Noble Faces, Strong Voices: Exploring “The Spirit of Indian Women”
The Spirit of Indian Women, published in 2005 by World Wisdom, showing a photo of Pretty Nose, a Cheyenne woman
What was the role of women in the nomadic world of the American Indians in the 19th century? The Spirit of Indian Women provides a unique glimpse into a world that is almost inaccessible in our time. This wonderful book is edited by Judith Fitzgerald, and Michael Fitzgerald, and is the fourth book in the Sacred World Series.
Janine Pease, National Indian Educator of the Year and Founder of Little Big Horn College writes in her introduction:
“It is an honor to introduce to you The Spirit of Indian Women. This volume brings to us a combination of images and voices from American Indian women. The historic and written voices of, and about, American Indian women are remarkably profound. By reading this book, we are privileged to hear the thoughts and words of Indian women along with the intense beauty of their images. This gift of voice and image affords us an opportunity to travel across time and cultures, to listen to, and to observe these beautiful mothers, grandmothers, and matriarchs, all of them Indian women.”
“As I lay sleeping, as I lay dreaming, out of the distance came one advancing, one whom I ne’er had seen before, but when her voice addressed me, straightway I knew her—Lo! ‘Twas our Mother, she whom we know. I rose from sleeping, my dream remembering; Her words I pondered, words of our Mother. Then I asked of each one I met, Tell me, how far may Her shrine be? When I found it sweet smoke I offered unto our Mother.”
—Song for Mother Corn, Pawnee
“Once, many generations ago, there lived a beautiful goddess of the ocean – the “Woman of the White Shells,” younger sister of the Moon. This goddess was the special patroness of beauty and grace and she imparted an attractiveness almost equaling her own to those into whose hearts she deigned to breathe. So that she would not be defiled, she lived in a cave.
One day when some maidens were passing near the mountain, suddenly the beautiful goddess appeared to them, sitting high up in the rocks, dressed in sparkling white cotton garments. She beckoned to the maidens to approach her, reassuring them with her friendly smile. “Sit ye down by my side,” she said to them, “and I will teach you the arts of women.”
—Zuni legend
lent to you by the Creator.”
White Buffalo Woman’s words to the women: ”My dear sisters, the women: You have a hard life to live in this world, yet without you this life would not be what it is. Wakan Tanka intends that you shall bear much sorrow—comfort others in time of sorrow. By your hands the family moves. You have been given the knowledge of making clothing and of feeding the family. Wakan Tanka is with you in your sorrows and joins you in your grief. He has given you the great gift of kindness toward every living creature on earth. You he has chosen to have a feeling for the dead who are gone. He knows that you remember the dead longer than do the men. He knows that you love your children dearly.”
—Retold by Lone Man, Teton Lakota
“I will soon leave you. I will return to the home whence I came. You will be to my people as myself; you will pass with them over the straight road; I will remain in my house below and will hear all that you say to me. I give you all my wisdom, my thoughts, my heart, and all. I fill your head with my mind.”
—Words of Corn Woman, Iyatiku, after she brought corn to the Keres Indians of Laguna Pueblo
—Onondaga Proverb
First, the little baby through the medicine man’s prayers has been given life,
—Mother’s song to a baby, Acoma
Here and there, with the medicine man’s song.
For the baby the songs have been sung.
Next, the baby’s mother,
With the songs of the rain gods she has cared for the little baby.
Here and there the mother with the cloud cradle,
The little baby was cared for.
It was nice that the clouds came up like foam,
As if it was among those soft little clouds,
With this the baby was cared for.
“It is the mothers, not the warriors, who create a people and guide their destiny.”
—Luther Standing Bear, Oglala Lakota
“Indian people loved their children above all else, for they were the hope of the future and justification for the trials and tribulations of their parents. They guaranteed the perpetuation of the family and continued the upholding of its honor. They were a special gift from the Creator and the promise of a bright and happy future.”
—Mourning Dove, Salish
“I come to White Painted Woman,
By means of long life I come to her.
I come to her by means of her blessing,
I come to her by means of her good fortune,
I come to her by means of all her different fruits.
By means of the long life she bestows, I come to her.
By means of this holy truth she goes about.
“I am about to sing this song of yours,
The song of long life.
Sun, I stand here on the earth with your song,
Moon, I have come in with your song.
“White Painted Woman’s power emerges,
Her power for sleep.
White Painted Woman carries this girl;
She carries her through long life,
She carries her to good fortune,
She carries her to old age,
She bears her to peaceful sleep.
You have started out on the good earth;
“You have started out with good moccasins;
With moccasin strings of the rainbow, you have started out.
With moccasin strings of the sun’s ray, you have started out.
In the midst of plenty you have started out.”
