Life has not felt normal for the past six months. I've been working through my grief, taking turns being held in community and also holding space for others. In this time, I've tried my best to not detach my mind from my body and continue to bear witness. It's unbelievable and wounding. In every interaction, I am caught in the horror of what continues to unfold in Palestine. I have a journal full of notes and reflections, but no real words of solace.

Something I wrote recently that really helped me push through my most recent piece is the idea of the role of grandparent and grandchild. I had watched a video clip of Bisan going live on TikTok, and someone asked her what would be the first thing she does when she is back home. She answered that the first thing would be to visit her grandmother, who was genocided, and visit her resting place because she never got the chance to grieve that loss. Honestly, that broke me.

After losing my grandmother last year, I am especially tender around this wound. I wrote in my grief journal, "What if Bisan also made an unspoken vow with her grandmother? What if she too was obligated with the responsibility of searching for her grandmother, and what if their cycle remains in limbo, incomplete because she is prevented from finding her?"

I began working on this digital piece, "Yolloxochitl / El Desprendimiento," soon after my grandmother passed last year. The conceptualization of this piece started from the wound of losing her. I have her suspended and cocooned in a place outside of time and space.

Yolloxochitl / El Desprendimiento, 2024

Her expression is neutral, childishly joyful, mischievous even, and she is cast in gold. I am vibrant red, showing the vitality of my being, and I am willfully threading, braiding the trenzas that connect me to her and to our ancestral network. My expression is grief, beyond grief because I am ripping open my chest to expose my heart, vulnerable and existing in the beyond.

I am cocooning my grandmother, preparing her, accompanying her, and ultimately releasing her. She is my Yolloxochitl, my heart flower. And this is my duty, to perform this ceremony of death and release, El Desprendimiento.

This process is wounding, but not despairing because I know as I coil her, and soon until no part of her is visible, she still exists, as an ancestor bundled like the others in the background. Always tethered and connected.

But still, I write this even now. With each breath, I feel the unforgiving edges cutting where her imprint was carved out. With every step forward, I carry the heavy empty space suspended. Despite this wound, I am grateful for it, as it serves as my proof that she did love me in this way, and it wasn’t just a figment of my imagination.

This feeling is why I dedicated this piece to all the grandchildren who, despite wincing through the cuts of memory, of love, remain tethered to their grandmothers. To those who whispered a vow, spoken or unspoken, to push against time, pull across space, and find each other in the middle once again, I search with you.

To you, to Bisan, to every grandchild tasked with searching, may we find her again, and again and again and again and again and again and again and again…

In a world where speed often equates to success, I find myself swimming against the current as a slow and deliberate artist. The pressure to produce quickly can be overwhelming, especially when surrounded by the seemingly effortless creations of others. But I've come to accept and even embrace the unique rhythm of my art practice, where each stroke is a deliberate expression of my innermost thoughts and emotions.

For me, inspiration doesn't strike instantly; it seeps into my consciousness through dreams and daydreams, slowly taking shape over time. My work is deeply personal, revolving around themes of love, existence, trauma, and healing. Each piece is a reflection of my own experiences and emotions, making the creative process a journey of self-discovery and introspection.

Take, for example, a recent digital piece that took me a staggering eight months to complete. As I reviewed the data tracking my progress in Procreate, I was surprised by the sheer amount of time and effort invested. The numbers spoke volumes: Total strokes: 95355, tracked time: 108 hours and 49 minutes.

But upon reflection, I realized that every stroke, every minute spent, was a testament to the depth of emotion and vulnerability crafted into the artwork. It wasn't just about the numbers; it was about the journey behind them.

The process of creation extends far beyond the physical act of drawing or painting. Weeks of contemplation and daydreaming precede the first sketch, each iteration and adjustment guided by intuition and emotion. It's a slow and deliberate dance between heart and hand, with no shortcuts or quick fixes.

