Do you understand how the builders of that dam must have had a big chunk of concrete first in their own hearts? How else could they have thought this was ok? My parents did not intend to dam me up. As parents go, mine were very encouraging of free choice. I am a white person; the damming goes back a long long way.
As I begin to wake up from the hungry drive of the Europeans to conquer and subjugate, I see that I am not free. My rivers have been dammed. My electricity has been used to power agendas not my own. Because, under all the whiteness, I am still electric, still alive. I want to dismantle the dams and let my native people fish again. They know how to live. I only know how to kill them, how to enslave, how to make dirty deals, and how to die. So I invite the people to the table, the parts of me I have subjugated to the outer agenda, the white agenda. I beg them to teach me. I need to relearn what I, too, once knew.