Yá’át’éeh T’ą́ą́tsoh! And thank goodness for the ever-useful colon. You make all our long-winded title dreams come true.
I have been keeping myself busy with being in community so thatʼs kept me away from the keyboard. BUT, I am always thinking about you and gender (obvs!). Some of the talks and events I participated in recently have me thinking in different ways about home (yes, of course gender, too). I gave a short talk on reclamation in the archives. I focused on my own community to illustrate how spaces like archives render us in harsh light. From the very first time I read ethnographic descriptions of third gendered Indigenous people I had to make a choice to resist the racist, homophobic, transphobic language of scholarly works. Still I l poured over descriptions of previous nádleeehí (and dilbaa, though they are mentioned only in cursory terms) in manuscripts and secondary research materials. This experience is pretty much the reason I engage with the terms dilbaa and nádleehí from the harsh light and words of scientists who could not understand them. But this had me thinking about the archive as a sort of home for our loved ones (though cold, isolating, and dark).
Our knowledge migrated for a time to manila folders, footnotes, and library shelves. When I think about this I want to bring them ʼhomeʼ or some kind of fome *in my heart) but also in my daily life and thoughts and in this work. I am a part of it as I research and use it to recast nádleehí and dilbaa relatives and their knowledge into a softer, warmer light, and how I am a part of a lineage of nádleehí and dilbaa and I am the embodiment of their future, and the ones coming up behind me are the embodiment of my future and we are all connected by the knowledge we carry in our selves. The archive, the written record is part of that, even though mostly terrible what has been written, WE ARE STILL HERE. And whatʼs more, weʼre writing ourselves into the record now, how we want to.
How the heck is anyone going to tell me thatʼs not futurism at work? And that all of this stuff is connected in ways that make it so I can be typing this post out. Action and light. The act of archiving is a kind of safekeeping for discoveries of ourselves in some time from here. Whatʼs comes to light in the archive points the way next.
And speaking of it all being connected, I met Dr. Keovorabouth last month on a whim. She just happened to be presenting a plenary talk at a university near my town. What a magical night, we shared a meal amongst other Gender scholars in one of the most beautiful Brutalist settings. Sidenote: it’s not ironic to me that Brutalism is more often than not associated with some futuristic dystopia (i.e. Bladerunner, 1984, Total Recall), this strangely appeals to me. Not going to lie, a Brutalist hoghan would be cool.
Anyways, I loved being in that softly lit Brutalist setting with Dr. Keovorabouth, it was interdisciplinary and Iʼm hoping more connections like that can happen for us. Dr. Keovorabouthʼs work is part of a very important boom of Indigenous 2SLGBTQ scholars who are theorizing gender and resiliency from their lived experiences as survivors of colonization. It also reminded me that we are some glittering, joyous, intelligent, capable and future-minded. My homework is to learn more about the thinking behind how we live in the near future (itʼs already here some say). I’m curious and I know that we have to do it, we cannot waste time hoping for a bailout. One thing I know: Diné can turn any concrete block into a plush and cozy home, we’ve had experience with making home out of what looks like nothing. We take care of us.
So, trust and believe we Diné 2SLGBTQ baddies are brave enough to say ʼthis is what I want our future to look like.ʼ We are also brave and capable enough to build it.
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