While I may envy the organizational skills and discipline of artists who work quick, I've come to understand that my own pace is an essential part of my creative identity. My art is not just a product of skill or technique; it's a reflection of my journey, my struggles, and my growth as an individual.

In a world that often values speed over substance, I choose to embrace the beauty of slow creation. Each piece is a labor of love, an act of resistance to reclaim time and rest in my practice. And while my process may not always be productive within capitalism, it is undeniably genuine—an honest documentation of my existence.

So, to my fellow slow creators, I say this: Embrace your pace. In a world that's always in a hurry, your willingness to slow down and truly connect with your craft is a gift—one that deserves to be honored.

By bravely dismantling the façade of so-called American ideals, Airman Aaron Bushnell’s extreme act of protest dealt a damning blow to U.S. imperialism and the military-industrial complex.

I honor Aaron for his integrity in recognizing the implications of his privilege and choosing to reject the colonial myth. Aaron understood the significance of solidarity and dutifully accepted.

As I write this, I am wounded, enraged, and even more distraught than I could have imagined after witnessing ongoing genocide in Palestine — a genocide in which you and I are also complicit. Self-immolation is an extreme act of protest that feels impossibly heavy and horrific to understand. However, after almost six months, I can comprehend why Aaron did what he did. Yet, I am sick with grief over the impossible and violent circumstances that forced him to take on such a burden.

As we mourn Aaron Bushnell and the more than 30,000 Palestinian lives lost to this ongoing genocide, let his courageous act of love echo within us, shocking us from complacency and moral apathy. Let our grief remind us that we are still alive and tethered to our souls. May his example inspire us to relentlessly reject colonial myths, stand with the oppressed, and lead with a heart ablaze. Let Aaron’s love for collective liberation root us all, grounding us firmly on our path forward.

May all the martyrs rest in the pulsating heartbeat of eternal vitality, and may we always hear and be moved by their rhythm.

In honor of Aaron Bushnell, Free Palestine. Free Palestine. Free Palestine. Free Palestine. Free Palestine. Free Palestine.

In mourning and solidarity,

Julysa

---

Aaron Bushnell

1998-2024

---

In response to the urgent need for inclusive activism, I came up with the idea for 'Your Silence Speaks in Blood' postcards. I realized that some people might face barriers to speaking out, like worries about their immigration status or job. So, I created these postcards to give everyone a way to express support for Palestine anonymously.

My main goal was to make things easy for everyone. Each postcard is carefully designed to fit regular 8.5x11-inch paper, so you can easily print them using any standard printer. I kept it simple and minimalistic, so it looks good whether you print it in color or black and white. This shows my dedication to meeting the needs of all kinds of users.

The tagline "Your silence speaks in blood" is a stark reminder of the complicity of certain representatives in ongoing genocide in Palestine. By refusing to advocate for a ceasefire, they betray their constituents' calls for action. This message aims to disturb not only its recipient but also all who handle it, serving as a passive amplifier of advocacy against genocide, even reaching unintended recipients like postal service workers.

I urge you to utilize these postcards as a tool for meaningful action—download, share, and amplify. Together, let us flood our representative’s mailboxes, one postcard at a time.

Follow these steps:

1. Download 'Your Silence Speaks in
   Blood' 8.5x11" file.

2. Print color on cardstock (I recommend 90-110 lb) double-sided.

3. Cut out four 4x6" postcards.

4. Write your message, include your return address if you wish, or send anonymously.

5. Add your stamp and mail to representatives or organizations.

• Find your representative's address on their personal website. Find out who your senators and congressmen are.

• For POTUS, use: The White House, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W., Washington, DC 20500.

Share this link or printed postcards with someone. If you're an organization, bulk print and distribute for free.

CLICK HERE FOR FREE PDF OR CLICK ‘PURCHASE’ BELOW

In 'The Art Cipher' series, I intricately deconstruct my artwork, unveiling subtle symbolism and inviting viewers to explore the intricate narratives within each piece.

