The Sacred Hoop: Recovering the Feminine in American Indian Traditions

My own body gave up the beads,
my own hands gave the babies away
to be strung on bayonets …
as if the pain of their birthing
had never been. 3
Perhaps the knowledge of the real possibility of total
extinction spurs one to perceptions that transcend the usual
political, sociological, psychological, or aesthetic responses to
pain or rage. Certainly the knowledge of continuance is difficult
to cling to. We cling to it nevertheless; for as Rose writes at the
end of her poem, the speaker would have protected the baby:
if I could, would’ve turned her
into a bush or rock if there’d been magic enough
to work such changes. Not enough magic
to stop the bullets, not enough
magic to stop the scientists, not enough magic
to stop the money. Now our ghosts dance
a new dance, pushing from their hearts
a new song. 4
The new song our ghosts push from their hearts is a song of
bitterness and grief, to be sure; but it is also a song of sanity,
balance, and humor.
Humor is widely used by Indians to deal with life. Indian
gatherings are marked by laughter and jokes, many directed at
the horrors of history, at the continuing impact of colonization,
and at the biting knowledge that living as an exile in one’s own
land necessitates. Thus, Leslie Marmon Silko updates Coyote
tales to reflect modern life at the pueblo of Laguna, an eastern
pueblo that is a crossroads of southwestern Anglo, Chicano, and
Indian cultures:
Some white men came to Acoma and Laguna a hundred years