That one chick #4
When I was a kid we were in a cub scout Indian Village program out in some field somewhere–and because my mom was the Den Queen we all got to be involved. I don’t remember too much about it except that my brother was chosen to do some fancy dance wearing an eagle’s head (relax- it was fake) and big old wings. He looked really great. I didn’t understand why I was suppose to sit with the other girls and just do nothing–while the guys got to dance around and play the drums and screech like wild things. My mom said it was because we weren’t cub scouts and that we were suppose to be the lovely scenery in the background. I wasn’t satisfied with that answer and had to keep being told to “go sit back down.”
Finally, I must have gotten in my brother’s space because he turned to me and said, “You can’t be by us because you are NOT a brave. You are just a SQUAW and squaws just sit!”
I remember being positively crushed. The way I interpreted what he said was that because I wasn’t brave, I had to just sit down. Being the baby of the family had pointed out many times to me that in fact, I wasn’t particularly brave.
I couldn’t really argue with the facts, so I went back to the teepee…
and sat down.
Oh yes. It was a sad day in the wigwam.
I’m over it.
Not any braver, but over it.