---

In the depths of my grief, "I Day Dream/I Dream Dream/I'm Still Here" emerged as my poignant expression—a testament to transcending the indescribable. Amidst nearly a month of heart-wrenching genocide, I sought solace and strength by translating emotions into this evocative piece of art.

Symbolism:

Duality and Vitality:

The dual human figures at the forefront symbolize inherent duality—the delicate dance between consciousness and unconsciousness, a balance of awake and sleep states. Cloaked in vibrant red hues, they pulsate with vitality, mirroring the body’s rhythm in repairing and regenerating cells while we sleep. As one being lays sleeping, the other half is reaching towards a corner of the universe, symbolizing a connection to the four corners of the universe.

The Connected Braid:

The dual being's braid is connected and represents the idea that knowledge is transferred infinitely as it is looped with no beginning or end, or perhaps with the same beginning as the end. The dual bodies share one face because they are not two separate entities; it is one entity carrying the knowledge of both states of existence.

Peaceful Eclipse:

Behind them, a white dove gracefully eclipses both sunrise and sunset—a profound symbol of peace. A visual reminder that even in apocalyptic endings, a new day dawns. This artwork whispers that, as long as we exist, we embody an actualized resistance—a testament to beating hearts, breathing lungs, and dreaming eyes.

Solidarity with the Palestinian People:

This piece is a deliberate act of solidarity with the Palestinian people, responding to their enduring anguish and injustice. The sunrise and sunset, framed by the dove of peace, convey a message of hope and endurance, encapsulating the idea that memory preserves and fuels resilience in the darkest times.

A Testament to Humanity:

"I Day Dream/I Dream Dream/I'm Still Here" stands as a testament to humanity's enduring spirit. It speaks of a collective dream for a liberated future, where hearts beat freely, lungs breathe without fear, and eyes dream of a world where justice and peace prevail.

Voice Through the Canvas - A Message Beyond Words:

In creating this piece, I found a voice when words failed. Through the canvas, I convey a powerful message—that even in adversity, we are united in our existence and dreams, forging a path toward a brighter tomorrow.

Download Your Free 11x17 Poster:

Experience the power of “I Day Dream/I Dream Dream/I’m Still Here” in your space. Download a free 11x17 poster in collaboration with Artists Against Apartheid. Click here to get your poster and bring the spirit of resilience and solidarity into your surroundings.

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/13wwU6SCom-mJ5qQGD7eCOgqwLOoNylKh

In the midst of profound grief from witnessing the genocide in Palestine, I stumbled upon a way to transmute the weight that clenched my jaw and constricted my chest. This grief journey isn't just mine; it's a heartfelt offering to our collective spirit. Allow me to guide you through why I birthed this journal and how it can become a compassionate companion on your own grief journey.

---

The Birth of Sacred Spaces: The Grief Journal

The very essence of grief embedded in my bones birthed the inspiration for this journal—a tangible companion designed to navigate the turbulent waves of sorrow. I intimately understand the weight that grief carries, the suffocating ache that can render us momentarily paralyzed. This journal is my attempt to extend a hand, to walk alongside you through those profound moments of heaviness.

A Community Offering

Beyond the pages and prompts, this journal represents a community offering. Forged in response to collective pain, it recognizes the bending and breaking of spirits and the underlying current of vibrating anger. It stands as a testament to the strength found in shared vulnerability and the courage required to face darkness together.

What the Journal Does

It's crucial to acknowledge that this journal won't miraculously heal wounds. Instead, it serves as a compassionate observer and guide. It prompts small steps out of despair—tiny, manageable actions that gently lead towards hope.

Accessibility Matters

In crafting this journal, accessibility was at the forefront of my mind. I wanted it to reach as many hearts as possible. That's why you can download the PDF for free. For those who prefer a physical copy, it's available for just $8, covering product costs and postage. Printing in bulk is encouraged—share it with your community, bring it to protests, or gift it to someone you love. This journal is meant to be where it's needed the most.

