Growing up in Northern Virginia, near D.C., my brother and I were the only Native kids that we knew. We stuck out like sore thumbs. People always asked ‘Are you Hispanic? Are you Puerto Rican?’ When I was playing youth football, people always thought I was black because they could only see my legs.
When I started playing lacrosse, all my friends that were around me were cool guys. They said ‘Yeah, you’re Native American and you play lacrosse. That makes sense.’ Even though it wasn’t my tribe that played it, I felt pride in playing.
In seventh grade, I started getting talk from other kids like ‘Who does he think he is?’ I never took offense to it really. I was like ‘Yeah, you’re playing our sport.’ I started to get things — I always had the ponytail — things like ‘Pull his hair. Shave his head.’ I got that every once in a while. I was always surprised. ‘Why was that a thing?’
It wasn’t until high school that I came to the thought that ‘Yeah, you’re playing our sport. You should be lucky to be on the field sharing this game with us.’ I knew that I was stepping onto the lacrosse field not only representing myself and my own tribe, but for me, it was this extra sense of — native people played this sport and I came from a Native lineage.