I'm no Travis Bickle (or Dirty Harry), but sometimes I want to be as tough as the FBI thinks I am. But I'm not. I'm just a little white girl with a couple of tats, some piercings and a Mohawk hiding out in the Miccosukee Embassy, seeking "Sanctuary" from big bad Uncle Sam. The toughest thing about me is my attitude. And the pronunciation of my Seminole name: Holatte-Sutv Turwv. It's supposed to mean "Sky Eyes." That's Nokosee's name for me. It came with our wedding as a gift, so I didn't have much choice. Sky Eyes is okay but sometimes I wish I had a more badass Native American name, you know like, Kokipapi, They-Are-Afraid-of-Her.* That's the name the great Lakota Sioux warrior Crazy Horse gave his daughter. (Spoiler Alert: stop reading if you haven't read Book Two). At least Nokosee and I gave our daughter a semi-badass name: Haalpatee. It's the Muskogee word for "alligator," a thing that killed Nokosee's dad, Busimanolotome Osceola, in our final battle with Uncle Sam deep in the Everglades. We hope his brave spirit came with the name for Hallie, what we call our beautiful little girl for short. And we hope she grows into a fierce heroine who will face down injustice and the destruction of our world like Busimanolotome and Crazy Horse did.
*The name was given to Crazy Horse's daughter in honor of an aunt who raised him. The aunt earned that name after beating up her husband. The baby girl, who died when she was only two or three years old in 1873, was Crazy Horse's only child and had nothing to do with the aunt's "bad reputation." As an aside, Crazy Horse doted on the child and mourned her death for many years. To commemorate her passing, he formed the "Last Child Warrior Society," whose members were the younger or youngest children in their families. He selected them for their bravery.