewhere, and I can’t help but wonder if this is why street gangs are so prevalent.  I wonder if this is part of the reason our society is becoming so factionalized – does identifying as a liberal or a conservative helps us feel like we belong somewhere?  It’s a shame, though, that just being an American isn’t enough to provide that…