This article, as told to Matt DaSilva, appears in the April edition of US Lacrosse Magazine, which includes a special 10-page section featuring faces and voices of the Native American lacrosse community. Don’t get the mag? Join US Lacrosse today to start your subscription.
I grew up on Seneca Nation’s Cattaraugus Indian Reservation. I’m one of 11 children. I have six sisters and four brothers. My parents have been together for 27 years. I played lacrosse my whole life.
Backyard lacrosse was what we called it. We would grab a tennis ball and use a box net. There were no rules. My older brother would check me over and say, “Suck it up.” You got beat up by them, pushed into the weeds, and you got right back up again.
People think lacrosse is a rich white sport. Somebody once asked me, “How did you end up playing?” What do you mean? These are my roots. You are able to play this game because of my people, my descendants, my ancestors.
When I first came to Louisville, I would walk around campus in my Iroquois Nationals shirt with the Hiawatha belt. People would stop me and ask, “What does that mean?” I forgot that I’m not at home and that I have to explain things.
I would wear moccasins, and people would look at me. I didn’t wear them for a bit because I didn’t want people to look at me anymore. There aren’t Native Americans here. They don’t know what my moccasins mean to me.
“People think lacrosse is a rich white sport. You are able to play this game because of my people, my descendants, my ancestors.”
Our lacrosse team has a pre-game prayer. I didn’t grow up that way. I pray, but to myself and the Creator. I will never call down anyone else’s religion. We can still think and want our higher beings to do the same thing — to protect us. I’ll say nyoh, and they’ll say amen. My teammates genuinely wanted to know more about my beliefs. I was OK with telling them. I’m spending four years with these women. Might as well get close to them so that I fit in someplace.
When I was in high school, there were only three or four non-Natives on our team. I was in seventh grade and on the varsity team when we played a Catholic school. First, they were calling us Pocahontas. “Why is your hair braided?” they asked. “Why is it so long? Cut your hair.”
My people, when they were sent to boarding schools, they had to cut their hair. They didn’t have a choice. My long hair defines who I am. Why do we have to justify why our hair is long? Our people would cut their hair to show that they were grieving. It’s growing again. You’re going to grow from what just happened.
Another team, in a wealthier part of New York, their parents would yell, “There’s a tomahawk!” It makes you angry. I don’t want to be angry when I’m playing. Lacrosse makes me happy. It’s hard not to listen, though. My children will have to deal with this. My children’s children will have to deal with this. I hope our tribes are even still around then.