Chikasha saya. Those words are the words of my ancestors. They mean “I am Chickasaw” and they are some of the most important words that have ever passed through my mouth.

I say that, because that phrase has multiple meanings to me. Firstly, it means that I am Chickasaw. In other words, being a tribal member of the Chickasaw Nation is part of my identity. Every time I say those words, I honor my ancestors. I honor the fact that my ancestors persevered for over 500 years in the face of colonial states seeking to exploit them, in order to continue to be able to claim our collective identity. Every time I say “Chikasha saya” I acknowledge my ancestors who were forced via the Trail of Tears to leave their ancestral homelands in the Southeast of the U.S. for Oklahoma – where their new “reservation” would eventually not be respected by white settler colonizers, and thus undoubtedly faced additional immense struggles. Every time I say “Chikasha saya” I honor my ancestors and all that they went through so that I could say those words.

Secondly, the phrase “Chikasha saya” also represents to me that “I am.” Meaning, I exist in this plain/realm. During a ceremony I partook in with Ayuhusca I lost the sense of myself. I felt as though I was apart of everything, thus losing the sense of me. “I” was no longer. Time was fungible (as Einstein has shown that it is). This existence felt as if it was just one form of manifestation. Realms shifted and revolved. Shapes moved. Colors transformed. Oscillating strings. Atoms. Quirks. Memories. Fears. Love. Then, the shaman ushered in two words: “I am.” Those words brought my consciousness back to a point. That point was me. My body. My mind. My ancestors. My family. My identity. It was all real. Identity is what allows for me to manifest. It brought me to a point. It made me, me. That is what I am. Chikasha saya. I am Chickasaw. I am strong. I am worthy.

It is with that newly minted identity that I exist. Since my ceremony with Ayuhusca I realize that I am. I am Chickasaw. I am Stephen. I am here for a reason. My life matters and so do my actions. Facing my fears, being present, expressing love, attempting to make the best choices possible, honoring my ancestors, honoring my family, honoring myself, seeking joy, and continuing to learn who I am.

Identity, in other words, is a very important thing. I now realize it is a central component of human existence. It is how humans reinforce their perceptions of life. It is how and why we choose to exist. It empowers one to persevere in the face of existence. It is a unifier – a collective bond for cultures, states, communities, families, and the self.

Which is why colonizing powers seek to manipulate identity.

Mexico has been a reminder to me of how colonizing tactics are actuated and how effective they are. The collective identity of the indigenous peoples of Mexico has been affronted by Spanish colonizers for centuries. That is why it is illegal to partake in mushroom ceremonies in Oaxaca. That is why Christian cathedrals were built directly above Aztec temples. That is why the beautifully complex traditional food producing swamps of Xochimilco were all but drained. That is why Catholic churches are more prevalent than community centers, homeless housing, community gardens, indigenous cultural centers, etc.

The Spanish colonizers were/are not naive or unintelligent. They understood/understand that the identity of a peoples must be morphed and manipulated in order for them to subjugated.

Wealth, from the perspective of a fear-based-mindset must be taken and extracted. Thus, indigenous people’s identity were/are systematically disaggregated and altered, in order for the colonizers to have a subjugated populace.

In other words, if you want a cheap and obedient work force you must break the sense of identity of that work force. The Spanish colonizers were/are very effective at subjugation and identity fragmentation. I can see this whenever I step out on to a Mexican street and see an indigenous person begging for money. I can see this when ever I hear Spanish spoken and not the multitude of indigenous languages that are native to these lands. I can see this in the fact that only one President in Mexico’s history has been indigenous: Benito Juarez. I can see this in the race based class structure of Mexico – i.e. almost all of the wealthy people of this country look as though they are of European or mixed ancestry, few to none look indigenous.

Mexico is a beautiful country full of diverse lands and vibrant people. Thankfully, because colonizing tendencies are rooted in anger/ego/deprivation they did and will not succeed in eradicating the varied indigenous peoples and their cultures – which make Mexico so diverse and vibrant. Only actions rooted in love can continue on unabated and unobstructed. That is why I can go to a restaurant and eat beautifully colored tortillas, moles, huaraches, and so much more. That is why I can go see elaborate dances celebrating the identity of indigenous peoples in the plazas of pueblos on the weekends. That is why I can see woven tapestries made by the Zapotecas. I can see these things, because they are rooted in love. Love and identity permit existence. They interweave and reinforce one another.

The indigenous people of Mexico, and of the world for that matter, are supremely strong. They have been the brunt of 500 years of anger and the ego of white Eurocentric colonizers. They have faced genocide and ethnocide. They have been enslaved. They have been murdered. They have had their cultures decimated. They have had their lands stolen. They have had their children stolen. They have had their wives, mothers, daughters, and sisters raped and stolen. They have been enshrined in governmental documents, such as the U.S.’s Constitution, as “savages.” Their cultures have been labeled as less than. And all of these things did not just occur in the past, they are still occurring. Most would resort to anger and hatred when faced with so much unwarranted suffering, and some indigenous people do (that is their choice to do so and no judgement is passed upon them). Yet countless other indigenous people – seemingly the majority – respond with grace, resolve, dignity, and ultimately love. A coward will respond with anger. It takes a truly strong individual to respond to transgressions with love.

It is through indigenous cooking, craft, art, ceremony and so much more that the indigenous peoples of Mexico continue to reinforce their identities and sovereignty. All of these actions are imbued with love.

Thus, though the road is winding and full of darkness, ultimately the indigenous peoples will succeed in halting colonization – I believe this, because resistance to colonization is rooted in love and it is the truth. The truth is that colonization cannot continue. It is a lie. It is a farce. It is a desecration of god.

Only love, like a handmade blue corn tortilla can continue on into eternity.