Plate of Reverence: Witnessing my First Powwow and the Culture it Honors

 It’s an odd feeling. On the brink of excitement and nervousness. Teetering back and forth like a pendulum. Ignoring the laws of Newton as I force myself to stay in the middle. Unwavering. In between, yet imbalanced.

So many questions rush through my head as I am about to attend my first Powwow. After a night of searching for proper etiquette and wondering whether I have the right clothes, I can’t find answers within myself. Do I bring cash or card, or both? How much do I buy to show respect? What if they know I’m an outsider?
What if…
What if…
What if.

As much as I am excited, this is my first real experience with embracing a culture that I do not embody. I can’t help but ruminate over the thought that I might do it ‘wrong’. How do you observe a culture wrong? What if I call her Auntie but she’s actually Cousin? What if I don’t call her anything? Am I even allowed to call her that?

A flurry of titillating emotions pull back and crash into me like a tidal wave. I’m going under, I swear it. I woke up bright and early at 7 AM after having a dream that I was leading a group of children to the powwow, however, we kept getting lost. What significance lies there, I’m not sure. But, I do know that it is a personal reflection of how I perceived my experience was going to go. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Powwows are a community gathering that celebrates the Native American culture and tradition. Many powwows are used as a way to socialize and gain exposure to their history. Although, those words don’t take into consideration the livelihood I’ve experienced.

Immediately upon entering I was greeted by a line of eager appetites as we awaited freshly made fry bread tacos. Each a different shape, cultivated from the hands of a well respected elder and her family. All of which, we gave thanks to.

I found a nice nature area to sit at as I consumed this delicious soft, savory, and warm food. It filled my stomach with a joyousness that only a deep connection to culture seems to bring out. Although I am not native, I felt at home eating this comfort food.

The weather seemed a perfect choice for this occasion. The gentle sunbeams smiling gently at us while the cool mountain wind whispered hello.

Subsequently, we took a look at all of the tents. We followed a counterclockwise pattern with respectful hands behind our back. There were so many wondrous things to awe at. Wooden flutes, elk antler and sinew knives from leftover industrial metal, acorn processing demonstrations, beautiful handmade turquoise and silver jewelry, rare shells used for earrings and necklaces, men and women greeting each other with a solidified hold from forearm to forearm, etc.

Every tent was full of purpose and repurpose. Each was so eager to share their work.

I was able to speak to a historian (whom I bought handcrafted earrings from) who was the great grandson of the oldest living Native [person] (105 years old) in California! This historian was interesting and he gave me something for free. Knowledge.

As he sat there with a needle in hand, creating the latest fashion, he told us about the inner connections from the Indigenous Americans and the Hawaiian islanders. How they [Indigenous Americans] burned out the middle of redwood trees and used it to sail to Hawaii around 13,000 years ago.

He gave a beautiful description of how the islands of Hawaii used to be so much closer, but due to the tectonic plates [Mendocino Triple Junction] they pushed together forming buttes and sinking the islands. Pushing the islands further away from the Americas, thus severing the connection.

In a way it made me sad, but despite the longer travel, they still made the effort. And now we can trace Polynesian ancestry among some of the native people today. Their traits of strength not only demonstrate their physical attributes, but the mental and emotional toll of their ancestors.

Among the people I met, there was a blacksmith who sold personally crafted bison pelt bags, copper and silver smelted rings, and thick tan hide bracelets with turquoise gems gently centered. He asked me a curious question: where was I from? Upon giving him the name, he furrowed his brow as the familiarity of the land came to him. Then he asked for the significance of the name. That was a question I’ve never been asked before, nor considered.

My hometown is an oxymoron. As dry as can be, but its tricky name offers false promises that will never come.

There was also an author of many Indigenous books. There were many faces that I believed should take pride in their achievements — all of whom utilized their culture and experience from the land in unique ways, but gave back to their community ten-fold.

It was a beautiful experience that I hope to be part of more in the future. As I asked more about their story and how they came to be at this point in their lives, they were eager and this eased my anxiety.

They did not see me as an outsider, but more so as someone who was willing to take their information and pass it on. Just as I am now. Like an oral history report.

And although there were so many bodies marked with important ink tattoos, I myself, as plain as I am naked, blended in through their openness.

To say a powwow is a community gathering that celebrates Native American culture and tradition is an understatement. It is a cultivation of utility, peace, and creation bore from the hearts and minds that their native lands blessed them with.

A powwow, I think, is a living historical preservation. Through food, gatherings, and sharing stories, this is a place to be revered and a home to all who embrace it.

Pass the next plate over — I’m hungry for more information.

-KSF