—Song for girls’ puberty rites, Chiricahua Apache
When Changing Woman gets to be a certain old age, she goes walking toward the east. After a while she sees herself in the distance looking like a young girl walking toward her. They both walk until they come together and after that there is only one. She is like a young girl again.
—Apache
In the beginning Tse che nako, Thought Woman, finished everything, thoughts, and the names of all things. She finished also all the languages. And then our mothers, Uretsete and Naotsete said they would make names and they would make thoughts. Thus they said. Thus they did. She (Tse che nako) is mother of us all; after Her, mother earth follows, in fertility, in holding, and taking us again back to her breast.
—From the Keres Indians of Laguna Pueblo
We as Indian people have never forgotten the status of women. Those who have gotten away from the traditions may act as if they don’t remember, but all of us know inside. Our memories are long, as long as the line of the generations. The elders have always passed on this knowledge. We have been told to never forget. So we remember and pass it on, too. With us there is no past, everything is now, and the only future is the generations to come.
—Anonymous Native American woman
“The two divine sisters, Changing Woman and White Shell Woman, were left on the mountain alone. The women remained here four nights; on the fourth morning, Changing Woman said: ‘Younger sister, why should we remain here? Let us go to yonder high point and look around us.’ They went to the highest point of the mountain, and when they had been there several days, Changing Woman said: ‘It is lonely here; we have no one to speak to but ourselves; we see nothing but that which rolls over our heads (the sun), and that which drops below us (a small dripping waterfall). I wonder if they can be people. I shall stay here and wait for the one in the morning, while you go down among the rocks and seek the other.’
“In the morning Changing Woman found a bare, flat rock and lay on it with her feet to the east, and the rising sun shone upon her. White Shell Woman went down where the dripping waters descended and allowed them to fall upon her. At noon the women met again on the mountain top and Changing Woman said to her sister: ‘It is sad to be so lonesome. How can we make people so that we may have others of our kind to talk to?’ White Shell Woman answered: ‘Think, Elder Sister; perhaps some day you may plan how this is to be done.’
“Four days after this conversation, White Shell Woman said: ‘Elder Sister, I feel something strange moving within me; what can it be?’ Changing Woman answered: ‘It is a child. It was for this that you lay under the waterfall. I feel, too, the motions of a child within me. It was for this that I let the sun shine upon me.'”
“Women have power. Men have to dream to get power from the spirits and they think of everything they can hoping that the spirits will notice them and give them some power. But we have power. Children. Can any warrior make a child, no matter how brave and wonderful he
—Maria Chona, Papago
is?”
A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground. Then, no matter how brave its warriors nor how strong their weapons, it is done.
—Cheyenne proverb
“The women emerging are the hearts of the nations.”
—Megisi, Turtle Mountain Ojibway
The heart of the family is the mother because life comes from her.
—Onondaga Proverb
I add my breath to your breath
—Song from the Keres Indians of Laguna Pueblo
That our days may be long on the Earth
That the days of our people may be long
That we may be one person
That we may finish our roads together
May our Mother bless you with life
May our life paths be fulfilled.
At the funeral of a chief woman, say: “Now we become reconciled as you start away. You were once a chief woman in the Five Nations’ Confederacy. You once were a mother of the nations. Now we release you for it is true that it is no longer possible for us to walk about together on the earth. Now, therefore, we lay it (the body) here. Here we lay it away. Now then we say to you, ‘Persevere onward to the place where the Creator dwells in peace. Let not the things of the earth hinder you. Let nothing that transpired while you lived hinder you. Looking after your family was a sacred duty and you were faithful. You were one of the many joint heirs of the Lordship titles. Feastings were yours and you had pleasant occasions. . .’
—From the Constitution of the Iroquois Nations
“My father went on talking to me in a low voice. That is how our people always talk to their children, so low and quiet, the child thinks he is dreaming. But he never forgets.”
—Maria Chona Papago
“Kids learned a lot just through listening, watching, and then doing. Our folks didn’t lecture us much. They’d tell stories, especially on the long winter nights. That’s when we listened and learned what to fear, what to do, and what to respect. We learned that Old Man Coyote, Esakuateh, along with his little companion, Shedapay, shaped the world, making all the rivers, lakes, and mountains. He also put the stars in their places and made all the different birds and animals. It was Old Man Coyote who gave us our Indian ways—how to live as Crows; how to dream, to hunt, to make tipis; and how to get medicine to live by. The old people told us about this. But Old Man Coyote was also a tricky person, and at times he could be real bad. These winter stories taught us about the mysterious in life. Crows always believed that the mysterious was important in their lives. They fasted and cried so that a spirit person would adopt them and bring them good luck. But you had to follow their rules, or you came to harm.”
