Alumna shares Native heritage to connect past and present
When Diane Bishop (Univ Coll ’89) discovered her Native American heritage, the revelation took some processing. “One family member mentioned it when I was very young, but others in my family didn’t want to talk about it, and many still don’t,” she says.
When she later confirmed her ancestry through genealogy, the facts explained some longstanding intuitions. “Things fell into place,” says the Perrysburg resident who sometimes gives informational presentations on Native life in 18th- and 19th-century America, complete with handmade clothing, connecting it to the present day. “I’ve always felt different from the time I was a little kid. In your gut you know there’s something different, but you can’t explain it.”
Not that the knowledge brought her instant peace. “People will ask you, ‘What percentage are you?’ when they find you’re Native American,” Bishop notes. “They don’t ask that about other parts of your ancestry.” With one foot in each culture, she sought the best way to balance the two.
It was a conversation with a tribal elder, she says, that helped most.
“He told me, ‘Pretend I have a knife in my hand,’” she recalls. “’Now pretend I’m handing it to you. I want you to take that pretend knife and pretend to slit your wrist.’
“At that point he cupped his hands and told me to pretend that my blood was running into them.
“Then he said, ‘Now you tell me which drop of that blood is Native and which is not.’
“When he said that, it was huge to me; it put things in perspective. He told me, ‘The Creator knows who you are; I and your friends and people who love you know who you are.’”
Her involvement in Native organizations was spurred by the conversation, says Bishop, who was instrumental in starting the annual Perrysburg Powwow in early autumn. Along the way, she became an advocate for tribes nationwide.
She developed a strong connection with Southwest tribal culture through a former boyfriend of Navajo descent. “We met through a friend from the Acoma Pueblo in New Mexico,” Bishop recalls. “The Navajo reservation covers four states: Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah. I fell in love with the land and the spirituality.” She travels there as often as her schedule allows. “And I’m always interested in connecting with UT alumni who live in the Southwest,” she adds: e-mail her at sage_brookes@yahoo.com.
Navajo culture, unlike many Native cultures fragmented by enforced migrations, is still strongly concentrated. Not that there weren’t disruptions, adds Bishop, making a point she shares during her presentations. “Navajo children were removed from their families and sent to ‘Indian schools,’ sometimes hundreds of miles away, to learn English and European culture.
“Even a good friend’s brother — he’s only a few years older than I am — was removed. It didn’t just happen a hundred years ago.”
Education, though highly valued by Native people, can still mean family separation, Bishop says, with hours-long bus rides to and from the nearest schools, which often lack up-to-date textbooks, teaching technology and even — as a news story she shares shows (http://www.indiancountrytoday.com/home/content/94580009.html) — proper levels of safety for the kids.
Facts like that make Bishop’s presentations eye-opening if not squirm-making for audiences who don’t expect to hear about past genocide or present-day injustices toward Native Americans.
“People tend to think that Indians have their casinos and all kinds of money, but in most cases that’s not true,” she says. Occasionally, someone with anecdotal evidence and an axe to grind will buttonhole Bishop, as did a woman with the story of a friend in upstate New York “who doesn’t even have to pay taxes on the casino income,” Bishop recalls.
“I told her, that’s wonderful for her and her family, but I’m here to tell you that there are many, many more who are doing without. I’ve been to places in the Southwest where people don’t have running water or heat. It’s a hard life.”
Traditional ways — including “old ways” of spirituality — help sustain Native people, she notes. Raised Catholic (“a great religious foundation,” she says), she practices Native spirituality and its respect for all forms of life. “I get more out of the way I pray now — participating in ceremonies, in sweat lodges. It feeds my soul like nothing else ever has.” 
To help address that hunger — and other issues — in others, she’s founded a new Native advocacy group: NAWA, the Native American Women’s Alliance. “There are a lot of Native women in this area; people are just unsure how to connect,” she says. The e-mail is nawanwoh@yahoo.com.
Ultimately, connections between cultures are what it’s all about, she adds: “If we don’t take time to understand each other, how are we ever going to go forward in a positive way?”