Layout Overview:

Left Side:

1. Ten Deep Breaths Icons:

Start your journaling journey with 10 lung icons, each symbolizing a grounding deep breath. Scientifically linked to emotional states, these breaths invite a sense of calm and assist in navigating activation. Color in each pair of lungs after every belly breath. As you color, visualize your lungs expanding and contracting, and close your eyes to hone in on the sensation.

2. Heart Gauge:

Choose from four heart icons to identify your emotional state. This section cultivates awareness, enabling you to articulate your feelings—a crucial step toward understanding and navigating your grief. Once you've identified your heart gauge, color it/them in.

3. Grief Alchemy:

Visual icons represent low-effort, supportive actions for your grief. No pressure, no boss-babe directives—just a range of neurodivergent-friendly activities to explore. Color them in as you complete each action.

Right Side:

1. Journal Prompt:

Dive into introspection with a carefully crafted prompt. Express your reflections through words, poetry, drawings, or bullet points—this prompt guides you to delve into your emotions on a micro level.

2. Optional Side Quest:

An optional side quest awaits, perfect for high-energy days. Low-effort, high-value activities expand your exploration of the day's prompt, gently nudging you towards collective liberation.

3. Coupled Affirmation:

Seal your reflections with a coupled affirmation, adding language to your reclamation of hope. Words, after all, hold immense power and contribute to the transformative journey of healing and perception.

Why This Layout?

• Inner Child Connection: The cartoonish appearance of the icons serves to reconnect you with your inner child, fostering a playful and cathartic process. Coloring becomes a creative and soothing act, offering simplicity amid complex emotions.

• Neurodivergent-Friendly Design: Recognizing diverse processing styles, visual icons provide a non-verbal and inclusive means of communication. This design respects the uniqueness of each grief journey, offering a flexible, open-ended approach to expression.

Conclusion: A Companion in Grief

In essence, this grief journal is a companion—an offering born from the collective heartache we endure from witnessing genocide. It stands as a reminder that even in the darkest times, we are not alone. I invite you to download, print, and share it widely. May it serve as a small, gentle beacon, guiding you through the labyrinth of grief and offering solace when words seem insufficient. You're not alone on this journey; let this journal be a humble companion as we navigate the path towards a liberated future together.

Sacred Spaces: Limited Printed Edition

$8.00

Quantity:

Add To Cart

Lately, grief manifests in various forms for me—periods of nonverbal communication, avoidant behaviors, an overwhelming sensation restricting my breath, restlessness, disrupted sleep patterns, a weakened immune system, physiological pain, dreamless nights, rage, and meltdowns. Two months into witnessing this ongoing genocide, it feels like the most tender and delicate part of me continues to be bent and broken. The cyclical nature of it loops against my will, leaving me more wounded, disrupting everything.

Reflecting on this past summer and how I accompanied my grandmother's dignified transition to the next realm, her home, filled with three generations of descendants, made me ponder how swiftly our lineage could have ended, paralleling the lineages we witness disappearing in Palestine.

I think of multigenerational households, unable to move with their elders but refusing to leave them. I weep, understanding the deep love preventing abandonment. My grandmother wouldn't have been able to move, and I wouldn't have abandoned her. I wonder if this is how these lineages face genocide—united and unwilling to unlink. The pain in my heart deepens. Reflecting on witnessing it all, the obligation to continue without succumbing to fatigue remains.

Observing our collective movement like water, we take turns as waves. When we strike, we melt back into the collective pool, steadying ourselves before being pulled and pulling forward again. In this harsh reality, it feels beautiful to be held and to hold, connected by grief. While there’s more to say, this is all I have right now. If you feel despair, remember, you are either fluid water holding, momentum building, coiling, or the force unleashing and unwavering. Regardless, you are interconnected and needed to complete these movements. I say this to you as a reminder for myself.