—Agnes Yellowtail Deernose Absaroke
—Megisi, Turtle Mountain Ojibway
“A girl always started her fast at the first sign of menstruation, usually at an age between twelve and fifteen. She was regarded as immediately contaminated and not allowed to come in contact with her family for ten days. When she did return, she had to take several sweat baths and put on a complete change of clothing. The discarded clothing was tied in a bundle and put in the fork of a tree near the menstrual tipi.
“In the old days, no village was complete without such shelters reserved especially for the women during their periods. They were usually located downstream so as not to pollute the water used for cooking and drinking. Men absolutely shunned the women at this time. They were believed to cause ill luck and sickness to any man who came in contact with them.
“A girl prayed about motherhood at this time. Although she had to stay away from the sweat lodge and from hunting, fishing, and gambling gear, she could pick berries and dig up roots. She could not pick herbs or make love potions. She stayed away from camp, but if she had to go there, she never went behind a tipi or stepped near the head of a bed. If she came near someone already ill, she might make that person die.
“The girl was purified when she returned and stayed in her parents’ tipi, thereafter rigidly chaperoned. She was wrapped in a virgin’s cape so men could not see her body. After a girl returned from the isolation of the menstrual hut, [the culmination of] her intensive spiritual training, she was looked upon as a woman of value.”
“As soon as the wife realized that she was to become a mother, she withdrew from the society of her husband, though at all times he had her in his care. But the husband immediately found duties that occupied his time—the hunt, the war-party, or ceremonies. With the knowledge that a child was about to be born the thought of the couple was for its welfare, and both father and mother were willing to sacrifice for the sake of the health of the child and mother. Not till a child was five or six years of age did the parents allow themselves another offspring. As a consequence Lakota families were not large, four or five children being the rule. But disabled mothers were a rarity and many a grandmother was as strong as her granddaughter. And with all the demands placed by parenthood, seldom was the relationship between husband and wife weakened.”
—Luther Standing Bear, Oglala Lakota
Calmly, My mother explained: “A small portion of food is being prepared for many hungry people. To it we add sand as a prayer for abundance. Sand, whose grains are without number, has in it this essence. What is more plentiful than the sand of Mother Earth in its endlessness? We remember that as we mix our food in its lack of muchness. “Now, as you knead this dough in your warm hands, bear good thoughts in your heart, that there be no stain of evil in the food. Ask that it may have in it the greatness and power of Mother Earth; then those who eat it will be nourished in spirit as well as in body.”
—Polingaysi Qoyawayma (Elizabeth White), Hopi
“I was ready to spend ten days in the mountain wilderness as a young woman. This was my last preparation for a future as a renowned medicine woman.
“When I got to the base of the mountain, I picked up two stones and put them inside my dress above the belt. I went quickly up the slope without stopping until I was almost at the top. As I had been taught, I loosened my belt and let the first stone drop, saying, “When I have children, that is the way they will come, with me on the run.”
“I dropped the second stone at the top and said, “This is the way the afterbirth of the child will come. I will never have trouble bearing my children.” I continued to follow the teachings. When I washed my face in the creek, I would use fir boughs to dry off so my hands did not touch my face. Otherwise I would wrinkle early in life.
“I blew a breath toward the rising sun and whispered, “May the Great Spirit protect my youth for many years to come.” I rubbed my hands and feet with the green boughs, blowing first to the sun and then to my fingertips and toes, praying they would remain small and unwrinkled.
“I never touched my hair with my hands, only with the comb. I would groom myself each dawn beside mountain streams and greet the rising sun either by sitting and looking toward it or by standing with arms extended in deep prayer. I prayed for future success, always ending with, “May the Great Spirit and Creator spare my life from accidents, illness, deformity, and laziness. Bless me with a long and prosperous life. Make me, dear God of the Heavens, to be honest and strong in character, to face life with an honorable, truthful, and strong will, without fearing man or beast.”
“I am an old woman now. The buffaloes and black-tail deer are gone, and our Indian ways are almost gone. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I ever lived them. My little son grew up in the white man’s school. He can read books, and he owns cattle and has a farm. He is a leader among our Hidatsa people, helping teach them to follow the white man’s road. He is kind to me. We no longer live in an earth lodge, but in a house with chimneys, and my son’s wife cooks by a stove. But for me, I cannot forget our old ways.
“Often in summer I rise at daybreak and steal out to the corn fields, and as I hoe the corn I sing to it, as we did when I was young. No one cares for our corn songs now. Sometimes in the evening I sit, looking out on the big Missouri. The sun sets, and dusk steals over the water.
“In the shadows I seem again to see our Indian village, with smoke curling upward from the earth lodges, and in the river’s roar I hear the yells of the warriors, and the laughter of little children as of old. It is but an old woman’s dream. Then I see but shadows and hear only the roar of the river, and tears come into my eyes. Our Indian life, I know, is gone forever.”
—Waheenee, Hidatsa
