There’s a lot of talk these days about decolonizing. Decolonize our food, decolonize our wardrobe, decolonize our minds and on. We are learning what colonization meant and means to indigenous people the world over and it is a hideous legacy.
And I keep coming back to this: We were all indigenous once. We all came from people who lived on the land, wherever that land might have been. Some of us are closer to it, but to many it’s no longer a living memory. I think there is a tremendous loss in this disconnect from the land, from the smells, the tastes, and the community. I would venture that the root of the violence we witness, the persistence of the patriarchy and the rise of greed all stem from the loss of our indigenous nature.
I was a fortunate one. I can remember my grandmother’s garden. I can remember the sweetness of the fruit and the smell of baking bread.
Those memories continue to guide my choices. I want to decolonize. I want the freedom that comes from not fearing dirt. I want the vibrant health that comes from good clean food. I want to protect my water because I know that it is life giving. And most of all I want that for all of us.
I long for community that does not promote “the divide”. I want to be human first. The rest will take care of itself.
To decolonize means to take back our humanity. Let’s relinquish our belief that power is dominant and a necessary evil. It doesn’t have to be.
Being human is the greatest power.
We can rekindle our relationship to the earth and one another. It’s not too late to call back the memories. Let this be our time.