I am interconnected in the collective rhythm—holding, readying, unleashing. Like a wave, I regenerate, never disappearing.

Despite a shadowban, my recent Instagram post sparked discussions. I addressed the contradiction of denouncing one genocide while celebrating another.

The question, 'Is it too soon to criticize genocide while enjoying a celebratory dinner?' resonated in my social media world, breaking my small internet.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Julysa Sosa (@julysasosa)

Decolonizing Thanksgiving: Our Personal Stand

In our commitment to decolonization, we've opted out of ‘Thanksgiving’ for years. The year I found out that the myth was a violent holiday that celebrated genocide and the erasure of Native history, I did a full stop. I started by asking my family why we even participated. They shared that it was because we were being raised “American” and wanted to make sure we assimilated to the traditions of this country, and also, it was just another excuse for our massive family to gather.

I then asked them to describe ‘Thanksgiving’ to me. They repeated the story we all know. I then shared the actual history of ‘Thanksgiving.’ I also shared how I felt disturbed to be a direct descendant of an ancestor who survived genocide and be participating in a dinner that celebrates that same genocide. Not only did I feel disturbed, but it actually made me physiologically sick to my stomach to think about it. I shared that I would no longer partake in it. My parents understood but were saddened because, to them, it meant I would be absent at any family ‘Thanksgiving’ gathering. But I was committed.

They have tried to reassure me that they don’t actually care about the origins and history of the holiday and it's more about just gathering with family. I believe it; they are not from this country, so their tie isn’t strong to the holiday beyond family. But for me, it is beyond family. It’s so far beyond that it’s ancestral memory activating trauma in my body. And I had to realize that I could not control their actions like I could not control mine. So I did what was in my control and opted out.

Rather than taking part in a celebration rooted in historical trauma, we choose to observe this day as The National Day of Mourning. We spend the day outdoors, connecting with the ancestors, Tonantzin (earth mother), praying for the Wampanoag and their descendants, Native relatives both human and non-human, and making offerings. It’s a time for deep reflection as we mourn the lives, lands, and animals that have been subjected to genocide due to colonization. We contemplate how we can continue to be good hosts on this sacred land.

I share my frustrations about this "holiday," along with educational resources every year. But this year, it took on deeper meaning. I do not shy away from vocalizing my dislike for the holiday. But my original question was posed after witnessing more than a month-long genocide in Palestine. The grief and trauma activated in me was overwhelming. Mentally, emotionally, physically, I have struggled to process. I feel rage and wounded. Despite those feelings, I felt an unbreakable sense of hope and love because the activation of the masses in response to this genocide had felt unprecedented. The complexities of colonization were being dissected quickly and easily. For the first time ever, it seemed like the masses were not only understanding the spectrum of violence, ranging from occupation to genocide, of the settler colonial state but could also name it.

So I started to reflect and wonder if what they advocate and dream for Palestine, they also dream and want for Turtle Island? I started to wonder how many of the people actively denouncing and protesting against this genocide would still be sitting down to a ‘Thanksgiving’ dinner. This thought wounded me. So I wrote down the question in my notes app, and later posted it to my feed.

This post has attracted the most attention and engagement I have ever received on anything of mine. And if I’m being honest, I was getting remarkably low engagement due to being shadowbanned. So I thought maybe only the ~20 people who had been liking my posts would see it. But it quickly took off; folks continued to engage, repost, and tag me.

Three Camps of Thought: Analyzing Responses

Analyzing the engagement from my post uncovered clear trends, providing insight into three general camps of thought:

1. The 'Gworls That Get It, GET IT': Understanding the Assignment

A significant portion of the audience understood the assignment, recognizing not only the conflict but also the parallels of condemning one genocide while participating in the celebration of another. They demonstrated empathy, understanding, and validation. Many in this first camp had already abandoned participation, educated themselves, and listened to Indigenous communities, acknowledging this day as a Day of Mourning. Surprisingly, some had never participated altogether. This group also encompassed people from so-called Canada and Australia echoing the same sentiment. They held their convictions and demanded no further context or labor from me. They shared, reposted, and commented in solidarity.

