Holatte-Sutv Turwv Oscceola Nokosee sent me this picture of a tat he says he wants to put on his back. I texted him back and asked if he was insane-- and jokingly added the only one who gets tats in this family is me! Really, the last thing I want to see when I roll over next to Nokosee in bed is a picture of a beheaded Donald Trump staring back at me with eyes rolled back in his head. That's not to say I don't appreciate the talent by the tat doc who did it. It is truly amazing; it's just not for the back of my husband or the father of my baby.
Anyway, if any of you have read my books, you know "we doan need no mo' stinkin' tattoos" to prove how macho we are. We've been through hell and back. In fact, in order to stop bringing attention to me, I've let my hair grow over my skull tats. Looking back, I can't believe I ever had feathered spears tattooed to each side of my head. I know what I was thinking: I wanted Nokosee to know I loved him and that I was in it for the whole shebang, i.e., I was gonna buy into his dad's crazy idea of starting an eco-war with the "Outside" hook line and sinker. Of course my hormones were raging because I was pregnant with Hallie and just maybe I wasn't thinking straight but what is done is done.
Since holing up here at the Miccosukee Embassy in an effort to seek diplomatic "sanctuary" from Uncle Sam, I discovered there is a shitload of Native American Facebook websites out there. Nokosee and I have been sending each other links to them. That's where he got the picture of the Dead Donald tat, from Realest Natives. Others we like are The Native American's Circle and Native Outlawz. Many of them talk about "being mad as hell and not going to take it anymore." Like us, the New Seminole. All of them use stunning original graphic images to express these New Seminole feelings that include music, film, and poetry. To Nokosee, it's a Renaissance of Hope and Activism on a scale he wasn't aware of growing up in the Everglades from young tribes men and women our age. We both agree his father would have been happy to see this and would have been recruiting them over the Net to join up with us in the swamp. Of course, wearing a tat and making a poster is one thing, but having the cajones is quite another. Usually guts go only as far as the pain of a tattoo needle. Unless you're me.
I also learned that there is little room for me in this new aware world of NAs on a much grander scale than I suspected. I had a clue way back in book one when Nokosee and I made our grand entrance into the rez as "a couple." The Seminole chicks shunned and insulted me because I'm white but I didn't give a fuck and still don't. Now I've learned it's not just the Seminoles and Miccosukees. Apparently I'm persona non grata with most of the tribes. The current PC culture leaves little room for anyone marrying outside of the tribe, even if she shaves her head to wear a Mohawk and tattoos each side of her bare scalp with spears and feathers. And God forbid I should ever wear a war bonnet. Well, fuck you, I earned my war bonnet and I'll wear it if I want to.
Anyway, if any of you have read my books, you know "we doan need no mo' stinkin' tattoos" to prove how macho we are. We've been through hell and back. In fact, in order to stop bringing attention to me, I've let my hair grow over my skull tats. Looking back, I can't believe I ever had feathered spears tattooed to each side of my head. I know what I was thinking: I wanted Nokosee to know I loved him and that I was in it for the whole shebang, i.e., I was gonna buy into his dad's crazy idea of starting an eco-war with the "Outside" hook line and sinker. Of course my hormones were raging because I was pregnant with Hallie and just maybe I wasn't thinking straight but what is done is done.
Since holing up here at the Miccosukee Embassy in an effort to seek diplomatic "sanctuary" from Uncle Sam, I discovered there is a shitload of Native American Facebook websites out there. Nokosee and I have been sending each other links to them. That's where he got the picture of the Dead Donald tat, from Realest Natives. Others we like are The Native American's Circle and Native Outlawz. Many of them talk about "being mad as hell and not going to take it anymore." Like us, the New Seminole. All of them use stunning original graphic images to express these New Seminole feelings that include music, film, and poetry. To Nokosee, it's a Renaissance of Hope and Activism on a scale he wasn't aware of growing up in the Everglades from young tribes men and women our age. We both agree his father would have been happy to see this and would have been recruiting them over the Net to join up with us in the swamp. Of course, wearing a tat and making a poster is one thing, but having the cajones is quite another. Usually guts go only as far as the pain of a tattoo needle. Unless you're me.
I also learned that there is little room for me in this new aware world of NAs on a much grander scale than I suspected. I had a clue way back in book one when Nokosee and I made our grand entrance into the rez as "a couple." The Seminole chicks shunned and insulted me because I'm white but I didn't give a fuck and still don't. Now I've learned it's not just the Seminoles and Miccosukees. Apparently I'm persona non grata with most of the tribes. The current PC culture leaves little room for anyone marrying outside of the tribe, even if she shaves her head to wear a Mohawk and tattoos each side of her bare scalp with spears and feathers. And God forbid I should ever wear a war bonnet. Well, fuck you, I earned my war bonnet and I'll wear it if I want to.
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