I grew up with shame for who I was and what I came from. It took me a long time to realize how special my home truly was. This is a land of wonder with a new world under every rock and every turn of a creek bed. Music bubbles up out of the ground, and there is a deep rooted history of fighters and individualists.

My family has its own creation story, as least as it relates to our Native heritage. We’ve always been able to trace our line back to a full-blooded Clatsop woman known only as Louisa.

Being born in Los Angeles as a Native American, my identity quest felt like a maze. Amidst the urban sprawl, my community became my compass, lifting my spirit during moments of doubt.

Out of necessity, my people are ones of heroic perseverance. Resilient and practical people who can endure hardships to hold on to their lives, their land, and to one another. My momma always told me I came from good stock.

My father always said he had no country, and that all the lines we draw between us are imaginary ones we make up. He always had a joke up his…

My infant Silver naps beside me in his stroller. I can’t help but look for breathing just as a mosquito finds his thigh and produces the answer I am seeking,…

I still have visions of Dallas. Plenty of places shaped me as a musician. New Orleans, Mendocino, New York, lonesome highways, street corners, subway platforms. But Dallas shaped me first.