“I don’t think the people are ready for this kind of truth…”

“...I have always found Thanksgiving to be weird and don’t celebrate it.”

“Its observed as a national day of mourning in our house”

2. Defensive Dissonance: Confronting Uncomfortable Realities

The second and more vocal camp was this group. Responses ranged from disapproving, understanding but dissatisfied with the delivery, defensive, and blatantly pressed. It seemed like this group could recognize the atrocity of one genocide but could not abandon their comfort to condemn the genocide tied to ‘Thanksgiving.’

This group demanded additional context, a softening of language, policing of tone, and dismissiveness. They accused the question of lacking nuance, understanding, love, or empathy. They deemed the question divisive and harmful to "the cause." They attempted to invalidate the question and, in turn, turned the shame back at the person posing the question (i.e., me). Many also expressed fatigue over having to "give one more thing up" and annoyance over not being able to "eat their turkey in peace” with their family.

They also showcased a justification and moral superiority over the ‘traditional’ celebration, proudly describing their version of ‘Thanksgiving’ and seeming to believe it was the most progressive and honorable. They mentioned doing land acknowledgments before dinner, changing the name to something else, and slight modifications but could not abandon the tradition on that day. There was no mention of the Day of Mourning with this crowd.

Why is this rhetoric harmful? It’s because the settler colonial holiday of ‘Thanksgiving’ remains upheld when it should be dismantled. This group demonstrated performative behaviors that optically appear as progressive but are, in fact, semantics to the settler colonial state. This group demands comfort in their upholding, irritated by being posed such an uncomfortable question, and cognitive dissonance protects them from opening the discomfort into self-reflection. This camp of thought demanded more labor from me, dragged me, and projected the most onto me.

“Thanksgiving isn’t celebrating genocide”

“We eat salmon and root vegetables. And we recognize the stolen land we occupy”

”I understand the sentiment here, but shame is never an effective teacher”

“This is such a bullshit statement…you are asking people to take away from the world issue happening right now in our time…We can end this genocide now. And you are shaming people for Turkey.”

Also, there's something to be said about the Palestinians and Palestinian-Americans who have commented, reposted, and reached out. Their contribution has been unwavering solidarity. My question was not actually directed towards them; I know they get it. Even so, they answered the call to action. Not only did they agree, but they could also see the parallels and hold space for both conversations. While the second camp accused me of being divisive, the people and their families who were directly affected by the genocide saw it as a necessary conversation because we both understood that these struggles are intertwined. I find that interesting, don't you?

Me after my most recent post has ppl throwing up, crying, punching the air, trying to defend why their 'Thanksgiving' is morally more superior than everyone else's

3. Awakening to Cognitive Dissonance: A Shift in Perspective

The final camp was one of the most striking moments. Unaware of the inconsistencies in their actions, the third crowd began openly discussing their internal conflicts, abandoning the comfort of ‘Thanksgiving’ and diving into self-reflection. This crowd committed to educating themselves further, taking accountability for their participation, and opting out of ‘Thanksgiving’ altogether. I will protect this group at all costs. They were vulnerable enough to face the mirror and abandon their role in upholding the settler colonial state through the ‘Thanksgiving’ myth. This group was okay with sitting with their discomfort. They did not demand additional labor or context from me, and they also did not attempt to soften my language or police my tone or delivery in any way. Instead, they expressed gratitude. This is true solidarity beyond performative gestures.

“Never again.”

“...Thank you for the call out…Sometimes, you’re too close to see it.”

“We are boycotting Thanksgiving.”

