by Mc Addison

Created on: February 27, 2007   Last Updated: September 08, 2009

I am 21/32 Native American. The other 11/32 is a mix of Irish, Scottish, and French. If you were to look at me, you would consider me a Native American. I have dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. Only full-blood Natives can tell I am not full. Sometimes, I can fool them, but there is a look to me that can show others that I am part white.

The dysfunction in my family ancestry is as a result of the white heritage that is a part of me. My Irish ancestry comes from my grandpa's father who was a miner from Butte, Montana. He was a mean alcoholic, abusive in many ways, who eventually went crazy and died.

My grandpa did all he could to ensure that his kids were brought up the Native way. His mother's people was where he felt comfortable. Although he was half white, he didn't look like it. However, when I go to Butte, Montana, I am not looked at like I am a part of their city's history of copper miners. If I told some Butte local that, they would look at me like I was crazy.

People in Butte don't seem to like people like me. Once, as a junior in high school, I played in a tournament in Anaconda. My team and I stayed in a Butte hotel. A few of my teammates and I decided to take a walk down the street in Butte just to see the town and get some fresh air. As we walked, a vehicle slowed down and rolled down their window.

A white boy said, "Hey girls..." He stopped talking when he seen that we were all Natives. "F-in ugly Indians!" He yelled at us and the group of white boys drove off. We thought, "whatever" and continued our walk. A few minutes later, the vehicle drove toward us, turned around, and continued to harass us. Calling us names, jeering at us, telling us to go back to where we came from, etc. We cussed back at them, as we were all very angry. They drove off and we turned around to go back to our hotel. This time, we all grabbed handfuls of rocks.

Sure enough, they turned around and continued to harass us, but this time, we started throwing rocks at their car. They sped off and apparently called the police, because before we got back to our hotel, a cop car stopped us. He asked if we threw rocks at a car, and we said, "No, why would we do that? I'd only do that if someone was being really mean to me and harassing me." The cop smiled like he knew what I was talking about as rocks dropped from my hands, and he said to stay out of trouble and drove off.

That is only one instance that I've experienced. I've endured many simply because I am a Native American that

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