Systemic Barriers and The Normalization of Genocide: Thanksgiving's False Facade

Understanding the situation, I realize that many marginalized and working-class communities might not get paid time off, and sometimes circumstances force us to make lemonade out of lemons. While questioning the norm, it's crucial to see the systemic colonial barriers that limit choices and uphold harmful traditions. Why not redirect the frustration instead towards the settler colonial state, the same one that bred capitalism, which exploits you and your labor as well? The one that aims to sever you from the land, your communities, and time?

It's important to emphasize that the sentiments expressed in my post are not isolated; many Indigenous communities view ‘Thanksgiving’ as a day of mourning. The holiday's origins are tied to celebrating the genocide of the Indigenous peoples of Turtle Island. Society continues to normalize this genocide, presenting the myth of ‘Thanksgiving’ as a day of gratitude, family, and thanks, even in 2023.

Beyond Comfort: The Impact of Uncomfortable Questions

To summarize, despite facing shaming and scoffing, I don't feel discomfort or shame for posing the question. I said what I said and still stand by it. Either you got it, you now get it, or you don’t want to get it. But true solidarity requires abandoning the comforts of white supremacy. Genuine solidarity is action with the oppressed. Choosing to ignore the outcry from these communities is upholding the settler colonial state and the white supremacy it is founded on. That is an uncomfortable and shameful truth for someone who wants to appear as an ally optically.

I stand by my question without shame, but for those who pointed fingers at me and projected their shame onto me, I hope my question seeps into your consciousness. May it linger in your quiet moments, with every bite, persisting even after you've returned home from your 'Thanksgiving/Friendsgiving’ dinner. May it weigh on you so much that you seek the truth and confront the colonizer in your mind and abandon it, for liberation awaits, and delaying the timeline serves no one.

If you are reading this and have chosen or feel obligated to participage in this genocidal holiday, here are some questions you can ask yourself/your family:

• How does your participation in 'Thanksgiving' align with your values?

• Are you willing to confront uncomfortable truths about the historical origins of the holiday?

• Why is it considered as a day of mourning to Native communities?

• Is there a capacity to shift your mindset from ‘Thanksgiving’ to a Day of Mourning?

• Can you, together as a family, create a new tradition?

• Who’s land are you on?

• Are there any holidays you can reclaim in your culture that you, as a family, can commit to gathering and celebrating together any other day during the year?

• Can you explore alternative ways to express gratitude and togetherness that don't perpetuate harm?

• What steps can your family take to foster a deeper understanding of Indigenous cultures and histories?

• How might you actively contribute to reconciliation efforts in your community beyond land acknowledgement?

• What role can education play in reshaping your perspective on holidays and cultural celebrations?

  The Indigenous Anarchist has created a phenomenal website dedicated to this topic and has made it a free resource for all to learn. Consider donating to their PayPal or Venmo today.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by The Indigenous Anarchist (@theindigenousanarchist)

---

Move beyond land acknowledgement and consider paying a voluntary land tax back to Indigenous tribes/communities. Start with identifying whose land you are on.

We exchanged our vows at the Indiana State House in an intimate ceremony surrounded by our immediate family on August 8, 2022.

Wedding dress: Mac Duggal Sweetheart Long Sleeve Minidress in White

Heels: ALFANI Women's Step N' Flex Jensonn Block-Heel Pumps

Veil: Six Stories Pearl Tulle Veil

Nails: Xiomara Juerling

Cake Topper: HickoryMoments

Cake: Whole Foods Berry Chantilly Cakes

Ceremony Location: Indiana State House

Reception Dinner: The Barrel Room @ Spoke & Steele

Wedding Officiant: Victoria Meyer of MarryMeIndy! LLC/ Instagram

Photographer: Brianna Dutcher Photography/ Instagram

Videographer: Earl Wayne Crabtree II of NWP Films / Instagram

Film Camera: Fujifilm Instax Camera

FujiFilm Photos: Taken by Julio Cesar Sosa Jr. & Julysa Sosa